The Muppet Movie demonstrated beyond any doubt how a brilliant TV variety show (with puppets) could be successfully adapted to the big screen, without sacrificing any of the show’s quality, heart or wit. What is most certainly did not do was point the way that the Muppets could engender a franchise. The Muppet Movie is distinctly a one-off, based on a heady mix of meta narrative and celebrity cameos, the sort of formally unique construction that cannot be simply expanded or enlarged, as most sequels are wont.
So in thinking about what a second Muppet movie might be like, the arbitrary decisions start coming into play. While The Muppet Movie may have ostensibly had a storyline (a road trip), that was mostly a framework upon which to hang its clever formalism, propped up to feature length through a series of Muppet introductions. In The Great Muppet Caper, the focus is the narrative. And because the Muppets are conceived essentially as celebrities first and foremost, and secondarily as fictional characters within their celebrity universe, there is no particular story that has to be told with them. That’s like saying Sean Connery can only make Bond movies.
This is where The Great Muppet Caper is arbitrary: The story concerns diamond heists, pretty much just because, whatever, it has to be about something. This time, Jim Henson himself directs the movie (on top of being the central Muppet performer), simply suggesting he was growing more comfortable with the technical aspects of moviemaking. The writers on board are a motley crew from “The Muppet Show,” though there are perhaps too many of them (something Fozzie himself acknowledges during the opening credits). Also, none of them is Jack Burns or Jerry Juhl, who lent immeasurable wit to The Muppet Movie. Still, artistically we’re in good hands here, meaning the Muppets will be getting their greatest possible shot at franchise quality.
The movie opens the best way it possibly could for me – with Animal! All hail that hyper-violent pile of red fur! I would welcome him as a household pet. So Animal appears in a pastiche of the MGM studio logos with Leo the Lion – the Muppets often recall the Looney Tunes, but this is more specifically something Tom of Tom & Jerry has done.
There is a further detail embedded in this opening shot that must be examined. “Lord Grade Presents.” Now, Lord Grade is a real person, the man responsible for financing Henson’s great Muppet capers, but there’s more. Recall in The Muppet Movie, a film producer character named Lew Lord – that explicates Henson’s in-joke I refused to explain last time. Still, I choose to interpret this to suggest that, in a way, the fictional Lew Lord is also producing The Great Muppet Caper. That is, this is one of the movies created by the fictional batch of Muppets who attained celebrity at the end of The Muppet Movie. (Man, that movie really messed up my grasp on reality.) Hence, what we’re watching here isn’t a movie made in our universe, but in a fictional universe presented in the preceding film.
This bizarre theory would explain the prevalence for so much breaking of the fourth wall in this entry – Of course the Muppets have a profound distrust of that fourth wall, and break it habitually. It also explains so many of the other idiosyncrasies of The Great Muppet Caper. That is, this movie doesn’t follow the standard rules of movies from the 80s, even semi-animated family films from the 80s. Because, look, we all know the was a period of time where animation was inexplicably wedded to the notion of outdated musicals, but even so, The Great Muppet Caper is far more dedicated to reflecting a musical from the 30s and 40s than even most family entertainment. The songs are never quite classic enough to warrant this approach – hardly any for-film musical can justify its songs’ quality. For the lack of anything else that quite resembles the Muppets’ combination of corny old musical and groundbreaking format satire, I simply must attribute this Jim Henson’s personal interests. And bless the man for having found a public outlet to share his vision.
I guess that covers the tonal and stylistic quirks of a Muppet movie qua narrative (as they are by now). Moving on to the movie itself, we find the iconic Muppet trio of Kermit, Fozzie and Gonzo riding along in a hot air balloon, commenting directly on the opening credits. You see, their characters are (selectively) self-aware, sometimes playing as actors in a movie, and sometimes playing perfectly as their characters. This assures that without even a framing device like last time, we are never in any suspense about their hijinks, leaving the audience to simply enjoy them.
The trio crash lands in a very stage-set version of New York City, and lead the assembled live action extras in the first musical number, “Hey, a Movie!” Occasional items such as vegetables turn out to be anthropomorphized Muppets, real chickens and Muppet chickens intermingle, Sweetums endures the brunt of God’s wrath, and I ponder what kind of a universe this is where no one is taken aback by all the singing shag rugs. From a meta-narrative perspective, this number allows Kermit to exposit to his compatriots about precisely the specific movie they are about to appear in. Kermit announces they are now, all of a sudden, a trio of crack investigative reporters (I intend to read no drug references into that statement) – well, Gonzo is the photographer. You see, Kermit himself is aware of how arbitrary the specifics of this entry are.
The funniest gag in The Great Muppet Caper is that, in the storyline being acted out, Kermit and Fozzie are identical twins – despite the fact they are a frog and bear, respectively. Many clever permutations to this bizarre, arch gag appear throughout the picture, including a bit where a little girl sees Kermit upon a bench and says, “Look, a bear!” Hell, even Fozzie often doesn’t realize that he’s not the one off dancing with Miss Piggy at any given moment.
The editor-in-chief of whatever movie newspaper our Muppets work for yells them out for failing to report on a series of daring jewel heists. The cameo quota has decidedly dropped in this entry, suggesting the novelty of The Muppet Movie has worn off. Indeed, I cannot positively identify as many of the “celebrities” in this thing, and the editor is an example of that. He’s kinda looks like Ed Koch, but I’m sure that ain’t who he is…(It’s Jack Warden.) Nonetheless, Kermit suggests his team travel to London to interview the owner of the stolen jewels, and to create some sort of plotline (these meta assertions are Kermit’s, not mine, unlike most of these write-ups).
The major distinct gimmick of The Great Muppet Caper is that it takes place in Great Britain – or England, if you confuse as easily as Gonzo. This means for a little location photography, a preponderance of British cameos, and little else of distinction. But it fits the sort of vague, generic jewel heist movie the Muppets are riffing on here. Not that that jewel heist format is even relied upon all that heavily, not with the movie digressing for a musical number every 7 minutes, and not with the standard need to present other Muppets doing vaguely Muppetty things at all times.
And for as much as the Muppets comprise a humongous, rich cast of characters, The Great Muppet Caper far more than The Muppet Movie relies upon its star members (Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo, Miss Piggy) for about 80% of its Muppetty goodness. This is the movie’s biggest sour point with me, for while Kermit and Piggy are certainly the perfect emcees to corral their Muppet brethren, Fozzie and Gonzo are not, in my estimation, interesting enough to carry major subplots or character arcs on their own. It’s like those “Simpsons” episodes where the focus is suddenly inexplicably on a lesser character like Chief Wiggum; the best episodes always consider Springfield as a whole, and the Muppets work best when doing likewise.
Apart from those four “lead” Muppets, all the Muppet madness must be confined to largely a single setting – it’s technically simpler to rig one set for vast puppetry. That location is the Happiness Hotel, and with a name like that, it has to be a seedy dump. A seedy dump that is worth singing about in song, per the “Happiness Hotel” tune that recalls Sondheim’s efforts in terms of content, but not musical quality. It’s jaunty enough, I guess. And prepare for a great diarrhea dump of Muppets paraded on screen for sometimes nothing more than 10 seconds each: Skeeter, Rowlf, Rizzo the Rat (he’s new), Dr. Teeth, Floyd, Janice, Lips, Zoot, Animal (whoo!), Statler, Waldorf, Dr. Bunsen, Beaker, Pops (also new), the Swedish Chef and Sam the Eagle…Did I miss anyone? And, yes, just listing them out like that is the best way in a blog to recreate their use in the movie. At least Animal gets a remarkably funny joke (that is, Animal does whatever he damn well pleases) where he angrily expresses his preference for Renoir over Rembrandt. Ha! “RENOIR!”
For the most part, human cameos have been replaced with “guest stars,” featured humans who get prolonged Muppet interaction– as opposed to five seconds worth of Richard Pryor as in the last one. Thus we get a major character in the introduction of jewel owner Lady Holiday (Miss Diana Rigg…Mmm, Emma Peel…). She is a London-based fashionista, designer of some very outdated dresses (that is, they look like 19th century, because this movie intentionally avoids a specific temporal setting). Fending off her various sycophants and models, Lady Holiday endures the introduction into the movie of Miss Piggy, herself seeking a model position. Heh heh, pig and Rigg! The joke is that a felt pig played by a dwarf in a suit could become a fashion model. Get ready for the already-vague distinction between human and Muppet to blur more as this movie goes on. It’s like Blade Runner, really.
It seems Miss Piggy shall have a regularized use in all these Muppet movies. If the first two are any indication, she and Kermit are fated to retell increasingly-tiresome romances together, a great onscreen duo always meeting for the first time in their every movie. I quite liked their romance in The Muppet Movie for how much it was a satire of the typical time-wasting movie romance, and thus itself intensely silly. There is still a reasonable devotion to silliness in The Great Muppet Caper’s version, but a little genuine melodrama starts to creep in around the edges where it doesn’t belong. I expect later entries will seriously dull the edge on Miss Piggy’s original satire of female tokenism. Still, cross-dressing pigs are funny.
The great Muppet trio arrives (Kermit, Fozzie, Gonzo, the only ones of any interest here) to interview Lady Holiday. Thanks to some partially-aware farcical shenanigans, Kermit mistakes Piggy for Holiday, Piggy now working as Holiday’s receptionist. This sparks the aforementioned romance. They arrange a date for that night, and I realize that the acting in this movie is noticeably worse than that time – particularly on Kermit. Now, Kermit is a surprisingly expressive used sock, particularly in the amazing things his mouth wrinkles can do. Seeing him slightly under-utilized here emphasizes Henson’s artistry in his better moments, such as The Muppet Movie. This is the Muppetteer’s own skill, something that goes far beyond technical proficiency or mere believability (hence what’s wrong with so many CGI “performances”).
There is a brief moment here, well into the movie, where we get our first real indication of the jewel thieves – three models under Holiday’s employ, Marla, Carla and Darla (Erica Creer, Kate Howard and Della Finch). And here’s the problem with the Kermit/Piggy romance as presented –it completely distracts plot attention away from the heist genre parody that could have been.
The Muppet trio returns to the Happiness Hotel to allow the fifty or so lesser Muppets a brief appearance, driven in a taxi helmed by new Muppet Beauregard – an indeterminate filthy animal, looking like either a toupee or a Jamaican. Kermit prepares for his date that night, an excuse for another musical number, “Steppin’ Out With a Star.” This allows Kermit to dude himself out in a top hat and spats, creating an ever froggier version of Fred Astaire.
Meanwhile, Miss Piggy tracks down that fake address she’d created for their date, one 17 High Class Street. Only in London could I believe that a place like that actually exists in real life. She breaks in, disrupting the movie’s best cameo: John Cleese, perhaps the funniest man to ever live in the world’s funniest country. He plays homeowner Neville, nicely echoing Basil Fawlty and anticipating his future role in A Fish Called Wanda. This is a good cameo because it allows Cleese to do what he does best, that is, turn what should be a stultifyingly boring man into a fantastically hilarious spoof of Britain’s lack of élan. This might actually be Cleese at his driest. Indeed, so underwhelmed by life is he that, upon encountering a house-breaking pig and frog in his closet, all Cleese can do is distractedly direct them to a restaurant. No matter, it gets those interlopers out of his house so he can go back to ignoring his equally bored wife.
Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem have commandeered a double-decker bus to serve as their hippie van in the Old World. Thus, to Miss Piggy’s dismay, they arrive to chauffeur frog and pig. Because a John Cleese comic routine takes ten minutes to tell, we gotta squeeze another song in before the so-called plot can stumble on. This is “Night Life,” a psychedelic, mod bit about which I have nothing more to say. At least they got a bus full of Muppets to actively drive all over London.
But here we are at a posh, stale summer club full of ritzy hoi polloi, a sure sign it’s back to the four premier Muppets, humans, and no one else. Making his rather delayed entry into the proceedings is human star Charles Grodin as Lady Holiday’s brother Nicky. We learn almost instantly that he is the secret mastermind behind those jewel heists, a plot thread I wouldn’t even had paid attention up to now if it weren’t for the movie’s title. Grodin, that mid-level comic performer, serves the human male’s role I’ve oft dreaded in Muppet movies. As per a brief Troy McClure gag from “The Simpsons,” it is a male guest star’s duty in Muppet films to a) be the villain, and b) fall in love with Miss Piggy. Er…okay. This is that gag played “straight,” and while it remains a joke for a human to experience Muppet lust (and, sure, for a stunted, cloth pig, Miss Piggy ain’t bad looking), this plot development comes way too close to justifying the furries.
It hasn’t been nearly as long since “Night Life” as my last paragraph would suggest. Still, it’s time for “The First Time It Happens,” yet another plot-stalling musical number. This is where Henson’s latent Bubsy Berkeley obsession first flowers – the movie shall not shake it from here on out. That is, all the top-hatted prigs in attendance aid Grodin in his romancing of the pig, with all the elaborate choreography you’d expect if it were still the early ‘30s, and no other time in history. And for as little incident as this film has had, it’s far enough in for the plot to come to a head. Grodin’s three subservient models steal away Lady Holiday’s latest diamond necklace, and Piggy’s deception is revealed to Kermit. Cue start of Third Act sorrows, with the pig walking the lonely, cat-filled streets of London’s East Side.
Kermit tracks Miss Piggy to the park to make amends – it’s clear where this movie’s interests now lie. I’d dearly love to see a Muppet version of Ocean’s Eleven (itself just an excuse to ogle celebrities). First up here is a cameo from Columbo himself, Peter Falks – the second strangest cameo in his career, following German art house classic Wings of Desire. Following Falks’ entirely non sequitur advice, Kermit tries to cheer Piggy up. Cutting the schmaltz, he breaks the fourth wall to critique her acting. That pig’s a ham! Then it’s time for the “romantic” song, “Couldn’t We Ride.” Imagine three whole minutes of watching pig and frog bike around a park, and you’ve got this sequence. It’s not without inspiration, but it’s far less jammed full of cleverness compared to The Muppet Movie. Boy, that seems to be my major complaint here.
Inter-Muppet conflict now resolved, it is time at long, long last to squeeze some capering into this thing. Grodin, at the behest of his three models, arranges to frame Piggy for the diamond heists (all…one of them). Thus, for whatever particular reason, the pig subs for a human model upon the catwalk at one of Lady Holiday’s posh fashion shows. I reference Zoolander often enough, but here I cannot think of a thing to say. Rather, Piggy starts having Bubsy Berkeley hallucinations as she struts her porcine stuff. She descends into Miss Piggy’s fantasy song, titled “Miss Piggy’s Fantasy.” You know, for all intents this is a Berkeley number, simply replace some anonymous starlet of the ‘30s with a pig. There’s not really any other joke to it. At least Berkeley was enough of an entertainer that pastiches of his work are plenty enjoyable for that reason alone some 40 years after the fact.
Grodin must’ve known Piggy would have hallucinations about the musical genre, and thus fall into the fashion’s shows inexplicable fountain decoration, because it is at this juncture where he slips the stolen necklace onto Piggy’s person (er, pigness), stripped of the diamonds. Thus the police that are suddenly there drag Miss Piggy off to prison (the pig pen). Now feeling safe about her remaining diamonds, Lady Holiday announces she shall place her Baseball Diamond (ha!) on exhibition at the Mallory Gallery (eh…less ha). Apparently, this is just what Grodin wanted. Mwahahahaha!
Gonzo has used his astounding investigative skills (heh heh, Gonzo journalism) to discover who the bad guys are, because god forbid our hero Kermit do anything more than romance a hog. Thus it is decided that, rather than call the cops or whatever, the Muppets (all of them) shall pool their felt resources together to go and, er, steal the Baseball Diamond before Grodin and company can. Well…okay then. It made about as much sense in National Treasure, and that wasn’t a pastiche – well, not intentionally. Cue gag, and end scene.
All parties prepare for their separate capers. Grodin’s group amasses various gadgets stolen from the Q Labs. The Muppets assemble their gag cigars and fake plastic vomit. Miss Piggy herself, locked away in prison, uses her Pig Power to break through the bars and thus start her own race towards the gallery. Her trek will see her drive a lorry and a motorcycle, and bypass cameos from Peter Ustinov and Oscar the Grouch.
Let the capering begin! Grodin’s three models act out a laser and grappling hook burglary, surely meant to draw parallels with the fairly recent “Charlie’s Angels”…and the somewhat later Charlie’s Angels. The Muppets make their laser-free entry, rather employing Groucho glasses, pizza delivery and Animal’s perpetual hunger – Hooray! The lovable Muppets and evil humans face off in the central gallery, possession of a large diamond the only thing that hangs in the balance. Yeah, this ploy didn’t work in ‘50s issues of “Batman” either. And whatever dignity the human villains possessed is destroyed by the silly methods the Muppets use to foil them. It’s just like a bad guy falling to the power of Inspector Clouseau or whomever – it all feels strained.
Finally Grodin gets the upper hand, taking Kermit hostage. (Imagine it, Charles Grodin trying to act the villain as he holds a prop gun to some puppeteer’s hand.) This necessitates Piggy’s grand entry, as she smashes through a stained glass window and almost certainly causes more property damage than the diamond is worth. She pighandles the three models with her patented pig fu, then does likewise to Grodin. Well, that was easy.
Threat now over, the police may arrive. Charles Grodin expresses his unnatural love for the pig. Miss Piggy does not reciprocate, deciding upon the far more natural romantic coupling of a pig and a frog. And as they’re both made of wool, I fully expect sparks to fly.
All the Muppets book a passage back to the U.S., singing a reprise of “Hey, a Movie!” as they parachute over the end credits. There it is then.
I feel I’ve been a little hard on The Great Muppet Caper. It’s a perfectly satisfactory children’s movie. The problem is, that’s all it is. The simplistic plot and forgettable songs are a far step down from variety show cleverness. The only thing older audiences have to console themselves with is the rubble of the fourth wall. On its own this mightn’t be a problem, but after the astounding Muppet Movie, it cannot help but be a disappointment. Still, this is perhaps what is to be expected of any further Muppet movies, naturally. As a franchise, this guarantees longevity in a way that one-off media satires do not. Of course The Great Muppet Caper was not as individually successful as The Muppet Movie, with its box office take being merely half of its predecessor. Yet I can see how to follow up The Great Muppet Caper. Simply plug those delicious Muppets in to another vague ‘30s genre parody. There you have it!
Related posts:
• No. 1 The Muppet Movie (1979)
• No. 3 The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984)
• No. 4 The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)
• No. 5 Muppet Treasure Island (1996)
• No. 6 Muppets From Space (1999)
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