I Do Believe They Think I Am Some Sort Of God

Year: 1983

Director: Richard Marquand

Cast: Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher

Run Time: 2 hours 11 minutes

MPAA Rating: PG

Capping off a trilogy is a tricky thing. Indiana Jones did it right, redefining the dynamic by roping in Sean Connery as Indy’s father. But so often a trilogy can descend into silly spectacle like Scream 3 or fade into relative anonymity like The Godfather: Part III. And how does one expect to follow two pristine entries like Star Wars and The Empire Strikes Back? It’s a challenging proposition, so I don’t blame George Lucas & Co. for not really trying.

Ya burnt! Let’s get into my justification before the people with pitchforks find out where I live.

For the first time in the trilogy, things pick up more or less where they left off. Han Solo (Harrison Ford) is still frozen in carbonite, providing the sluglike crime boss Jabba the Hutt’s (Larry Ward) walls with quite the conversation piece. Leia (Carrie Fisher) is still in love with him for no discernible reason. And Luke (Mark Hamill) is still a whiny spacebaby, only now he styles himself as a Jedi Knight, despite never actually having finished his training with the ailing Yoda (Frank Oz). They rescue Han from Jabba’s wretched hive of scum and villainy, and rejoin the Rebellion to aid their mission to stop the Empire from completing work on a brand new Death Star.

Luke’s true test of becoming a Jedi master begins here: will he succumb to his hate and anger and become a pawn of Darth Vader (David Prowse body, James Earl Jones VO) and the wicked Emperor (Ian McDiarmid)? Or will he find the light and hope and crap that will guide him to the right side of the Force? A battle ensues on and in orbit of the forest moon of Endor, with Han, Leia, Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew), R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) and C-3PO (Anthony Daniels) fighting alongside a native tribe of teddy bears called Ewoks (Warwick Davis and a bunch of other people) to shut down the shield surrounding the star and Lando Calrissian (Billy Dee Williams) leading the space battle above, because I guess he was the only named character they had left and Obi Wan’s ghost (Alec Guinness) wasn’t gonna do it, as much as his death entirely fails to hamper his presence in the material world.

In another life, George Lucas probably would have been a ghost hunter.

Return of the Jedi has been the subject of much fan derision over the years. “The Ewoks are stupid! It’s just another Death Star!” I have an equally low opinion of the film, but for almost entirely different reasons. Although I agree that the Ewoks are poorly executed with their stiff, unmoving plastic surgery lips, their presence grants us a reprieve from the biggest weakness of Jedi: the human characters.

Luke, Leia, and Han Solo have never had particularly interesting arcs, because they’ve never really been asked to. But all of a sudden, it’s the end of a trilogy. Some kind of arc needs to be fulfilled, so the trio is tossed into a character development blender set to warp speed. Luke especially gets hit full in the face with his so-called emotional journey, squashed into the “inner conflict between light and dark” storyline implied by Empire. His endless, tedious exchanges with Darth Vader and the Emperor would be interesting if we had any insight into his character or the struggles this script pretends he has, but it’s just a mountain of New Age Forcebabble with completely incomprehensible stakes.

Return of the Jedi also lurches from a major gearshift tonally. Where Luke’s half of the story grows more needlessly serious and introspective, the rest of the film descends into the lunatic chaos of a cartoon. Yes, the Ewoks are a symptom of this, but they’re by a wide margin less irritating than Jabba the Hutt’s cabal of snickering evil puppets, which look like rejected goblins from Labyrinth. Or the dastardly calliope score. Or the hyperbolic screams every unnamed character seems to give whenever they’re knocked over.

But I kind of loved those screams, so I won’t dwell on that.

It’s taken me about a week to crank this review out, because I just can’t find it in my heart to give a crap about Return of the Jedi. It’s a thin endcap to a massive franchise, and that’s fine. It does enough to not stomp all over the massive legacy of Star Wars, both as a special effects spectacle (the land speeder chase on Endor is beyond reproach, even if it has some shaky rear projection) and as a blockbuster titan (They may not be up to much this time around, but there mere presence of the returning characters is magnetic enough to overcome that; and John Williams is mostly coasting on old compositions, but what compositions they are!) but it’s really just not that good.

I hate to say it, but it’s true. Return of the Jedi is all over the place, shoving characters into and out of its lopsided narrative at random (poor Boba Fett – I’ve never understood exactly why the bounty hunter who appears in five minutes of Empire is so darn-tootin’ popular, but he deserves better than the Three Stooges demise he’s handed here), lurching through a truncated repeat of the Death Star plot, and ladling a heavy second helping of family lineage intrigue that drowns continuity. It’s still Star Wars, so it’s at least an engaging popcorn space adventure, but Return of the Jedi was the first time the series showed signs that not every entry in the canon was going to be an out-and-out masterpiece.

TL;DR: Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi is a tonally imbalanced, childish conclusion to an otherwise terrific trilogy.

Rating: 5/10

Word Count: 972

Reviews In This Series

Star Wars (Lucas, 1977)

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (Kershner, 1980)

Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (Marquand, 1983)

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (Abrams, 2015)
Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (Edwards, 2016)
Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (Johnson, 2017)
Solo: A Star Wars Story (Howard, 2018)

Well Princess, It Looks Like You Managed To Keep Me Here A While Longer

Year: 1980

Director: Irvin Kershner

Cast: Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, Carrie Fisher

Run Time: 2 hours 4 minutes

MPAA Rating: PG

Our continued journey into the original Star Wars trilogy has immediately taken us from one of the most incalculably important blockbuster films of all time to the pinnacle of sequeldom: one of the few part 2’s that most cinephiles agree is an improvement on the original. Whether or not I subscribe to that belief will soon be revealed…

Not that it actually matters in the grand scheme of things.

The Empire Strikes Back (or Star Wars: Episode V, as the opening crawl would proudly and befuddlingly proclaim) gets right to the point, now that all the pesky mythmaking has been dispensed of in Star Wars (now retconned with the pointless subtitle Episode IV: A New Hope – Big Brother insists it has always been this way). We join our hero Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) at the Rebel stronghold on the ice planet Hoth. The Empire discovers their whereabouts and the forces flee after a battle that boldly insists that, where Star wars was a dazzling spectacle the likes of which you’d never seen before, this was turning things up to 11.

After the battle, Luke takes droid pal R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) to the swamp planet Dagobah to train to be a Jedi master under the tutelage of Yoda (Frank Oz). Han Solo (Harrison Ford), who wanted to ditch the Rebels long ago, finds himself tasked with evading Imperial forces, towing along Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew), C-3PO (Anthony Daniels), and reluctant love interest Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher). They eventually converge when it comes time to battle the evil Darth Vader (David Prowse body, James Earl Jones voice).

Watch out, Luke! He’s armed with a light saber and Larry Springer test results!

This is easily the shortest Star Wars plot summary I’ve ever written, and for good reason. There’s really not a hell of a lot of story here, as the film divides most of its time between the swashbuckling radio serial adventures of the Millennium Falcon crew and Luke’s spiritual journey in the swamp. Both of these halves are strong and have their own unique merits, but by the end they fail to cohere into something resembling a distinct storyline. The Empire Strikes Back is the interstitial link between the first and last entries in a trilogy, and it really feels like it.

But I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Star Wars movies just don’t have very solid plotting, so this is pretty much par for the course. The real sin in this narrative is committed on Princess Leia, who has had a spine-ectomy in the years between A New Hope and now, converting from a headstrong, silver-tongued firecracker to a cooing damsel in distress opposite Harrison Ford, with whom we’re begged to believe she has chemistry. It might be the result of the performances or just the profound chastity of the Star Wars universe, but the only sparks that are flying here are from Chewbacca repairing the warp drive.

Sorry, guys. I’m sure you can find a nice, cheap pitchfork sharpener on Amazon.

But Star Wars has never been about story. It’s about a universe, and boy does Empire build on what is mostly implied by Star Wars. We explore the meaning of the Force more, yeah yeah whatever (the magic powers are cool, but I’m sick of ancient yogis trying to convince Luke not to use his awesome laser sword to slice the crap out of everything), but we also get to really stretch our limbs and see what majestic planets and mighty creatures it has to offer.

The sheer ambition of Empire is astonishing, but by pushing the envelope even further, it also opened itself up to more effects that didn’t quite age well. Honestly the proportion of stiff puppets of obvious rear projection shots is probably slightly higher than the relatively low budget original, but on that same token its successes are much more resounding. The cloud city of Bespen, the asteroid cluster, the swamps of Dagobah, and the chilly wasteland of Hoth are realized in grand Space Opera fashion.

And now that George Lucas has stepped down from his wobbly director’s chair, boy does the action sing. From the get-go there’s much more movement clarity and geographical precision in the flying battles: You can actually tell who’s in which ship, what exactly they’re doing, and what direction the lasers are firing (from which cannon), which is invaluable fuel to get your heart pumping. And when the film’s climactic light saber battle arrives, all caution is thrown to the wind. It’s a glorious sequence, a broadly expansive bit of light-show combat through the steam-filled underbelly of Bespen that is the single most visually striking scene in the entire trilogy, making expert use of color, light, and the camera in addition to its groundbreaking effects, something the films so frequently forget to do.

Behold.

So, there you have it. The Empire Strikes Back polishes the gem that was Star Wars into a dazzling sparkle of adventure cinema. It builds on that already iconic universe (as does John Williams with his score, heaping even more bombastic themes into the mix) and bestows it with actual filmmaking skill in addition to fine technical craftsmanship.

Unfortunately, this comes at the expense of the already weak characters. They drift aimlessly though the beautifully environs of this movie, hardly even trying to glom onto a morsel of an arc or – heaven forbid – a sustained conflict. And Mark Hamill slips to the back of the acting pack with an explosive overreaction in an iconic moment. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. Luckily Yoda is a solid clean-up hitter, bringing an indelible Frank Oz energy that makes the Hamill scenes not only watchable but incredibly fun.

So, is Empire Strikes Back better than Star Wars? In many quadrants, it’s an unequivocal improvement. But in just as many, it doesn’t capture quite the same scrappy magic. For me personally, it’s still a toss-up, but a good one. Both are incredible works of blockbuster filmmaking that I’m grateful have brought so much joy to so many people around the world.

TL;DR: Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back is a bigger, not necessarily better, but equally impressive sequel.

Rating: 8/10

Word Count: 1062

Reviews In This Series

Star Wars (Lucas, 1977)

Star Wars Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back (Kershner, 1980)

Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (Marquand, 1983)

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (Abrams, 2015)
Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (Edwards, 2016)
Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (Johnson, 2017)
Solo: A Star Wars Story (Howard, 2018)

The Final Frontier

Year: 1999

Director: Tim Hill

Cast: Dave Goelz, Steve Whitmire, Bill Barretta

Run Time: 1 hour 27 minutes

MPAA Rating: G

The 90’s were a hard time for the Muppets. Their creator and guiding light Jim Henson had passed away and Disney was mucking about with the property, forcing it to contort into a variety of subpar literary adaptations. At this point in the marathon, I was beginning to feel pretty disheartened. The next film on the list, Muppets from Space, was one of the most maligned features of them all, and all I could do was assume the crash position and hope for the best.

So here I am on the other side, and I’ve come to tell you that not only was Muppets from Space NOT the worst film in the series, I also had a mortifying amount of fun watching it. It’s definitely a far cry from the humanistic anarchy of the Henson era, but the 90’s Muppets finally found a niche they could work with. Taking the blossoming family entertainment tropes (teen culture references, X-Files-esque secret agencies, film-ending dance parties) that would eventually lead to movies like Shrek and its ilk and injecting them with zany Muppet antics, Muppets from Space is a shallow but delightful entry in the franchise.

I live to be controversial.

In Muppets from Space, Gonzo (Dave Goelz) begins receiving alien transmissions that he believes to be from his real family. The others, knowing that he has been feeling lonely and isolated, don’t believe him, but support his efforts to find them. Well, Kermit (Steve Whitmire) and Co. do. Miss Piggy (Frank Oz) only wants to use his story to advance from TV news intern to full blown anchorpig. All the while, Gonzo is being pursued by K. Edgar Singer (Jeffrey Tambor), who wants to vivisect him and prove that aliens exist.

Fox Mulder, eat your heart out.

There is one major difference between Muppets from Space and the literary adaptations that came before it (other than source material and the fact that this film is inexplicably not a musical), and their names are Pepe the King Prawn (Bill Barretta) and Bobo the Bear (also Bill Barretta, bless him). These Muppets, two of my personal favorites, are the only two major characters created after Jim Henson’s death (save for the artfully bland Walter of the new movies), and they are the saving grace of 90’s Muppetdom. They’re fun, bright, and silly, and their first-ever film appearances help Muppets from Space rise above the lugubrious mush of its late period peers.

Also back in action are the traditional Muppet cameos, and though their combined wattage isn’t particularly electrifying, the stars are game to really play with the Muppet sandbox. Ray Liotta is the obvious standout as a hypnotized guard, but Kathy Griffin as a security officer who falls for Animal and David Arquette as a wicked lab rat mad scientist speak directly to my heart, if not to the culturally advanced public at large in 2016. The point is, Muppets from Space is the film that finally remembered that the great Muppet films are the ones that play it fast and loose with the porous membrane between fiction and reality and actually have fun along the way.

Muppets from Space is genuinely entertaining, what can I say? The slapstick is less facile, not feeling like it’s straining to please the lowest common denominator (Kids aren’t idiots, they’re just treated like them. It’s easy to get confused), the character dynamics are rich and elastic, and the movie maintains a sense of weightlessness, carrying a spring in its step the whole way through.

That weightless thing is kind of ironic, though, considering that the Muppets never actually go to space in this film.

Obviously, not everything is perfect. There are a startling preponderance of cheesy, punny pop culture references, but they at least feel a little more organic in the warped, transitory atmosphere of this very 90’s film. The vast blanket of pop songs spread across the feature in lieu of musical numbers does nothing to change this feeling. It’s not a classic Muppets feature, with this weird pop culture sugar buzz, but it’s a sprightly good time.

That is, for the most part. There are a couple flaws in Muppets from Space that are about as easy to overlook as Mount Everest. First of all, there are some moments that are – I’ll just come right out and say it – shockingly racist. The magenta Muppet Clifford, with his dreadlocks and his huge lips, has apparently been around for quite some time, but is pulled to the forefront here, to lust after girls named “Shenaynay” and just generally remind people that minstrelsy was a thing. He’s downright unsettling, and the space fish with cartoon Indian accents don’t help the film recover much.

Almost as bad as Clifford and pals (OK, not really, because he’s the worst thing to ever happen to a Muppet feature, and I’m including the time Kermit got hit by a car) is the finale, in which Gonzo’s family greets him with a karaoke rendition of “Celebrate!” by Kool and the Gang. It’s a travesty of biblical proportions, and about as far from “Rainbow Connection” as a hubcap. But that said, in spite of the massive problems hanging off of it like pulsing goiters, Muppets from Space is a largely charming entry in the franchise, giving it one last push before the dawn of the New Age in 2011.

TL;DR: Muppets from Space is excruciatingly 90's, but otherwise a delightful family comedy.

Rating: 6/10

Word Count: 933

Reviews In This Series

The Muppet Movie (Frawley, 1979)

The Great Muppet Caper (Henson, 1981)

The Muppets Take Manhattan (Oz, 1984)

The Muppet Christmas Carol (Henson, 1992)

Muppet Treasure Island (Henson, 1996)

Muppets from Space (Hill, 1999)

The Muppets (Bobin, 2011)

Muppets Most Wanted (Bobin, 2014)

Yo Ho Ho And A Bottle Of Dumb

Year: 1996

Director: Brian Henson

Cast: Tim Curry, Billy Connolly, Jennifer Saunders

Run Time: 1 hour 39 minutes

MPAA Rating: G

Following Jim Henson’s death in 1990, the Muppet franchise was set adrift on a choppy tide. The first theatrical feature since that dreadful day was The Muppet Christmas Carol, a mildly entertaining literary adaptation that sidelined the Muppets. It didn’t do half bad at the box office, and considering that this was during the early period of Disney’s flirtation with the property, the soul-crushing corporation squeezed that felt to see if they could get even more blood to drip out. Thus, Muppet Treasure Island was born, made on the exact same model but proving to be ever so much worse.

And I actually LIKE classic literature.

The plot, obviously, is pretty much just Treasure Island with a few (too few) Muppety spins on the seafaring tale. Jim Hawkins (Kevin Bishop), Rizzo the Rat (Steve Whitmire), and Gonzo (Dave Goelz) live sad, lonely lives as servants at an inn when a dying patron leaves them with a treasure map. Seeking adventure on the high seas, they set sail with the wealthy but spacey Squire Trelawny [Fozzie Bear (Frank Oz)] and Captain Smollett [Kermit the Frog (Steve Whitmire)]. When the treacherous Long John Silver (Tim Curry) steals the map and kidnaps Jim, they must journey to the island where the treasure is buried to save Jim and stop Silver and his band of pirates.

This was back in the day when pirates did cool swashbuckling things instead of just torrenting Expendables movies.

Hey, remember when I had a severe problem with The Muppet Christmas Carol shunting the A-list Muppets into tertiary roles? Well, Muppet Treasure Island is a vast improvement. The A-list Muppets are shunted into secondary roles this time. Progress! Once again, the dream team (by somebody’s definition) of Gonzo and Rizzo take the remaining leads and prove for the second time that they don’t have the capacity to drive a Muppet feature all on their own. It’s not like I have a problem with Tim Curry (or the previous venture’s Michael Caine, for that matter), but human performances are light years less compelling than the alchemic magic that brings the Muppets to life. And as for Kevin Bishop? Oh, we’ll get to him later.

Muppet humor generally thrives on postmodern meta winks and nudge, but there’s a very crucial limit to their self-referentiality. As much as they will admit that they’re putting on a show or making a movie, the Muppets will never ever make reference to the fact that they are puppets. Because they aren’t. They are living, breathing creatures that play characters and put on shows for your amusement. The idea that the Muppets are a fictional construct rubs against the very grain of the magical material. That’s why the opening credits read “Kermit the Frog as Captain Smollett” and poor Steve Whitmire is relegated to the closing crawl.

Muppet Treasure Island doesn’t violate this rule, thank Henson, but with Disney pulling the strings they come knife-edge close. The Big Mouse is so proud of its acquisition that it can’t help but drop a couple anachronistic references to itself in the script. Oops, did I say “drop?”? I meant “propel at cannonball force, reducing the script to tatters.” Such obvious, clunky homage to the company is a vulgar challenge to the purity of the Muppet universe. It’s not like kids will notice, but if we’ve learned anything about me during these past few months, it’s that I take my Muppets very seriously.

Swedish Chef and Jason Voorhees. It’s a good thing I’m already dating someone, because my profile would melt Match.com’s servers.

But my intense analytical ranting is far from the only issue with Muppet Treasure Island’s humor. It runs into the typical 90’s Muppet pitfalls, favoring cheap slapstick, crappy pop culture references, and sanitized kiddy gags over the anarchist family humor of previous entries. Frankly, it’s not funny. And the weak adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s source novel is hardly compelling enough to compensate for this titanic deficiency. Because of this, Muppet Treasure Island is unequivocally the worst Muppet film, though as a member of that particular class, it is saved from being a particularly abhorrent example of family filmmaking.

Plus, as much as I abhor humans stealing lead roles from Muppets, Tim Curry really is pretty phenomenal. As a fan of The Rocky Horror Picture Show, it’s a delight to see him back in a musical, even if he only taps about half of that gonzo Dr. Frank-N-Furter charisma. Kevin Bishop, on the other hand… (See? I told you we’d get back to him.) As a child actor in the 1990’s, he just plain wasn’t going to be good. Nobody seemed to pay much attention to the direction of young actors back then, and he’s just one of dozens who got lost in the shuffle. Look, if Jurassic Park couldn’t do it, Muppet Treasure Island was just not going to stack up.

The truly disastrous element of his hammy, exaggerate performance is his singing voice, which really couldn’t be helped. As kids of a certain age are wont to do, Bishop underwent puberty during the course of the film’s production, forcing sound engineers to use early demo recording of his songs. The result is an overly filtered, Paris Hilton-esque whine that exists in a sonic universe that is light years away from the rest of the cast. It’s distracting, sometimes ear-splitting, and the songs weren’t really that good in the first place. No offense to the arbitrary calypso free-for-all number Cabin Fever,” but there’s nothing here that’s worthy of licking the boots of “Rainbow Connection” or “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday.”

Hell, it even makes me kind of miss Electric Mayhem.

Muppet Treasure Island was the nadir of this marathon, so thankfully things are uphill from here. Disney would drop the property before picking it up for good and finally deciding what the hell to do with it. And the 90’s were well on their way to folding into the culture of the new millennium. Good riddance.

TL;DR: Muppet Treasure Island is a flimsy excuse for a Muppet picture.
Rating: 5/10
Word Count: 1033
Reviews In This Series
The Muppet Movie (Frawley, 1979)
The Great Muppet Caper (Henson, 1981)
The Muppets Take Manhattan (Oz, 1984)
The Muppet Christmas Carol (Henson, 1991)
Muppet Treasure Island (Henson, 1996)
Muppets from Space (Hill, 1999)
The Muppets (Bobin, 2011)
Muppets Most Wanted (Bobin, 2014)

Frog Bless Us, Every One

Year: 1992

Director: Brian Henson

Cast: Michael Caine, Dave Goelz, Steve Whitmire 

Run Time: 1 hour 25 minutes

MPAA Rating: G

So, here we are. The reason I foolishly decided to begin a Muppet marathon in the month leading up to Star Wars VII, only the biggest blockbuster event in the annals of blog history. No, The Muppet Christmas Carol does not hold the same currency as a review of, say, The Empire Strikes Back. But as a fiendish bit of counterprogramming, it works perfectly, injecting a bit of felt-covered family fun into the Popcorn Culture Christmas season, which is generally a notoriously bloody affair.

The Muppet Christmas Carol, released in 1992, heralds in the darkest stretch of our retrospective, the decade immediately following Jim Henson’s tragic death in 1990. Steve Whitmire does an admirable job covering his shifts as the classic characters Kermit the Frog, Rizzo the Rat, and Beaker, but with the loss of Henson, the floppy ensemble also lost their guiding light, that indomitable spark that twinkled at the core of their features. That is not to say that Muppet Christmas Carol is a bad movie. But it is profoundly lacking in that Something that even the worst Muppet features contained.

Cough, cough, Great Muppet Caper.

The Muppet Christmas Carol begins by immediately bringing back the meta absent from the previous entry with hurricane force. Gonzo (Dave Goelz) and Rizzo (Steve Whitmire) welcome us to the film. Gonzo is portraying Charles Dickens as the interactive narrator to the story. As much as he is, in the film, wholly and irrevocably Charles Dickens, we are meant to understand that he is also wholly and irrevocably Gonzo. And both of them, whoever they are, have chosen to partner with a Guido rat to tell us the story. I bet you thought these movies wouldn’t require several advanced degrees in rhetorical logic, but these are still the Muppets we’re talking about, Henson or no Henson.

Anyway, Mr. Ebenezer Scrooge (Michael Caine, somehow) is a miserable, miserly old man who hates Christmas, charity, the poor, and pretty much anything that doesn’t rhyme with “honey.” He is cruel to his employees, including the kindly Bob Cratchett (Kermit (Steve Whitmire)), who lives in destitution with his wife (Miss Piggy (Frank Oz)) and their kids, including the crippled but loving Tiny Tim (Robin (Jerry Nelson)). You know the story, weed of Christmas past – whoops, sorry, I got my The Night Before notes mixed up in there. Ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future arrive to show Scrooge the error of his ways and teach him to respect the spirit of Christmas.

Side note: There are serial murderers less creepy than the Ghost of Christmas Past.

It is at this point that I should probably note that this was the moment in Muppet history where the Disney company first decided to get their hands dirty in the franchise, preparing for the purchase of Jim Henson Studios. Perhaps this is the reason Muppet Christmas Carol feels more like a cheery, corporatized slog. Perhaps it was the loss of Henson, or the advent of that most peculiar epoch known as the 90’s. Whatever the reason, this film, despite continuing the Muppet legacy of solid family content, feels altogether more typical and uninspired than ever before.

It certainly doesn’t help that the film’s adaptation of Charles Dickens’ morality tale is slavishly faithful, even to the point of including full, direct passages because you know how much kiddos love their 19th century literature. Although this does have the intriguing effect of preserving the abjecet horror present in the material, it stifles the ability of the Muppets to do anything other than paint in the numbers, occasionally breaking into one of a litany of mostly boilerplate theater in the park songs. Except for the addition of a little juvenile slapstick here and there, the film is just another lump of coal in the bucker of generic Christmas Carol adaptations, of which there have been literally dozens since the birth of cinema.

Perhaps the single biggest flaw at the core of the film is Michael Caine. This feels like utter heresy to say, but it’s true. He coasts through the film, leaning on his inherent Britishisms to provide an adequately curmudgeonly performance, but nothing more. Many talented actors have trouble interacting with the Muppets (my least favorite being those who pitch up their voices and overact like they’re talking to a damn child with a poopy diaper – don’t they know who they’re dealing with?), but what he’s asked to do here (fly into a time portal with a china doll, shout angrily at a tiny bunny rabbit, and – worst of all – sing) seems to completely flummox him.

The other unfortunate effect of Caine’s starring role is that even the A-list Muppets are sidelined. Miss Piggy and Fozzie Bear (Frank Oz) literally get less screen time than freaking Bunsen Honeydew, and even Kermit hops out of the film for massive stretches. The ghosts and the bulk of the ensemble aren’t even played by recognizable characters! This is a Muppet film that blatantly flaunts its lack of the Muppets, and it suffers greatly for it. Caine is called upon for no comedy at all, and the classic characters are trapped in treacherously serious side roles, so the results are bleakly dull for a miserably large proportion of the time.

I never thought I’d actually be happy to see Electric Mayhem on my TV screen.

If you take the film at face value as a Dickens adaptation, it is acceptable holiday fodder, but from a Muppet fan perspective, it’s an undue slog. The one place where the film really shines with the proper intensity is in its overall aesthetic. The gingerbread Olde England architecture that populates the sets is imbued with a whimsical, dare I say expressionistic, twist that reliably induces the proper sense of fantasy with wonky, tilted designs that delight the eyes.

Muppet Christmas Carol also retains the daring, rule-breaking puppetry that defined all the previous films. Although, there are none of the bicycle shots that Muppet  filmmakers inexplicably adored in the 80’s, we get ice skating Muppets, floating ghost Muppets in chains, and an indescribably stunning shot of Kermit walking down the street with Tiny Tim on his shoulder humming a Christmas ditty. That moment more than any other captures the sentimental magic of the franchise in a perfect little microcosm. Put that crap in a snowglobe, and I’d buy a dozen.

So no, I don’t hate The Muppet Christmas Carol. It is as far from being my favorite Muppet movie as my 12-pushups-a-day physique is from Chris Evans. But as a film, it is at the very least tolerable and from time to time, pretty fun. The Muppets were still reeling from the loss of Jim Henson, as they would be for a decade and change, but this is perhaps the best iteration of his legacy made during that period, even if the choice of material was certifiably dubious.

TL;DR: The Muppet Christmas Carol is a dully devoted adaptation that sidelines its most lovable characters.

Rating: 6/10

Word Count: 1189
Reviews In This Series
The Muppet Movie (Frawley, 1979)
The Great Muppet Caper (Henson, 1981)
The Muppets Take Manhattan (Oz, 1984)
The Muppet Christmas Carol (Henson, 1992)
Muppet Treasure Island (Henson, 1996)
Muppets from Space (Hill, 1999)
The Muppets (Bobin, 2011)
Muppets Most Wanted (Bobin, 2014)

Pig In The City

Year: 1984

Director: Frank Oz

Cast: Jim Henson, Frank Oz, Dave Goelz

Run Time: 1 hour 34 minutes

MPAA Rating: G

We are far from the end of our Muppet marathon, but we have hit a major milestone. 1984’s The Muppets Take Manhattan, the third feature film starring Jim Henson’s beloved creations, is also the final film to feature Henson himself before his untimely death in 1990. I don’t know what we’ll face in the sprawling decade of 90’s Muppetry, but at the very least it’s some comfort that his final silver screen outing was the most consistent, appealing cinematic Muppet venture yet.

Although, let’s not pretend any single moment in cinema history could beat “Rainbow Connection.”

The Muppets Take Manhattan begins like every great Muppet film should: with a dream: Kermit the Frog (Jim Henson) and his friends have just graduated college and decide to head to Broadway to put on a show. Unfortunately, the big city eats apple-cheeked sentimentalism for breakfast, and they end up living out of bus station lockers and struggling to get by. The gang splits up to pursue their own destinies, but Kermit stays behind, befriending a waitress named Jenny (Juliana Donald) and teaming up to save the show and get his friends back together.

Miss Piggy (Frank Oz) also stays behind, to tail Kermit and Jenny and fly into a jealous rage whenever they hug. Hijinks ensue, involving roller skates, permed curls (never forget this was made in the 80’s), amnesia, and plenty of celebrity cameos. Half of which I recognized this time!

I might just know Elliott Gould from playing Ross and Monica’s dad on Friends, but that still counts!

With this entry, the Muppets have finally settled into the right budget range. The Muppets themselves maintain their astonishing lack of physical limitation (save a close-up of their marching feet, an unerringly disturbing sight that not even Kubrick could have gotten right), but tone down on the extravagant, showy production numbers. The Muppets are a lot of things, but they’re not shallow, and the exhausting profusion of pace-halting glitz in The Great Muppet Caper got alarmingly close to that dreaded lack of depth. But never mind that, because we’re back and we’re going to Broadway!

Since we spent so much time slamming Caper’s musical propensities, I suppose it’s prudent to explain where Manhattan goes right. The soundtrack is perhaps the most consistent of the first three films (though there is no standout like “Rainbow Connection,” it also doesn’t hit a nadir like “Couldn’t We Ride”), with each number actually servicing the plot and its themes in some way. The only time the film takes a screeching halt for a number is the playful doo-wop “I’m Gonna Always Love You,” performed by a live-action commercial for the Muppet Babies cartoon that would premiere two months hence. Fortunately, this performance is so cute that your face melts like that Nazi from Indiana Jones and you can’t be bothered to notice how indefensibly pointless it is.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

No further questions, your honor.

Another stand-out number, for obvious reasons, is the recurring motif “Together Again,” as direct a statement of the sentimental Muppetian love for the world, its inhabitants, and each other as there ever could be. It also boasts some kick-ass shoulder choreography that just shouldn’t be possible to achieve with felt hand puppets. And then there’s “Somebody’s Getting Married,” a musical theatre pastiche that bottles pure Broadway joy into a song that serves a purpose both in the show within the movie and the movie itself. Now, that’s screenwriting.

Now, Muppets Take Manhattan is not a perfect movie. It’s a consistent movie with by far the most successful narrative in the franchise, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the best. At times it can be altogether shaggy, especially when it splits up the core group of Muppets. We get a grab bag of sketches of varying quality describing their whereabouts, and the dutiful focus on each individual Muppet is charmingly sincere, though a bit long in the tooth. Especially in the third act, there are a lot of additional plot points that crop up just to add another wrinkle to the plot for no real reason other than extending the run time.

And I suppose there’s no better place than here to bring up an issue I’ve had with the Muppets since day one. It’s controversial, so viewer discretion is advised. I’m not a fan of Kermit and Miss Piggy’s relationship. I get the sitcom “take my wife, please” act, but I don’t ever feel for more than a minute at a time throughout any of these movies that Kermit cares about Piggy or wants to commit to her in any way. Her unfiltered devotion compared to his slightly alarmed ambivalence gives me angina. Piggy pushes and pushes him about getting married after he sells the show, much to his seeming consternation. So when the musical finale concludes in a showstopping wedding, it doesn’t feel earned at all, making the entire ending a little abrupt and clunky.

So there you have it. Brennan hates love.

But damn it all to hell, this is a Muppets feature. It’s silly, it’s fun, and Miss Piggy bends iron with her kung fu grip. You’re never not having a good time when you’re watching The Muppets Take Manhattan. The cameos are a little lax this time around, but having a roller skating Gregory Hines ask “You gave Jenny the huggies?” pretty much makes up for any deficiencies in that regard.

This is the first Muppet feature to never break the fourth wall, but it’s also the first to be an actual, bona fide movie. With Frank Oz, the Muppeteer with perhaps the broadest extracurricular experience (Yoda! Little Shop of Horrors! The man’s an icon.), at the helm, the movie finds its way to the finish line with fleet footing. Or is that hoofing? Webbing? At any rate, it’s even more fun to watch the Muppets take Manhattan than Jason Voorhees, and you know how much I adore that big lug.

TL;DR: The Muppet Take Manhattan is a little ditsy, but effervescently fun.

Rating: 7/10
Word Count: 1031
Reviews In This Series
The Muppet Movie (Frawley, 1979)
The Great Muppet Caper (Henson, 1981)
The Muppets Take Manhattan (Oz, 1984)
The Muppet Christmas Carol (Henson, 1992)
Muppet Treasure Island (Henson, 1996)
Muppets from Space (Hill, 1999)
The Muppets (Bobin, 2011)
Muppets Most Wanted (Bobin, 2014)

Movin' Right Along

Year: 1981

Director: Jim Henson

Cast: Jim Henson, Frank Oz, Dave Goelz

Run Time: 1 hour 35 minutes

MPAA Rating: G

The second stop on our tour of theatrical Muppet features is The Great Muppet Caper, which elbowed its way into theaters in 1981 amid the greatest slasher boom of the 20th century. It actually debuted on the same day as Road Games, sandwiched right on in between Final Exam and Student Bodies as a family friendly alternative toall those psychopathic murder sprees. Film history is weird.

The feature film follow-up to The Muppet Movie two years earlier, The Great Muppet Caper debuted after The Muppet Show finally closed its doors. It netted almost twice the budget of its predecessor, carving a new path for the future of Jim Henson’s Muppets. And who better to direct this next chapter than Henson himself? Taking over from the anonymous James Frawley, his work would be much more idiosyncratic, though perhaps not quite so coherent.

I’m just saying, maybe the guy who invented these guys didn’t have his head screwed on totally straight.

In The Great Muppet Caper, Kermit the Frog (Jim Henson) and Fozzie Bear (Frank Oz) are twin brother reporters and Gonzo (Dave Goelz) is their intrepid cameraman. In order to save their jobs, they travel to England to investigate the theft of Lady Holiday’s (Bond girl Diana Rigg) diamonds. Kermit mistakes secretary Miss Piggy (Frank Oz) for Lady Holiday and they fall in love, because apparently their romance is going to respawn every time like it got blown up in Call of Duty. Lucky us.

When Miss Piggy is framed for the theft, Kermit and the others team up to catch the real criminal, the Lady’s brother Nicky (Charles Grodin) before he and his team of models steal the Baseball Diamond from the Mallory Gallery.

Yes, this movie was made for children, why do you ask?

Summing up The Great Muppet Caper is a thorny task. The ways in which it improves on the uneven, vignette-driven Muppet Movie are almost exactly equal to the ways it utterly fails to match up to the giddy, warm-hearted heights of that film. Let’s open with some positive remarks, because I don’t want you to go around thinking there’s a bad Muppet movie floating around out there somewhere.

First off, this film marries its Muppetian antics to a wonderfully intelligible plot. With actual conflict, story beats, and a recognizable three-act structure, Caper is driven by an intentionality that The Muppet Movie totally lacked. Second, Henson has an eye for composition that isn’t exactly Wellesian, but certainly outpaces Frawley’s frantic fumbling without breaking a sweat. My single favorite visual moment is when a lurking model drifts behind a mirrored pillar, drawing attention to another model across the room and creating the uncanny sense of being surrounded. His use of the camera in his storytelling is simple, but nevertheless whimsical and fun.

But you know what this movie doesn’t have? “Rainbow Connection.” The score is overloaded with original compositions, but none have the sweet resonance of Kermit’s swamp serenade, or even Gonzo’s terrifically earnest “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday.” The opening song “Hey a Movie!” captures some of the exuberant joy of creating entertainment and boasts a dazzling, intricately choreographed display on a city street utilizing dozens of dancers and even moving cars, but most of the other tracks (of which there are a staggering profusion) call to mind that dreaded word… Filler.

A word that instantly strikes fear into the heart of any devoted completist.

I really get the sense that The Great Muppet Caper was written after the songs were composed, because the story does some truly impressive Linda Blair contortions to shoehorn in production numbers. The entire second act feels like a prime time TV show with too many commercial breaks. Whenever we get an inch of plot, a mile of singing quickly unravels after it.

The actual conflict doesn’t kick in until about an hour into the movie, because of the film’s uncanny dedication to lushly staged but frustratingly pointless numbers like “Piggy’s Fantasy” (a lavish pool sequence that calls to mind Gentlemen Prefer Blondes) or “Night Life” (a wordless, tedious New Wave noodle that drags like a dead body – Electric Mayhem strikes again). By the time the meandering “Couldn’t We Ride” interrupts one of the longest sustained plot points (about a minute and a half, by my count), you begin to wonder if this movie dearly wants to punish viewers who have a less than thorough knowledge of Busby Berkeley. I mean, I like musicals, but this is like banging your head into a piano.

The unsuitably boring middle third of the film is also marred by what can only be described as a scathingly awful performance from Mssr. Charles Grodin, who certainly can act but even more certainly does no such thing here. If he was shooting for “unfathomably drunk,” he undeniably succeeded, but his unmotivated dialogue is exacerbated by the sense that he doesn’t seem to know what room he’s in half the time.

Sorry, dude. Love the sideburns.

But take every negative feeling generated by that section of the movie and flip it the hell around, because the first and third acts feature the madcap Muppets at their finest. From the adorable, fourth wall shattering opening credits to the litany of jovial jokes (which aren’t quite as dopey as The Muppet Movie, but just as silly and vaudevillian), The Great Muppet Caper is a very lovable, extremely fun watch for the young, the old, and the furry.

Utilizing its gargantuan budget (methinks the lady’s diamonds might have been stolen to fund this movie), Caper performs incredible feats of visual splendor that the Muppets were wholly incapable of pulling off before. The opening number and the closing heist thrum with vibrant creativity that plays with the darkness of the crime genre in a safe, effortlessly exuberant environment. 

For all that I kind of despise a good third of The Great Muppet Caper, everything else is a more than suitable ointment for my pain. These are still the Muppets, and they still put on a good show. It’s their job and they do it well. With Henson at the wheel, they brim with cheery sentiment and unforgettable charm that goes an extremely long way.

TL;DR: The Great Muppet Caper is an effervescent family comedy that suffers from an extremely bloated second act.

Rating: 6/10

Word Count: 1078
Reviews In This Series
The Muppet Movie (Frawley, 1979)
The Great Muppet Caper (Henson, 1981)
The Muppets Take Manhattan (Oz, 1984)
The Muppet Christmas Carol (Henson, 1992)
Muppet Treasure Island (Henson, 1996)
Muppets from Space (Hill, 1999)
The Muppets (Bobin, 2011)
Muppets Most Wanted (Bobin, 2014)

We Know That It's Probably Magic

Year: 1979

Director: James Frawley

Cast: Jim Henson, Frank Oz, Jerry Nelson

Run Time: 1 hour 35 minutes

MPAA Rating: G

I just made the best decision of my life. Because I’m a huge fan of the Muppets and their new TV show on ABC is just unlawfully good, I decided to drag myself and Sergio through a marathon of their 8 theatrical features, only three of which I have previously seen (and just one of which – Muppets Most Wanted – I have previously reviewed).

Jim Henson’s Muppets have withstood the test of time with grace and flair, bringing their enterprisingly meta comedy to the masses for over half a century. Although The Muppet Movie is not where they got their start (they debuted on Sam and Friends in the ancient year of 1955 and were already three seasons deep in The Muppet Show by the time the movie was released in 1979 – totally incidentally, the same year that Mad Max injected fuel into the engine of action cinema), it’s nevertheless a great place to start: their origin story.

It’s like Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, but only slightly less violent.

The Muppet Movie opens on the World Wide Studios lot, where the Muppets (including Kermit’s terrifyingly waifish nephew) have gathered for a screening of their first film, depicting how the felt-covered crew came into being.

The film rolls and we’re immediately plunged into the single best scene in the history of children’s entertainment: Kermit the Frog (Jim Henson) sits on a log, strumming a banjo and wistfully crooning the Willliams & Ascher tune “Rainbow Connection,” the ethereal paean to following your dreams that has landed at number 74 on AFI’s 100 Best Movie Songs list, been covered dozens of times by artists including The Carpenters, Weezer, Justin Timberlake, and Kenny Loggins, and caused more teary eyes than a century’s worth of animal dander. “Rainbow Connection” is a goddamn perfect song. This film was, is, and always will be “Rainbow Connection,” and thus can be forgiven if nothing to follow ever adequately reaches those heady heights.

Following his sojourn into unadulterated joy, Kermit meets Bernie (Dom DeLuise), a Hollywood agent who tells him of an upcoming audition for frogs, wanting the opportunity to make millions of people happy, he takes a trip from the swamp to sunny California, making friends along the way and taking them with him. These fine furry folks include failed comedian Fozzie Bear (Frank Oz), traveling plumber Gonzo (Dave Goelz), down-home beauty queen miss Piggy (Frank Oz), and the band Electric Mayhem, of whom the only one that matters is Animal (Frank Oz, who I hope got a dozen different paychecks for this).

There’s a lot of hippy-ish free love ride sharing going on, but the gang is pursued by the very un-New Age Doc Hopper (Charles Durning), a fried frog legs magnate who will stop at nothing to make Kermit the spokesfrog for his restaurant chain, even if I means killing and stuffing him.

Kiddie flicks used to be DARK, man.

Now, this is a movie from the 70’s, and it more than betrays its vintage. Of the dozen or so cameos that pack this film, today’s kids would only recognize two – Steve Martin and Big Bird. And Sergio and I hardly fared much better, though we at least had heard of everybody featured. Between that and the older, more threadbare puppet designs, The Muppet Movie doesn’t quite bridge the gap to the modern age, though it really doesn’t need to with its universal themes and cheery humor.

The real trouble with The Muppet Movie is that it never truly tells a cohesive story. It’s more a loose string of vignettes with the same broad theme, a problem endemic to many road trip movies (except, oddly, Bride of Chucky). There are some hazardously dull patches on the rocky road from point A to point B, especially any scene featuring Electric Mayhem, who I must admit I’ve never cared for except as an Animal delivery system. This story structure also allows some self-indulgent breaks from tone, like a bizarre and pointless Western interlude (which is almost made up for by the hyperbolically adorable sight of Kermit in spurs and a ten-gallon hat).

The soundtrack has its equal set of rough patches. I know that comparing any song to “Rainbow Connection” is like comparing a glass of water to the Pacific Ocean, but Piggy’s “Never Before, Never Again” is still a bit wan, pepped up only by Frank Oz’s gonzo performance (pun not intended, with all due respect to Dave Goelz). And I think if I badmouth Electric Mayhem one more time, I’ll be run off this blog with torches and pitchforks, so I’ll just say that I wish they’d ended along with the 70’s.

Unfortunately, puppets hardly ever have contract disputes, so we’re stuck with ‘em.

But for all that The Muppet Movie isn’t the greatest film ever made, it’s still an unimpeachably fun motion picture. While the broad-as-a-barn vaudeville comedy stylings might not be everybody’s cup of tea, the humor is so sweet and gentle that it’s impossible to dislike. Plus, several of the cameo performers are downright uproarious, including Mel Brooks in an explosive turn as a sublimely evil German doctor and Steve Martin as an uncouth waiter. Any time they’re pulling their absurdist antics onscreen, the only way you’ll stop laughing is if your lungs fall out.

The real core of The Muppet Movie is its earnest desire for you to have a good time, a goal which it indubitably accomplishes. It has no higher purpose than creating smiles, the simple compositions and unchallenging plot line serving only as a means to an end. But, oh, what an end. Jim Henson’s Muppets have always had an uncanny level of emotional life thanks to their mind-bogglingly terrific puppeteers, but the earnest and sentimental approach to storytelling here is uncannily effective.

From the heartstring thresher that is “Rainbow Connection” to the open-faced, generous enthusiasm with which Kermit chases his Hollywood dream, The Muppet Movie very frequently taps directly into the human soul. Perhaps no scene is more potently sincere than Gonzo’s solo song “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday,” a piece that is literally about him wanting to be a stuntman but rings with percussive emotion about optimism, passion, and reaching for he stars. I’d say it’s inhumanly powerful, and I’d be right. It’s muppetly powerful. That unfettered sappiness which never ever feels dishonest is the reason that this film is a classic.

It never hurts to feel like a kid again.

Soon, just like the film’s jaunty recurring theme, we’ll be “Moving Right Along” to later, occasionally better Muppet pictures. But let us never forget the sacrosanct pleasure of watching these good friends get together, even if there were some bumps in the road.

MVP (Most Valuable Puppet): Kermit the Frog

Kermit is usually the straight man (well, straight frog) among his zany friends: but this movie is his and his alone. His earnest desire to make people happy drives this occasionally uneven film with all the Jim Henson sentimentalism he can muster.

TL;DR: The Muppet Movie has its rough patches, but is unfailingly earnest and sentimental.

Rating: 7/10
Word Count: 1207
Reviews In This Series
The Muppet Movie (Frawley, 1979)
The Great Muppet Caper (Henson, 1981)
The Muppets Take Manhattan (Oz, 1984)
The Muppet Christmas Carol (Henson, 1992)
Muppet Treasure Island (Henson, 1996)
Muppets from Space (Hill, 1999)
The Muppets (Bobin, 2011)
Muppets Most Wanted (Bobin, 2014)