Labyrinth

There are plenty of things in the world that I don't understand. Things like laser printers, cricket, and the stock market confuse me. Also in the realm of things beyond my grasp is why people like Labyrinth so much. I was sure that when I watched this movie again (for the first times since my days at Huron Church Camp), I was doing so with the right blend of nostalgia, campy appreciation, and Brian Froud appreciation. But, as it turns out, even with preparation, there isn't much you can do to force appreciation for what just isn't a very good movie.

I will grant that there are some serious triumphs in Labyrinth. I claim no expertise when it comes to puppetry, but when you have felt characters that are detailed and expressive enough that you can forget about the fact that they are puppets and focus on the fact that they are irritating or boring characters, you have accomplished something. Seeing those Brian Froud-ian characters come to life, having what would have seemed impossible outside of one's own imagination appear on the screen is a real delight. In fact, I would have been much happier to just have the film be a showcase of Froud-ian puppets, watching the inhabitants of the labyrinth going about their regular, mischievous day, without the interruption of an over-acted, too-boring-for-this-magical-world story.

Among those obsessed with Labyrinth there seems to be an enormous fascination with David Bowie and his character, Jareth, the Goblin King - also known as the most distracting, narrative interrupting part of the whole movie. Whenever some momentum gets going, and Sarah (the protagonist, played by a young Jennifer Connelly who, in retrospect, deserves credit for being able to learn from mistakes) moves forward in her adventure, everything comes to a grinding halt for a Bowie musical number of questionable quality and irrefutable narrative nonimportance. Every so often, the musical number is committed by a puppet instead of a Bowie, and that just makes things worse. "Chilly Down," sung by a crew of muppets known as the Fire Gang is the worst scene, hands down, of the whole movie. As the scene played out, I was looking around to my viewing companions, trying to catch someone's eye, in order to get an affirming glance that yes, this was actually happening. Next, instead of looking back to the screen, I checked the clock on the DVD player to see how much longer this would all go on. Abandoning all hope, I settled in to watch the rest of the movie.

And then there's Hoggle. I'm all for redemption in fiction. It's great to watch someone make amends and atone for past grievances. Hell, after watching season 5 of Angel, I started wishing that I had committed more sins in my past so that I could have more to redeem myself for. But Hoggle, a dwarven Judas to Sarah's Jesus, gets more second chances than Lindsay Lohan. Time after time, Hoggle betrays Sarah's trust, putting her into mortal peril, only for her to forgive him again, shaking her head saying "Oh Hoggle," as though deadly betrayal was little more than an affectionate quirk. Hoggle is a cowardly dick who switches allegiances more times than... . Nonethless, he ends up among the crowd of puppets at the end, promising to always be around when Sarah needs him. Despite having the option of a huge, cuddly monster named Ludo,


Hoggle is somehow still Sarah's favourite, proving, once and for all, that girls do prefer bad boys.

Maybe I'm being too much of a stickler, hoping that well-respected movies have things like better-than-laughable acting, and a tolerable story. Maybe this is just a further example of how much of a snob I've become, losing the ability to appreciate films solely based on their puppetry. Or, maybe Labyrinth just isn't all that good.