Recently, I was thinking about where I get my sense of humor from, and it occurred to me that a lot of it came from Jim Henson and the Muppets. Henson and his creations have always had an outsize presence in my life, from Sesame Street to The Muppet Show, from The Dark Crystal to Fraggle Rock. His death at the early age of 53 was the first–and one of the very few–celebrity deaths to reduce me to tears. What would he have done if he had lived longer? How would he have utilized such technologies as advances in animatronics or the magic of motion capture (mocap)? While I’d like to say that I can envision what he would do, that would be a lie. Henson never did the expected, and anything he would have accomplished would have exceeded anybody’s wildest imaginings. The husby and I were fantasizing about what a collaboration between Henson and Peter Jackson would have looked like!
Those thoughts came about as we watched the Disney+ documentary about Henson, titled Jim Henson: Idea Man. I’m a bit late to the party on this, as it came out a week ago, but I was finally able to give it the time and attention that I knew I would want to devote to it. Having been such a fan of Henson, I’m pretty familiar with the events of his life. I’ve read his biography, as well as watching behind the scenes footage from his projects and reading books about the process of creating such shows as Sesame Street. But while I’m sure the vast majority of people are familiar with his work, younger audiences may not be as familiar with the man behind them, given that he passed away 34 years ago.
The documentary, directed by Ron Howard, covers Henson’s career from his first forays into puppetry as a way to break into the television industry, through his work with Children’s Television Workshop and Lord Lew Grade, into his groundbreaking movies. Much of the time is devoted to Sesame Street and The Muppet Show, which is fitting as those were his most well-known programs. Howard gives us insight into the creation of popular characters like Rowlf (made from a basketball cut in half) and Miss Piggy (her signature karate chop was an ad-lib by Muppeteer Frank Oz). Several of the Muppeteers are interviewed for the documentary, with Oz being joined by Jerry Juhl, David Goelz, and Fran Brill. Henson’s family also features prominently, painting a portrait of their father as a person rather than a creative figure.
One thing that really stood out to me in this documentary was the style in which it was presented. It’s a mix of Henson-esque visuals and Disney storytelling structure. The interstitial segments utilize stop motion animation in a simplistic style that’s reminiscent of the early days of Sesame Street. This gave me a huge hit of nostalgia and helped to connect the program to Henson’s creativity. The Disney style might be harder for the viewing audience to appreciate unless they’ve been to San Francisco to visit the Disney Family Museum. The documentary follows a very similar structure to the way Disney’s story is laid out as you go through the museum, and the husby and I both noticed this. The use of prop televisions to display older show clips mimics the museum as well, and is an effective way to frame the shots in the format in which they would have originally been seen.
The only real quibble I have is that I wish Howard had spent more time on Henson’s later projects. There’s only the barest mention of Fraggle Rock, which was immensely popular and has spawned a sequel series on Apple TV. Henson himself referred to the series as one that he hoped would eliminate war from the world. Disappointingly brief mentions are also made of The Storyteller and The Jim Henson Hour, both of which featured Henson pushing the boundaries of what could be done with both puppetry and television. I will admit, though, that I’m pretty sure that this documentary was meant to lean heavily into the nostalgia, especially for adults who grew up with Sesame Street and The Muppet Show (like me). If that was the goal, then showcasing those two was the obvious choice. Perhaps this documentary should have been done in two or three parts, but depending on what Howard wanted to accomplish, that may not have worked out.
In the end, I was simply glad to see Henson on the screen again. His influence is wide and varied, but in the noise of so much content, it might be easy to lose sight of where it all began: with a frog made out of a green velvet coat and a young man who wanted to change the world.
