I have loved watching you since "Freaks and Geeks," a show that, obviously, resonates with all current and former freaks and geeks. When I was in high school, we in the theater department referred to ourselves as "freaks" with pride. I'd arguably been a geek - smart but awkward - since early childhood.
But, before I enjoyed watching your work - indeed, before you were born - I loved the Muppets. It is not possible to overstate how much I love the Muppets, how much I love anything created by Jim Henson. The vastly underappreciated film "The Dark Crystal," anything born in the Creature Shop - I love them all.
"When I was eight years old, I discovered the Muppets. I came across Sesame Street on TV, and was delighted, even though I was years older than their intended audience. It was the beginning of a lifelong love affair with all things created by Jim Henson.
I was too old for the instruction on letter sounds and such, but I was captivated by the wittiness of the segments. Since I had a much older brother and sister and had listened to their music, when I heard a Muppet sing, "Letter B," I knew it was derived from a Beatles hit. It was charming and funny, and I felt very much "in" on a secret, since I was sure that preschoolers wouldn't know the original. Anyone who's watched any Sesame Street knows how often those moments crop up.
The musical segments were probably my favorites, but close behind came Kermit the Frog's roving reporter. As he'd show up with his news cap and microphone to report on fairy tales, something always went wrong, and he'd come unraveled. The poor hapless diner always ending up at a table served by Grover had my sympathy. And I felt for Big Bird back in the days when he was the only one of the gang to see Mr. Snuffleupagus.
The idealized neighborhood really appealed to me as well. I've always thought that reality should look something like that – everyone knew and liked everyone else (well, OK, everyone except Oscar), no one cared how old you were or what color or what species. Nobody cared about how much money you had, or what you wore or anything else superficial. And occasionally, everyone would break into a beautifully choreographed song and dance number. It was grand."(from the essay "Come on Down! You're the Next Contestant!")
"The Muppet Movie" and "The Muppet Show" spoke to me, a kid in the theater department, in even more ways.
The fact that I was in the theater department was nothing that I had ever anticipated. In sixth grade, my first year in middle school, I wanted to take art. I had always felt like an artist. My mom and I spent hours on crafts. But, my school wouldn't let sixth graders decide on a single elective; we had to take a class that gave us a single grading period of a number of electives - art, theater, choir, foreign language - so we could try them all out before we chose. At the time, I thought it was ridiculous. Ever since, I've been very glad.
I wanted to be invisible, unnoticed, anonymous as a child. A stage was the last thing I sought. I discovered a few things in that single grading period of theater: a stage wasn't an entirely terrifying place to be, there were jobs besides being onstage, and all of it was as close to actual magic as it's possible to get.
At the end of the year, I stared at the class signups for the next year for a long time - then I signed up for theater. I was never again without a theater class, for the rest of my years in school.
The idea of enthusiastic, scruffy misfits putting on a show spoke to me. And the wit level was off the charts. ("I'm on my way to New York to break into public television." "They don't look like Presbyterians to me.")
It was a great perk that it seemed like everybody wanted to work with the Muppets, between Sesame Street segments, film cameos and weekly TV guest stars.
When I had children, they started watching Sesame Street from pretty much the very start of their lives. OK, actually, they joined me in watching.
Then, the terrible thing happened; Jim died. I was an adult - I had a husband, a mortgage, two children, and I was just undone. You have no idea, Jason; I was beyond devastated. My dad was 56 on the day I was born - I was not prepared for otherwise healthy people to die in their 50s, except maybe in some kind of crash.
His funeral was televised, but I couldn't watch it. I knew the basics - the public was invited, bright colors were encouraged, paper butterflies flown, Harry Belafonte sang - but I was unable to face it. I was unreasonably angry that Big Bird sang "Rainbow Connection." It was Kermit's song, and I could not face hearing anyone else sing it.
(It took me twenty years to be able to watch the funeral. It was just beautiful; I still cried all the way through.)
Aside from the pain of losing Jim, and losing all of the projects he would have developed, I feared losing all of his characters - Kermit, Ernie, Dr. Teeth, The Swedish Chef, Rowlf... I could not handle the thought of losing them all. But, as Frank Oz told a reporter who asked (rather indelicately, I thought), "Can you imagine being Bert to anyone else as Ernie?", he could not imagine it.
Some time afterward - long enough that I was sure they'd run out of pre-death footage, but soon enough that my nerves were still raw - I burst into tears during Sesame Street. For the first time since Jim's death, there was new footage with Ernie. It was a huge crowd scene, and all Ernie did was sing and dance on the back row, but it undid me.
My children, like most children, were fairly oblivious to anything that did not directly involve them, but this, they noticed. "What's wrong, Mom? Are you OK?" I couldn't tell them that seeing Ernie made me cry. I forget what I did say.
When "A Muppet Christmas Carol" came out, I was skeptical. Aside from Luke 2, "A Christmas Carol" is my favorite Christmas story, so I've rarely met an incarnation that I didn't embrace, but this would be the first production of any kind with the new voice of Kermit. I wasn't sure if I should be delighted that we still had him, or angry that it wouldn't be the same. It would be the first film undertaken without Jim; would the magic remain?
When I realized, midway through the film, that I had spent a full 15 minutes just watching, without comparing Steve Whitmire to Jim, I knew it would be OK.
And it was.
"Muppets Tonight" was fun - and who doesn't love Pepe? - but it didn't seem to grab the population the way the original show did.
Then, the Muppets all but disappeared. Fewer people understood why I'd respond to, "It's a myth" with, "Yeth?"
You know this, Jason. Because this is where you come in.
I was a bit leery about "The Muppets." The setup didn't entirely delight me; I'd preferred to think of the gang as doing dinner shows at a beach resort somewhere, or doing nightly cruise ship shows, not as broken up. And, let's face it, you and Walter do not look like brothers.
It was probably about the time you sang, "Yes, it is!" instead of coming up with an obscure rhyme for "fish" that I was hooked. It was witty. It was heartfelt. It was earnest. (As an aside - I live in Reno, I recognized the casino exterior used as Fozzie's employer, and I'm OK with good fun poked at my city. We even took visiting family out to dinner, saying, "This is the casino from 'The Muppets!'") It had a fantastic cast and great cameos. I even enjoyed the fun poked at the fact that all of their celebrity fans were from years past. (I mean, Mummenshanz, anyone?) And who doesn't love Amy Adams?
I cried, Jason. I just bawled. If I hadn't already been weepy, the photo of Jim hanging on the wall would have done it.
(When you sang, "Am I a Man, Or Am I a Muppet?" I knew what my answer would be - for myself, I would answer, "Muppet.")
That wasn't even the best part. Do you know what was? The Muppets were COOL again, and they were everywhere. Yes, occasionally they're a little too self consciously hip - look at us, we can make drug, sex and alcohol references! Seriously, they never needed anything more than a little nudge and wink, so I hope the whole "it's a new century, we can push those boundaries" thing doesn't overwhelm them. Because they're still funny, still dorky, still bickering and still family.
The fact that they're on commercials, on newscasts, making guest appearances - THAT'S the best part, Jason. You made them cool again. You could lose your mind from here on out, your career could tank, and I'd still have a warm spot in my heart for you. Yes, because your work is good, Jason. But also, because you gave the Muppets back to me. It's no small thing.
It's always time to play the music. It's always time to light the lights. For the lovers, the dreamers, and me.
Thanks,
Sharon
No comments:
Post a Comment