Muppets in 3-D

June 14, 1991

There have been many occasions where I’ve seen a film and thought to myself that it had “sequel potential” written all over it. My feelings on such a possibility generally varies with the quality of the movie (I dread a sequel to “Darkman”; I’ve been waiting for the [forthcoming] sequel to “Terminator” for years.) But never before had I seen a film which I knew could never have a sequel, and which left me wistful over the prospect of possibilities forever unfulfilled.

Never, until I saw “The Muppets in 3-D.

Not in your local theaters, you say? It won’t be. The only place where you can catch the Muppet 3-D film is in Disneyworld, in the Disney/MGM theme park. And it’s not even open.

Officially.

I would love to be able to tell you that I’m some hotshot VIP who was invited to a private screening. Just me and a dozen or so of my close, personal friends, with Disney execs all around whispering “David likes it! He’ll write it up! We’ll be famous!”

Far from it. It was pure happenstance. The positive aspect of this is that, if you have a trip slated for Disney/MGM, or live in the area, then you too can catch it.

My family and I were at Disneyworld on vacation (tied in with my attending the Miamicon comic convention with Hulk artist and god-in-the-making Dale Keown…after all, you remember what happened to the last talented Canadian Hulk artist).

It was our last day, and we were at the Disney/MGM studios. I had the kids entertained in the “Honey I Shrunk the Kids” playground while my wife, Myra, was doing some shopping on the main street.

And there, a Disney employee tipped her to the fact that they were running sneak previews of the Muppet 3-D film…the movie whose release had been tied up in the courts after the acrimonious dissolution of the Disney/Henson deal (I’ve heard a lot of Disney-related dirt, but it’s all second-hand, so I won’t pass it on.) The legal snarl had only recently been settled, and there was no set release date of the film; we’d heard anywhere from May 21 to as late as October.

Yet here this guy was telling Myra they were running sneaks…furthermore, that it was open to anybody, not some sort of restricted thing for big shots or Disney employees. And, most incredibly, there was no line. Why? No one knew about it. You had to check the posting boards or pick it up through word of mouth.

Myra, despite being six months pregnant, set a land speed record for getting across the park to relay this bit of information, and minutes later we waltzed in. Sure enough, no line. Walk right in, step this way.

If you do not wish to know what you’ll see in the Muppet 3-D film, do not read further. However, I feel no guilt in telling you what to expect: Moments after seeing it, we ran around to the front of the theater and saw it again. It was even better the second time around.

In the Muppet 3-D film, you can witness the seamless marriage of Disney and Henson, as it artfully combines 3-D technology, live action, and audioanimatronics. You don’t watch this film so much as have it happen to you. It’s in front of you, to the sides, and behind you. No one and no place is safe, and you literally have the feeling that the film screen is simply incapable of containing the Muppets.

This thing makes Disney’s other high-profile 3-D film, “Captain EO,” look like a home movie. It’s nine minutes of unbridled hysterics and hysteria; an entire episode of the Muppet show encapsulated into less than half the time.

After a TV monitor pre-show, featuring Rowlf the Dog entertaining viewers with stirring renditions of such ditties as “Lydia the Tattooed Lady,” you enter a very spacious and comfortable theater that bears a striking resemblance to the theater from “The Muppet Show.” This is further accentuated, in short order, by the appearance of audioanimatronic (abbreviated henceforth as audioam) Statler and Waldorf, the two old coots who regularly heckled the series. An audioam orchestra of penguins rises in front of you and strikes up an overture, the curtain parts, and accompanied by the familiar “Muppet Show” theme music, the film rolls.

Kermit the Frog, in glorious 3-D, appears on the screen and confirms that the film is indeed underway. As if the evidence of our own eyes isn’t enough, the Frog (performed, I’m quite certain, by Jim Henson–if not, it’s a perfect imitation) calls to the projectionist at the back of the theater to confirm the obvious. Crane your neck and you’ll see an audioam Swedish Chef in the projection booth, assuring us that “der flim is okee-dokee.”

Fozzie Bear shows up and, after conversing (from the screen) with Statler and Waldorf (in the theater), aims a water-squirting lapel flower at the audience and lets fly. Sure enough, the audience is dowsed.

Kermit then leads us on a guided tour of Muppet 3-D labs, assuring us that the greatest scientific minds of the entire world have been invited to the labs to help develop this new breakthrough technology. As an afterthought, Kermit informs us that none of those great minds accepted the invitation, which means that instead we’re left with the efforts of Dr. Bunsen Honeydew and his intrepid, and perpetually victimized, assistant Beaker.

Their endeavors unleash a running 3-D character, Waldo, a rapidly shape-shifting little beastie that eludes their best tries to recapture him (an attempt at snaring him with a vacuum threatens to suck the audience right out of their seats.) This production is so tightly integrated that, when the 3-D filmed Waldo bounces up and down across the heads of the audience, audioamed Statler and Waldorf’s heads move in synchronization as they “watch” him.

We then segue to a musical number with Miss Piggy, the botching of which prompts one of the Muppets to resign from the movie. He stalks off screen.

The movie-bound Muppets spread out to look for him, their flashlights from the screen playing across the audience. Moments later the huge Sweetums walks off the screen to the right and then physically enters the audience, in search of the strayed Muppet. He finds him, audioamed in the balcony on the other side of the stage.

Coaxing the fugitive Muppet back onto the screen, the film then barrels towards its finale, described earlier by Sam the Eagle as “a stirring salute to all the nations of the world, but mostly the United States.”

Time, however, is running thin. As is typical for any Muppet Show, Kermit had started out totally in control and is now frantically watching matters slip through his flippers with dizzying speed.

“Sam!” he shouts. “Is the finale ready?!”

“Yes,” Sam informs him smugly. “It’s a glorious three hour extravaganza…”

Aware of the impending end of the film, Kermit responds to the horrified eagle, “We’ve got a minute and a half!”

The finale is cranked up, everything is flying everywhere, including Muppets, bows and arrows, rifle shots, fireworks, cannonfire…total and complete chaos. Watch very carefully and you’ll even see a cross section of “It’s a Small World” puppets hurtle across the screen, singing a bar from that remarkably cloying song.

By the time the thing is over, the Frog is a nervous wreck and the theater is a physical wreck. You can even see, upon leaving the theater, the damage that was inflicted on the outside of the park because of the ending of the film.

The death of Jim Henson, purely from the standpoint of the greatest entertainment genius of our generation being cut down, is tragedy enough. I have now, however, seen the two–and, I believe, only–fruits of the abortive Henson/Disney teaming. The first is the hilarious program “Dinosaurs” on Friday nights. And the second is the Muppet 3-D film.

The potential of Henson’s vision and imagination combined with the technology and resources at Disney’s command would have (and I apologize for hyperbole here) ushered in an era of innovation that would have consistently broken new ground in entertainment.

Up until now, Henson’s death has mostly stood for the loss of things already experienced. No more Kermit the Frog, at least as we’ve known him. No Muppets in the style that we’ve grown to love.

With the Muppet 3-D film and “Dinosaurs”…but particularly the former…we now begin to realize the enormity of what we won’t see in the future. We begin to perceive the true immensity of the death of Henson. The true meaning of, in the words of Whittier, what “might have been.” Brian Henson seems to be carrying on his father’s “family business” quite capably, settling the legal hassles with Disney, not letting the men in the mouse suits walk all over him. Shepherding the innovative “Dinosaurs” through the tarpits of prime time. Brian has yet to prove himself the pure genius that his father is, but hëll, even the Muppets weren’t born overnight. It’s unfair to hold the son against the standard created by his father over decades. From what we’ve seen, Henson Associates has the potential to provide quality creativity.

Still…I had actually been concerned that, watching the Muppet 3-D film, I would be so choked up about this: Jim Henson’s last released contribution. That doesn’t happen, however, because the moment the film starts, you’re not watching Jim Henson, puppeteer at work. You’re watching your old pals, the Muppets, in one of the most innovative and creative forums you’ve ever seen. The like of which you’ll never see again.

If “it might have been” is the saddest words of tongue or pen, “if only” has certainly got to be right up there.

Peter David, writer of stuff, is also impressed about the number of laughs provided at Disney/MGM at corporate expense, such as a film of David Letterman outside one exhibit, warning incoming audiences that they should behave themselves, or else “a squad of security guards in mouse costumes will come out and beat you senseless.”