There’s not a single person who doesn’t have some sort of affinity for the Muppets. We recognise the name of Jim Henson for his efforts in bringing to the world a new type of puppet, with an affectionate name to distinguish them from your garden variety types. Entrancing the world, children and adults alike, with monumental shows like Sesame Street and The Muppet Show, and movies like The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth that experimented with ambitious ways of redefining the artform of puppetry. Even today, these creations of Jim’s still persist in the minds and hearts of even the younger generations.
I, myself, have been an avid fan of the Muppets since I was a child, having watched several of the film spinoffs, and became traumatised by the hellish looking creatures of The Dark Crystal. That fascination with Henson’s work grew into an obsession as I got older. I became more appreciative of Henson’s work, more than the simple appeal of having zany puppets perform gags of varying kinds. To this day, I still keep Kermit the Frog close to my creative identity, one I keep as an odd sentimental token of innocence, all culminated from the mind of a single man. To me, no-one is quite like Jim Henson.
So, the announcement of a Disney+ original documentary on the legacy Henson had left behind, as well as getting the chance to hear from his friends and family on the more personal side of his persona, did excite me. But then I was reminded of a YouTube miniseries created by the user Defunctland, who comprised an explorative collection of Jim Henson’s career, as well as a brief look at his personal life. That series, made without the backing of any studio, and made solely from one man’s passion, weighed heavy on my mind, forcing me to compare.
While I think the former may be a better representation of Henson, without the looming shadow of The Mouse, I still wished to see how this documentary would fare. Your number one Kermit the Frog fan is here to find out. This is Ron Howard’s Jim Henson: Idea Man
For those unaware of the man behind the Muppets, this documentary excels at giving its more ignorant audience a broad retelling of Jim Henson’s life. From the early years of him growing up on the countryside of Mississippi, right up to his last days, Idea Man is full of the greatest titbits and accomplishments to grace Henson’s life. Even the earlier days, before Sesame Street orchestrated his path for the future, are given their just dues. Henson’s early attempts to get into film making, something he wanted way before tackling puppetry, and the earliest example of his Muppets in Sam and Friends, are all encapsulated here.
But what most people, fans and non-fans alike, will most enjoy is the interviews with various collaborators and family members. Henson’s long-time friend, and fellow Muppeteer, Frank Oz encapsulates their unspoken bond. Henson’s children speak of what it was like to grow up with a father who never knew the meaning of rest, and we even get archived interviews with the man himself as well as his wife Jane, who helped conceive characters like Kermit and Rowlf.
The tumultuous career, with Henson finding frustration with not being taken seriously, wanting to evolve the Muppets into being more than a children’s form of entertainment, his short-lived stint on SNL, and even the setbacks of his films failing, are explored as fully as possible. Ultimately, this is a film about a man that worried he would run out of time, always wanting to leave the biggest impact he could.
It needs to be reaffirmed that this is a film, and not a miniseries. An argument can be made that such a story deserves more time to it. After all, Henson’s life, shortened by a simple illness, was seemingly endless. But Howard, who’s no stranger to the documentary format, manages to condense the most important parts into something that doesn’t feel lacking. You get the full story rather blunt and without a crevice unexplored.
The portrait this film makes of the legendary creative is clearly one of deep sincerity. We can groan and grumble that Disney are the one’s handling it, but much of it does encapsulate why the company was so intent on having him there, regardless of how long it took. Jim’s short film, Time Piece, far removed from anything he’s made since, showcases his ambition better than anything. A man obsessed over his longevity and legacy, you see how this side of him never left, even in the face of his most successful creations. There’s a relatability here that Howard has captured well: there’s many of us that cannot settle for one victory, and we always want more.
But even with all that in mind, it doesn’t stray from what made Henson such an endearing figure. The earliest example of his televised puppetry in Sam and Friends, shows us that Henson had the same twisted sense of humour from the start. He wanted his characters to be memorable, all with distinct personalities. The amateur look of these early Muppets have so much charm, even in comparison to the more colourful and iconic later Muppets. We see the ambition of this man with how he found ways to make more complex and impressive Muppets in his successful shows. The machinations of Big Bird, with archived interviews with Carroll Spinney, really inform you on how ambitious Henson was. This was made more impressive by the insanity that was the making of his film efforts.
What this film has over Defunctland’s exceptional series are the talking head interviews. Muppet performers like Frank Oz and Dave Goelz give us these first-hand and very personal experiences with Jim. Most entertaining and heartfelt are Oz’s stories. With such a contrast in attitude-Henson being a rather childlike entity and Oz being rather moody and serious-the two should have been a nightmare for each other. But this conflict in behaviour led to some of the more iconic dynamics, like Bert and Ernie. Then there’s the interviews with Jim’s children, like Brian and Cheryl, that give us a far more intimate lens behind the closed door of the Henson household. It shows us that Jim Henson was not this eternal ray of sunshine, but a man as susceptible to frustration and outdated traditions as anyone else.
The greatest strength Idea Man has is how it encapsulates the wholesomeness of Jim Henson. Henson was frustrated, at first, of having to make a puppet show for very young children. He decided he didn’t want to do the typical dumbed-down education approach, and made sure to fill the characters with distinct personalities and laid out gags that would not be misplaced in an old Looney Tunes short. The more improvisational approach to Sesame Street led to the children featured falling for the characters. We see that immortalised in the little girl who laughs ecstatically at Kermit, ending with the heart-tightening ‘I love you.’ Henson realised that this medium could be so much more, and this documentary doesn’t fail to understand that.
It is hard to look at such a product without the knowledge of the Defunctland documentary. That “miniseries” of sorts gives due attention to every aspect of Henson’s career. Where Fraggle Rock is a mere footnote in this film, that YouTube series dedicates a video to it. Both have their strengths, and unique qualities, but I feel it means more coming from a content creator without bias, without that censored lens watching over. Defunctland may not have known the man himself, but it’s glaring to compare the two when a freely-made series is more introspective than a higher-budget documentary.
I don’t want to sell this film short. For my fellow Muppet-heads, this isn’t exactly new ground. But it does do a good job of showcasing Jim Henson as a performer, a businessman and a family man. Frequently, the three become synonymous. It ultimately embodies what we love about Henson. His desire to take the art of puppetry to new heights, along with his constant need to outdo himself, is what really makes him so unique.
Though by no means spectacular, this documentary does a great job of speaking to the less knowledgeable crowd as to why these Muppets are so memorable. To speak more of the content of the film would be to rob you of knowledge better experienced blindly. Much like Henson himself, perhaps you’ll be inspired for some ideas of your own.
Written review by Conor Johnson.
Conor's Corner of Criticism 