Have you seen this movie? Have you seen yourself in it?Tell me what you thought of The Muppets and I’ll tell you who you are. If you identify with Walter – if you see yourself in his indefatigable championing of all things Muppet, giving of his sweat and time (and not appearing to have any other job) to ensure that the Muppets successfully show the world they’ve still got it – well, then you just might be a member of a Muppet fan forum.
And if you see the movie in the movie – if you’ve dissected all aspects of the film as an extended elaborate metaphor for itself as a comeback effort, both as the characters’ unsure efforts at their telethon, and as a new Muppet movie in itself, all continuously questioning their own viability, and at times their very will to go on – then you’ve come to the right place.
I’ve heard some rumblings among fans about the film’s ambiguous ending. Spoiler alert: Kermit and pals fail to raise the money necessary to buy back their theater, but exit the building to discover that thousands of fans have flooded Hollywood Boulevard, ecstatic at the Muppets’ return... and the credits roll, with no clues as to what’s next. The words “The End” play across the screen, but there’s no real ending… yet.
Therein lies the whole point of this movie. Jason Segel and his co-creators (co-writer Nick Stoller, director James Bobin, songwriter Bret McKenzie, and so on) did the best, and perhaps the most terrifying, favor that anyone could have done for the Muppets at this point in their history: they crafted a fun, heartwarming flick, full of laughs, fit to usher the Muppets into a new era. What era is this? No one knows for sure, yet.
The movie – like so many movies – needs you and the protagonists to discover who you are, what you want, and what’s most important. According to this film, though, what I and Jason Segel and the Walters of the world really want isn’t, in the end, what drives the Muppets. When you and I look up at that screen, we hear Walter’s voice echoing our own childhoods: that first time we saw those dolls wiggling on our television sets, and saw a magic in them reflected back at us, started something. Something that reassured us, deep down, that even if we felt (or in Walter’s case, were more or less actual felt) out of place, somewhere out there were other weirdoes like us. These puppets were our pals when we had none, and they always made us feel that we belonged.
So many among us fans have dedicated ourselves to reflecting Kermit’s vision back into the world: to sing, to dance, to make people happy. For the Muppets themselves, though, the movie allows them to finally find all they need in each other.
Segel et al. use the premise of the Muppets reuniting after a decades-long separation to boldly explore the characters, their motivations, and their relationships in a genuine way that few have before. For a movie that only squeaks by the Bechdel Test if you count Miss Poogy (as Rashida Jones only talks to Kermit), the writing admirably cuts to the heart of what works and doesn’t work about Kermit and Piggy’s relationship.
You may have only just noticed (no matter which brand of Muppet continuity you prefer) your discomfort with Kermit’s ability to connect with virtually everyone except Piggy. He sings “Pictures in My Head” to visitors he just met ten minutes earlier; he gratuitously mentors Walter. But in a curious idiosyncrasy, he can’t share his feelings with Miss Piggy.
When have we had a genuine will-they-or-won’t-they interest in Kermit and Piggy before? “WE need you; WE need you,” Piggy scoffs on the streets of Paris (and was anyone else creeped out by Kermit’s outright failure – where he’s previously succeeded – at wearing shoulder pads?) “You can’t just say: I need you.” He can’t. It would spoil all the tension. And this movie plays that dynamic so effectively.
Kermit may spend hefty chunks of this movie moping, but The Muppets actually allows his character to grow. By the end, he’s worked through his heartbreakingly roundabout way of telling Piggy how he feels (reminding her that if they don’t raise the money, this may be the last time they sing together) and flat-out asks her to stay with him. I wept. Didn’t you?
Further developed still is Le Pig herself. The divine swine is a tad stilted in her executive suits (and the bizarre Muppet Man scene does no one any favors here), but once she steps out of her office, her performance and her design take us so close to her finest years. Despite minor bumps early in the movie (most notably one scene that ended with a Piggy line and the next that started with a Fozzie line; each time I’ve seen the film, Fozzie sounded like Eric Jacobson had forgotten to switch off his Piggy voice), Jacobson deserves everyone’s acclaim.
A further Bechdel note: Amy Adams has little to do in The Muppets but wince at Segel’s clumsy neglect (her one song focuses on whether or not she needs her man), but she does it so winningly. And as badass as her mechanical engineering skills may be, the fact remains that what she wants most is a marriage proposal. Couple that with Miss Piggy’s (albeit in-character) journey from an “I-don’t-need-men” brand of pseudo-feminism to a headline reading, "Miss Piggy promises to stay out of the spotlight; Kermit says, 'We need some time alone.' " When did this movie turn into Little House on the Prairie?
Setting aside the Bechdel notes: speaking of talking about men, Jason Segel loves to go on in interviews about how he plays with puppets and is still single (of course, in my book, playing with puppets is a trait of the highly eligible). But he and his co-creators were handed such a limited Muppet character palette that his thoughts on women are likely unrelated to his relationship status.
As long as we’re listing gripes, I have a few more. Much as “Me Party” and Richman’s rap amuse me, I’d rather have an original song to replace “We Built This City.” The Muppet Man scene slows the whole movie down. And Kermit’s preposterous Paris outfit makes him look like a ventriloquist’s dummy. I could do without electrocuting Walter (I had to look away) and fart shoes (sorry, fart shoe fans). And the way money serves as the driving force for much of the movie… just rubbed me the wrong way. Muppets are great, but those money dollars could be better spent elsewhere. The whole operation changes the focus of the usually-zen Muppet gang, besides turning them into a literal charity case.
And doesn’t Gonzo the plumbing magnate, or one of the copious celebrities milling around, have $10 million to spare? Or how about just a dollar, when the clock strikes midnight and the Muppets are a buck short? What ever happened to that $99, 999.99, anyway?
But it’s never really about the money. Let’s get back to singing, dancing, and making people happy. Segel and his pals’ greatest achievement with this movie happens to be the third-greatest gift in the world: laughter. In The Muppets, we find old-school, vaudevillian Muppety humor (Statler and Waldorf’s intermittent quips exemplify this perfectly) alongside self-referential, Flight of the Conchords-style humor (gosh, I adore the reveal of the hose at Mary’s window). We even find time for sweet, earnest jokes of a new breed (“You can’t drive to France, Walter.” “Yeah, it’s way too far!”)
In fact, by blending all these, the creators are well on their way to inventing a new genre of Muppet movie that may prove the key to the franchise’s longevity. The Muppets’ innocence starkly set against modern conventions has been played for laughs before, but not in this way. In Great Muppet Caper, for instance, our heroes need to travel the Atlantic cheaply, so they fly with the baggage. In an inspired Brooksian move, here they globetrot by map. And kudos to the writers for cleverly employing Chekhov’s Gun, planting both travel by map and Amy Adams’ repair skills as seeming throwaway gags – only to trot them out in a device that saves the Muppets’ fleecy hides.
The wide-eyed-while-self-aware gags fit neatly with the preconceived notions of the Muppets’ humor that audiences already have. The Muppets were never just for kids, and never altogether innocent—but that’s how they’re often remembered, and hilariously, adorably earnest humor suits them perfectly. The genre juxtaposition in The Muppets is far from seamless, but the laughs flow so abundantly that we’d tune in for this mix again.
On the subject of mixes: I adore the music. Even Chris Cooper’s rap stylings have grown on me. I hope Bret McKenzie’s parents are proud: self-parody could easily go horribly awry for the Muppets, but it doesn’t here. The songs play a significant role in transitioning the Muppets’ humor over to a new era. I only wish we’d had time for more Muppet Show-style sketch songs during the telethon – or longer versions of [Cluck] You and Smells Like Teen Spirit.
Yes, laughs, we can all agree, are crucial to this new vision for the Muppet future – even the villain learns to laugh in the end – so why, as soon as the Muppets have all reunited, do the rapid-fire laughs slow to a crawl? It’s like we’re watching a whole other Muppet movie: a choppy flick that leaps from one heartwarming moment to the next (and if you please, some of us need a moment to switch tissues); a movie where Gonzo whipping out a “Destroy Plumbing Business” button would be unthinkable.
We all laughed hardest during the first ten minutes, before we even met any Muppets. And the more Muppets we encounter, the more the movie loses steam.
The pacing becomes almost jarring, as both the Gary/Mary and Kermit/Piggy relationships hit breaking points; as Segel and Walter battle for their own identities; and as the Muppets fret about how they can put on their telethon with so short a time frame—and whether anyone will watch them at all. Now that we’ve finally assembled the whole gang, they fumble so often that you’d think they almost don’t want an audience in the first place.
Kermit looked so content at the outset, telling Walter that Chris Cooper intended to turn the Muppet property into a museum. Maybe he knew how preposterous it sounded but needed to believe it. Because trying to drum up the energy for a whole new show really taxes the old frog. He didn’t ask for this reunion, or for the life-and-death urgency as the whole world watches with baited breath to find out whether the Muppets, and The Muppets, can succeed. None of the Muppets asked for this. They just came along for the ride, because Walter was sure they could pull it off, and because Kermit gave a close enough approximation of confidence.
And again, maybe that ambivalence is the whole point.
After claiming The Muppets Take Manhattan as my favorite Muppet movie, and as one of my favorite movies overall, for the better part of 28 years, I’m willing to concede and attribute this largely to nostalgia. This was simply the Muppet movie I watched over and over as a kid – and the least Muppety of the three original films. In that respect, 2011’s The Muppets has it beat.
The loving fan’s perspective that shapes this movie could have made it feel like the work of an impostor. Instead, Segel’s emotional investment in the project bleeds into the tear-jerking monologues, holding the whole nearly-polished work together. I expected to find myself irritated with Mr. Segel (a self-proclaimed proponent of the Big Three and Muppet Show-era productions, and not of newcomer characters) assigning himself (and Amy Adams, and Walter as his own alter-Muppet-ego… his Walter-ego?) so much screen time – but it all fits. The choppy pacing works, and the fact that we’re watching both a timeless Muppet comedy styled for the modern era, and a gut-wrenching search for identity, all makes sense for this film.
Sometimes the Muppets’ desperation (kidnapping Jack Black; Kermit going along with Rico Rodriguez’s assumption that he’s a Ninja Turtle) makes us cringe, but it feels so real. Fozzie’s humiliating Vegas job invokes this feeling so effectively on its own that most of the gang after him is relegated to a montage. No one likes being reminded of their half-hearted attempts to invoke old triumphs.
Kermit’s motivational speeches aren’t those of a frog fresh out of the swamp, who believes in his unknown gang’s Broadway show or their Hollywood prospects. When he wonders in 2011 whether the Muppets can come back, it’s heavy, and it’s difficult, and it’s not quite the spirit we want from our favorite foamy friends. We want confirmation that they can still entertain. They try, cranking out the genuinely zany sketches for their telethon (though they could have used more “Jack Black hates that he’s stuck in a corny show” jokes and fewer “Jack Black fears for his life” jokes to make the whole telethon work). Really, though, they’re not too sure they even want to try.
Throughout the film, the Muppets question themselves constantly. Some have hit bottom; some have merely been lying in wait for thirty years (apparently, the Electric Mayhem have been merrily playing the Times Square subway station), only to have studio executives deliver the news that they’re no longer relevant. After all their struggles, when they finally, just barely, put on their reunion show, we wonder falteringly along with Kermit’s song: will anybody watch, or even care? Or did something break we can’t repair?
As we breathlessly take in this movie, we can barely bring ourselves to ask the earth-shattering question (despite all warnings to the contrary): What’s next?
Will The Muppets flounder in theaters (though this seems unlikely at this point), serving as a devoted tribute and tender swan song for a legendary franchise? Or will the efforts of Segel and his cohorts show the corporate overlords that these characters can still pull their weight at the box office? And isn’t that the most chilling possibility of all?
Because Disney might well produce boatloads of new Muppet content after this, but unless Segel or someone like him shepherds another pet project through the Disney machine, I predict much higher odds for another Studio DC than for another The Muppets. Segel and Stoller write funny films, and if they and Bobin stick with the Muppet gang, I’ll be thrilled. I suspect, though, that so much of Segel spilled over into this film that he might have already produced his magnum opus.
Jeez. It’s so personal to me. I cried for well over 50 percent of this movie. I laughed lots, but I cried more.
I want this movie to do well… but part of me doesn’t. Part of me wants the Muppets to remain My Thing. These guys are my guys, my team, and here they are with a shot at the playoffs, and if I stuck with them all these years, shouldn’t I deserve something for all my dedication that these fair-weather fans, these box-office number-padders, don’t?
Sure, the Muppets used to enjoy this sort of mainstream popularity, even among the generally mirthless; if my parents hadn’t taped The Muppet Show in my infancy for me to watch over and over, I wouldn’t be writing this. But does everyone else in this theater now, in 2011, see themselves in Walter (and in Segel’s writing himself into Walter) the way that I do?
Did the people sitting behind me in the movie theater once gaze up at Kermit singing and dancing and making people happy, and start to reevaluate their own weirdness as something worthwhile—as a way to bring joy into the world? Do others in this audience feel, deep in their guts, that the Muppets represent a promise that there’s a home and a family for everyone? And if it’s just me, then what is everyone else doing here?
Now is the time to come out as a Muppet fan; it may be the closest brush with celebrity we can hope for. I’ve had friends, co-workers, and casual acquaintances approach me to ask for my opinions, and to regale me with their astonishingly informed (and at times, horrifically misguided) theories about the film, and about the Muppets overall. It’s a fine time to be a Muppet fan. Right now, everyone’s a Muppet fan.
Chances are, this won’t be the last time that Kermit and Piggy sing together. But I almost can’t bear (frog, pig, etc.) to find out what they sing next. All efforts leading up to the telethon have such an air of doing it all again once last time, for old time’s sake. And maybe old time’s sake is all I want from the old gang.
Whether or not they’re viable in money, the Muppets have love to spare. Even as the telethon fails to raise the money to buy back the theater, some of us Walters wouldn’t mind seeing the gang leave it at this one last, touching love letter from their fans: not just the fans who created the movie, but the fans who stuck with the Muppets even through Letters to Santa, and the fans voting with their box office dollars, and the fans chanting their praise at the stage door at the movie’s non-end.
To the Muppets’ surprise, they’re still beloved; all the signs lining Hollywood Boulevard say so. I cried through this movie because, as Fozzie recalls fondly as he stands in his flimsy Vegas outdoor dressing room: “We had a good run.” And if this one last show can bring this old box of dolls back to life, can prove that they’ve got what it takes to front a whole new era, I’ll be delighted.
But even if this is the last time they sing together, the last time they walk out of the theater together, their fans are still with them, and that’s enough for me. As long as they’re a team again, that’s how they deserve to be remembered.
“Gonzo,” clucks Camilla when Kermit recruits him to rejoin the gang, "Bock-bock." (“You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know what you really want.”) Maybe when Gonzo stops pretending for Camilla’s sake, all he wants is to be an artiste. Or maybe Piggy really only needs the love of her frog, not of the whole world. And maybe the Walters of the world will keep rekindling Jim Henson’s legacy – whether through our own work, or by keeping the Muppet fan fires burning.
But no matter what happens: when Kermit and Piggy agree that they only need that Just One Person, the story ends for me. They’ll always have each other. We out here will always have them. I’m satisfied.
...The End.
