The Muppets: "Life's a Happy Song When There's Someone By Your Side to Sing Along"

Just about every year, it seems that there is one movie that I anticipate above all others. While 2011 had many promising candidates – including my beloved Winnie the Pooh and Harry Potter facing off against each other in the middle of summer – there was one film that had me aquiver with excitement from the time I first heard rumors of its release. Of course, it helped that it had the cleverest, most persistent ad campaign of any movie I can recall, expertly spoofing multiple genres while demonstrating its ability to appeal to a broad audience. I’m speaking, naturally, of The Muppets, the James Bobin-directed movie that launches Kermit the Frog and all his felt friends onto the big screen for the first time in more than a decade. While television specials and viral videos have helped them maintain a presence in recent years, The Muppets feels like a joyous return to the glory days of those madcap mischief-makers whose merriment brought mirth to millions.

It takes a special kind of person to get the Muppets in such a visceral way as to be able to revive them for a cynical generation. When I heard that Jason Segel was not just starring but actually co-writing the screenplay, I thought, “You know, this could be a very good thing.” While some of his recent projects have had a decidedly off-color streak, I will always recall Segel first as sweetly goofy aspiring drummer Nick Andopolis on the sadly short-lived high school dramedy Freaks and Geeks, and the endearing idealism he brought to that character seems a perfect fit for Jim Henson’s relentlessly positive creations. Together with Nicholas Stoller, he crafted a screenplay as innocent as it is exuberant – a movie that dares to demonstrate that there is room in this world for hope, togetherness and splashy musical numbers… and maybe an ill-timed explosion or two.

Segel plays Gary, a lovable grown-up kid who still shares a house with his little brother, his best friend. The brotherly affection between Gary and Walter, earnestly voiced by Peter Linz, is so genuine that it never feels weird that one is a man and one is a Muppet. In fact, it hearkens back to the peculiar brotherhood between Kermit and Fozzie Bear in The Great Muppet Caper. These are characters who have always transcended the traditional boundaries of family. Still, living in a tiny town surrounded by humans, Walter feels out of place, even with the world’s most supportive big brother looking out for him. His discovery of the Muppets as a child quickly bloomed into an obsession, a dream of a different destiny. Now, years later, Walter is childlike as ever and about to achieve a lifelong dream. But what kind of growing up will be required for him to take that all-important step?

Walter is truly the heart of the movie, a representation of those devoted fans for whom the luster of the Muppets has never dimmed. Like Kermit in The Muppet Movie, he is a dreamer in search of a connection, but because The Muppet Show pointed the way for him, he knows just where to find it. It’s a story of self-discovery, of letting go and reconnecting, and all those who ever laughed until they cried over Gonzo’s cannon-shot chickens and Fozzie’s groan-worthy jokes will understand the euphoria emblazoned on Walter’s flexible face as his heroes gradually gather for a raucous reunion.

These are the viewers who will best appreciate all of the in-jokes and the cameos from lesser-known Muppets, to say nothing of the wistfully funny situations in which the main players find themselves. The newly initiated, meanwhile, can have fun pointing out all the human celebrities, from contemporary child stars Selena Gomez and Modern Family’s Rico Rodriguez to elder statesmen Mickey Rooney and Alan Arkin. Jack Black gets more screen time than most as Animal’s disgruntled anger management sponsor, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who geeked out over the revelation of who Walter would look like if he were human.

Then, of course, a menacing Chris Cooper is the oil baron darkly commiserating with his paltry band of sycophants as the fate of the Muppet Studio Theatre hangs in balance, while Amy Adams brings her usual brand of sunshine with a spritzer of vulnerability to Mary, a hands-on teacher so beloved by her students they dread spring break but unable to secure a commitment from the man she’s dated for a decade. Like Segel, she seems a perfect fit for the Muppets’ harmonious mayhem.

Speaking of harmonies, there are some great ones in this movie that features several original songs written by Bret McKenzie, one-half of the brilliantly batty New Zealand folk-comedy duo Flight of the Conchords. His style meshes marvelously with the Muppets’ fine fusion of silliness and warmth, with the two standouts the soul-searching duet between the brothers and the lavish group number we hear at both the beginning and end of the movie. Beyond that, we get classic Muppet fare like Rainbow Connection and Mahna Mahna with a new twist or two, along with a few regular radio hits. If I’d had any lingering doubt as to whether they were going to pull this off, I would have relinquished it in sheer delight over the opening montage set to the sprightly strains of a song Paul Simon once performed on Sesame Street.

However, even before the movie started I was grinning over the Toy Story short Small Fry, which pokes fun at poorly conceived kids’ meal toys at fast food restaurants. On a trip to a medieval-themed chicken joint, Buzz Lightyear falls prey to a nefarious plot by a miniature Buzz who has languished too long in the display case. After a romp in the ball pit, Little Buzz makes his way into Bonnie’s backpack to hobnob with Woody and the gang while the real Buzz wanders into a group therapy session for discarded toys led by a militant mermaid voiced by Jane Lynch. Askew versions of beloved characters and a bunch of oddballs finding solace in each other appropriately foreshadows what’s to come in the movie proper.

More than 15 years ago, Pixar established itself as a studio capable of bringing that rare blend of sly wit and wholesome fun that, coupled with a compelling story, makes an ideal family film. The Jim Henson Company has always offered that type of entertainment, so The Muppets is truly a joy from pre-start to finish. While reflecting upon the wonders of the rainbow, a famous frog has postulated, “We know that it’s probably magic.” If we’re talking about the rainbow of marvelous misfits that make up the Muppets, there’s no “probably” about it.

Beautiful But Despairing, Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are Revels in Primal Ferocity

When I first saw the trailer for Where the Wild Things Are, Spike Jonze's big-screen adaptation of the classic Maurice Sendak book, I was immediately impressed by the visuals, as young Max and each of the Wild Things he encounters seems to have been flawlessly transformed to three dimensions through the magic of puppetry and computer animation. Although I never counted the succinct but stirring picture book as a particular favorite, I enjoyed it, and I was curious to see how it might translate into an hour and a half long movie. I got to find out yesterday. The visuals still swept me away, as did many other elements of the film. But though I expected the movie to be a bit dark for a film likely to be seen by millions of children, I wasn't prepared for how gutted I would feel during and after the viewing. Rarely have I had such a visceral reaction to a movie.

Where the Wild Things Are revolves around Max, portrayed with primal ferocity by young unknown Max Records, who screams and slashes his way through his everyday life and his stint as the ruler of the Wild Things, all while dressed in a wonderful wolf suit. Other humans are scarcely present. Catherine Keener's role as Max's mom, an understanding but overtaxed divorcee, is the most significant. Blink and you'll miss Mark Ruffalo as her boyfriend, who unwittingly sparks Max's massive meltdown. Only barely more visible is Pepita Emmerichs, another unknown playing Max's older sister Claire, who clearly loves her little brother but currently gravitates more toward friends. Max's big scene with her and her pals is both exhilarating and devastating, with a brief compassionate gesture by one of Claire's friends our best invitation to sympathize with her perspective. In just a few sentences in one short scene, Steve Mouzakis establishes Max's teacher as a man possessing passion but little regard for his students' sensitivities.

The bulk of the movie takes place with the Wild Things, each of which has a precise visual inspiration in the book, though the specific personality traits are invented for the film. Most of the creatures are representative of some element of Max's own personality. Big, lumbering Ira (Forest Whitaker) is gentle and simply longs for affection. Rhino-like Judith (Catherine O'Hara) is perpetually sullen and snarky, while the nearly silent bull (Michael Berry Jr.) keeps to himself. Alexander (Paul Dano), a goat, often feels neglected. Douglas (Chris Cooper), a bird, is fiercely loyal. Most of all, James Gandolfini's Carol, a loose cannon of a creature who hero-worships Max and is furious when he fails to live up to his expectations, reflects the rage and frustration Max has been feeling. Alone among the Wild Things, K. W. (Lauren Ambrose) seems to serve a different purpose. Warmly maternal, she helps Max to work out his complicated feelings about his mother and sister while she attempts to demonstrate to him that inviting new people into one's life doesn't have to mean disregarding those who are already there.

All of these characterizations are well done, and it's magical to watch as iconic images from the book find their way to the big screen with deeper layers of context. What's more, the savagery of Maurice's vision is thoroughly intact. However, therein lies the trouble. This is an excellently done film. But the anger coursing through it is sometimes alarming, and the sense of despair it produces is hard to shake off. In particular, Max's teacher enthusiastically describes the eventual death of the sun, and as someone who spent many an evening freaking out over a bloated orange sun on the cusp of setting, half-convinced it was about to explode, I can thoroughly appreciate the terror this produces in Max. He revisits this tutorial in a later scene with Carol that is set in the desert and is so desolate I half-expected Dust in the Wind to start playing in the background. I was forcefully reminded of the disturbing planetarium scene in Rebel Without a Cause, which I happened to be watching in a culture studies class as the events of 9-11 unfolded. Despite the undercurrent of affection among Max and his newfound subjects, most warmly indicated in a scene in which they all sleep together in one big pile, I couldn't shake the overpowering sensations of chaos and nihilism.

Jonze clearly had a vision for this movie, and I suspect he achieved just the tone he was seeking, and one of which Sendak approves. Nonetheless, I would hesitate to recommend the movie for young or especially sensitive children. I'm not a crier, and I didn't have dry eyes for most of the movie. Obviously it's an effective film if it can provoke such a strong reaction. Just be warned that if you leap into this wild rumpus, it may be a while before you can extricate yourself.

Mind-Bending Adaptation. a Little Too Clever For Me

We writers are a strange breed. But hopefully most of us aren't quite as strange as Charlie Kaufman, the lauded screenwriter responsible for several mind-bending movies, among them Adaptation., in which he is also the main character, played by Nicholas Cage. Cage also plays Kaufman's twin brother Donald, who initially comes across as lackadaisical but by the end seems to have his life much more together than Charlie does. Which is a shame, since Donald doesn't exist, leaving us only with a man who seems at serious risk of losing control of his mental faculties.

I pity Charlie Kaufman in this film. I'm sure he's been fictionalized, as unreliable as everything else we might presume to be true in what is supposedly a non-fictional account of Kaufman's struggles to adapt Susan Orlean's The Orchid Thief, but it takes a brave man to write such a pathetic version of himself into a movie, to make himself out to be a man embroiled in paranoia and obsession, capable of churning out brilliant screenplays but only after months of agonizing writer's block, scarcely able to function as a social being, as evidenced by his interaction with his more charismatic brother and his lamentable attempt to score a date with a perky waitress at the diner he frequents.

Spike Jonze directs this film that is part action-adventure - mostly toward the end, when a seriously unhinged Orlean (Meryl Streep), with the help of eccentric orchid bandit John Laroche (Chris Cooper, in a wildly engaging performance that won him an Oscar), decides Kaufman must die because he knows too much - and part PSA for anyone who ever imagined the writing lifestyle to be glamorous. It's enough to make a fledgling writer reconsider her career path.

The film earns its R rating with profanity aplenty and bits of nudity and violence. It earns its many screenwriting honors with a maddeningly original screenplay. I say maddening because it causes me to question my own sense of reality. Ever since I read The Princess Bride and was taken in by William Goldman's long, drawn-out search for S. Morgenstern's book of the same title and his subsequent determination to write a "good parts" version for his son, I have felt a sense of betrayal when I can't take authors at their word. I almost believed that Charlie Kaufman had a twin brother who died while helping him adapt The Orchid Thief; then I almost believed Susan Orlean didn't exist, though I recalled seeing her book on the shelves of the bookstore where I work. I find this deeply disconcerting.

Adaptation. is an intriguing film. It probably merits another watching, but I'm not that eager to plunge once more into such a perplexing movie populated by such bizarre characters. Instead, I think I'll just agree that Charlie Kaufman is a genius. And if this is the cost of brilliance, maybe I can handle being mediocre.