The movie Labyrinth (1986) has a very powerful, but cryptic, plot device. It’s rarely ever realized, I imagine, because of the aura of Muppet ambiance that permeates the film. It seems like a children’s movie, and I don’t think grown ups will give it much attention, despite it’s more mature elements.
Take the dwarf-goblin Hoggle, who is recruited through devious methods by the Goblin King (Jareth) to offer Sarah, the main protag, a peach that will induce a dream-like coma, making her susceptible to the Goblin King’s temptations. Hoggle is deeply indebted and devoted to Sarah, but his fear of the Goblin King finally wins over the inner struggle, and he gives her the peach. When she takes a bite of the peach and realizes something is wrong, she asks, “Hoggle, what have you done?” And Hoggle walks away bitterly, saying, “Damn me and damn Jareth too.” Doesn’t sound much like a children’s movie there, does it?
But by far the most powerful hidden element of the film is the Goblin King’s overwhelming love of Sarah. At one point he tells her that everything she sees he created for her, and that everything he’s done he’s done because he loves her.
At the beginning of the movie, Jareth appears as a snowy white barn owl. He listens outside her window to her complaints of her sad domestic life, her frustrations, her anxiety and her dreams. And he determines to make her dreams come true, to give her an adventure that would win her heart and convince her to join him in his realm. Of course, he finds out that her dreams are mostly that, just dreams, and that she is more dedicated to her family than she’d let on–much as a fifteen-year-old girl might actually be.
For me, I imagine the Goblin King as some elder of the Universe, floating through the ebbtide of the galaxy, lighting here and there just to see what’s what. And when he finally passes by our wee blue planet, the lone voice he hears amidst all the din of our seven billion voices, is that of Sarah, and he instantly falls in love with her. He assumes the form of an inconspicuous-yet beautiful-creature and ventures in for a closer look. I imagine I know myself how his heart strained, how he longed for her when his eyes fell upon her. I think I know it very well.
There’s room for another movie here, the story of Jareth, which was told only in abstract in the film. And to tell the truth, what I’d really like to see would be Tim Burton’s hand involved in a reproduction of the movie, rewritten to expound a bit on Jareth’s existence and motivations.
Besides all that, it’s a great children’s movie, and great for grownups too if you can get past the drag queen makeup and hair Bowie wears and the giant stuffed package he sports (in tights, no less).
Labyrinth
The movie Labyrinth (1986) has a very powerful, but cryptic, plot device. It’s rarely ever realized, I imagine, because of the aura of Muppet ambiance that permeates the film. It seems like a children’s movie, and I don’t think grown ups will give it much attention, despite it’s more mature elements.
Take the dwarf-goblin Hoggle, who is recruited through devious methods by the Goblin King (Jareth) to offer Sarah, the main protag, a peach that will induce a dream-like coma, making her susceptible to the Goblin King’s temptations. Hoggle is deeply indebted and devoted to Sarah, but his fear of the Goblin King finally wins over the inner struggle, and he gives her the peach. When she takes a bite of the peach and realizes something is wrong, she asks, “Hoggle, what have you done?” And Hoggle walks away bitterly, saying, “Damn me and damn Jareth too.” Doesn’t sound much like a children’s movie there, does it?
But by far the most powerful hidden element of the film is the Goblin King’s overwhelming love of Sarah. At one point he tells her that everything she sees he created for her, and that everything he’s done he’s done because he loves her.
At the beginning of the movie, Jareth appears as a snowy white barn owl. He listens outside her window to her complaints of her sad domestic life, her frustrations, her anxiety and her dreams. And he determines to make her dreams come true, to give her an adventure that would win her heart and convince her to join him in his realm. Of course, he finds out that her dreams are mostly that, just dreams, and that she is more dedicated to her family than she’d let on–much as a fifteen-year-old girl might actually be.
For me, I imagine the Goblin King as some elder of the Universe, floating through the ebbtide of the galaxy, lighting here and there just to see what’s what. And when he finally passes by our wee blue planet, the lone voice he hears amidst all the din of our seven billion voices, is that of Sarah, and he instantly falls in love with her. He assumes the form of an inconspicuous-yet beautiful-creature and ventures in for a closer look. I imagine I know myself how his heart strained, how he longed for her when his eyes fell upon her. I think I know it very well.
There’s room for another movie here, the story of Jareth, which was told only in abstract in the film. And to tell the truth, what I’d really like to see would be Tim Burton’s hand involved in a reproduction of the movie, rewritten to expound a bit on Jareth’s existence and motivations.
Besides all that, it’s a great children’s movie, and great for grownups too if you can get past the drag queen makeup and hair Bowie wears and the giant stuffed package he sports (in tights, no less).