Growing up in the 1980s, Jim Henson shaped my childhood. By
1990 I’d logged hundreds of hours watching the Muppets.I could quote Labyrinth
by heart. No holiday season was complete until our family had played that John Denver and the Muppets record at least 30
So, as you can imagine, the day I heard Henson died, it felt
like I’d lost a friend.
Looking back, Henson’s death was one of the first losses
that ever affected me. Twenty-five years ago I had just turned 13, and I
can still tell you which stretch of road my mother and I were riding along when
we heard the news on the radio.
Many of my friends remember that day as well, as do their
parents (and perhaps some grandparents). While there’s no doubt Henson was a
master craftsman and puppeteer, his true artistry lied in the way he channeled
his soul into his work.
Before the Muppets came along, onscreen puppets were, well,
just puppets. Henson gave his creations such vivid personalities, wit and
expressions it was easy to believe each had a beating heart beneath the felt.
Though he didn’t become a household name until Sesame
Street, Henson’s work dates back to the 1950s. As an adult, I discovered
his experimental films, which include mesmerizing oddities like 1969’s teleplay The Cube and
1965’s Time Piece,
a rhythmic short that earned him his first Academy Award nomination.
Watch these early films now, and you can see how much Henson
valued human connection. Though it’s only a minute long, Wheels That Go
pulsates with parental love, as Henson aims the camera at his young son. The
takes the simple act of tossing a pebble into a pond and transforms it into a
meditation on art, religion and family.
With the Muppets, Henson entertained us, but that desire for
connection remained at the forefront. Some of the most poignant Sesame
Street moments I remember are when real kids interacted with Henson’s characters as if they
were classmates. The more young viewers bonded with Big Bird and pals through
the screen, the more adults began watching alongside them.Though too
humble to admit it, Jim Henson brought millions of families closer together.
Henson was an innovator from the start: At a time when many
TV puppets relied on wood and strings, he opted for softer materials like felt
and foam. This enabled his creations to express a range of emotions, unlike,
say, an eternally grinning Howdy Doody.
In the ‘70s, Henson began to explore animatronics. Though
1982’s The Dark Crystal wasn’t a critical success, its arresting visuals
made lasting impressions
on viewers. Animatronics popped up again in 1986’s Labyrinth, an
elaborate musical fantasy that, like The Dark Crystal, failed to ignite
the box office but went on to become a beloved cult hit.
“It’s really amazing to think that in 1989 his twin
obsessions were CG animation and 3-D stereoscopic,” his daughter, Lisa Henson,
noted in a 2011
Jim Henson’s death of a bacterial infection on May 16, 1990,
shocked fans and friends worldwide. Less than two weeks earlier, the
53-year-old artist had appeared
on The Arsenio Hall Show, cracking jokes with Kermit on his arm.
Press surrounding his May 21 memorial service was on par
with prominent political figures. Mourners wore Kermit greens, Big Bird yellows
and other vibrant hues; Henson once declared he wanted no black at his funeral.
Tributes followed for months, culminating with a primetime
TV special, The Muppets Celebrate Jim Henson. In it, we see
Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo, Fozzie Bear and the rest of the gang pay their
respects. At the end of the program, Kermit looks into the camera and says,
“We’ll be seeing you soon with more Muppet stuff, because that’s the way the
boss would want it.”
Sure enough, more Muppet stuff keeps on coming. Partly
thanks to Jason Segel’s spirited Muppets revival, in recent years
the franchise has turned over a new lilypad. Just this week, ABC shared a trailer for its highly anticipated Muppet Show
reboot. The series is co-executive produced by Bill Prady, a TV vet who
began his writing career with Henson’s Muppets and penned that 1990 special.
People don’t always want to take pop culture seriously --
heck, Henson parodied it on every episode of The Muppet Show -- but the
connections we make with it can run very, very deep.