The first time I watched this film I was a child, merely 10 years of age. I foolishly decided to change the channel to ITV One at 6 pm in the hopes of a family-friendly film.
However, this time I was wrong. When I tuned in Jim Henson’s Labyrinth was about to start and knowing then what I know now, I would have changed the channel. I would have put on Channel 5 and watched the hopelessly awful film that would have been on.
The Labyrinth is one of those films you watch as a child and still have the odd nightmare about well into adulthood. I sometimes wake up in sweat-soaked clothes screaming for the Goblin King to give me back my brother. I am Kyrewaah and Labyrinth still terrifies me to this day. I accept the film is a cult classic. An occult classic. Anyone who says they enjoyed this film as a child is to be feared.
In the spirit of lockdown, I decided to revisit one of the sources of my childhood trauma and find out if I will come to appreciate the film through critical and rational thinking.
The review:
Labyrinth (1986) is a British American fantasy musical directed by Muppets creator Jim Henson, starring David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly.
Fun fact for those who like me purposely avoided the film, it was produced and partially written by George Lucas. It completely makes sense considering I hated Star Wars for some of the same reasons I did Labyrinth up until 2017. George Lucas seems to have a particular style that either captures your heart and encourages you to reflect deeply or causes you to emotionally regress and live in fear for your childhood.
According to the official synopsis (found on Jim Henson’s site) the film centres around Sarah, a teenager with an ‘active imagination’ who summons Goblins to take her baby stepbrother away. Sarah is your typical theatre kid whose vivid imagination has inspired a world that she often falls into as a distraction from her difficult reality. In Sarah’s case, her ‘difficult reality’ is her overbearing stepmother, a father who seems to not take much interest in her and her stepbrother, Toby. My official description is ‘The Wizard of Oz’ meets scary puppets and 80s pop on drugs.
The film’s score was as typically 80s as it gets, filled to the brim with stress-inducing synths that weirdly felt like a cop drama and not in a children’s film. I must say I did enjoy the original songs especially Magic Dance. I did not understand the musical aspect of the film. There was a song thrown in randomly and it did not particularly add to viewer’s understanding of a situation. It was not distracting but a nice addition to a majorly dark and creepy film.
Henderson’s brilliant mastery of puppetry is truly evident and demonstrated with terrifying effect. I do now realise the puppets were the main source of my terror as a child because of their ghoulish and bizarre appearances. I did enjoy Sir Didymus, a fox who protects the bridge by the ‘Bog of Eternal Stench’ who looked a little like Basil Brush.
On that note, a re-watch put some of the film’s themes in perspective. Sarah is initially an extremely obnoxious and spoilt child as she wishes for her brother to be taken away. She displays some ‘White Saviour’ tendencies as she attempts to save characters and lead them towards a better life, resulting in them ending in precarious situations due to her lack of understanding of her surroundings. She establishes herself as a source of morality in a ‘barbaric’ world, forgetting the reason she is currently there. She is the white woman of principle in a broken society.
One thing I did pick up was the violent nature of the creatures of the Labyrinth. Most seemed to be out to lull Sarah into a false sense of security through song or dance and harm her in some way. Her interaction with the Firey creatures and relationship with the goblin Hoggle reflects this point. It almost felt as if Sarah’s journey represented something a little more sinister and likened to the dark journeys of many young women once they reach puberty. Henderson’s exploration of childhood and the journey through puberty was interesting, to say the least. Sarah starts the film innocently and frankly safely playing in this dream world she has created and the main negative is the injustice of looking after her brother. However, the introduction of the Goblin King intensifies these feelings with real stakes being placed in a world where there is no regard for her feelings or morality. He represents Sarah’s naïveté in a strange and twisted way. No longer are childhood dreams safe and pure but have become dark, confusing and rife with betrayal. The film fights with the idea of maturity and development of a child into an adult. By fighting to save her brother Toby, she risks losing all she holds dear in favour of a newer and darker world.
Reflections:
Having watched the film again I do have a newfound appreciation for the content and its symbolism. I can almost relate to the feeling I had to give up the brilliance and creativity of my childhood once I matured. There are movements now to reclaim lost childhoods and explore and reconnect with the things that at one point filled us with glee and happiness. Don’t let the Goblin King win.
