THE MUPPET MOVIE
Directed by James Frawley
Screenplay by Jerry Juhl and Jack Burns
Muppets by Jim Henson, Frank Oz
and friends
Kermit is sitting on a log in a swamp, and he has just played his big mandolin solo, which went very well. But now, trouble: a fly buzzes past him, and he flicks at it with his tongue. He misses. "First thing to go on a frog, his tongue.'' says Kermit, remembering the great days when he could make the double play—fly to mosquito to gullet—with ease. But Dom DeLuise, the Hollywood agent who has rowed by in a boat, just a touch lost, is tired of wasting time. "I've got to catch a plane," he says, looking at his watch. Kermit thinks this over. "Not with that tongue," he says professionally.
And we're off, in a wobbly way, as Kermit, the fast-talking fabric amphibian of TV's wildly successful Muppet Show, heads toward Hollywood to answer a Variety ad that seeks "all frogs wishing to become rich and famous." He collects many of his Muppet pals along the way—Fozzie, the apologetic bear: Gonzo, the not quite turkey; Miss Piggy, the karate queen in the lavender gloves; Dr. Teeth and his Electric Mayhem band; Dr. Bunsen Honeydew, the melon-brained mad scientist, and his twittering assistant Beaker. A human villain tries to kidnap Kermit to shill for his chain of French-fried frogs' legs restaurants. When things look black, Kermit says in despair, "All I can think of is millions of frogs on tiny crutches." As is true with the TV show, human actors have no trouble playing with Muppets. Bob Hope sells ice cream at a fair, and Kermit chooses dragonfly ripple. Milton Berle runs Madman Mooney's Hubcap Heaven, a very used car lot, and Steve Martin is loathsomely realistic as a hostile waiter. Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy also make a brief appearance, one of their last. Jim Henson, the tall, skinny creator of short, froggy Kermit, has made a gallant gesture in dedicating the movie to Bergen's "memory and magic."
Statler and Waldorf, the old geezers who heckle the TV show, pop up long enough for Statler to say, "I've seen detergents that leave better films than this." This is too harsh, though even an addicted Muppet fan must admit that the movie has draggy stretches. The transition from the yank-'em-off-if-they-bomb lunacy of the TV show to the coherent narration of the film is not a complete success. Muppet magic remains a bewildering succession of wonderful bits, and perhaps the movie's best occurs when Rowlf the Dog, who is a barroom pianist, commiserates with Kermit, who has just been deserted by Miss Piggy. The two sing a nice, rueful song about women—the can't-live-with-them, can't-live-without-them kind of thing. When Kermit slopes off into the night. Rowlf philosophizes: "It's not often you see a guy that green have the blues that bad."