The Meek and the Beautiful

The monsters on Sesame Street are such a staple to the show that their association with scariness has long since been forgotten.  In the first season, the monsters were treated much like any Muppet monster before them: large, carnivorous, and threatening.  People would run in fear, knowing that monsters were bad news.  But there were two pioneers who formed an unlikely pairing, allowing monster-human relationships to be widely accepted on the Street.

Representing the monsters was a figure known as the "Beautiful Day Monster."  Like most early Muppets, there was no official name for this character, so he was named after his first first appearance (like the Luncheon Counter Monster or the Coffee Beak Monster, who later became the Cookie Monster).  The Beautiful Day Monster first appeared in a sketch on The Ed Sullivan Show in which he attempts to ruin a little girl's day.

Monsters are just mean.

However, the girl remains unfazed, recognizing the inherent beauty in the creature.  No matter what he does, he cannot change the fact that it is indeed a beautiful day.  This little girl laid the groundwork in changing the course of this evil beast's life.

The Beautiful Day Monster eventually got a recurring gig on Sesame Street where he often appeared with others of his kind.  He threw himself into the educational nature of the show, although he still came off as a little frightening.

This is the sound "B" makes: "BAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!

He would also frequently drop in on his neighbors Bert and Ernie, making their lives very difficult, despite his best intentions.

It seemed as if monsters were going to have a hard time fitting in on Sesame Street.  But then, along came a man.  He was not a powerful man or a big man.  He was a man who was easily pushed around by society, often quite literally.

Here, he is reluctantly demonstrating the concept of "between."

This man's name was Tony.  Humans and monsters alike would walk all over him.  He was voiced by Henson, who gave him the smallest, weakest voice he could muster.  There was nothing Tony could do but avoid confrontation at all costs.

On top of all of his problems, he was a monster magnet.  It was almost as if he was cursed to walk the earth, attracting the the most vile and loathsome creatures in the vicinity.  Someone had it out for him.

Even in the picture books, he was not safe.

But, through some twist of fate, our two Sesame Street outcasts found each other.  A monster that all humans hated and a human that all monsters abused came together, seeking solace in each other's arms.  Although many did not approve of their love, they had finally found comfort in their lives.

The Beautiful Day Monster and Tony's courtship was very progressive.  Tony referred to the Monster with feminine names such as "Lulu" and "Windy," perhaps to make their relationship more "politically correct."  But the flimsy disguises did not fool the rest of the neighborhood.  The world was just not ready for a monster and human romance.  The two started appearing less and less and both were gone by the mid-70's.

At least Tony stuck around long enough to be included in the Sesame Street Character Style Guide.

Although they are gone, their accomplishments shall not be forgotten.  Both of them struggled to seek approval from their opposite worlds, and both of them stood up for what they believed in.  They found love and were not ashamed of it, breaking new ground for Muppets everywhere.

Perhaps they moved to the more liberal Avenue Q.

Make 'Em Laugh

"Dying is easy.  Comedy is hard." - Vaudevillian adage

"Wocka wocka wocka!" - Fozzie Bear

"Good grief! The comedian's a bear!"

Each member of The Muppet Show brought a specific talent to the program.  There were singers, dancers, and acrobats.  Gonzo was the stunt man, Miss Piggy was the actress, and Fozzie was the comedian.  Most of the humor of the show derived from the failures of the performances.  Wanda and Wayne could never finish a song, the Swedish Chef could never cook a proper meal, and Bunsen and Beaker's inventions would cause more destruction than innovation.  Stunts would go wrong and scenes would be flubbed and all of this was more entertaining than the intended pieces.  But what about Fozzie's comedy?  In order for him to fail, his jokes would have to be unfunny.

In the "How-To" book on comedy, Fozzie would be regularly featured in the "Don't" section.  He would stumble over his words, over-explain his jokes, mug after his one-liners, talk back to the audience, and fail to understand how to make his stand up relatable.  His material would barely pass if his audience were comprised of toddlers.

This paradox of humor made Fozzie a difficult character to work with.  Bad comedy elicits discomfort rather than entertainment.  Having purposefully bad jokes would make the show writers appear lazy.  No audience would want to see bad art on a weekly basis.

There needed to be some additional aspect that made sub-par entertainment appealing.  And that came in the form of two crotchety old men.

They were always looking down on the Muppets.

Waldorf (on the left) and Statler (on the right) were played by Jim Henson and Richard Hunt.  They had first appeared in the pilot, by themselves, slowly bantering with on another as they rested in a living room.  Bringing them into the Muppet Theater livened both of them up, and also improved the pace of the show.  For whatever reason, these two made it their duty to watch every show just to make fun of it.  Their inclusion was like a built-in safety net for the entire show.  After every sketch or musical number, Statler and Waldorf would be on hand to provide a biting insult to what had proceeded it.  Usually this would come in the form of their own lame puns, but it introduced a certain rhythm that could save the show from falling flat.

They often started dialogues with the performers on stage, expressing their distaste and the Muppets did their best to try harder.  But the best of these exchanges came during Fozzie's comedy acts.

Heckling at its finest.

Like the cast of Mystery Science Theater 3000, who survived terrible works of art by making fun of them, Statler and Waldorf got a sense of pleasure out of seeing the bear perform, despite their vocal disgust.  Their barbs inspired the bear to try harder, test new material, and pursue other vocations all to fulfill his desire to entertain.  Although Fozzie would engage in the childish behavior of the old men, it allowed the audience to build a sympathy for him, even when they agreed with the hecklers.

To get out on a stage to perform a monologue with the sole intent of making people laugh takes a lot of courage.  The fact that Fozzie never gave up his resolve (even when the whole audience once walked out on him) is inspiring to aspiring comedians.  On rare occasions, Fozzie would succeed in making his harshest critics laugh (and not just ironically).  Those lone moments are all the encouragement needed to keep going.

For many people, Fozzie is their favorite Muppet.  But it's not because they loved his jokes.  It is because the loved his strength in the face of adversity.  Fozzie knows he is not the best.  He probably knows that he is the worst.  His catchphrase of "Wocka wocka" is his involuntary attempt to produce laughter by repeating nonsense.  It is his trademark because it sums up his unfunniness into a simple phrase.  It combines his lack of skill with his ineptitude in basic comedy knowledge.  But he continues growing.  He continues learning.  He continues living.  Because it is his dream.  And no one can take that away from him.

You'll Never Get Out

Jim Henson's second experimental film The Cube can be viewed as a companion piece to Time Piece.  While Time Piece focused on a man trapped by the limitations of time, The Cube focuses on a man confined by space.

Get used to these walls.

Richard Schaal plays the man who suddenly finds himself in this tiny, windowless white room.  Each side is identical, with a grid of squares that can be manipulated to serve as doors and other passageways for those from outside the Cube.  Without warning, a parade of characters stop by in the room to engage with the man, each as mysterious as the last.  Various clues are dropped, hinting at what lies outside, although most are contradictory (and every single person is untrustworthy, so their helpful words could very well be lies).  Almost every character exists to keep the Man confined to the room and play mind games with him to keep him on edge.

The handyman Arnie is pleasant during his visits, but he has no useful information.

What is clear about the room is that the events that unfold in it are some form of psychological torture (either intentional or unintentional).   Many characters trick the Man into getting his hopes up, while others threaten him or demean him.  As soon as he finds a character to feel comfortable around, he is made a fool by them at the end.  Eventually, he resigns to the fact that he should just expect chaos with every new guest.  But what really makes the owners of the Cube sadistic is not letting the Man take a break.  Watch what entails during the Man's "rest" period.

Yes, the song is a little on the nose, suggesting that the only escape is death.  But it's good to get that notion out of the way early, before the Man feels the need to follow through with it.  At this point, he still assumes he can find some way to not only get out, but also get some answers.

There are many visitors throughout the hour, each presenting a different facet of life to consider (much like the random moments in Time Piece).  The moments that deal with the perception of reality are the most resonant, though.  One man comes in to assuage all fears by informing the Man that it'll all work out in the end.  It is just a television play after all.  To prove it to him, he decides to show him the ending of the film that they are currently in (which shows him still trapped in the Cube).

Yes, Spaceballs would later use this as a plot point.

Another moment that blurs the lines of reality comes when another man escapes from his own nearby Cube.  This suggests that the Man is not alone and dozens or hundreds more are undergoing the same torture.  The escaped man rattles off all of the horrible moments he'd suffered and how they were always finding new ways to punish him.  His only solace were the brief times when he was left alone. But, now that he is free, he finds that he misses the familiarity of his own cube.  He decides to go back, even though he knows he'll be punished if the management learned of his escape.  The Cube is all he knows.

Immediately afterwards, the management arrives to ask if the Man saw the escaped man.  The Man keeps quiet about the affair, willing to protect his neighbor.  He has found one person who has suffered like him, one friend.  This kinship is small, but it's enough to make the Man willing to protect him.

Then we learn that the escaped man was just an actor.  Ain't that a kick in the head?

(Another great moment occurs with the management when they offer the Man a chance to escape, no strings attached.  This is storytelling at it's finest.  Despite our lack of details and answers, the audience joins the protagonist in his one goal: escaping the room.  So when he gets his chance halfway through the story, viewers are on the edge of their seat wondering what the catch is or how the Man will miss his opportunity.  It is gut-wrenchingly tense, and all accomplished with just a single set and simple characters.  I won't ruin what happens in this part, but it is perfect.)

Hmm, a small white enclosure?  What are you suggesting, Mr. Director?

Eventually, the Cube provides the man with one final chance at escape: death.  An hour in hell feels just like an eternity, so there really is no other option for him to take at this point.

Yes, 1408 would later use this as an entire plot.

AND NOW FOR THE SPOILERS!!!!

The gun fires strawberry jelly and every character joins the Man in the Cube to celebrate his accomplishment (?).  The Man, fed up with the experiment tells them all off, punches a few of them out, and exits the Cube with his dignity intact.  He later tells the director of the experiment that the one thing that kept him sane was the fact that he could rely on his own mind.  Even as all this strange behavior was occurring and he was being fed nothing but false images and beliefs, he could still trust that he was himself.  And to prove it, he cuts his hand to show that he is alive, for he can bleed...strawberry jelly.

Looks like he didn't get very far out of the Cube after all...

THOSE SPOILERS WERE WONDERFUL!!!!

Once more, from the top!

The Cube is a simple exercise in psychology.  While Time Piece invited the viewer to make sense of the visual metaphors placed before them, The Cube brings the whole notion of existence into perspective.  The way we interpret our surroundings defines our own universes.  We are each living in our own Cube.  When the only escape is death, it is better to just enjoy your life sentence on Earth.  It may be filled with confusing and discomforting moments, but we're stuck with them all, for better or for worse.

The entire special can be viewed here in glorious black and white, which adds to the surrealism.

So Is Life

A variety show is, by definition, supposed to contain a variety of acts.  Nowadays, the only "variety" show on network television is Saturday Night Live, which is really a comedy sketch show with one or two musical moments thrown in for balance.  Even late-night talk shows tend to be mostly comedic.  We have come to accept comedy as being a necessary staple of variety.

But the variety shows of the past could also be serious.  Variety could easily include a thoughtful artistic performance, without the need for humor.  The Muppet Show always tried to incorporate moments like this during their episodes.  Sometimes it would be a solemn song by Robin the Frog, or the one-on-one chat between a Muppet and the guest.  Comedy was there, but not always utilized.  Mostly, it came down to the guest star of the day.

The Muppet crew had built a familiar routine when working with guests on the show.  The writers would usually write many Muppet-only sketches that could fit into any episode.  The rest were specific segments written to showcase the celebrity's talents (whether they be comedic, musical, or acrobatic).  The guests were also asked which Muppets they would like to perform with, which was usually the extent of their input.  The best episodes, however, were usually those where the guest would get really involved in the creative process.  Mostly, this meant that professional comedians could punch up a script with a lot more humor.  But with third season guest Harry Belafonte, Henson and his team were able to tap into a spiritual place, previously untouched by The Muppet Show.

Humanity and puppetry.

Belafonte, known for popularizing calypso music with such hits as "Day O (The Banana Boat Song)," did not make very many television appearances.  It wasn't that he was a private person, it's just that this well-travelled individual saw that he could do more good in the world with his celebrity status than selfishly keeping the attention on himself.  So when he did appear on television, it was because he saw something in the show that spoke to his humanitarian ways.  To him, Henson's family-friendly artistry was one of the most noble aspects about television.  Being able to bring laughter and education through his puppets on The Muppet Show and Sesame Street, he saw that Henson was dong good work.  He was honored to be a guest, as long as he could oversee the script.

After various edits (including the removal of a scene where Belafonte and a Muppet get into a heated argument), Belafonte was satisfied with the material he would perform.  First, for comedy's sake (and as a way to "entice" the audience), he would sing "Day O" with the Muppets struggling to sing along.

Next, to present his musical side and for the chance to perform with his favorite Muppet, Belafonte and Animal had dueling drum solos.

And finally, Belafonte was able to present a song that was dear to his heart, "Turn the World Around."  Based on the lifestyles, mythologies and attitudes of impoverished tribes he saw while in Africa, this song was meant to uplift and encourage viewers to make the world a better place.  Henson and his designers would create new puppets specifically for this number, based on tribal African masks, representing fire, water, earth, and spirit.  Henson took great care in overseeing the masks' production, ensuring that they remained authentic, yet not offensive or religiously inaccurate.

The Spirit Mask

The song became the closing number for the show, replacing the end theme music, as all the Muppets joined Belafonte in his song of peace and positivity.  Even Statler and Waldorf (who usually end the show with one final stinger) got into the spirit of the music and sang along.  This was one episode where negativity was not allowed, and it created one of the most memorable Muppet moments ever.

Belafonte recognized that the Muppets have the power to change the world through love and inspiration.  While most celebrities used their appearances on the show to have some fun or get some exposure, Belafonte used the opportunity to spread his message and to speak for those who lack a voice.

Water make the river
River wash the mountain
Fire make the sunlight
Turn the world around

Heart is of the river
Body is the mountain
Spirit is the sunlight
Turn the world around

We are of the spirit
Truly of the spirit
Only can the spirit
Turn the world around 

The Host With the Least

After a couple of failed starts to create a Muppet television series, Henson finally decided to show what he was capable of with The Muppet Show: Sex and Violence.  If that title seems strange to you, then it's doing its job right.  Henson wanted to put his foot down and convince the networks that puppets are no longer kids' stuff.  This was no Sesame Street.  This was Muppets After Dark.

The title, however, was just a draw to get the audience hooked, as all excitement and potential was squandered after a promising opening bit thanks to the introduction of the host Nigel.

Kermit, he is not.

There are quite a few similarities between this pilot and the eventual show, including the first appearances of many key players (such as Sam the Eagle, the Electric Mayhem, the Swedish Chef, Statler and Waldorf).  A couple of segments would later find a home on the regular show, including a sketch that would inspire "Pigs in Space."  But the feel of the show was very different from what was to come and Nigel is to blame.

The show is modeled after the fast-paced variety show Laugh-In where skits and one-liners come a mile-a-minute, never pausing to rest.  The scenes in this episode are very short, usually cutting away once the punchline is delivered, with longer sketches being broken up into multiple parts.  Yet, even with the speedy editing, the show seems to move at a snail's pace, thanks to Nigel.  Like Kermit, he is here to put on a show, but he lacks Kermit's enthusiasm and excitement.  He speaks with a monotone voice and seems bored at the prospect of hosting the show.  Whenever the camera cuts to the backstage shenanigans, he is in the middle of playing various board games with Sam and Floyd.

Unlike the show it would spawn, Sex and Violence does not feature a celebrity guest.  Instead, the plot revolves around the arrival of the Seven Deadly Sins for the finale.  Perhaps Nigel's blandness was supposed to stand in contrast to the Seven Sins' behavior, poking fun at the notion that the audience only wants to see sex and violence.  Whatever the case, the Sins are brilliantly designed characters and it is a shame we never saw these puppets again.

The Seven Deadly Sins: Avarice, Envy, Vanity, Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, and Anger.

There are a couple of other great moments in the show that are not bogged down by Nigel's dry presence.  Cameos from Kermit, Rowlf the Dog, and Bert during the "At the Dance" segments are very welcome.  The "Theater of Things" spot using only pencils and a ruler had some great puns and would have been a great recurring segment on the series (using other items of course).  But the best moment would have to be the "For the Birds" sketch.

Music is noticeably absent from this show (save for some background music and the Electric Mayhem's number) so many of the typical Muppet skits fall flat.  But "For the Birds" makes the use of its lack of songs by allowing the entire cast to show how clever and lyrical the use of simple dialogue can be.  Each bird has a different "cry" that sounds like a common phrase which is then repeated throughout the scene.  The story is played out through the use of varying inflections, creating a brilliant moment amidst the slow chaos of the surrounding show.  Surprisingly, this segment was never repeated, although the birds would reappear from time to time when birds were needed.  It wasn't until the recent Muppet Show comic book's adaptation of Peter Pan where the birds could once again reference this lost sketch in its full glory.

Read this in Jerry Nelson's, Richard Hunt's, Frank Oz's, Fran Brill's, Dave Golez's, and Jim Henson's voices accordingly.

It was moments like this that allowed the producer Lord Lew Grade to make the decision to put The Muppet Show on the air, which allowed for many improvements in quality.  The old hecklers were no longer confined to their living room, creativity was allowed to flow, and Nigel was replaced with the far more charismatic Kermit.  But don't worry about Nigel, he got a new job as the conductor of the Muppet Orchestra for the entire series.  He may not have become a star, but at least he was able to bring music to the show.  Not every Muppet is memorable, but each one is essential.

For without him, there would be no one to conduct the Muppet Show Theme Song!

If Music Be the Love of Food, Play On

In the film Who Framed Roger Rabbit, we are treated to a world where the world of cartoons and reality are intertwined.  The laws of physics do not apply in Toontown and the impossible becomes possible.  While the Disney theme parks try their best to recreate the world of cartoons, they will always be limited by the rules of logic.  The Muppets, however, are able to exist peacefully in that in-between state between fiction and non-fiction.  When we encounter them, we treat them as living creatures, willingly suspending all rationale.  But, like cartoons, they can endure great physical stresses that no human could survive.  Objects that were once inanimate can start talking.  And, yes, the food can sing.

And you thought being a vegan was tough before...

The Singing Food is another one of those omnipresent aspects that let you know you have entered Muppet territory.  Unlike other Muppet species, the food comes in dozens of varieties and voices, yet they seem rather simple minded.  Perhaps because they are lower on the food chain (literally), they haven't quite developed as much as their puppet brethren.  While they lack intelligence, they can be trained to perform complex musical numbers, such as "Yes, We Have No Bananas."

And it is not only the abusive Muppet-tamer Marvin Suggs who is able to get these fruits and vegetables to sing.  Even the Swedish Chef could train them to sing their signature hit in his native tongue, Fake Swedish.  Considering the battles the Chef often has with his meals, this is quite the accomplishment!

What causes these plants to mimic the behavior of other sentient beings?  They all seem to exhibit the exact same personality.  But even though they are simple minded, does that make it right to eat them?  I mean, Muppet Monsters eat living creatures whole every day.  Sure, these Muppets are enslaved to perform show tunes before becoming someone's dinner, but this is a cartoonish world!  We don't have to worry about the food, right?!  It's just harmless fun!

Did I mention that the Singing Food have offspring that hatch from eggs?

That's right.  That is a picture of newborn baby asparagus.  How adorably tragic.

But don't worry.  The Singing Food is rarely seen on somebody's plate.  Perhaps their abilities have allowed them to escape a grim demise.  They always seem to pop up in large chorus numbers, without anyone threatening their lives.

Vegetables are more likely to survive in groups.

The Singing Food have been spared from the fates of their non-verbal siblings.  At least, that was the case until the most recent film The Muppets in which !!!SPOILERS!!! their abandoned refrigerator is discovered and all the Food is revealed to have gone rotten.  So they are disposed of in a manner befitting to a Muppet, a fiery explosion. !!!END OF SPOILERS!!!

So, while a cartoon world may seem like a fun place to visit, be glad you live in a world where food cannot talk or sing or exhibit any signs of life once in your kitchen.  And should you happen to discover a musical fruit, please, let him toot his melody and continue on his merry way.

And be thankful we have bananas today.

Appealing to Id

In 1969, Jim Henson decided to try his luck at expanding the Muppet brand beyond commercials and variety show appearances.  Hoping to build a pre-existing audience through name recognition, Henson got in touch with the associates of cartoonists Johnny Hart and Brant Parker, the minds behind The Wizard of Id.  A fan of comic strips, Jim thought that puppetry would be a great way to translate the humor from the comics onto television.  The authors expressed interest and Henson made up a quick test pilot.  This was the first time established copyrighted characters were represented in Muppet form.

The Wizard and King of Id (Jim Henson and Jerry Juhl, respectively)

While the pilot only lasted 5 minutes, the drawbacks of making a show about a comic strip became readily apparent to Henson.  Using dialogue from the strips, the flow of the show was very clunky.  Because comic strips are meant to be enjoyed in mere seconds, once-a-day, the focus is entirely on the jokes.  The characters only speak as a means to get to the punchline.  While this is not uncommon for comedy routines and sketches, an entire show of punchlines can become aggravating to the viewer.  And without an audience to provide laughter, the jokes had to be punctuated with a simple musical sting.

The complaints are already pouring in.

So how does Henson combat this stale humor?  By pushing it to the extreme!

The episode starts off bland and stays there, settling in to a repetitive groove.  Setup, punchline, music.  Eventually, the puppets begin to break the forth wall, essentially mugging to the audience after every joke.  The jokes get so cheesy that the audience becomes lactose intolerant!

Just wanted to make sure everybody caught that last pun.

The hamminess escalates to the point that every musical cap extends longer and longer, after the joke, allowing the characters to do a little celebratory dance for each successful punchline delivery.  It no longer becomes about the Wizard or the kingdom of Id, but rather how long these puppets can make fools of themselves.  And of course, it ends with multiple explosive deaths, as every Muppet production should.

The eternally imprisoned Spook doesn't have to worry about his captivity for too much longer.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), the staff at The Wizard of Id did not get back with their approval fast enough. Always the busy man, Henson found himself swamped with another little show that was just beginning (Sesame Street) as well as numerous other Muppet productions. So, Jim was able to break away from the limitations that this show would have placed on him, exposing an international audience to the wonders of his puppetry skills. But it is at least nice to see that even in this conformity, the essence of Henson is able to poke out its head. The post-modern twist on the corny little puppet show transforms it from a mediocre skit to a true Jim Henson work of art.