Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, May 18, 1990 TAG: 9005180635
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: E-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: From wire reports
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Henson, who died Wednesday at age 53 in New York of pneumonia, left behind a dynasty of remarkable foam-and-wire creations - Kermit the Frog, Fozzie Bear, Miss Piggy and Big Bird among them - that live on with a beguiling independent reality of their own.
The flamboyant vanity of Miss Piggy ("Moi?"), the endearing greed of Cookie Monster, the shy sweetness of Big Bird and Kermit's bemused voice of reason are familiar to audiences worldwide through television, films, records, books, toys, computer software, clothing and other Muppet merchandise.
More significant than its marketing bonanza was the fact that the special world of the Muppets offered a haven to children growing up in an increasingly troubled era, a haven where reading and numbers were fun, a haven without peer pressure or violence or drug dealers. Parents encouraged their children to walk down "Sesame Street" or soar with "Pigs in Space," secure in the knowledge that no harm would befall them.
Henson's genius flowered in his original exploitation of television as a visual medium. Earlier television shows with human and puppet characters, such as "Kukla, Fran and Ollie," were set up like little theater performances, with a human host and puppeteers behind a curtain.
Henson created interaction between humans and Muppets his term for a cross between puppets and marionettes - with complex, three-dimensional settings and crew members concealed in trenches or behind walls.
Instead of seeing a human simply talking to a puppet, viewers were offered a new dimension, one where Muppets were firmly in control and human visitors had to cope with the eccentric surroundings as best they could.
Muppets could appear above, below, behind or in front of their human guests. The effects wouldn't have worked for a live audience - the scaffolding would have been visible and the cameras would have gotten in the way - but the results were spectacular to home viewers.
Without their endearing, humorous, all-too-human characteristics, however, the Muppets would have been just another technological surprise, to be exclaimed over and then dismissed.
There was no joke too ancient, no sight gag too skewed, no pun too awful that Henson and his collaborators could not dust it off and trot it out, usually with an elegant variation, for "The Muppet Show." In one inspired bit, singer Della Reese sits in her dressing room surrounded by clattering shellfish. Don't ask why. "Oh, clam up!" she snaps.
In another scene, Muppets horrifically collide on a ski slope to the ambling strains of "Tumbling Tumbleweeds."
Henson gave the Muppets more than technical life; he gave them soul. Sweet, petty, crusty, jealous, greedy, grumpy, wise and funny, each possessed an individuality with which their human counterparts could identify.
And identify they did. Henson's Muppets became a merchandising and media phenomena, second only to Disney characters in their instant visual identity. Last year, Kermit and Mickey Mouse became a mega-team, when Henson's production company and the rights to his Muppet characters were purchased by the Walt Disney Co.
The first generation of "Sesame Street" viewers are now watching Oscar the Grouch and Bert and Ernie with their own toddlers. (This is the second major creative loss for "Sesame Street." Joe Raposo, its remarkable composer and musical director, died last year.)
But Henson wanted to reach a wider audience, and "The Muppet Show," a star-studded variety program, premiered in London in 1976, before moving to the United States. By the time it went off the air in 1981, it had won three Emmys and had become the world's most widely watched television show, with 235 million viewers in 100 countries.
Feature-length movies came later, and still more television series: "Fraggle Rock"; "The Jim Henson Hour," an innovative mix of live action, computer graphics and puppetry; the Saturday morning cartoon "Muppet Babies"; and the HBO music appreciation series, "The Ghost of Faffner Hall."
Not all brought commercial success - the movies "Labyrinth" and "The Dark Crystal" didn't do well - but Henson's fantastic creations continued to earn wide-eyed raves.
Kermit the Frog, the reasonable mediator frequently perplexed by an unreasonable world, was often referred to as the soft-spoken Henson's alter-ego (he was one of Henson's earliest creations and Henson supplied his voice). Henson, who preferred staying out of the limelight, denied that his award-winning creations spoke for him.
In a 1984 Los Angeles Times interview, he said, "They don't do or say things I wouldn't otherwise do or say. I don't see myself as a repressed person hiding behind the characters."
Yet during that interview, Henson became voluble only when he spoke as Kermit. To a little green frog, the spotlight was a warm and wonderful place to be.
Most of this commentary was written by Lynne Heffley of the Los Angeles Times; some items came from Scott Williams of The Associated Press.
by CNB