The Bibliophile with the Power

Familial legend has it that when I was three, I insisted on watching Labyrinth every single day. If I was staying at my grandma’s, I watched the film there. And being my obsessive, ritualistic self, I always watched the movie up to a certain point – the "magic dance" scene. 

My mom, having memorized the first half of the film, tried fast-forwarding… but I wasn’t having it. So I spent part of every day in the company of the Goblin King!

 Because of all of this watching, the film contributed key phrases to the family lexicon. I imagine it confuses visitors, but my family has always picked up on odd phrases from films – mostly films I loved, come to think of it! So, in my house, it’s quite normal for someone to lament that “her head don’t come off,” or declare that the litter box smells worse than the Bog of Eternal Stench. What can I say – we’re a fun bunch. 

Though I’ve always loved fantasy, I would be hard pressed to say exactly what part of Labyrinth resounded with my child self. As an adult (in form if not in feeling) I ache for the girl who knows she has to cross some kind of threshold, to put away childish things, in order to move on with her life. I remember deciding one day that I was too old for the Crystal Castle and its occupants… but I decided based more on my friends (who had moved on to makeup), my teachers who called me “Miniver Cheevy” for my dreamer’s tendencies (no, I’ve never quite gotten over it), and my family who despaired of the time I spent alone with headphones and books, creating my own Underground peopled with the heroes and villains I loved. As a writer I still spend plenty of time there and I’m grateful to be the sort of person who can tell these characters, “But I do need you – all of you!” without feeling shame. My life would be poorer without them. I think one of the lessons of The Labyrinth is that fantasy can be used to cope – provided you’re then willing to return to reality and confront the problem that you worked out through art or dreams, music or books. It seems Henson would agree, as his daughter reports:

“My mother said that Labyrinth was the most personal of my father’s films. That may be because he had three daughters who he watched go through that transition from girl to woman. For me, this film is about choices. Watch out for all the many choices, bad and misguided, that Sarah makes. In some ways Jim struggled the most with the ending. In the final scene, when she is putting away her childhood, she stops and sees her friends and realizes that she doesn’t have to let it all go in order to grow up. He gives her permission to hold on to some of her fantasy, the parts that give her emotional support and don’t try to control her. It is a message that he would like to give to all of us.”

I was truly touched when I found this quote; it made the film feel like a gift. 

How Labyrinth has influenced my writing may be more difficult to say. Certainly, it helped me to understand that a good writer could incorporate elements from the fantastic and the everyday and make both seem viable. 

And then there’s Jareth. When I was three I was probably in love with Jareth (which may have inspired my life-long affection for androgynous men…) 

Watching the film now I am still impressed with his phrasing, his delivery of lines. He makes the words magic. Certainly, Bowie is to blame for my wish on bad days and on boring days, that my office window will dissolve into glitter. Interestingly (and this may reveal too much about me) I never really considered Jareth the villain until I started reading more about the film. 

I know that he stole the child, but as he reminds us, “You asked that the child be taken.” Furthermore, he hinders Sarah less than the Labyrinth actually does (unless you want to argue that the maze is some extension of him… which it may be with all of those Jareth faces lurking about). I guess I just believed that he was fighting for her attention, not unlike the way that Joker fights for the attention of his Beloved bats. Or maybe I just like the bad guy. Whatever the case, one of the characters in my lovely, torturous, unfinished novel owes a great deal to Jareth and I owe many happy hours to this film.

And I'm always looking for ways in which my life and Labyrinth can meet up again. 

 The Ultimate Visual History proved a treat on both the literary and aesthetic levels; the book is beautifully made and beautifully printed. Lately, I've imagined that "the market," (that vague, nebulous world of consumer goods) is repaying me for all of those times I felt left out by reaching into my childhood and reviving (reselling) those things I love the most! 

The Art Tribute was an enjoyable, albeit short, read -- and it was wonderful to hear how Henson's work had influenced and affected so many people, staying with them over time. That's a writer's immortality and in my wildest and vainest moments I wish I could do as much. 

We end, regretfully, with the bitter part of capitalism. I'm grateful that many childhood favorites are seeing new life and new audiences, but this book tricked me into its purchase with a reference to Labyrinth. The happy feeling of recognizing references (of being part of the in crowd) is about the only thing I can praise. There was little plot, lots of contradictions, and no one I felt very sympathetic to.. and I found myself wishing that I had known that a writer could borrow someone else's universe in this way. Is this the natural conclusion of fan fiction?