The Way Forward: Looking Back on Thirty Years of Jim Henson's "Labyrinth"

This month marks the thirtieth anniversary of my favorite movie, Jim Henson’s Labyrinth. Since David Bowie died earlier this year, the anniversary seems even more poignant.

Lo; in a cloud of glitter and synthesizers I come!

                             

Labyrinth is the story of a teenager who is still, at heart, a girl. Sarah loves playing dress up, reading stories, and her teddy bear. Her love of fairy tales, however, leads her to hate her stepmother and stepbrother, Toby. One night, when supposed to watch Toby, Sarah accidentally-on-purpose gives the child away to Jareth, the Goblin King. Realizing her mistake, Sarah attempts to outsmart Jareth and reclaim her baby brother by making her way through the Labyrinth, recognizing her independence, her impending adulthood, and, of course, the power of friendship along the way.

I didn’t watch a lot of movies when I was growing up. I had seen the entire repertoire of Disney movies, of course, and I could sing every word to “Barbara Manatee” from VeggieTales, but I didn’t really watch movies. So when my neighbor Jessica brought it home from the library one day and turned it on, I pointedly turned away.

Except, in the first five minutes of screentime, we see a girl in a beautiful white dress running around a park with Merlin, her sheepdog, and pretending to be a character in a play. This was my childhood in five minutes. I spent most of my time at my Aunt Connie’s 1) Wandering around dressed in a pink ball gown, 2) Pretending that I was Rebecca in Ivanhoe and threatening no one in particular that I was going to jump off of a tower, or 3) Reading. Sarah was, when I first saw Labyrinth, at least five years older than me, but she spoke to my middle-school heart. I still wanted to dream when everyone around me thought that was stupid; I wanted individuality when everyone else wanted to fit in.

But let’s focus on the movie.

Sarah immediately repents after selling Toby to the Goblin King, and is determined to right her wrongs. To rescue Toby, she makes a deal with Jareth—she must solve the Labyrinth in thirteen hours to get her brother back—Jareth tells her to “Turn back now, before it is too late.” Sarah refuses to listen to him, and makes her way to the Labyrinth, where she meets Hoggle, a sulky, sullen dwarf, at the very beginning of her time in the Goblin Kingdom. Hoggle is killing fairies when Sarah meets him, and Sarah is appalled by the cruelty until one of the little fairies bites her. Beautiful things, Hoggle seems to tell viewers, often hurt, and the beautiful Jareth hurts most of all. 

         

If "having friends" means I'm going to spend my Friday nights running for my life...

then no, not interested.

                               

Hoggle is not the kind of person who would win the Best Friend of the Year Award. He is secretly in the pay of the Goblin King, trying to make sure Sarah fails so she will stay childlike and timid throughout the movie. Yet Hoggle also learns to repent and in turn properly helps Sarah (even though his cowardice often wins out over his good intentions). Sarah also meets Ludo, Sir Didymus, and Ambrosius, who all help her reach the Goblin Castle with their own particular talents.

Although Sarah makes friends who help her solve the Labyrinth, she also encounters enemies who echo Jareth, trying to make Sarah turn back. After Hoggle betrays Sarah by giving her a poisoned peach that catapults her into a fantasy dreamland, Sarah awakes to find herself in a desolate junkyard landscape without a clear memory of who she is or what she is doing here. It is there she meets a Junk Lady, who ushers Sarah into a carbon copy of her childhood bedroom, where Sarah attempts to convince herself that the Labyrinth was only a bizarre dream. The Junk Lady further attempts to trap Sarah in her past by giving her discarded toys to hold onto, placing them on Sarah’s back until Sarah is bowed with the weight of her past. Yet Sarah realizes that all of these valuable things the Junk Lady offers is simply junk, and that Toby, the thing of true value, still lies ahead.

There was something beautiful for me in watching Jareth offer Sarah all of her fairy tale dreams—the masked balls, the fancy white dresses, the handsome lover—and watch Sarah become independent enough to say no. And yet, the movie is careful to say, just because Sarah grew up enough to say no to harmful fantasies doesn’t mean she gave up her childhood dreams, either. Sarah was allowed to be a rational adult, to make powerful decisions, and yet also hold her teddy bear closely and jump on her bed.

While I was too young to appreciate it fully, I also loved how the movie portrayed Jareth. Jareth has been in love with Sarah for no one knows how long; he has been watching her in the same way Edward Cullen watched Bella Swan sleep. (No mention is made if Jareth actually watches Sarah sleep, but he does watch her play dress-up in the park, which is creepy enough.) Jareth represents unrealistic dreams. He will take Toby away and leave Sarah to the single-child life she thinks she wants. He will give Sarah puffy white dresses and masquerade balls. He also offers Sarah a damaged form of love. “Just fear me,” he tells Sarah at the end of the movie, “love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.” 

Not pictured: David Bowie's two-sizes-too-small tights.

              

But this is not love. Perfect love, the Bible tells us, casts out all fear, and that Jareth wants Sarah to fear him and obey him is terrifying. It is the kind of relationship a battered wife has with her husband, or a slave with a brutal master. It is not the kind of relationship a young girl should have with an older man. In the beginning of the movie, Sarah struggles to remember a key line of the script she carries around in her pocket. It is the line that symbolizes her freedom and independence, and yet Sarah can never seem to remember, possibly because she is too entrenched in the fairy-tale of an older king marrying a naïve young girl. Yet when Jareth tells her to fear him, love him, and do as he says, Sarah has reached a part in her development where she is able to remember her lines, and say it with wonder and conviction: “You have no power over me.” 

               

         

There is something so incredibly satisfying about a young girl telling a man that he has no power over her.

However, Labyrinth does not place Jareth in an entirely bad light. At one point Jareth tells Sarah, “I am exhausted from living up to your expectations.” Being the fairy tale prince—even if they’re really a Goblin King, but it’s David Bowie, come on—is exhausting. Sarah comes to realize this by the end of the movie, deciding that what she has is more valuable to her than what she has lost, or what she never had but always wanted.

When Sarah remembers the magic line, “You have no power over me,” the illusion shatters. She and Toby return home, but it is an empty victory. Sarah is still alone in her bedroom. Her brother is safe, but she feels no different than before. As she lies there in her room, she sees the reflection of Hoggle in the mirror, telling her that should Sarah ever need them, they will be there.

Although Sarah has realized her independence and come into herself, she is still allowed to play make-believe, throw dance parties in her room, jump on her bed, and believe in fairy tales. That was the message I loved most of all. As I got older and my friends started to do “adult” things, they cast aside everything they considered childish. However, their idea of “adult” things were just as toxic as Sarah’s original fairy tale fantasy, where she spent all of her time in white dresses and daydreaming about what life would be like if Toby had never been born. Even though fairies were vicious and men promised love in exchange for fear and obedience, my friends refused to see that sometimes “adult” things are just as harmful as staying firmly rooted in the past.

For years I have watched Labyrinth on New Year’s Eve. I don’t remember what started that tradition. We would put the DVD in a few hours before midnight, and I would watch with my sister and one of my friends, but in recent years I have watched it by myself. And every year I am reminded: I am still allowed to be child-like. I can keep what I love about being a child while at the same time learning from my mistakes. I can be smart, and independent, and still have impromptu dance parties in my room. But most importantly, I am reminded that my will is as great as any man’s, my kingdom as strong as any king’s, and I owe men nothing. 

              

Also, in case you were wondering: Labyrinth is the movie that made me fixated on sheepdogs.