Labyrinth

Jim Henson’s Labyrinth is a good family fantasy with a wandering story and unusually entertaining company. Its creatures and David Bowie’s Goblin King make it worth the occasional wait for the adventure to get moving again. Henson wants to make growing up seem confusing, enticing and a little frightening, and the mixture is appealing even when the film struggles to settle on a tone. We recommend it for the puppets and the peculiar atmosphere, with patience advised for the middle stretch.

Jennifer Connelly gives Sarah an earnestness that suits the coming-of-age story, although the character can seem rather plain beside her fellow performers. Terry Jones’s screenplay supplies a succession of strange encounters without always making Sarah’s feelings equally interesting. The familiar fairy-tale framework is useful: we can accept the oddness without needing an explanation for every new creature. But the film needs a firmer sense of what matters to Sarah when the novelty of another encounter begins to wear off.

The puppets repay the attention Henson gives them. Their sheer variety matters, because the film does not have to keep finding bigger dangers to give us something new to look at. Hoggle, voiced by Brian Henson, and Ludo, voiced by Ron Mueck, belong in a cast alongside human actors without feeling like concessions to a younger audience. The creatures can be awkward and unlovely, and Henson’s willingness to let them stay that way gives the fantasy much of its character.

Bowie understands how to behave in this company. We laughed at how seriously he takes Jareth among the puppets; he treats their presence as entirely ordinary. There is a stiffness to his performance, but it suits a king who seems to expect everyone else to make the adjustment. His songs give the film a welcome change of pace, and his commitment prevents the musical passages from feeling like a famous guest briefly taking over somebody else’s adventure.

Elliot Scott’s production design gives the labyrinth substantial-looking spaces even when their geometry makes no sense. The visual puzzles work because we can inspect them, enjoying the apparent solidity before noticing the contradictions. Alex Thomson’s cinematography keeps people, puppets and scenery convincing together, so the human performers seem to belong in these impossible surroundings. This is where the film’s slower pace is an advantage, since there is plenty in the frame to examine.

Elsewhere, John Grover’s editing cannot disguise how often the journey seems to pause for another attraction. At 101 minutes, this should not feel a particularly lengthy adventure, yet the middle sometimes has us waiting for the film to choose a direction. Trevor Jones’s score is better at sustaining the fairy-tale unease than the script, which can soften a threat before it has had much effect. The changes between scares and cuteness are the chief weakness, since neither gets quite enough time to take hold.

Family fantasy does not have to tidy away everything that might puzzle or disturb its youngest viewers, and Labyrinth benefits from leaving some of its oddness unexplained. That makes it worth returning to even when the route through the story has become familiar. The unevenness is real, but Henson’s pleasure in giving these creatures a life is easy to share. Choose it for an evening when meeting strange creatures matters more than getting anywhere promptly.