Jim Henson
Labyrinth

In 1986 I was just seven years old, and cinema in itself already represented a magical place for me as a child, a gateway to distant places, a glimpse of the most incredible things that at that age I couldn't imagine.

The Goblins that today seem like ridiculous puppets to me, at the time, impressed me greatly. Only the innocence of sweet Jennifer Connelly (then just a teenager), a princess of everyday life, suspended in an indefinite time, became amidst all those little monsters, a heroine who, with her courage, chased away my fears.

The wicked (but not too much) Jarret, played by an incomparable and mystical David Bowie, represented for me a perfect prince of darkness, an effective and bewildered shape-shifter, with the sinuosity of a thin and sharp body, with those harsh and frightening eyes, orchestrator of a seemingly uncontrollable situation.

In 1986, Labyrinth was just a fairy tale, full of things to see, music, little monsters, and deformed faces that settle in the sponge brain of a child.

More than twenty years later I re-watched this little masterpiece suspended in time, realizing hundreds of small details that only a careful and motivated adult could notice.

I realized that the story is nothing more than a metaphor to tell the troubled transition of a young girl going through her adolescence, fighting against her imagination, setting it aside to make way for becoming an adult. Her room is full of toys that are repeated in the film, symbolizing the fantastic world she was capable of creating for herself. Her carefree living in the harsh real world, which is indeed rejected (as understood from her initial monologue), is infused with the fantasies fueled by the toy characters that fill her room. Her fantasy world supports her and estranges her from a bitter reality (but not too much, it's just a few adolescent conflicts).

The labyrinth is nothing more than a metaphor for a difficult path where each of her fantasies is definitively faced, until reaching the inevitable goal, which culminates with a "passing of the baton" to her little brother: the much-loved Lancelot puppet, a symbol of her childhood, is left to the child with the words "you need it more than I do."

I was incredibly moved, perhaps because I sunk into the tender memories of a sweet childhood, perhaps because in the end, the protagonist chooses (inevitably) to grow up and put aside all the key elements of her childhood, which will remain only in case of necessity.

The protagonists are wonderful, perfect,

For the time, then, the special effects expressed are of excellent quality, and the film handles all the years it has very well.

The soundtrack is naturally curated by the genius Bowie, who produces delightful and appropriate fanfares for the context. I quote for example "Magic Dance", which serves as the backdrop to Jarret's hilarious dance, prince of the gnomes, with his Goblins.

Directed by Jim Henson, produced by G. Lucas and Frank Oz.

I highly recommend it, both to adults and children.