What does written prose offer in the way of understanding the creative energy of even a mild-mannered creative colossus like Jim Henson? Like many other biographies, Soar to the Moon recounts the basics of his life and work, but the richness of anecdote and insight often seems to reduce his kinetic energy to a static sum. This is especially true for someone whose legacy is all about the visual and aural feast of the Muppets and assorted other creatures, puppets and creations. Written narratives offer the kind of grounding through biographical context that documentary films can’t, but the visual medium, in films like the Ron Howard-directed documentary Jim Henson Idea Man (2014), allows us a chance to see and hear the creativity in action — a dynamic that prose narratives can only describe, and rarely duplicate.
And The Jim Henson Idea Man is all the better for being able to take those interviews and recollections and tie them back into the work Henson was doing. There’s real value in that, and it’s something that traditional biographies can’t do. When Frank Oz tells the story of an ad-lib during the Muppet Show, the documentary doesn’t just report what he’s saying; it shows us the thing, so the viewer is experiencing the humour and creativity first-hand, immersed much as Henson himself liked to immerse his audience. What a documentary can do that an oral history or written narrative just cannot is tell a story while bringing the viewer into the scene of the story.
Besides the greater intimacy with its subject, the documentary format has a second important benefit: the opportunity to view the full scope of Henson’s work and insights into what might have been. B‑roll of the Muppet workshops and unreleased films straddle the boundaries of Henson’s development and imagination, giving access to his larger creative vision and the depth of his exploratory prowess. We learn about the short film Limbo, which he made with Jim Frawley in 1969, an abstract fantasy about thought and memory expressed through physical gestures. Limbo offers a new angle on some of Henson’s interests and curiosities, ones we might not otherwise have known about.
For all of the visual splendour on display in *Jim Henson Idea Man*, the documentary’s narrative form is crucial for building up our sense of Henson. By laying out a series of interviews and remembrances, the documentary forms a more nuanced portrayal of Henson than any one medium could do on its own. By coupling these personal stories with images of Henson’s work, the documentary makes use of the narrative advantage to provide us with a more nuanced impression of a complicated person.
By incorporating the relatives’ first-person testimony, a richer narrative emerges that embraces the family tensions and strains that accompanied his success. This ability to balance and nuance enriches the biographical project, providing a fuller, more human portrait of Henson and the cost of his achievements.
What, to me, gives Jim Henson Idea Man its greatest emotional poignancy is its emphasis on the character of time in Henson’s life. The documentary features Henson expressing a frenetic pace and a kinetic energy, propelled by a fundamental awareness of time’s preciousness: a hundred years is a fleeting moment in the cosmic scheme of things. The documentary returns to this theme repeatedly, and its urgency hammers home the fact that, in Henson’s case, time had literally run out. The documentary employs this urgency to prompt its viewers to celebrate Henson’s work and legacy.
Despite all its virtues, Jim Henson Idea Man leaves me wishing it were longer. There are whole portions of Henson’s life and career that the film necessarily skips over, and so you are left to yearn for more. That longing is in some respects a testament to Henson’s legacy: it is so rich and voluminous that in a single sitting you can’t take it all in. It is also, I think, a testament to the format. Great documentaries always leave you craving more, but because the hour-long format is so common it often escapes our notice. Jim Henson Idea Man reminded me of how much I miss the days when great documentaries came out on VHS and required more than a couple of sittings.
Perhaps the most obvious benefit to visual storytelling, and the most intimate, is the inherent capaciousness of the medium to both entertain and uplift. Through its ability to share with us, and allow us to inhabit, Henson’s world of celebrated and esoteric tchotchkes, Jim Henson Idea Man places us in the midst of his creations in a particularly compelling way, imbuing the audience with a spirited sense of his joy, wonder and complexity as an artist. We celebrate the work of Jim Henson, even as his work continues to cheapen.
Overall, while traditional biographies excel in providing context and nuance, the energy of the moving image allows documentaries to better convey the spirit of creative figures such as Jim Henson. Visuals and narratives working in unison can elevate Jim Henson Idea Man from a mere recount of a life into the kind of experience that can conjure a spirit and bring it back to life. We wouldn’t be able to see the man in a Muppet without that conjuring.
© 2024 UC Technology Inc . All Rights Reserved.