Gilbey on Film: We need to talk about Kermit

A triumphant cinematic return for the Muppets.

A triumphant cinematic return for the Muppets.

Aside from nostalgia, the primary responses to the generally encouraging quality of the new Muppets picture have been surprise and relief. But why?No other series with the exception of the Carry On films has maintained a comparably high standard over such a long period of time.

There may have been a slight falling-off in the late 1990s with Muppets from Space, and I can't vouch for the occasional TV films (such as a Muppet version of The Wizard of Oz), which I haven't seen. But elsewhere the various filmmakers and brand custodians over the years have been responsible for inventive entertainment that is never shy of breaking the fourth wall. Until The Muppet Movie in 1979, the customary route for TV shows transferring to cinema had been to spin out a typical 30-minute episode to triple the length, with little regard for the demands and contours of the larger medium. But the Muppets' movie outings justify themselves fully as pieces of cinema, building their gags and narratives around our familiarity with the form.

The new picture is called, simply and cleanly, The Muppets -- thank goodness the makers of this "reboot" didn't go for Muppets Begin or Muppets: Fully Loaded. The songs by Flight of the Conchords star Bret McKenzie are suitably infectious, if not quite equal to the earworms composed for The Muppet Movie and Muppet Christmas Carol by the Bugsy Malone songwriter Paul Williams.

The rudimentary getting-the-gang-back-together plot begins with Walter, a Muppet, seeing The Muppet Show on television and finally discovering what makes him different from his (human) best friend (played by Jason Segel, who also co-wrote the script). It's a coming-out story in essence -- a metaphor for realising that you are not alone in the world after all -- but the movie doesn't labour that point. Instead it sticks to the Muppet films' overarching commandment: Thou shalt not waste any opportunity to remind the audience it is watching a movie. So the road-trip which forms a large chunk of the picture is completed more quickly when the characters opt to travel "by map" (remember the red line inching across the page of an atlas in the Indiana Jones series?), while someone suggests that the lengthy recruitment of all the old Muppets back into the fold might be experienced more enjoyably in montage form.

This self-reflexiveness has long been the way of the Muppets. Remember The Great Muppet Caper from 1982? No, of course you don't: that's why I'm here, to remember it for you. There's a whole production number outlining the characters that the Muppets will be playing in the film we're about to see, and lots of dotty dialogue spoofing storytelling conventions. ("Why are you telling me this?" Miss Piggy asks after a particularly clunky speech by her another character. "It's exposition," comes the reply. "It's got to go somewhere.")

The Muppet Movie even begins with the cast gathering in a private screening room to watch The Muppet Movie. (At one point, the print burns up, Persona-style.) When the musicians from the Electric Mayhem catch up with Kermit and Fozzie in the desert, they are able to do so only because Kermit had given them a copy of the screenplay earlier in the film -- all they had to do was flick forward to page 57 ("Exterior. Desert. Night"). The adventure leads to Hollywood, where a studio head (played by Orson Welles -- who else?) asks his secretary to prepare "the standard 'rich and famous' contract" for the assorted felt animals who have crowded into his office. The Muppet Movie ends with the Muppets beginning work on The Muppet Movie -- the film we are watching. Far from being self-indulgent, the device works magically to draw the cinema audience closer.

Such playfulness has its echo throughout the NBC sitcom-about-nothing Seinfeld, and especially in Season 4, which is devoted to Jerry (Jerry Seinfeld) and George (Jason Alexander) trying to get their sitcom-about-nothing made at NBC. (Some of the story ideas they pitch are lifted from earlier episodes of the show.) It's there too in the work of Charlie Kaufman, particularly Synecdoche, New York (about a playwright mounting a scale version of his own life) and Adaptation, which stars Nicolas Cage as Kaufman and shows fictionalised scenes from the set of the writer's previous film, Being John Malkovich. Bravely, the film itself also turns into the same artistically compromised screenplay that Kaufman is shown writing -- a point missed by those critics who complained that the movie sold out in its final stretch.

The Muppets is a good example of the tradition of TV-oriented comic reboots which includes The Brady Bunch Movie, Starsky and Hutch and the forthcoming 21 Jump Street; it also has a slight head-start over those titles because its irreverence is already deep in its DNA. (It may be a reboot but it isn't a makeover.) I wonder where the series could go next; the excellent Muppet Christmas Carol, an affectionate and faithful adaptation of Dickens, and the almost-as-good Muppet Treasure Island, suggested that the form was particularly well-suited to adapting other texts. Glancing at my own bookshelves for ideas doesn't prove especially fruitful. The Muppet Who Fell From Grace with the Sea? A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Muppet? We Need to Talk About Kermit?

"The Muppets" is released on Friday.

Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

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The struggles of Huma Abedin

On the behind-the-scenes story of Hillary Clinton’s closest aide.

In a dreary campaign, it was a moment that shone: Hillary Clinton, on the road to the caucus in Iowa, stopping at a Mexican fast-food restaurant to eat and somehow passing unrecognised. Americans of all political persuasions gleefully speculated over what her order – a chicken burrito bowl with guacamole – revealed about her frame of mind, while supporters gloated that the grainy security-camera footage seemed to show Clinton with her wallet out, paying for her own lunch. Here was not the former first lady, senator and secretary of state, known to people all over the world. This was someone’s unassuming grandmother, getting some food with her colleagues.

It might be unheard of for Clinton to go unrecognised but, for the woman next to her at the till, blending into the background is part of the job. Huma Abedin, often referred to as Clinton’s “shadow” by the US media, is now the vice-chair of her presidential campaign. She was Clinton’s deputy chief of staff at the state department and has been a personal aide since the late 1990s.

Abedin first met Clinton in 1996 when she was 19 and an intern at the White House, assigned to the first lady’s office. She was born in Michigan in 1976 to an Indian father and a Pakistani mother. When Abedin was two, they moved from the US to Saudi Arabia. She returned when she was 18 to study at George Washington University in Washington, DC. Her father was an Islamic scholar who specialised in interfaith reconciliation – he died when she was 17 – and her mother is a professor of sociology.

While the role of “political body woman” may once have been a kind of modern maid, there to provide a close physical presence and to juggle the luggage and logistics, this is no longer the case. During almost 20 years at Clinton’s side, Abedin has advised her boss on everything from how to set up a fax machine – “Just pick up the phone and hang it up. And leave it hung up” – to policy on the Middle East. When thousands of Clinton’s emails were made public (because she had used a private, rather than a government, server for official communication), we glimpsed just how close they are. In an email from 2009, Clinton tells her aide: “Just knock on the door to the bedroom if it’s closed.”

Abedin shares something else with Clinton, outside of their professional ties. They are both political wives who have weathered their husbands’ scandals. In what felt like a Lewinsky affair for the digital age, in 2011, Abedin’s congressman husband, Anthony Weiner, resigned from office after it emerged that he had shared pictures of his genitals with strangers on social media. A second similar scandal then destroyed his attempt to be elected mayor of New York in 2013. In an ironic twist, it was Bill Clinton who officiated at Abedin’s and Weiner’s wedding in 2010. At the time, Hillary is reported to have said: “I have one daughter. But if I had a second daughter, it would [be] Huma.” Like her boss, Abedin stood by her husband and now Weiner is a house husband, caring for their four-year-old son, Jordan, while his wife is on the road.

Ellie Foreman-Peck

A documentary filmed during Weiner’s abortive mayoral campaign has just been released in the US. Weiner shows Abedin at her husband’s side, curtailing his more chaotic tendencies, always flawless with her red lipstick in place. Speaking to the New York Observer in 2007, three years before their marriage, Weiner said of his future wife: “This notion that Senator Clinton is a cool customer – I mean, I don’t dispute it, but the coolest customer in that whole operation is Huma . . . In fact, I think there’s some dispute as to whether Huma’s actually human.” In the film, watching her preternatural calm under extraordinary pressure, you can see what he means.

In recent months, Abedin’s role has changed. She is still to be found at Clinton’s side – as the burrito photo showed – but she is gradually taking a more visible role in the organisation overall, as they pivot away from the primaries to focus on the national race. She meets with potential donors and endorsers on Clinton’s behalf and sets strategy. When a running mate is chosen, you can be sure that Abedin will have had her say on who it is. There’s a grim symmetry to the way politics looks in the US now: on one side, the Republican candidate Donald Trump is calling for a ban on Muslims entering the country; on the other, the presumptive Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton relies ever more on her long-time Muslim-American staffer.

Years before Trump, notable Republicans were trying to make unpleasant capital out of Abedin’s background. In 2012, Tea Party supporters alleged that she was linked to the Muslim Brotherhood and its attempt to gain access “to top Obama officials”. In her rare interviews, Abedin has spoken of how hurtful these baseless statements were to her family – her mother still lives in Saudi Arabia. Later, the senator and former Republican presidential candidate John McCain spoke up for her, saying that Abedin represented “what is best about America”.

Whether senior figures in his party would do the same now remains to be seen.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad