Labyrinth, The

Labyrinth, The

Caught this at a Rooftop Cinema in the city and was more taken with the novelty of the whole thing and wonderfully picturesque surroundings of Melbourne’s CBD at night than I was at watching an old classic from my youth again.

Don’t get me wrong. I still enjoyed the film: Old school Jim Henson puppets, the songs, David Bowies scary crotch-revealing tights, Jennifer Connolly’s mono-brow, but I was sitting there thinking that for all its retro camp coolness, I’d much rather be watching the film’s siblings from the time. Dark Crystal, The Princess Bride and even The Neverending Story always enthralled me, scared me and entertained me much more than The Labyrinth ever did. Maybe it’s all the singing and dancing. Yes, I know all the words, and love the Bowie, but in retrospect it’s all just so damn… silly. This film played like a gut-busting comedy with the crowd of indie-kids who had obviously also grown up on it (although most of those laughs were directed at Bowie’s hypnotically jiggling crotch). Their love for it was obvious, but it was just as obvious that they love it for the kitsch appeal more than anything else. Which itself might sound rather obvious, but I still dig kids films like Return to Oz and those aforementioned films for their darker tendencies, and this seemed like such light’n’fluffy fun in comparison, and I think the amount of times I can go back to this now is very finite.