COLUMN: The Muppet's Other Side

From Jason Brenner's "My 20 Inches," Fall '95 Free time is such a dangerous thing. I had no exams coming up last Wednesday, and a friend wanted to know if I would go to a viewing of Threat Theatre. Like an idiot, I said yes and now I can never watch the Muppets in the same light ever again. Threat Theatre was playing a take-off of the Muppets that night called Meet the Feebles. The Feebles are fuzzy little puppets who very much resemble Kermit, Gonzo and the gang -- cute and cuddly. The Feebles put on a popular television variety show in which they sing an adorable tune and dance a jig. A lovable little bunny pops out of a life-size carrot and a precious little dog plays the piano. Just your average G-rated puppet film?right? Well, that's what I thought until I looked up at the screen and saw the big goofy walrus doing the horizontal tango with a little pussy-cat. Needless to say, the movie just got more outrageous from there. The cute, Kermit-like frog is a Vietnam veteran with a horrible heroine addiction and has to coerce money from one of the other Feebles to feed his habit. He spends half the movie in withdrawal, shaking violently and begging his dealer, a furry little rat, to give him the good stuff. As luck would have it, the frog with the horrible withdrawal seizures also happens to be the knife-thrower. While a poor little Feeble is suspended half-way up the wall, the frog -- hands and arms trembling -- throws knives in her direction. He's supposed to miss her, right? The third one goes right through her stomach and, as the director so delicately puts it, "Next!" Good thing Jim Henson is not alive to see this. The hippopotamus lead singer, who reminds me of Miss Piggy, goes into a binge-eating sequence when she finds out about her lover's sexual escapades with the cat. She tries to seduce her beau by appearing before him topless. Believe me, there isn't anything more repulsive than seeing a massive hippopotamus without her clothes -- except the diseased little rabbit. The darling bunny rabbit that pops out of the carrot also happens to have a terminal sexually transmitted disease. Pus sores oozing from his face, he tries to perform despite his illness. Of course, when he jumps out of the carrot this time, he vomits all over the audience. Don't worry, it gets worse?A huge drug deal goes bad, as the supplier hands over a kilo of Borax. Some poor, unsuspecting coke fiend happens to come across the powdered bleach, snorts it, and -- well, figure it out. I know you don't want me to ruin the ending for you in case you decide to rent this charming little film on video. But I will. The binge-eating hippo goes on a homicidal rampage because of her lost love. Wielding a machine gun, she mows down everything in her path. Little Feebles are gruesomely slaughtered in explicit detail. Meet the Feebles proves that the dangers of Hollywood transcend beyond the species line. Human actors aren't the only ones that get deranged when they make it into show business. No one is immune from society's ills, even if you're an adorable fuzzy puppet. Peter Jackson, the director of this interesting flick, gives a splendid criticism of the downfall of celebrities, how the thrill of the silver screen can lead to their imminent demise. Ask Gary Coleman. But for some reason, I don't think Jackson had any of that in mind when he made this movie. My gut reaction is that he wanted to make Muppet-lovers across the world feel nauseous when watching the little Feebles copulate, shoot up heroine and bash out each other's brains. He certainly does a good job. Meet the Feebles certainly one-ups any Hollywood movie I've ever seen in regards to sex, violence and drugs, albeit with lovable little puppets. As gruesome and disgusting as this movie was, it was also hilarious. I'll admit, I was probably snickering the loudest. I was the idiot in the back with the irritating, high-pitched laugh -- you know, the person who sits right behind you and annoys the hell out of you. Besides their evil vices, the dirty mouths on these little Feebles are simply a riot. It's not every day that you watch two darling puppets address each other in four-letter words. I'll concede that such a movie, if watched by young, impressionable children, can have negative ramifications. But watching Meet the Feebles with a group of 50 of "America's best and brightest" was nothing more than good, clean fun. I'll honestly never be able to watch Kermit without visions of him overdosing on coke in a dirty bathroom; I can never watch Miss Piggy sing without thoughts of her brandishing an Uzi. But I can honestly say that after Meet the Feebles, Hollywood's going to have to do something really outrageous to shock me. What's next?