The Dark Crystal (1982)

A piece I wrote for A Bright Wall in a Dark Room:

Wherein being a Gelfling doppelgänger isn’t necessarily a bad thing

When Chad asked if we’d be interested in writing about one of our favorite childhood movies, this one was kind of a no-brainer for a number of reasons. One reason is that I used to be teased and called a gelfling when I was a kid; it was my nickname for many years. When I was seven, I watched this movie along with several classmates during a special after-school screening in our school’s library, which had recently acquired a brand new VCR. Shortly after the movie ended, a classmate observed that I looked like Kira, the girl gelfling in the movie, and from then on, it was a reference that I couldn’t shake. Oddly, even years later, strangers will, on occasion, randomly approach me to let me know about the mythical muppet I most closely resemble. It was a likeness that used to make me cringe, but one that I can now take some comfort in. Anyhow, now you know who I allegedly look like, and if you see me on the street, no I cannot fly.

The Dark Crystal was to the 1980’s what The Lord of the Rings and possibly Where the Wild Things Are have been to the 2000’s, though arguably, it is a darker and scarier world for a little kid. It’s a classic good versus evil quest story, though told through a unique story line and set in a land without any humans at all, where prophecies, guardians and mysticism can determine one’s destiny, and it’s a story that utterly captivated me as a child.

The story begins: “Another World. Another Time. In the Age of Wonder. A thousand years ago, this land was green and good…until the Crystal cracked. A single piece was lost, a shard of the Crystal. Then strife began and two new races appeared: the cruel Skeksis and the gentle Mystics…”

In the first 15 minutes of the movie, we’re introduced to most of the creatures existing in the greatest mystical world Jim Henson created, along with artist/conceptual designer Brian Froud, production designer Harry Lange, scenarist David Odell, co-director Frank Oz, and composer Trevor Jones, who created a magnificent score that balances the movie perfectly and accentuates the mood at all the right points. There are the Skeksis, appropriately named for the skeletal creatures who reign over the Castle of the Crystal and the Crystal of Truth. The Skeksis resemble vultures, pterodactyls and reptiles combined, and don layers upon layers of ornate clothing like something from the Victorian era that is rotting off of their shrivelled bodies. They are quirky creatures who have Very Bad Table Manners, burping and making loud noises while feasting on the Nebri, other creatures of the land. Some are ferocious, such as the Garthim Master, the Ritual Master and the Slave Master, while others, like Chamberlain, are very curious, making strange whimpering noises while plotting revenge.

It is said that in developing the Skeksis for the movie, the creators were inspired by the Seven Deadly Sins, and watching the movie as an adult, it is easy to see how. In the beginning of the film, the Skeksis’ emperor dies, then literally crumbles to dust, and a violent duel over his successorship ensues, with the loser, Chamberlain, being beaten, chastised, stripped nearly to the bone and ousted from the castle. Later we see the Skeksis drain the “vital essence” from defenseless Podlings (little gnomish-creatures) kidnapped from the kingdom — which the emperor then drinks to remain young — turning them into catatonic slaves.

By contrast, the slow, laid back but calculated, tan, four-armed Mystics lead a simple, contemplative, peaceful life. Despite appearing harmless, they are not to be underestimated, least of all because of their wisdom and apparent clairvoyant abilities.

Jen, a Gelfling, is raised by the Mystics, and is believed to be the last of his kind, because the Skeksis massacred his people. Jen is the Chosen One, and his destiny is to find the missing shard that broke off from the kingdom’s Crystal and heal it, lest the land will become one of evil over good. (The Crystal harnesses the forces of nature in this world, particularly the light from the three suns, for the benefit of the world’s inhabitants.) A prophecy is inscribed on a wall in the ancient Gelfling village: “When single shine the triple suns, what was sundered and undone, shall be whole, the two made one, by Gelfling hand or else by none.” No pressure or anything. So when the Skeksis find out that Jen exists, they go a little Cheney on everyone, push the red panic button and send out troops of giant Garthim — these lumbering black beetle-like creatures that are capable of destroying anything within sight with their enormous pincer claws, all while making these disturbing clicking noises. Their orders: to locate and destroy Jen.

Meanwhile, Jen is helped by a gray, squishy curmudgeon astrologer named Aughra, who can remove her eyeball and still see through it. The logistics of this feat intrigued me very much as a child and left me wondering whether this was actually possible for terribly unfortunate accident victims. Aughra is a wise and witty soul who lives in an observatory and knows a lot about suns and planets; she explains to Jen that the Great Conjunction of the three suns is imminent, but not before the Garthim catch on to her.

Soon after locating the missing shard, Jen runs into Kira, a girl Gelfling who knows how to communicate with other species via their calls and languages, and who also demonstrates that maybe not all blondes are dumb, as she proves resourceful with her various animal friends as well as an important anatomical difference that helps save them later on. Her pet Fizzgig is my favorite creature in the movie, resembling a cross between a small, furry brown dog and Animal from the Muppet Show; it barks and scrambles around and opens its mouth to reveal a mouthful of teeth when it cries and yells. Jen and Kira complement each other well; he has lived among the Mystics and learned their ways, while she has lived her life at peace with nature among a variety of other species.

When I first saw this movie, I was terrified! The Skeksis, the Mystics, the Garthim, even the Gelflings and the Podlings scared me. For some time after watching it, I became utterly convinced that if I stared at lights long enough — especially fluorescent ones — my “vital essence” would be drained from me (if only I’d known!). Watching the movie again over the weekend, the first time in many years, I was a little amused by how the movie once scared me so. It also made me realize how much of an effect it had on me and my desire to create things as a child, and also how transformative the power of imagination can truly be.

Never before The Dark Crystal (that I can think of, anyhow) had viewers been transformed to an entirely new, vivid and believable world devoid of any human contact, yet still a world divided by two opposing principles, a world both fragile and beautiful and also savage and cruel. The movie depicts an evolution of imagination, and a tangible representation of duality. In this world, like our own, we see the importance of balancing science and faith, logic and spirituality, survival and sacrifice. There is a spiritual philosophy that emphasizes the importance of maintaining a spiritual, psychological and social equilibrium that is shared by various cultures and faiths, including Buddhism, Druidism and Christianity, and there are references to each of these in the movie; it is reflected in the design of the characters and the sets that at times resemble those of different ethnicities, though overall, seem to avoid specific profiling or any single hortatory message.

While some of the scenery and characters might appear completely archaic by today’s 3-D animation standards — I don’t think there was CGI in 1982 — there is something incredibly special about the use of “vintage” special effects (puppets and/or models) that computer generated graphics will simply never be able to compete with. To create the special world of The Dark Crystal, every single detail, every structure, every creature, every organism, every flora and fauna had to be built to move, to shift, to sway with the landscape, to evolve and respond naturally, from the lush, verdant landscapes to the scary Skeskis’ castle to Aughra’s planetarium and the caves of the Mystics.

The inhabitants of this world were painstakingly crafted by skilled technicians and puppeteers, creative wizards who were free from the confines of cubicles and who literally submerged themselves into the world of their creation to make each creature with its own personality, mannerisms and uniqueness. The result is a beautifully, lovingly crafted film, a rich and majestic visual feast of stunning and outlandish creations in an alien world that never existed, yet that is still so believable that it almost feels as though we are watching documentation of a newly discovered planet. I still enjoy this movie as an adult, and I still notice something new every time I watch it.

There is a sense of intimacy in this kind of fantasy film that is often lost in the sterility of computer animation these days, though those movies are also often quite exquisite. Even with computer technology breaking new ground every day, in my opinion there’s still nothing comparable to the soft magic that Jim Henson created here. The Dark Crystal changed my understanding of puppetry forever, and it also triggered a level of imagination that had been previously unknown to me — the power of storytelling through imagery. It’s a film that does not underestimate the viewer’s ability to think and wonder and imagine and long to create, things that are equally important to everyone in this world, children and adults alike.