Labyrinth the Novelization

by A. C. H. Smith

  Toby went over the edge and crawled down the vertical wall, still chasing the ball, which was bouncing around crazily in defiance of all laws of motion.

  Sarah blinked. It was impossible. Jareth laughed.

  She started to follow a line of stairs that went in the direction of Toby. As she drew near him, the baby crawled after the ball in another plane, leaving her stranded. She followed him again, and the same thing happened, and again. He was moving on an axis with which she could not intersect. And everywhere he crawled, he seemed to be at risk of falling from a balcony, or tumbling all the way down a flight of stone stairs.

  Suddenly, Jareth appeared behind her. He laid his hands on her shoulders and spun her around. She was too weak to resist him. His face, as he looked into hers, was amused. It said: It’s been a fine game, Sarah, and now it’s time to finish playing, because you cannot ever win.

  In the corner of her eye, she saw a small movement. Toby was crawling toward a window ledge. She shrugged Jareth’s hands from her shoulders and stared at her brother. There could be no optical doubt about it this time. Outside the window, birds were flying in the sunlight, and Toby was clambering up onto the ledge. Between her and the baby was a vast space of the hall. He was teetering on the ledge now, trying to stand up. She could not run to him, even supposing she were able to find a path to him through the deceiving planes. It was possible, she could not be sure, that he was below her, and that she could reach him with a jump: a jump so deep that she would crack every bone in her body.

  Jareth was smiling triumphantly at her. This was how her quest ended. If he could not keep the baby, nor would she. She watched Toby totter on his precarious perch, and a small cry came from her lips.

  She closed her eyes and jumped.

  When she opened her eyes, she was not sure where she was. It could have been another part of the hall. She thought she recognized it, but could not place it.

  Yet something had changed. Near her was an ogee window, without glass, and through it she could see the upper half of one wing of the castle. It was in ruins, the cladding stones mostly gone, grass growing in the gaps they’d left. The turret roofs had collapsed, and brambles were reaching for the throat of the tower. Within the castle, where she was, she heard in the air the humming that she had come to associate with Jareth, but it had a hollow ring to it, something forlorn, like music in an abandoned house. In the crack between two flagstones where she lay she saw that weeds had started to push their way through. She stood up and looked around. There was no sign of Toby.

  Jareth stepped out from a shadowy archway, wearing a faded, threadbare cloak. His face looked older, drawn. In his blond mane was a trace of gray.

  How long had she been here? She detected no change in herself.

  Jareth was waiting for her with his arms folded. She advanced upon him. “Give me the child,” she said.

  He paused before answering. “Sarah—beware. I have been generous until now, but I can be cruel.”

  “Generous!” She advanced another step. “What have you done that was generous?”

  “Everything. I have done everything you wanted.” He took a pace back, into the shadow of the archway. “You asked that the child be taken. I took him. You cowered before me. I was frightening.”

  Taking another step away from her, he gestured in the air. “I have reordered time,” he told her. The thirteen-hour clock had appeared, floating above his head. Its hands were whirling around. “I have turned the world upside down.”

  Sarah continued to advance upon him, her arms outstretched. He retreated deeper into the shadows.

  “And I have done it all for you,” he said with a shake of his head. “I am exhausted from living up to your expectations. Isn’t that generous? Stay back!” He raised his hands as though to fend her off and took another pace away from her. In a louder voice, he repeated, “Stay back!”

  Sarah’s lips were parted. “Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City—”

  “Listen!” said a goblin, one of a nest in a dark corner of the castle.

  Jareth was retreating step by step up a staircase behind the archway.

  Sarah continued to advance, into the archway.

  “—to take back the child you have stolen,” she recited. “For my will is as strong as yours—”

  “Stop!” Jareth raised the palm of his hand to her. “Wait! Sarah, look—look what I can offer you.” He raised his left arm and made a large gesture with his hand. A glowing crystal ball appeared in it. He spun it around in his fingers, smiled wanly, and said, “It will show you your dreams. You remember.”

  Sarah took another step.

  “—and my kingdom as great—”

  “She’s going to say it,” a goblin hissed.

  “She’s going to say the words,” gabbled another, agitatedly.

  The stairs behind Jareth were descending now, and he backed slowly down them as Sarah stood above him. “I ask so little,” he said, spinning the crystal. “Just believe in me, and you can have everything you want. . . everything you have ever dreamed of. . . your dreams, Sarah. . .”

  She was frowning, and had halted her advance. “. . .and my kingdom as great. . .,” she said. “Damn!”

  A goblin shook his head decisively. “That’s not it. Never.”

  “Sshh!” said another.

  Sarah’s fists were clenched white. She was thinking frantically. What were her right words?

  Jareth took a step toward her. He needed her belief in him. “Just fear me and love me,” he told her in a gentle voice, “and do as I say, and I. . . I will be your slave.” He stretched his hand out toward her, and took another step back up the stairs.

  “Nah.” A goblin shook his hideous head. “Doesn’t look like it now, does it?”

  Jareth’s fingers were close to Sarah’s face.

  She stood where she was, and swallowed. “Kingdom as great. . .,” she muttered, “. . .kingdom as great. . .” She saw the crystal spinning in his fingers, and felt on her lips the warmth of his outstretched hand. She gasped, and, from some inspired recess of her mind, the words came, blurted out.

  “You have no power over me.”

  “No!” Jareth screamed.

  “No!” the goblins exclaimed, astounded.

  A clock began to strike.

  Jareth tossed the crystal ball up into the air, where it hovered, a bubble. Sarah looked at it, and saw Jareth’s face, distorted, on the shifting, iridescent surface. Gently, it drifted down toward her. She reached out fascinated fingers for it and, as she touched the bubble with her fingertips, it burst. A mist of water atoms floated down the air toward Jareth.

  But she saw Jareth had disappeared. She heard his voice, for a last time, moaning, “Sarah. . . Sarah. . .” His empty cloak was settling onto the ground. A beam of light picked out a little cloud of dust motes rising from it.

  The clock continued to strike.

  With a last, slow flutter, the cloak lay still. From beneath it, as the clock struck for the twelfth time, a white owl flew out and circled over Sarah.

  Tears were trickling down her cheeks.

  CHAPTER XIX

  GOOD NIGHT

  Sarah closed her eyes to stem the tears and brushed her cheeks with the palms of her hands. “I must stop this habit of crying,” she said aloud, as a distraction from her sadness. “I must also stop gasping, gulping, trembling, shouting, and generally going over the top when. . .” Then she remembered that she had not found Toby again, and she opened her eyes in alarm.

  The white owl was still flapping above her, but in other respects the scene had changed. She was standing on the staircase of her home, and it was dark outside.

  She raised her eyes to look at the owl. It circled her for a last time, found an open window and flew out into the night. Then she was running up the stairs two at a time, shouting, “Toby! Toby!”

  He was in his crib, fast asleep. She could not help bu
t pick him up and cuddle him. He opened his eyes dozily, thought about crying, but decided that he was in good enough shape without it, so he smiled instead. Sarah picked up Launcelot from the floor and put the teddy bear in his arms, saying, “Here you are, Toby. He’s yours.” Then she tucked him into his crib again. He went straight to sleep.

  She stayed there with him for a long time, watching him breathe peacefully, with Launcelot in his arms.

  Back in her own room, the full moon was shining outside the window. She left the curtains open, to see it. If she went to bed quickly, it would still be shining in when she turned the light out. The alarm clock by her bed showed that the time was after midnight. Her parents would be back from the show any minute now.

  She sat at her dressing table and picked up a hairbrush, but her attention wandered to the photographs she had around the mirror, her mother and Jeremy, smiling at each other like young lovers, the signed posters, the gossip stories about a romantic attachment. Deliberately, she began to remove one picture after another from the mirror. She glanced at each before putting it away in a drawer.

  On the dressing table one picture remained, of her father and mother and herself, aged ten. Sarah straightened the picture. Then she went to get the music box and put it in the drawer along with the pictures and clippings, shoved far back.

  Downstairs, she heard the front door open and close. Her stepmother called, “Sarah?”

  She didn’t answer at once. She was holding her copy of The Labyrinth.

  “Sarah?”

  “Wait,” Sarah whispered. “I am closing a chapter of my life. Just wait.” She paused, and added, still in a whisper, “Please.” She put the book in the drawer with all the rest, and stood with her hand on it there.

  “Sarah!”

  Sarah left it a moment, then called back, “Yes. Yes, I’m here.” She looked at the drawer, and sighed. “Welcome back,” she called.

  “What?” Her stepmother, taking her coat off downstairs, paused, puzzled. “What did you say?” she called up.

  Sarah opened her mouth, and closed it again. Once was enough, she thought. Once was all right. Any more would be overweening. I nearly overwent there, she smiled to herself, and pushed the drawer shut.

  She straightened up, and on the dark window saw her reflection against the moonlight. Behind her reflection was Ludo.

  “Ludo—good-bye—Sarah,” he said.

  She spun around with a cry of joy. The room was empty.

  She checked the window again. Sir Didymus was there.

  “And remember, sweetest damsel, shouldst thou ever have need. . .”

  “I’ll call,” she told him. She glanced around at the room again. Empty, of course.

  Sir Didymus was hurrying back into the windowpane. “I forgot to say, also, that if ever thou shouldst think on marriage. . .”

  “I understand,” Sarah told him. “Good-bye, brave Sir Didymus.”

  He faded. Sarah kept her eyes on the window. She did not have long to wait. Hoggle popped up from behind the bed. “Yes, if you ever need us. . . for any reason at all. . .” He stared at her from under his bushy eyebrows, and started to fade.

  “Hoggle,” Sarah said, “I need you. I need you all.”

  “Sometimes,” the Wise Man observed, “to need is. . . to let go.”

  “Oh, wow!” said his hat. “And that’s just for starters.”

  Outside the dark window, the white owl had been perched with his claws hooked on a branch, an effigy of watching and waiting. Now he swooped away over the park, on silent velvet wings, up toward the full moon. Nobody saw him, white in the moonlight, black against the stars.

  THE END

  BRIAN FROUD

  ILLUSTRATION GALLERY

  On the following pages are never-before-seen conceptual designs for the goblins and creatures of Labyrinth, created by Jim Henson’s longtime collaborator and world-renowned fantasy illustrator Brian Froud between 1984 and 1985. Froud was integral to the conceptualization of Labyrinth—and a number of his designs were eventually collected into The Goblins of Labyrinth, a gorgeous art book that took readers deeper into Brian’s creative process on the film.

  The drawings collected here come from the conceptual stage of the film, when Brian and Jim were working with Jim Henson’s Creature Shop to build the world of Labyrinth and to translate Brian’s drawings from the page to fully-operational puppets. These conceptual designs have never been seen publicly, and have remained in The Jim Henson Company Archives since Froud created them. As part of Archaia’s ongoing effort to document the legacy of Jim Henson, we’re proud to present a deeper look at the genius of Brian Froud, and to honor his collaboration with Jim on one of the best-loved fantasy films of all time.

  Stephen Christy

  Los Angeles, California

  TWISTS AND TURNS

  JIM HENSON’S CONCEPTS FOR LABYRINTH, 1983

  In the week before the December 17, 1982 release of Jim Henson’s first fantasy film, The Dark Crystal, select audiences were treated to exclusive premiere screenings in New York, Los Angeles, and San Francisco. After the third screening, Jim, his conceptual designer Brian Froud, and Froud’s wife and puppet builder Wendy rode away in a limousine from the Institute of Fine Arts where the film had been shown and reflected on their shared accomplishment. As Froud remembered almost a quarter-century later, Jim was already proposing that they start discussions about a second film together. Froud was enthusiastic and suggested a story with goblins, perhaps involving a passage through a labyrinth. The idea appealed to Jim; it tapped into his interest in mythology and folklore (inspired by his daughter Lisa’s studies at Harvard University) and his affection for enchanted journeys like those in his literary favorites, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and The Wizard of Oz.

  The Frouds returned to their home in England, and Brian began a series of watercolors depicting his visual concepts, starting with a baby amidst a group of goblins. Jim took a much needed vacation, spending two weeks in Aspen, Colorado with his family, and then began a two and a half month tour promoting the international release of The Dark Crystal. There was added excitement surrounding the premiere of the first season of Fraggle Rock on HBO and the CBC, and, along with promotional appearances, Jim spent a few days “fraggling” (as noted in his journal) in the studio in Toronto. Given his restless imagination, there was no doubt that Jim, despite everything else, was also tapping some of his creative energy to think about his conversation with Froud. Meetings in London in late January followed, and Brian and Wendy Froud, Jim and writer Dennis Lee began formulating their fantasy. At the beginning of March, Jim carved out some time to set down his first concepts on paper.

  Flying from Japan to Australia, Jim opened a cloth-bound blank book and inscribed his name and contact information. He dated the first page, noting that he was in Tokyo, and on the facing page drew a dragon-like creature whose scales resembled a maze. He tried out a few titles: The Labyrinth. The Maze. The Labyrinth Twist. The Tale of the Labyrinth. Jim knew that beyond inventive settings and characters, a compelling story should be the principal concern as he developed his next film. But instead of starting with a storyline, Jim couldn’t resist beginning his exploration with descriptions of specific personalities, locations, and especially “episodes” – moments in the story when the main character, called Taya at the beginning and eventually dubbed Sarah, would be challenged with a riddle or needed to escape a dangerous and strange situation in order to advance in the labyrinth.

  Jim immediately thought of an interaction between a King, his jester and a giant Buddha. Coming to the project as both director and performer, he was already envisioning the camera angles and how specific mechanisms could give his characters realistic motion. He described a room full of snakes and suggested a way to have them slither along using a system of interior ropes pulled in opposite directions. One idea seemed to fulfill a puppeteer’s fantasy: “something with six fingers,” he wrote. How useful that would be for someone in Jim’
s line of work! He wanted his players to encounter surreal situations, with reverse perspectives and optical illusions. With one word, “Escher,” he laid out an idea for what would turn out to be one of the most visually compelling sequences of the film: Jareth singing “Within You” in the staircase-filled room inspired by the drawings of Dutch artist M.C. Escher. Jim reminded himself that there were unlimited ways to create surprising visuals and noted, “Find chemist” to explore the properties of smoke, and asked himself how dangerous it would be to exploit the intriguing qualities of a puddle of mercury.

  While Jim instinctively imagined the creature-driven incidents and effects first, he did not neglect the importance of story development and began making notes to that end. Going back to his existential experimental works from the 1960s like Time Piece, The Cube and Tale of Sand, Jim grappled with issues of illusion versus reality and how a person reacts when confronted with perplexing situations. He noted a need to research the historical meaning behind a labyrinth, and eventually expanded his study, having colleagues pull material on visual humor, puzzles, magic, screen icons, and archetypes of classic fairy tales. Perhaps informed by his work on Fraggle Rock, Jim began to formulate a philosophy for the film that focused on forgiveness and understanding, emphasizing the ways we learn to understand other people’s points of view.

  Jim continued to add to his notebook during the spring and summer of 1983. He had recruited Toronto Poet Laureate (and Fraggle Rock lyricist) Dennis Lee to help develop a narrative. After several meetings, much correspondence, and with inspiration from Brian Froud’s artwork, Lee produced a “poetic novella” outlining a coming-of-age story set in a world of goblins, hairy beasts and animated masonry. Jim consulted with numerous people about the story, ranging from his in-house creative team and the Fraggle producer Larry Mirkin to a Vanity Fair editor and the film’s executive producer George Lucas. Lee’s novella became the basis for the screenplay written by Terry Jones and Laura Phillips which, in turn, became the basis for A.C.H. Smith’s novelization.