Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Jim Henson: Idea Man’ on Disney+, Ron Howard’s Insightful Profile of a Showbiz Genius

Go ahead, try and pick a favorite Muppet. Dare you. Fozzie, Gonzo, Miss Piggy, Animal, Kermit, Grover, Bert and/or Ernie – it’s impossible. Too many great ones. I mean, I even forgot to mention Big Bird until now, and the dude’s a LEGEND. And that’s why Jim Henson: Idea Man (now streaming on Disney+) is sure to get a lot of viewers, because it offers an inside look at the restlessly creative visionary who once cut up an old coat and glued halved ping-pong balls to it, and created a thing that brought so many of us so much joy (and surely made us cry a few times when it sang about how hard being green could be). Director Ron Howard tackled the job, hoping to provide some insight into Henson’s work via a biography of the puppeteer/filmmaker – and for the most part, succeeds.

JIM HENSON: IDEA MAN: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: Idea Man states its thesis in its opening moments: Jim Henson lived a busy, busy life. His friends, family and creative collaborators call him restless and driven, and the documentary therefore kind of has no choice but to zoom through his life a little too quickly, because he accomplished so much in his too-brief 53 years on this planet. Henson grew up in rural Mississippi, the son of a Christian-scientist mother who wouldn’t take him to a doctor for his severe acne, so he grew a beard to cover it up, and kept it for his entire life. He was an introvert, fascinated by how TV could open a window to the rest of the world. His appreciation for the medium inspired his interest in puppetry, which he hoped would be his means to get into the television business – a notion that seems ridiculous now, perhaps because it’s likely that no one will ever be as groundbreaking a puppeteer as Henson was. 

In the mid-’50s was when Henson made Kermit from his mother’s coat; he wasn’t initially a frog, but an odd creature that could be male or female depending on the wig. Kermit was the result of serious creative rigor stemming from a working relationship with Jane Nebel, who Henson met in a college puppetry course, and would eventually marry. They got their start on local Washington, D.C. stations, creating puppet skits for various shows, and eventually formed the production company Muppets Inc. They grew the business, eventually partnering with Frank Oz, Jerry Juhl and Don Sahlin. They cut a basketball in half and created Rowlf, a piano-playing dog who became a staple on The Jimmy Dean Show, and later, such a solid Muppet Show staple, I should’ve mentioned him well before now. Like I said, there are so many beloved ones.

Let’s back up a bit though, before we get to Henson’s big, bold steps toward legendary status. While Muppets, Inc. creations hawked various products on TV commercials (cue an old clip of one Muppet shooting another Muppet with a gun for not using said product), Henson used his spare time to create Time Piece, an experimental short film about a man trying to avoid the passage of time, and while it earned him an Oscar nomination, it also became the progenitor for the type of slyly experimental educational shorts he’d make for Sesame Street. This is when and where Kermit and Grover and Guy Smiley and Oscar the Grouch truly came to be, and if it seems like Henson’s unbridled creativity was truly being rewarded, well, that’s nothing compared to what came next.

That, of course, was The Muppet Show, which Henson relentlessly pitched for years, and was rejected by networks and studios left and right. Finally, British producer Lew Grade offered Henson studio space to develop the series, so the company relocated to London and got to work. Prior to that, Henson’s schedule was already all-consuming – he was writing and producing and directing and puppeteering day and night – so the move put even more strain on his marriage; Jane wasn’t happy when her creative collaborations with the Muppets were pushed aside so she could take care of their five children. But while their relationship was disintegrating, The Muppet Show became a worldwide smash in the mid-to-late ’70s, clocking millions and millions of viewers. Was it enough for Jim Henson, though? Of course not. He had feature-length movies to make, including the technically innovative cult classic The Dark Crystal, and the box-office flop that became another cult favorite, Labyrinth. Always moving forward, Henson was. 

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Idea Man exists in the same Muppet-bio headspace as 2021 doc Street Gang: How We Got to Sesame Street – and by extension, I Am Big Bird: The Caroll Spinney Story.

Performance Worth Watching: Sure, Henson was 1/1, and truly peerless – but nobody upstages Miss Piggy, ever.

Memorable Dialogue: Oz on the Muppet Show M.O.: “The concept was, these bizarre people trying to put a show on every week.”

Sex and Skin: None.

Our Take: After taking a moment to get over the deep disappointment that Idea Man doesn’t even MENTION the eternal genius of Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas, I’ve concluded that Howard’s film is incomplete on a number of levels, and unlike many other biodocs, could’ve actually justified a limited series run – it doesn’t touch on Henson’s legacy and influence after his death in 1990, breezes past considerable chunks of his output (e.g., the other Muppet films and Fraggle Rock) and The Dark Crystal could/should be the subject of its own dedicated documentary feature. The mighty legacy of the Riverbottom Nightmare Band remains grossly underappreciated.

But as a reasonably insightful glimpse into Henson’s life, Idea Man is up to the task. An apologist would forgive Howard’s hasty pacing as a reflection of Henson’s breathlessly intense career; others will find his visual approach delightful, with creative flourishes that belie typical documentary talking head/archival footage presentations, and reflect the aesthetics of his subject. As Henson’s closest living collaborator, Oz’s commentary is especially crucial and rich; he shares how they developed Bert and Ernie’s odd-couple dynamic via improvisation, while cameras rolled. And Henson’s five children – who carry on his legacy and run Muppets Inc. to this day – share snippets about their father’s personality and creative output that Howard assembles into a collage that’s a bit rough around the edges. 

Wisely, Howard hones in on the idea that Henson always keenly felt time ticking away in the background, and uses it as an explanation for his relentless work ethic – and lurking in the subtext is the spooky sensation that Henson feared he might die relatively young. By that token, Idea Man likely doesn’t intend to be comprehensive; as an elaborate encyclopedia entry with a few shades of creative focus, it’s a highly functional biography laced with Howard’s signature sentimentality so it stirs tangible emotions and nostalgia for Henson’s singular creations. You’ll end up knowing more about Henson than you already did, but it’ll also leave you wanting more.

Our Call: Elmo is wholly absent here, so anyone post-Gen X might be disappointed. But anyone raised on the classic Muppet ensemble will be highly compelled to watch Jim Henson: Idea Man, and be reasonably satisfied. STREAM IT.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.