Late Night Vibes: The Greatest Muppet Movie Marathon Edition
“What fools are we… that go to all night Muppets marathons?”
I jerk awake. I’m surrounded by visions of Muppet past, present, and future. The Muppets are babies. Kermit and Miss Piggy are married. Then they’re divorced. Now they’re pirates. I look down at my hands. Are they human flesh or muppet felt? A song bounces around in my head. “Am I a man, or am I muppet?” The lights come up and I stumble downstairs to the bathroom to double-check my humanity in the mirror. “What fools are we?” I turn to follow the plaintive cry. “What fools are we,” another theatergoer says to no one, “that go to all-night Muppets marathons?”
I had arrived at the Prince Charles Cinema a few hours earlier, around 11 p.m., and it was clear that I was woefully underprepared for the night ahead. Others had neck pillows, real pillows, blankets, Kermit shoes and Animal sweatshirts. I had a backpack with a water bottle, an apple, and a protein bar. Inside the theater, the woman next to me brought a full thermos of tea. She intends to stay awake for all nine hours of the Greatest Muppet Movie Marathon.
Prince Charles Cinema is known for its all-night movie marathons, showing everything from the Lord of the Rings trilogy (extended editions, too, for the truly masochistic among us) to selections from the filmography of famed Hong Kong director Wang Kar Wai. I knew that I needed to attend one of these famed marathons and report back on the late night vibes for this humble newsletter, and tonight’s line-up is perfect: five Muppet movies, all leading up to the capstone event, The Muppets Christmas Carol. Downstairs, in the bigger theater, a competing group is watching the entire Twilight saga. What fools are they?
I settle into 1979’s The Muppet Movie, the first film on our slate, with a large bucket of salted popcorn. Turns out, filling yourself up with empty calories at 11:30 p.m. isn’t a great tactic for keeping yourself conscious, especially if you’ve been awake since 7. Thirsty, sleepy, and overheating, I watch as Kermit travels from his home in the swamp to Hollywood, collecting a ragtag group of outcasts along the way, all while avoiding Doc Hopper, a frog leg restaurateur who wants Kermit to become his new spokesfrog. There is already a distinct smell forming in the theater by the time the first film ends at 1:20 in the morning.
Being here feels like being stuck on a plane to nowhere. It’s impossible to get truly comfortable in the seat, I’m never quite the right temperature, and I’m trying to balance my need for nighttime hydration with a desire to avoid overloading my bladder. I miss a good portion of The Muppets Take Manhattan while slipping in and out of consciousness. I wake up in the middle of the Muppet Babies dream sequence and fear that I have lost my grip on reality.
I catch a second wind for The Muppets, the 2011 Jason Segel-led reboot, and stay mostly awake through its hyperactive plot. When Segel reflects on his reflection and asks himself, “Am I a man or am I a muppet?”, I understand his conundrum with an intensity I’ve never felt before. If I’m still a man by the end of this marathon, I’ll be a muppet of a man (or a very manly muppet).
It’s five in the morning and we’re three movies in. The woman next me has moved to an empty seat in another row, giving me plenty of space to prop myself up in odd sleeping positions. I sleep through much of Muppet Treasure Island, waking up periodically to see Tim Curry’s Long John Silver steal every scene he’s in.
By the time it ends, my body is starting to break down. My stomach is gurgling, my bladder is boiling, my throat is closing, my feet are swelling, and my eyes are playing tricks on me. Did I just see Rizzo the Rat scutter by my feet? I use the final break to pull myself together. There are just ninety minutes left. I hit the restroom, eat my protein bar, and steel myself for one last movie.
Luckily, it’s The Muppet Christmas Carol, a delightful and surprisingly faithful adaptation of Charles Dickens’ 1843 novel, starring Michael Caine as Ebenezer Scrooge and Kermit the Frog as Bob Cratchit. As Scrooge comes to realize that his life as a greedy cheat has left him lonely and unloved, I begin to feel a real sense of camaraderie with my fellow theatergoers. We may be strangers, but we’ve completed this marathon together. When Robin the Frog as Tiny Tim says his famous line, “God bless us, every one,” I can almost feel his tiny green arms wrapping around the whole theater and bringing us into a soft embrace. (One side effect of sleep deprivation is euphoria.)
It’s 8:20 a.m. The final credits roll. We collect our things and make our way outside to see sunlight. A staff member corrals us together for a “survivors” photo on the Prince Charles Cinema steps. What fools are we that go to an all-night Muppets movie marathon? What fools are we that survive?
Later, after I’ve showered and slept and recovered whatever remaining non-Muppet brain cells I had left, my wife quips—“Imagine you’re stuck in a time loop, and your Groundhog Day is the Muppets movie marathon?” I laugh. What a true hell that would be. I close my eyes and immediately fall into a dreamless sleep.
I jerk awake. I’m surrounded by visions of Muppet past, present, and future. I turn and Kermit the Frog is sitting next to me. He places his soft, felt hand over mine. “Are you a man?” he asks me. “Or are you a muppet?”
