Labyrinth is one of my favorite movies of all time. I’ll admit that even though Genevieve mentions in her column today–I’m not as cynical about it as she is. I love that movie and always will, but I have to admit that 10-year-old me was slightly horrified by David Bowie’s tights. Or rather, what was IN his tights.
This scene and it’s song will go down in history. …As what, I don’t know. To this day I can sing it by heart even though I still don’t know what the hell it means. Perhaps the offending bulge could explain it to us all one day.
Labyrinth. I heard Henson and Jones didn’t agree on the script, which might explain its schizo nature. It doesn’t gel well with very disparate parts and some freaky stuff sandwiched between music numbers.
But that hasn’t stopped me from dancing and singing “Magic Dance” around the living room with my baby son in my arms.
I know. I have issues.
I love Labyrinth, though it has parts that bug me (I get tired of the running around during the Goblin battle). I even bought the soundtrack! But not so much for “Magic Dance” as for the entire score and the rest of the songs. Synthesizer music is branded upon my imagination since my childhood.
My wife and many of this generation can attest* that David Bowie’s tights single handedly* catapulted them into full-blown puberty. Jennifer Connely might have been a touchstone* as well, though Princess Lily in Legend was a much more blatant allegory to those years.
That dress was pure. Demonic. Lust. Then she went back to being normal again, offering hope for those of us with the raging hormones during those years. Sarah in Labyrinth just got a little moody and chose to keep her puppet friends around when she got tired of being all grown up.
*That’s right. I see your entendre and I raise you double!