Anyone looking to Bacon’s oversized No Strings Attached simply for more Muppet Madness is going to be dreadfully disappointed. The book is simply not about Kermit, Miss Piggy and friends. Instead, it is the wonderful story, lovingly told, of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, the workshop that has given us everything from agriculturally inclined pigs to shambling Skeksis to divebombing ducks with a predilection for hard cider (more on them later). Matt Bacon is clearly a fan of Henson’s work, and his love for his material shows through on every page, but he manages to avoid being overly worshipful or cloying. Instead, he has a rooter’s interest in the material he’s working on, and you can feel his happiness at every success and sadness at every failure.
At its core, the book is a history. The tale begins before there even as such a thing as The Creature Shop, in the days when the film The Dark Crystal was taking shape. Bacon deftly sketches the way in which the design process on the creatures fed into the larger creative process of the film, and introduces us to many of the key personnel of what would, after Henson’s film Labyrinth, become The Creature Shop’s core. From there it proceeds through the early days of The Creature Shop (with a fascinating look behind the scenes of The Storyteller, Henson’s next attempt at a series — now airing on HBO in the States) through feature films, work done for other companies, commercials (that’s where the ducks come in) and so on into the world of digital puppetry. Along the way, the reader is treated to behind the scenes vignettes on both the human and the technical side of the site’s operations, with anecdotes covering everything from the late Oscar winner Anthony Minghella’s initial association with the group to the animatronic baby gorilla from the Renee Russo film Buddy. The books is also seasoned with a great deal of technical information on how precisely The Creature Shop produces its effects, tracing the evolution of the process from the radio controlled critters in Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas through The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (they were seminal in technique development, believe it or not. That being said, there’s still no real reason to watch the sequels) to the computerized mosquitoes who chirp the opening number to Muppet Treasure Island.
The structure of the book mimics that of Jim Henson: The Works (by Christopher Finch, and well worth picking up as look at Henson’s creative and personal history), with informative sidebars and inserted sections labeled “Trade Secrets” and “Film Focus.” The former examine how a particular effect or creature was created; the latter dissect the work on a particular film. The effect is to break up the flow of the narrative, rapidly moving it from topic to topic rather than risk going too far into the minutiae of a given project or incident. And of course, the book is lavishly illustrated, though the pictures aren’t all of the completed product. Instead, there are revealing images of dangling latex skins (intended for animatronic puppies in 101 Dalmatians), brontosaurus bits (for The Flintstones) and computer generated centaurs.
At the back is a comprehensive list of Creature Shop projects, including film, television and commercial work. You’ll be surprised at some of the places the Shop’s work has appeared. Everyone knows about Babe, certainly, but what about Mary Reilly? The English Patient? NBCs The Odyssey?
Generally, coffee table books are not intended to be informative; rather, they’re an excuse for gorgeous illustration and sometimes, a ridiculous price. No Strings Attached gleefully avoids that trap, however. It’s a fascinating read, chock full of information that’s of interest to both the Muppet fan and the effects wannabe. There’s enough in here to give the reader something new on a second trip through the pages, and even on the third and fourth. In short, pick it up, but be prepared for the consequences: Your guests might never budge from the coffee table once they get a hold of this book.
(MacMillan USA, 1997)
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