40 years later, Jim Henson's Labyrinth is still teaching kids to overcome their fears as it returns to the big screen

l'll admit it, I was kind of a weird kid. I grew up loving monsters, lurking endlessly in the horror section of our local video store (Center Video, a three-story mom-and-pop rental place), gazing into the eyes of Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, and too many other vicious killers and creeps to name.

Oddly though, one of the boxes that caught my eye again and again wasn't technically a horror movie at all, despite its proximity on the shelves: Jim Henson's Labyrinth, which is back in theaters for a limited engagement to celebrate its 40th anniversary.

In all likelihood, the video was in the next section over, but in my mind, it lives on among the horror movies that so captivated my young attention. And though the movie is undoubtedly a family-oriented fairy tale, I'm prepared to say my own childhood association between Labyrinth and the horror genre is entirely warranted.

Labyrinth is scary. A baby stolen by goblins, endless obstacles each weirder than the last, and a villain far beyond most kids' movies all add up to a film that, while undoubtedly presented in a kid-focused package, feels a lot like Baby's First Folk Horror.

That's not a criticism at all. In fact, I think that's a big part of the magic of Labyrinth that has held it strong in the minds of an entire generation.

The movie has served as an awakening for young watchers for 40 years, shaping our sense of fantasy, preparing us for navigating our own obstacles, and, in many cases, even influencing our sexuality thanks to David Bowie's hypnotically menacing Goblin King, Jareth.

Facing your fears

Labyrinth starts with Jareth's goblin minions stealing away the baby brother of Jennifer Connolly's Sarah, a scene that terrified many young viewers right off the bat thanks to Henson's remarkably creepy creature designs. But the horror of Labyrinth goes a lot deeper than Jareth and his ilk.

For me, the scene in which Jennifer Connelly's Sarah is forced to escape a dark hole lined with sentient, autonomous hands is particularly terrifying. There's also the crushing hopelessness of the Junk Lady and her ilk, peddlers weighed down with tons of trash strapped to their backs, who try to stop Sarah's quest by ladening her with her own belongings to divert her attention. And that's merely scratching the surface.

It all goes hand-in-hand with Labyrinth's other formative aspects, offering fans an easy way to dip our toes into the kind of stories that make us nervous and force us to confront our fears. It's a low stakes kind of scary, wrapping up in a moment of relief and joy rather than the often cynical conclusions of full-blown adult horror, and its spooky elements become more whimsical as we age.

Labyrinth is far from the only scary kids' movie. Its sister film, 1982's The Dark Crystal, is also heralded for the terror of its villains, the Skeksies. And there are more than a few Disney movies that have struck fear into the hearts of children. But part of what separates Labyrinth from its contemporaries is the human characters at the heart of the live-action film.

Like the Wizard of Oz before it, Labyrinth is all about a human girl who is thrust into a world of oddities and inexplicable strangeness. There's a lack of the separation between audience and film that is inherent to animation, allowing young watchers to insert themselves into the movie in a way that makes it just that much more intense.

Dance Magic Dance

Labyrinth remains a beloved film among people of a certain age (and their kids) for good reason. It's a beautiful movie, both emotionally and visually, a triumph of puppet artistry and practical filmmaking.

I'm lucky enough to live a relatively short trip away from Atlanta's Center for Puppetry Arts, where numerous puppets, costumes, and props from Labyrinth and many other Jim Henson projects are on display. Seeing things like the wall of hands, the goblins, and more of Labyrinth's iconic characters and sets is even more awe-inducing in person, reinforcing the childhood impact of the film rather than taking away its mystique.

In some ways, Labyrinth feels like a midnight movie, a cult classic that deeply affected those who grew up with it, exposing us to our first taste of more adult concepts without sacrificing the heart that undoubtedly makes it a family film. It's also proof that kids can handle intensity in movies and still be entertained, unscathed by scariness, captivated by drama.

Facing our fears and coming out the other side no worse for wear is a crucial part of growing up, an experience that proves to us we can confront anything, even unreal trials and terrors.

For some, those feelings evolve into a love of scary stories and monster movies, small tests of our courage. As someone who very much grew into a horror fan and a lover of film and filmmaking, I can thank Labyrinth for being an early stepping stone towards what has become a lifelong passion – and I know I'm not alone. Not a bad legacy after 40 years.

For more on what to watch, check out the rest of our Big Screen Spotlight series.