We start off staring into the blackness. And no, not into the badass blackness of space. It’s the kind of blackness that you get in an era before CGI really hit its stride. In a way, that’s what makes this movie so cool—pretty much everything is shot using practical effects, so there’s a weird sense of realism here.

When it comes to the opening credits, however, the only pizzazz we get is a computer-generated barn owl occasionally flapping on and off the screen. It’s okay though, because soon, “Underground”, the first of several awesome David Bowie songs, starts up.

The beginning credits fade, and we find ourselves in an idyllic park-like setting. Idyllic, because of the lovely green grass and lack of litter; park-like, because it’s, umm... a park. Our heroine Sarah (Jennifer Connelly) runs into the frame dressed in her best pseudo-medieval cosplay outfit.

She stares gravely into the camera and spouts some heroic lines about her journey “through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered”, to rescue “the child that you have stolen” from “the Goblin City”. At the end, she hesitates and seems to forget what to say, and we realize she’s just reciting lines from a play.

Sarah curses and checks her little book, mumbling that she can never remember the next line. By the way, I spent my childhood watching movies with magical-looking old books, which really made my Baby-Sitters Club paperbacks seem kind of pathetic.

Compared to this and the book from The NeverEnding Story, it’s no damn wonder I always felt like I was slumming it with the BSC.

Sarah’s play practice comes to an end as she realizes it’s already seven o’clock! Oh noes! She calls her sheepdog, Merlin, and the two of them run home through a sudden storm.

Sarah hikes her dress up to reveal that she’s got some very normal-looking jeans on underneath. Let’s just assume this is the filmmakers trying to introduce a bit of symbolism about Sarah’s real-life obligations always lingering beneath her fantasy world... instead of, like, the producers wanting to avoid a panty flash or something.

Interestingly, there’s no leash on Merlin, but he follows her without distraction or hesitation, which is yet another unrealistic expectation I picked up from movies. I also don’t think she’s got any poop pick-up bags hidden in those skirts of hers, so she’d better hope Merl’s not ready to drop a deuce, or else Sarah can look forward to some hellacious fines.

They run home to more of the David Bowie song, and although it only takes a few seconds, Sarah and Merlin are soaked to the bone. Just as she reaches the house, she cries out, “It’s not fair!”

And I have no idea what she’s talking about. It’s not fair that it rains sometimes? Actually, we’ll soon see that Sarah just loves to complain about how unfair things are. She never stops complaining, even when she steps inside her gigantic, nicely furnished house with the Tiffany lamps and warm foyer.

Her stepmother lets Sarah in (I guess she’s obligated by law), but banishes Merlin to the garage. Sarah cries out at the unfairness of it all (again), and the dog-lover in me does, too. However, the adult in me with actual cleaning responsibilities is calmly nodding in agreement.

It looks like Sarah is home an hour later than her parents expected. Tonight, she’s supposed to babysit her baby brother Toby, so that the ‘rents can go out and partay. And by “partay”, I mean fluff their hair out and parade around town wearing their best polyester outfits.

Sarah is pissed because her parents go out “every single weekend” and leave her all alone with Toby, just assuming she doesn’t have plans. Stepmother points out that Sarah never actually does have any plans, but if she did have a date or something, everyone would be thrilled for her. Hee hee.

I can’t laugh too hard, because I think my mother would have said the exact same thing to me as a teenager. The only difference was, I was always busy reading and writing (nerdy, but respectable habits) whereas Sarah spends most of her time cosplaying. If you’re considered a weirdo even in geeky circles, you may need to rethink things, Sarah. Just saying.

Sarah storms upstairs to her bedroom and slams the door. She parks herself in front of the mirror and puts on a bit of lipstick, repeating lines from the play as she makes believe she’s on some kind of amazing fantasy adventure, instead of stuck cleaning up poopy all night long.

The camera pans across her room, and we see more of what Sarah’s all about: the fantasy books, the games, the stuffed animals, the pictures of her deceased mother (who apparently was also an actress). We even see a few items that repeat themselves later in the film, like an M.C. Escher print, and a picture of an actor that looks suspiciously like a certain Goblin King.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Sarah’s father knocks on her door and lamely attempts to talk to her, but Sarah yells at him to bugger off. Her parents leave immediately after this, so Sarah naturally uses this as another excuse to be angry at them for not insisting on talking to her about her feelings. Because, you know, she’s so receptive to that kind of thing.

I think this scene is meant to show several aspects of Sarah’s character and situation, and I have to give the filmmakers props on how well they pull it all off. While making it clear that Sarah has a severe streak of immaturity, her maladjustment (lack of friends, arguments with parents, etc.) turn her into a sympathetic figure. Yes, she’s bratty, but she’s also confused and going through some growing pains, since she’s a teen girl who obviously still has a foot in childhood. As a famous poet once said, she’s not a girl, not yet a woman.

Ahem. After her parents leave, Sarah notices that “Lancelot”, her favorite teddy bear, has been taken from his place of honor on a shelf. Which means that someone has been in her room... again.

Somehow, this inspires her to go running into the master bedroom, where Toby’s crib is, and yell about how much she hates it here. Meanwhile, her poor little brother cries and cries. She’s not at all sympathetic, so no wonder the kid keeps screaming.

Instead of say, checking his diaper or feeding him a bottle, Sarah tells Toby a story about a young girl who lived a miserable life, because her stepmother had her stay home with the baby every day. I’m pretty sure he just wants a bottle or something, Sarah. Try making him some formula and you’ll be amazed at how quiet he gets.

Sarah continues her story: the young girl lived a harsh life, but the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl and gave her special powers. One night, she called upon the goblins to take the baby away to the Goblin City.

And on this line, the movie abruptly cuts to...

You don’t know how much this freaked me out as a little girl. The goblins are hidden... somewhere... waiting for Sarah to say “the right words” so they can appear. And after watching this movie, I literally thought that goblins were hiding everywhere, just waiting for me to say the wrong thing so they could show up and steal my dog or something.

“The right words” must be something special, a spell maybe, so when Sarah lifts Toby up and incants, “Goblin King, Goblin King, wherever you may be! Take this child of mine far away from me!”—

—we automatically assume this is her ticket to the Goblin City.

Only it isn’t. Sarah puts Toby back in his crib and stalks out of the room. As she shuts off the light, she remarks that she really does wish the goblins would come and take Toby away. “Right. Now.”

Suddenly, Toby stops crying. A frightened Sarah wanders back in, calling out for him. She tries the light switch, but the power is out. That’s never a good sign. As she approaches the crib, something giggles underneath Toby’s blanket.

She pulls back the blanket, and finds nothing. Great.

And then comes every babysitter’s worst fear: goblin infestation. They’re all around, darting in the corners of Sarah’s eyes, but never really letting her get a good look at them. Meanwhile, the owl from the opening credits claws at the balcony doors, desperate to get in.

The doors fly open, and the owl flies at Sarah for a bit before changing into Jareth, the Goblin King, played by David Bowie! Sarah asks for her brother back, but Jareth refuses. He says Toby will soon become a goblin, so Sarah can just go back to her room and play with her toys.

In an effort to buy her off, Jareth offers Sarah a magical crystal ball, but this ploy doesn’t work. Which is like, duh. Sarah would have to be a moron to accept that; I’m sure Toby’s worth way more than that dumb crystal ball, if she can just get him back and sell him on the black market.

So Jareth offers Sarah a deal: if she can solve “the labyrinth” and get to Jareth’s castle beyond Goblin City within 13 hours, then she can have Toby back. If not, Toby becomes a goblin.

Sarah agrees, and they step out onto her balcony, where the city outside has been suddenly replaced by Generic Fantasy Land. She looks into the distance and says the labyrinth doesn’t look that hard.

I guess what she lacks in social skills, she makes up for in spirit.