Forty years ago, Labyrinth arrived in theaters as a curious, glitter-dusted anomaly—too whimsical to fit neatly alongside darker Fantasy films of the mid-1980s, yet too emotionally earnest to be dismissed as children’s fare. Released on June 27, 1986, Jim Henson’s feature has since slipped through generations like a whispered secret, endlessly rediscovered by new audiences who see themselves reflected in its maze of puppets, pop music, and coming-of-age surrealism. Now, as Labyrinth celebrates its 40th anniversary, there is a perfect moment to revisit what it was, what it became, and why its magic feels sharper now than ever.
To mark the occasion, various plans are in place to celebrate. To begin with, Labyrinth is returning to theaters in a newly remastered 4K edition presented by Fathom Entertainment and The Jim Henson Company. A limited theatrical release between January 8th and 15th for its official anniversary event, the re-release also includes a special featurette filmed at the UK’s recent Labyrinth Experience & Masked Ball, spotlighting the film’s dedicated fan community. Very exciting, it is a chance to see the film as it was meant to be seen with David Bowie towering on the big screen, Henson’s creatures vivid in every hand-built detail, and the world of the Goblin King restored to see all the brilliant, practical designs. With that in mind, there is a ton of energy in experiencing the film in the theater once more.
On top of the must-see Fathom Entertainment release, coming Fall 2026, there will also be Labyrinth: In Concert, featuring a live band performing the film’s full soundtrack in sync with the movie on a large HD screen. This will take place over 58 tour dates across the USA and will feature David Bowie’s original vocals alongside Trevor Jones’ film score. Beyond this, 2026 will also include 40th anniversary merchandise, including apparel, and a Labyrinth The Worm 7.5 collectible plush, figures, and a very cool Jim Henson’s Labyrinth: The Board Game 40th Anniversary Collection.
Proving there is still a lot of love for the legendary Fantasy film, at the time of its release, Labyrinth felt like the culmination of a very specific creative moment. Jim Henson, fresh off 1982’s The Dark Crystal, was determined to push puppetry deeper into the cinematic landscape. Partnering with Executive Producer George Lucas and Fantasy Illustrator Brian Froud, he set out to build a world that looked entirely handmade—one where every stone and creature felt touched by an artist’s hand rather than rendered by a machine.
The film entered a movie landscape shifting toward slicker visual effects and broader action-driven storytelling. Labyrinth offered something gentler and stranger: the story of a teenage girl named Sarah, played by Jennifer Connelly (A Beautiful Mind 2001, Top Gun: Maverick 2022), confronting responsibility through a journey of metaphors, riddles, and mischievous creatures. Its boldest commercial card was David Bowie as Jareth, the Goblin King, playing a role as theatrical as it was enigmatic, complete with five original songs that fused fantasy storytelling with MTV flair.
Despite its pedigree and ambition, the film struggled to connect with audiences during its theatrical run. Its marketing did not quite know whom to speak to: adults who appreciated Henson’s artistry? Kids who loved The Muppets? Teens swept up in Bowie’s musical persona? The result was a box-office disappointment, earning roughly half of its $25 million budget domestically. Reviews echoed this mixed response, praising Henson’s imagination while questioning the story’s cohesion.
What Labyrinth could not pull off in theaters, it absolutely crushed in the years that followed. Once it hit VHS, the movie turned into that mysterious tape every video store clerk swore was “always rented out.” It popped up on TV at odd hours, slipped onto DVD shelves, and slowly became a cult classic.
That second life transformed the way audiences saw it. Instead of being remembered as a box-office misfire, Labyrinth claimed its throne as a practical-effects milestone, the kind of film that reminds you how magical a story can feel when every creature, stone, and strange little goblin joke was crafted by hand. And its rewatch power? Legendary. Every viewing reveals something you swear wasn’t there before: a goblin hiding in the corner, a puppet doing a tiny flourish, or a background joke that suddenly becomes the funniest thing you have ever noticed. Not to mention how fun and catchy the music is; even thinking about it is enough to summon “Magic Dance” back into your head like it never left.
Part of the film’s magic comes from the way it blends technical achievement with emotional storytelling. The puppetry on display remains astonishing, even four decades later. From Hoggle’s complex facial articulation to the swirling Fireys to the massive, multi-operator Ludo, each creature reflects a level of craftsmanship rarely attempted before or since. Henson and his team treated puppetry not as a novelty but as a full-fledged cinematic language, one capable of creating worlds with warmth, texture, and personality.
Then there is Bowie. His Jareth is timeless not simply because of the character’s now-iconic costuming, but because of the mischievous tenderness Bowie brought to the role. He plays the Goblin King with the playful unpredictability of someone who knows he’s both the villain and the emotional linchpin of Sarah’s journey. His musical contributions—“Magic Dance,” “As the World Falls Down,” “Within You”—are inseparable from the film’s identity, threading pop sensibility through layers of dreamy fairy-tale atmosphere.
Thematically, Labyrinth stands out for its use of fantasy symbolism to tell a coming-of-age story. Sarah’s journey is not about defeating an external enemy; it is about understanding her own agency. The maze reflects her internal landscape: beautiful, frustrating, confusing, and ultimately transformative. This emotional clarity has given the film a durability that transcends its era.
Forty years later, Labyrinth’s influence is everywhere. Filmmakers such as Guillermo del Toro, Henry Selick, and Neil Gaiman have cited Henson’s fantasy films as inspiration, especially for their dedication to practical effects and emotionally resonant fairy-tale logic. Its fandom has also shown remarkable longevity. The film enjoys regular revival screenings, cosplay communities, themed events, and anniversary releases.
Most importantly, the film has secured a legacy as a film that values creative risk. It was not built to fit a formula, and that is precisely why it now feels timeless. In an age saturated with CGI, its handcrafted world feels refreshing—an ode to imagination unconcerned with polish or perfection.
In hindsight, Labyrinth was never really a movie of its moment; it was a mischievous gift for the future. It is a reminder that some stories are not bound by time. They linger, surprise, and enchant anyone brave enough to wander into their twisting corridors. That is why, even 40 years later, Labyrinth remains a world worth getting lost in.
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