The latest in our ongoing series of writers paying tribute to their favourite rewatches is a journey back to the 1986 cult fantasy
The 1980s were the golden age for the annoying little brother. Before the dawn of those mischief-dulling devices – the smartphone and tablet – a pesky sibling with a flair for invention could really make life hell for an aloof older sister. For me, mimicry and tickle torture were just the basics. My finest hour? Removing the slats in my sister’s top bunk-bed, so she hopped on to the mattress to come crashing down like Wile E Coyote.
In December 1986, our one sliver of common ground was that we both wanted to see Labyrinth. Me, because I was a hardcore Muppets fan, and Jim Henson’s fantasy flick was generating serious playground buzz (pre-internet, we had no inkling it had tanked at the US box office over the summer, breaking Henson’s heart). And her, because it was about a teenage girl who summons goblins to kidnap her baby brother (I suspect she went along just to learn the incantations).
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