A phantasmagorical landscape of trial and temptation unfolds.

Waves of 80s synth undulate over lush forests, twisting mazes and abundant red herrings. Two-faced allies materialise from the shadows, then lead you astray. 

Welcome to the labyrinth. 

It’s a rainy Saturday evening. I’m ten years old. A late-night movie rolls on and I’m entranced by a young Jennifer Connelly in a trailing dress and flower crown. She reads aloud from a novel, words ringing clear through the living room.

‘Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to take back the child you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great.’

Sarah, our wily protagonist, fumbles for the last line and it is not until much later that we hear it. The words echo now across the chasm of years.  

‘You have no power over me.’

Labyrinth (1986) follows Sarah as she fights to reclaim her brother from the clutches of the Goblin King after foolishly wishing for his disappearance. Immediately realising her mistake, Sarah must forge a path through the maze guarding Jareth’s castle before midnight strikes and Toby becomes one of the goblins forever.

Directed by creative visionary Jim Henson, Labyrinth has been my favourite movie since I first fell down its rabbit hole a decade ago. Some films never leave you, and while my love for Labyrinth is dripping with nostalgia, it has since defied its box office flop to earn cult classic status alongside other beloved fantasy movies like The NeverEnding Story (1984).

 Indeed, revisiting Labyrinth now, I am reminded of its formative and integral role in my life. In my novels, the same themes recur – escapism, moral ambiguity, magic and sacrifice. I pay homage in dedicated annual rewatches, carefully curated playlists and hyper-specific Pinterest boards. 

I’ve thought long and hard about why Labyrinth won’t let me go. Is it the cutting-edge puppetry that breathes life into the land’s mysterious inhabitants? Is it the mercurial David Bowie as Jareth, who had a generation of viewers ready to devote themselves to a life as his Goblin Queen? Is it Connelly, whose portrayal of Sarah captured the same restless emboldened energy I felt in my own heart? 

Or is it deeper? 

Labyrinth’s longevity extends beyond music, set, costuming or cast. It speaks to the fickle heart of youth and distils the darkness that hides in all of us. As Alison Stine wrote, ‘Labyrinth helps us remember what, deep down, we’ve always known… childhood is a scary and dangerous place, an inherently strange time filled with dead-ends, wrong turns, lies, and traps.’  

Labyrinth is more than a campy flick with a killer aesthetic. Sarah’s journey through the maze tangibly and fantastically captures the transition from childhood to adulthood. 

Sarah makes a mistake by wishing her brother away; a naive blunder borne of self-interest. By resisting Jareth’s persuasion or giving up when hope seemed lost, she claims her agency – and brother – in the process. She emerges from the goblin castle having looked temptation in the eye, stronger and more self-actualised than when she entered. Like growing up, the labyrinth demands we become our bravest and truest incarnations … lest we should lose ourselves entirely. 

The goblins are not merely little devils; they are the embodiment of fear, longing and greed. One creature in particular, the Trash Lady, tempts Sarah back into her childhood room with the lure of beloved stuffed toys. She tries to make Sarah in her image, piling teddies on until Sarah can barely breathe beneath the detritus of youth. Sarah resists and surfaces fiercer. Changed.

One thing I could never understand as a child was why Sarah didn’t stay with Jareth. As he stood upon a crumbling tower and begged her to be his queen, I couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t accept. I move the stars for no one, he says, but everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. Why, then, did she suddenly remember that all-important line?

‘You have no power over me.’

As an adult, I think I finally understand.

As magical as the labyrinth is, as magical as childhood is, all beautiful things have a lifespan. The mystical allure of Jareth’s world is just that: allure. For Sarah to grow and blossom, she must let go of her fantasies. Though the friends she made along the way will always be with her, just as the magic of youth may always hold a place in our heart, it was time for her to release what had become a shackle.

Letting Jareth go, letting his world go, was the final test.

One we all must face.