Even among the bonkers world of The Muppets, Gonzo is weird.
Miss Piggy is melodramatic. Sam Eagle is absurdly rigid. Fozzie is obliviously optimistic. Kermit tries to keep the insanity from bubbling into full chaos. Statler and Waldorf are the sarcastic uncles on the sidelines.
But even among the most dada-ist, bizarre performers in the Muppets like Lew Zealand (the guy with the fish), Crazy Harry (the guy with the explosives), or Animal (the “totally not Keith Moon” one)… Gonzo stands out.
Why?
A lot of the more unusual Muppets are one-note. The aforementioned Lew Zealand is one. Or the Swedish Chef. His gag (while entertaining) is the same every time.
They walk on stage, do their singular joke, and exit.
Gonzo wants more. We see his hopes and dreams. As far as we know, Crazy Harry just likes to watch things explode. But Gonzo? He balances the weird alongside the melancholy. He knows he’s strange. He revels in it. He’s a painfully open book.
But at the same time, he desperately wants acceptance for it. “See, everyone? See me getting shot out of a cannon? Do you think that’s as cool and fun as I do?”
For many Muppet fans, the film Muppets From Space is forgettable. However, it’s always been a favorite of mine.
Tonight I realized why. Yes, it has fun, silly homage moments to sci-fi movies like Close Encounters of the Third Kind or Independence Day, and I’m always a sci-fi nerd. Plus it has a great funk music soundtrack.
But it’s not just that.
This movie, above all other Muppet movies, is about finding a place where you belong, when you always thought you’d never fit in. Not here, not anywhere. Not even in zaniest place you could find, where even those people think you’re still the loser, the one they mock when they know you can’t hear.
Even among the bonkers world of the Muppets, Gonzo was an anomaly. Always introduced as the “whatever”. Rizzo, arguably his closest companion, still gives him the side-eye about “you and your hobbies” during Muppet Treasure Island when it’s mentioned that Gonzo has starfish in his pants.
Even the other weirdos — the other Muppets — think Gonzo is a bit odd. And that’s where I had a personal revelation.
Gonzo is deeply, irrevocably neurodivergent.
The various flavors of neurodivergence have some serious overlap, so I hesitate to diagnose a Muppet with anything specific, but he shares some key hallmarks of assorted neurodivergence, particularly ADHD and autism.
He has hobbies that are incredibly, deeply interesting to him but seem odd to others. He is oblivious to sarcasm and accepts things openly at face value. He longs for a place where his “strangeness” is accepted and normal. He feels out of place among his peers. He can seem childish at times. In some cases, he even seems to have rejection sensitive disorder.
Even among “the weirdos”, Gonzo is the one they look at and say “yeah that guy is strange” even when they care about him. It’s an experience so many neurodivergent in people have had. Family members making excuses. “Ok yeah I know she’s weird, but she’s my sister…”
I had never put a pin on it until now, when I’m watching a Muppet movie and witnessing Gonzo gleefully revel in his weirdness while others look on in confusion.
But watching someone who’s a bit of an outcast among the other outcasts… I’m realizing now that it has always made me feel seen, long before I knew what made me think I was out of place. Before I realized why a lonely kid like me could feel so connected to a scrap of felt fabric and some wires.
I, too, am a “whatever.”
And for all the other “whatevers” out there, I hope you feel seen, too.
Amy Avery / Avery Ames 