The third season of one of the greatest--if not the greatest--television shows in history lands on DVD in a four-disc set. The usual gang is back, joined this time around by a few new characters and another parade of guest stars.

CRITIQUE

Season Three is when everything really came together for The Muppet Show. Things started to gel the previous year, but this is where the show really became a classic, setting the impossibly high standard it would somehow continue to meet for the remaining two seasons.

But even if the writing and performing had slipped, and even if the guests hadn’t been completely game, this season would still have been something special. Why is that? Two words: Lew Zealand. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this was the year that gave us the most famous employer of boomerang fish. I’ll fully respect your opinion if you choose to disagree with me, but I don’t want to live in a world in which a man isn’t allowed to earn a living throwing fish.

I learned a lot about myself watching these episodes, coming to further understand just why I turned out to be the person I am. See, this season featured guest spots by Alice Cooper and Raquel Welch, each doing what they do best. I was eight when this batch of shows first aired, meaning my fragile young mind was subjected to Alice singing “Welcome to My Nightmare” one Saturday night, and then a few weeks later I was treated to Raquel performing “Baby, It’s Me.”

Both of these performances freaked me out, albeit for completely different reasons. Alice, as you might expect, appears in his signature makeup, cavorting with a spirit, a skeleton, and the various Muppet monsters serving as his backing band. At the end of the number his face fills the screen, green lights giving him a somewhat demonic appearance. I didn’t sleep so well that night.

And while the opening for her episode has Raquel reading Shakespeare in an attempt to change her image, she actually does nothing to change her image, performing her first song in a barely-there outfit that likely caused quite a stir in more conservative households. I didn’t sleep well that night, either, but in this I didn’t mind so much. I’d be a completely different person if it weren’t for these two episodes, and I’ll gladly shake the hand of anyone involved if ever afforded the opportunity to meet them.

But the fun doesn’t stop there. You also get a great bit with Sylvester Stallone as a gladiator, tangling with a reluctant lion. Even better is the same episode’s first musical number, during which a monkey chucks rocks at everyone in sight. Barry Lyndon costar Marisa Berenson (hubba-hubba) is left to watch as Miss Piggy stages an elaborate ruse intended to dupe Kermit into marrying her. (Realizing what’s about to happen, Kermit ruins the ceremony by inviting Lew to come out on stage and perform.) Lesley Anne Warren is horrified to discover exactly how Marvin Suggs’s Muppaphones work, and later has to deal with Link Hogthrob’s amorous advances. (Link’s chest hair kills.)

Spike Milligan horrifies Sam the Eagle by dropping trou to reveal his patriotic underwear. (The look on Sam’s face during the closing credits of this episode is priceless.) Kermit, upon discovering the show is now being broadcast in more than one hundred countries, stages an international extravaganza; things go downhill quickly as Fozzie sings “Oklahoma” during a tribute to Japan. Dr. Teeth uses his knowledge of Cockney rhyming slang to convince Sam that “Mack the Knife” is actually a harmless little ditty about a married couple shopping for pillows.

After chaining the dozing old coots to their seats, The Great Gonzo jumps a motorcycle into Statler and Waldorf’s box. Statler and Waldorf, mistakenly believing Manny Kaye--the world’s single worst entertainer--to be the night’s guest star, spend the show in the alley behind the theater, leaving it up to Floyd and Janice to heckle the performers. Leo Sayer performs his hits--all two of them. (Okay, so maybe it’s not all great.) And in what is arguably the most creepily twisted skit in the show’s entire run, Bobby Benson’s Baby Band takes the stage. (I’m positive this skit is the reason I’ve never liked babies.)

I’m still amazed Jim Henson and his cohorts were able to crank out such quality work week after week. Each episode is packed with one-liners, puns, and non sequiturs; backgrounds are filled with details and gags that only reveal themselves after numerous viewings. I don’t think there’s an idea the writing team (once again headed up by Jerry Juhl) couldn’t make work in some way. It makes other shows look anemic and lazy by comparison.

It also makes what passes for children’s programming nowadays look like the cesspool it is; nothing in the cookie-cutter world of kids’ television can hold a candle to even the less successful of this show’s offerings. I know I have a tendency to gush and drag out the hyperbole when I start discussing this show, but this is one of the rare occasions in which it’s completely justified. (If you think this is bad, you don’t want to be anywhere near when I start talking about Season Four. Why is that? Four words: the Star Wars episode.)

The perfect mix of the silly and the sublime, The Muppet Show is one for the ages. It still doesn’t get any better than this.

THE VIDEO

The 1.33:1 transfers on this set offer a slight upgrade over those from the past releases. The bright colors that dominate look a bit better, and there’s more visible detail (there’s a slight discoloration to the tip of Sam’s beak I’d never noticed before). But the same problems that affected the two sets--most of them a result of the shot-on-video origins of the source--are once again present; lights (bulbs in dressing rooms, the chandelier in the Ballroom sketches) frequently look as if they’re burning through the screen, and any composited effect is haloed by thick, flaring edges. The PAL-to-NTSC conversion also brings some mild ghosting into play. Anyone new to the show won’t be bowled over, but the presentation here is still miles ahead of what those of who grew up with the show are accustomed to.

THE AUDIO

Once again the only audio option is English Dolby Digital 2.0, which might as well be 1.0, as everything is firmly anchored to the center of the action. Dialogue, music and the wonderfully archaic effects sound perfectly okay, which shouldn’t be taken as a backhanded compliment. This is, more or less, the way the show has always sounded, and it’s the way it always should sound. (I’m glad no one has decided to futz with these mixes, as that would be, well, wrong.) English SDH subtitles are included.

THE EXTRAS

Muppets on Puppets (59 minutes) is a public television special from 1970. Henson, with some help from Frank Oz, gives a discussion on the basics of the art of puppetry.

A Company of Players (10 minutes) offers interviews with several of the Muppets performers, who discuss the backstage atmosphere of the show.

Closing out the extras are three Purina Dog Chow commercials (3 minutes total). Produced back in 1962-63, these spots feature Rowlf and Baskerville (you’ll recognize him even if you don’t know his name) acting as pitchmen for the pet food.

FINAL THOUGHTS

You’d have to be certifiable not to buy this. Okay, so maybe not exactly certifiable, but you still might want to seek professional help. Get it for yourself, get it for your kids, get it for your dog. Just make sure you get it.