The cute puppet hinted at a deeper truth with clumsy handling. Too many controls, and not enough practice, made for eyebrows that moved in unnatural ways while its head spun like a possessed child. But the situation called for a sweet demeanour, not a possession.
Then there were the lapses where both puppet and performer seemed completely at a loss. Sure, they found a path forward eventually, but it happened over and over again. It seemed that the puppet was simply making things up as it went along, dragging the puppeteer down unknown byways of thought then letting him recover.
At the oddest moments, the typewriter in the corner would sprint to life and add slightly hopeful messages to the mess.
But the kicker was the beer supply. Beer clearly limited the scale of the disaster, while likely starting it on its path to ruin in the first place.
Any one of these difficulties could easily result from unwise decisions. Any two together could be bad luck. But all four, that must be the result of some flavor of comic genius. Perhaps not everybody’s cup of tea, naturally. But genius none the less.