THE COURT JESTER: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1956) Paramount Home Video

The magnificently inspired Danny Kaye plies all his merits and mirth to the tenets of his comedy genius in The Court Jester (1956), a miraculous amalgam of raucous musical farce meets the swashbuckling adventures from Robin Hood tales of yore, with a dash of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court blended in for good measure. The picture, co-directed by Melvin Frank and Norman Panama was meant to be a celebration of Kaye’s natural gifts, and, is a memorable potpourri of Brit-based thespians, among them, the elegant (and quite funny) Angela Lansbury (as Gwendolyn, Princess of England), Glynis Johns (as sultry Maid Jean), Basil Rathbone (Lord Ravenhurst – the King’s unscrupulous advisor), Cecil Parker (Roderick, the pretend sovereign of the realm) and Alan Napier (Lord Brockhurst). The picture also features such Hollywood stalwarts as Mildred Natwick (Griselda – a sorceress), Robert Middleton (Sir Griswold), Edward Ashley (as ‘The Black Fox – a Robin Hood-esque thorn in the King’s side), and, in a thoroughly wasted cameo, John Carradine (as Giacomo – the Italian jester and assassin, hired by Ravenhurst to see some harm comes to the King). But the picture, squarely rests on Kaye’s comic ability, as the flawed, though heroic interloper, Hubert Hawkins, a.k.a. the faux Fox/a.k.a. Giacomo’s dubious replacement at court, clumsily thrust into these unknowing intrigues with a novice’s folly for seeing it all come out right in the end in spite of himself. The Court Jester was not a hit when it premiered, despite Kaye’s drawing power and its lavishly appointed accoutrements blatantly on display in Paramount’s patented hi-def film process, VistaVision, and, an enviable budget of $4 million to make it stick.

Today, The Court Jester is widely regarded as a classic, and, one of the greatest comedies ever made. This too is something of a curiosity. For although the picture features some absolutely brilliant writing by Frank and Panama, a wonderfully articulate score by Sylvia Fine and Sammy Cahn, and Kaye, irrefutably at the peak of his powers – if not quite at the height of his career – The Court Jester is a bizarre cacophony of sound and fury, basically, to signify ‘nothing’. The convoluted story makes no sense at all, which, perhaps is part of its charm – the smuggling of a babe – seemingly the rightful heir to the throne of England, known by his curious birthmark on the buttocks, yet somehow exiled and fallen into the hands of the real Black Fox and his merry band of avenging angels, who desire his reinstatement. The deed is entrusted to Hubert, whom the Fox only passingly regards as competent. Then, there is the romantic pursuit of Hubert – presumed to be Giacomo – by the Princess, and, Hubert’s falling under Griselda’s awkward spell (the mild-mannered Hubert, literally transformed into the epitome of a dashing rogue with a snap of a finger). This case of mistaken identity is carried over into Roderick’s court, long enough for Griselda to effectively poison three of the King’s advisors, thereupon suggesting to Ravenhurst his assassin’s plot is right on the mark…that is, until Hubert’s real identity is exposed and all hell breaks loose. In the final act, Roderick is dethroned in an epic display of swordplay with Hubert’s midget army unleashing some clever malice in this palace. There are lots of good – nee, great – things in The Court Jester; perhaps, too many to make any of them click as they ought.

Edith Head’s over-the-top costuming, a Technicolor cavalcade of medieval fashion, expertly photographed by Ray June, whose career dated all the way back to 1915 and, along the way, to include such startlingly handsome and diverse fare as Arrowsmith (1931), Horse Feathers (1932), Treasure Island (1934), China Seas (1935), Babes in Arms (1939), Strike Up the Band (1940), Ziegfeld Girl (1941), Funny Face (1957) and Houseboat (1958), rather incongruously reveals the studio-bound nature of this production, made all the more artificial and occasionally quite static by VistaVision’s trademarked ultra-clarity in its visual presentation. The forest is visibly plastic foliage and papier mâché, the castle antechambers and throne room, all Styrofoam and plywood, Roland Anderson and Hal Pereira’s art direction making little to no attempt to create a more aged or established look for the picture. It all comes across as rather cartoony – perhaps, deliberately so, and, with more than a whiff of theatricality afforded the whole affair, the static nature of its proscenium-focused comedy nowhere more patently on display than in Kaye’s performance of ‘The Maladjusted Jester’ – a wonderfully amusing aide-mémoire written by Sylvia Fine, and played for the King’s benefit, but with Kaye almost entirely, with his back to Roderick’s court, nee – his audience, who nevertheless find his intonations amusing.

The picture certainly starts off on a high note – literally – with Danny Kaye, in full jester’s garb, emerging beneath the title credits to sing the bouncy ‘Life Could Not Better Be’ – a sort of musical preamble truly showing off Kaye’s mastery for complexly scripted ‘play on words’, repeatedly to be tested throughout this movie. From this debut, we regress into medieval England where a grave struggle between Roderick and the as yet unknown heir apparent is in full swing, further complicated by Ravenhurst’s plot to murder the King and assume control of the throne for himself. Prior to these events, we learn Roderick sent Ravenhurst to slaughter the Royal Family – the whereabouts of its youngest member unknown. At present, the child is in the care of The Black Fox. Meanwhile, Lords Brockhurst, Finsdale (Lewis Martin), and Pertwee (Patrick Adherne) convince the king to seek alliance with Sir Griswold of MacElwain, by offering him the Princess Gwendolyn in marriage. So that all shall know him as the rightful sovereign of the realm, the babe’s right to the crown is secured by his distinguishing ‘purple pimpernel’ birthmark – quaintly located on the child’s fulsome and soft buttocks. We are introduced to the buffoonish, Hubert Hawkings who, along with his midget friends, aspires to perform feats of daring do in the Black Fox's name, much to the Fox’s chagrin. Indeed, Hawkings is not held in very high regard by his peers. Ironically, the Fox affords him the plum role, along with Maid Jean, to smuggle the child to safety – a plan that goes horribly awry when, after playing the part of Jean’s elderly and hard-of-hearing papa, Hubert is parted from Jean. She is kidnapped by Roderick’s army and brought to the palace as just another wench for the King’s pleasure.

Before this, Jean and Hubert were introduced to Giacomo – the Italian jester hired by Ravenhurst to infiltrate the King’s court and carry out a series of murders, culminating with the King’s own. Alas, this supposed assassin is easily subdued by Jean, with Hubert assuming his place and entering the palace under a not so convincing disguise. Roderick is none the wiser, and neither is Ravenhurst, as neither has ever met the real Giacomo. So, Roderick wastes no time confirming his plan to kill the King with which Hubert nervously pretends to go along. Roderick’s desire to sell the Princess into a loveless marriage is countermanded by Gwendolyn’s strong-willed desire to marry for love. So, she takes an immediate fancy to Giacomo. Through a series of misdirection, Hubert believes Ravenhurst is working for the Black Fox – a theory dispelled when the real loyalist to the Fox, a lowly steward named Fergus (Noel Drayton) comes forth. Alas, his contact with Hubert is repeatedly thwarted, first, by the King’s intrusions, then Ravenhurst, and finally, Griselda, who casts a spell on Hubert – assuming too, he is Giacomo. This transforms the relatively congenial fop into the masterfully masculine epitome of the Princess’s romantic fantasies.

So far, all this is to the good of the tale. Alas, from this golden epoch, the plot never thickens, but rather, becomes increasingly mired in a series of slapstick vignettes, designed to show off Kaye’s formidable arsenal of good humor, though alas – and regrettably – at the expense of ever resolving most of these already established scenarios. Griselda’s spell is predicated on the snapping of fingers – a seemingly harmless prompt that gets mangled when the King and Princess engage in a battle of wills in which each repeatedly snaps their fingers in defiance of the other, resulting in Hubert’s debilitatingly chronic transformation from Giacomo to his old self, over and over again. Meanwhile, Jean and Fergus endeavor to smuggle the heir apparent from the castle in a basket, unfortunately mistaken as one of Giacomo’s props and brought into court to entertain Roderick, the Royal Guard and the assorted courtiers. As Griselda has already poisoned the cups of Sirs Brockhurst, Finsdale and Pertwee – the trio, fall dead in the middle of Giacomo’s performance, leaving Ravenhurst to assume the first part of the murder plot imparted to Hubert earlier has taken effect under Giacomo’s masterful directive…that is, until Ravenhurst is alerted that the man claiming to be Giacomo is an imposter.

Accusing Hubert of sedition against the crown, Ravenhurst and the King then conspire on an even more insidious revenge. As the Princess has threatened to throw herself from the highest turret in the land if even a hair on Hubert’s head is harmed, the King elects to knight Hubert, thereupon allowing Griswold’s to challenge him. Griswold’s victory and Hubert’s death will ensure this crooked alliance.  At this juncture, Hubert’s midget loyalists, with Jean’s aid, invade the palace. They strike with precision against Roderick’s guards, the fall of Roderick ensured with the arrival of the Black Fox and his army. Ravenhurst engages Hubert in a daring display of swordsmanship that ends with Ravenhurst’s being catapulted by Hubert and Jean into the sea. Having liberated the throne of England from the tyrannical fake, Jean and Hubert reveal the birthmark on the heir apparent to all at court. Those in attendance, including Roderick, bow to acknowledge the babe as their future liege - a toast, made in his honor.

The Court Jester, today, is fondly – and justly – remembered for its razor-sharp wit and stichomythic dialogue, the most readily recited bit of business – the ‘vessel with the pestle’ tongue-twister, repeated with fervor by Mildred Natwick’s imploring Griselda, and even more expertly fouled up by Kaye’s chronically befuddled, Hubert. “The pellet with the poison's in the vessel with the pestle, but the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true!” There is a great deal more to admire here. Yet, it never quite gels into a satisfactory third act, beyond these ingeniously scripted bits of raucous farce. That Frank and Panama left us dangling, after having brought the story so far, only to surrender it to a series of slap-happy guffaws and joyous defeats remains The Court Jester’s greatest mystery and its lingering disappointment. Kaye is in the final flourish of his ole Samuel Goldwyn days, and, just a little long in the tooth to appear as the dashing leading man with a yen for swift delivery. That said, Kaye is as spry and full of that peerless vigor and ambition as ever. Glynis Johns, whom many today will likely ‘best’ recall as Mrs. Banks from Mary Poppins (1964), herein exhibits the kind of sweetly seductive sex appeal usually afforded the ingenue. Johns is the only real ‘serious’ part in this game of fools – or rather, the ‘straight man’ to Kaye’s laugh-a-minute punster. This is usually a thankless responsibility, overlooked as ‘the necessary connective tissue’ to get to the side-splitting delivery of all those punchlines sold elsewhere. But Johns here makes us care about her doe-eyed devotee to the Crown. She is the most genuine and heart-felt anchor. As such, Angela Lansbury’s princess is mostly out of a job; Lansbury – although refreshing and lovable as ever, decidedly a distant ‘third’ fiddle, who amicably, manages to distinguish herself as funnily flirtatious and unflappably the tease.   

The Court Jester's arrival on Blu-ray has been long overdue as Paramount, through decades-long oversight and hesitation, resisted entering the hi-def market until more recently. The original VistaVision negative of The Court Jester has been curated in 6K from a separation master.  And, while the results yield the finest home video presentation yet to arrive, there is still something left to be desired. Given it is VistaVision – the only true ‘motion picture high fidelity’ format of its days, and also, when comparing this 1080p transfer to some other VistaVision product, colors here are oddly thin in spots, and, flesh tones moderately anemic. Setting aside the main titles, compromised by dupes several generations removed from the source, further afflicted by the use of primitive optical printing techniques of their time, to exhibit muddier than usual colors and an ever-so-slightly amplified level of film grain, the rest of the image, while free of age-related debris, somehow fails to live up to the anticipated ultra-crispness associated with the VistaVision process. Indeed, fine details, while present, only intermittently rise to that uber-clean level where they pop as they should. And contrast is just okay, leaving these brightly lit sets looking decidedly dull. Neither carping nor crapping on Paramount’s efforts to bring this movie – finally – to home video, The Court Jester – in VistaVision – on Blu, is a bit of a letdown. I mean, even Paramount's new-to-Blu release of We’re No Angels (1955), having received no consideration other than to slap it to disc, had richer color saturation and crisper imagery than this! The Court Jester’s 2.0 DTS audio is regrettably limited by VistaVision’s singular failing as a format – no place to put a stereo track.  The mono here is curiously slight, and intermittently muffled, with only a few genuine audio flourishes to recommend it, like the ‘river dance-ish’ knighting ceremony with its chorine of men in clanking armor. The only extra is a tepid introduction by critic, Leonard Maltin who barely manages to scratch the surface of this movie’s production history. Honestly, would it have broken the bank for Paramount to offer Maltin the opportunity to provide us with a full-on audio commentary? Bottom line: The Court Jester was the most expensive comedy ever made up until 1955…one of the biggest flops too. But that isn’t why we love it. Rather, it’s that even at a loss of $1.8 million at the box office, it has since proven the ole Hollywood maxim about time doing strange things to movies, and furthermore, to illustrate how some artistic endeavors not only endure, but mature beyond their original intent. The results, arguably, ‘could not better be…better be…better be.’ Just you wait and see. The Court Jester on Blu-ray receives our finest decree – but, with caveats.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

3

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

1