Many enthusiasts for antique subjects like to think our passion could be contagious, if only our friends and peers would give it a try. In the case of classic films, my anecdotal observation is that this is true up to a point: nearly everyone grows up with animated Disney classics and the odd old movie like The Wizard of Oz. But it’s a harsh fact that the art and entertainment of yesteryear isn’t going to be in the highest demand in the present era, especially if the present era seems so hyper-fixated on pushing the newest, trendiest thing. On the streaming platforms and TV channels most in use, it can be hard to even find anything older than Star Wars. Hell, unless it is Star Wars, it can sometimes be hard to find anything from before the turn of the millennium.
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Besides proximity, another factor working against classic cinema at times is the weight of its reputation. Films can only be trumpeted as “masterpieces,” “groundbreaking,” or “essential” so many times before it can either intimidate newcomers or breed an annoyed skepticism towards whatever’s being so aggressively sold. And the pace, the tones, and the narrative rhythms that were commonplace in the films of the 1920s, or the ’30s, or the ’70s, can be an acquired taste, not so easy to dive right into. But there is one movie that isn’t a family-friendly national treasure that suits modern sensibilities while still offering up so much of what made cinema of its era so special. And that movie is 1955’s The Court Jester.

‘The Court Jester’ Is a Technicolor Comedy Classic

The Court Jester shares a few odd parallels with The Wizard of Oz. They both had multiple cooks in the creative kitchen, in Jester’s case the writer/producer/director team of Melvin Frank and Norman Panama. Both advertised their use of glorious Technicolor, though by 1955 this meant color services rather than the three-strip photographic process. And both films, unusually expensive for their time, failed to turn a profit on initial release. This didn’t hold either back from delighting audiences and garnering greater praise with successive generations.

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For all its bright colors and gentle humor, though, The Wizard of Oz is a straightforward fantasy. The Court Jester is a send-up, and in that respect is well-suited to certain audiences of today. In the age of the Internet, we’re all accustomed to self-referential media. Whether it’s Disney poking its own well-worn conventions of princesses and romance, Spider-Man: No Way Home winking toward that famous pointing meme, or every single time your friends and relations share some variation on a meme through social media, meta humor is all around us. Some might even say the style’s become too ubiquitous, and that chasing after trends like this is more a detriment than a delight – but that’s for another day.

‘The Court Jester’ Is a Great Parody

The Court Jester isn’t nearly so aggressive in its references, and there were no Internet memes for it to try and capitalize on in 1955. But it is a film that knows what genre it’s lampooning. The opening premise – a usurper holds the throne of England, a dashing outlaw defies his villainy – is unashamedly borrowed from the legend of Robin Hood, with a dash of Zorro thrown in (the outlaw wears a mask and is called the Black Fox). This is no traditional swashbuckler following the adventures of its highwayman, however. The film looks through the eyes of Hubert Hawkins (Danny Kaye), a minstrel who entertains the Black Fox’s band and helps care for the legitimate (infant) heir to the throne. Hawkins has the desire and the heart for more harrowing service to the cause, but not the skills or the steady nerve. Tasked with moving the royal baby to safety, he ends up caught in a web of intrigue inside the false king’s castle, pulled hither and yon by disguises, treachery, and hypnotic sorcery.

Hawkins doesn’t get caught in such a predicament because of any failure or betrayal by the hero; the Black Fox is as loyal, courageous, and clever as Robin Hood. His time with it isn’t made any easier through bumbling of the villains; Cecil Parker’s evil king may have a comic side to him, but Basil Rathbone’s Lord Ravenhurst is the true antagonist, and every bit as cunning and ruthless as the baddies Rathbone played in straight swashbucklers. Hawkins himself isn’t stupid or incompetent, only unprepared and uninformed. The Court Jester is more a comedy of errors than a total parody, with many of the traditional adventure story beats played seriously but with the “wrong” protagonist cursed with bad timing. The result is a hilarious succession of mistaken identities and crossed-wire schemes by heroes and villains alike. It brings laughs to the genre without belittling or subverting it – except for the princess Gwendolyn, played by a young Angela Lansbury. She who would be the Maid Marian figure in a true swashbuckler is instead a self-absorbed dilettante of romance who holds the threat of death over her hapless witch-counselor Griselda (Mildred Natwick) if she can’t deliver a gallant suitor. If you only know Lansbury through roles such as kindly Mrs. Potts, The Court Jester is worth a watch just to see what she can do with an empty-headed comic part.

This leaves the role of true romantic partner to Kaye open to Glynis Johns as Maid Jean, the beautiful rebel who helps Hawkins through his ordeal. Or, more accurately, it’s Hawkins who helps Jean. She is a captain of the Fox’s band, entrusted with the derring-do that Hawkins wishes for. Assigned to move the heir to safety with Hawkins, it’s Jean who seizes an opportunity to send the minstrel to the castle in disguise to further the Fox’s cause. After she ends up trapped inside the castle herself, she spends much of her time trying to keep Hawkins alive and on the right track, while also contending with the advances of Parker’s king. Her deflection of his “charms” lets Johns play a comic bit of her own. Frankly, the part of Maid Jean has more substance to it than most of the straight adventure films of the time, a much more appealing turn of events for audiences of today.

‘The Court Jester’ Is a Reminder of How Much Fun Classic Cinema Can Be

But I said earlier that The Court Jester showcases much of what was great about classic cinema, and indeed it does. Nothing today looks quite like a film handled by Technicolor, and this film is full of splashy hues. They’re presented in VistaVision, a non-anamorphic widescreen process no longer in use but with great scope to it. Within that wide frame, the film showcases action, slapstick, and elaborate choreography without recourse to overworked, often detracting camera movement or choppy editing. In an era where musicals still held a prominent role in mainstream cinema, The Court Jester isn’t quite a full-blown musical but still features three lovely songs well-integrated into the story. One, “Life Could Not Better Be,” is put to work in an inventive credits sequence at the beginning of the film you would never find today.

Also, hard to find today would be a film so finely tailored to its star’s talents. There are, of course, movies that still serve as vehicles for their actors, but the notion of a movie star has evolved, and an all-around performer like Danny Kaye, with a persona that traveled from role to role, isn’t as easy to come by. Kaye’s singing and dancing chops were well-exhibited by The Court Jester, but the film also relied heavily on his talent for wordplay. Besides his patter songs and vaudevillian antics while in disguise or under hypnosis, he also mines elaborate tongue twisters like “vessel with the pestle” for all they’re worth. The Court Jester’s heavy reliance on verbal comedy may limit its appeal to younger viewers who still take to films like The Wizard of Oz, but for older kids and adults, there’s plenty of fun to be had.

Perhaps the aspect of The Court Jester most like its era, and most appealing today, is its bright optimism. Comedy and fantasy can still be colorful and glass-half-full in outlook, but as both genres have expanded over time, there’s also been a trend towards more complicated, and more cynical, narratives. And that’s not inherently bad; genres should be able to encompass a variety of points of view. But the unabashed sunniness of films like The Court Jester, a distinctly American variety of optimism (despite the English setting), is something missed as a mainstay of popular culture. If the last few years have shown that life, contrary to the film’s opening song, could better be, escaping into a world where it couldn’t for an hour and a half is still a valuable respite. That doesn’t make The Court Jester “check your brain at the door” entertainment; the intrigues and wordplay demand you pay attention. But as an emotional experience, it’s uncomplicated and uplifting, and what else is a jester’s art for?