To view Hans Christian Andersen click here.
I have a confession to make, and this is just between us, ok? Up until a few months ago, I had never seen a Danny Kaye film. Not a single one. And before you think I’m accidentally forgetting White Christmas (1954) –nope. Never seen that one, either. For whatever reason, all these years I had rather stubbornly made up my mind that I didn’t like Danny Kaye. I had no explanation and entirely no basis for this formed opinion of mine. I even playfully argued with a good friend, and when he pressed me for a reason why, my response was simply, “Meh. Not my cup of tea.” How ridiculous is that? It’s a completely unfair, unreasonable and irrational stance. And after watching my very first Danny Kaye film, I felt embarrassment and regret for casually reducing the enormous contributions of such an immensely talented entertainer, one who left an indelible mark on Hollywood and pop culture, to an arrogant “meh.” The more I think about it, perhaps I owe my unfounded dislike to Clark Griswold and his hysterically colorful Christmas Eve tirade. I’m sure at some point I thought, “Ha! That’s a funny joke. Well, that’s all I need to know about Danny Kaye. I think that’ll do.”
At the TCM Classic Film Festival in Hollywood this past April, I finally conceded defeat in my near forty-year avoidance of all things Kaye, and joined my friend, a lifelong fan, and his wife to the screening of The Court Jester (1955). As I settled into my seat in the TCL Chinese Theatre (formerly Grauman’s Chinese), I was convinced the next couple of hours would be a technicolor torture chamber, so I tried to focus on the next screening to help make it through. Introducing the film was the legendary Fred Willard, one of my comedy idols. Hearing him discuss his love for the film, and for Danny Kaye, got me thinking that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. And then, as the lights dimmed, I realized that writer/director Edgar Wright was seated directly in front of me. My grumpy mood started to fade away just as Kaye performs the delightful song “Life Could Not Better Be” in the film’s opening credits. For the next two hours I was shamelessly entranced, with a smile so wide my face began to hurt. Now, maybe it was the atmosphere of that iconic, palatial theatre; or the 900 beaming smiles in the audience; or Edgar Wright clapping and laughing throughout, but in that moment a new Danny Kaye fan was born.
I still have much of Kaye’s filmography to work through, but recently I watched Hans Christian Andersen (1952), a beautifully shot technicolor musical produced by Samuel Goldwyn and directed by Charles Vidor. This fictionalized account of Hans Christian Andersen’s beginnings as a storyteller and published author of fairy tales is a fairy tale in of itself. And while I didn’t find this film nearly as enjoyable as The Court Jester, I still found Kaye to be utterly charming. His talent for pantomime, rapid fire word play and tongue twisters accompanied with that lovely singing voice of his is truly unique.
What makes Danny Kaye’s on-screen presence so remarkable is his delightful interactions with children. He understands them. He knows exactly the right things say to those children to encourage imagination, or bring a smile, or build confidence, but without the condescension that’s so often found in adults. And Kaye isn’t a paternal figure—far from it. He’s childlike in his ability to tell magical stories in a way that children can understand, but that adults, if allowed to lower their guard, can enjoy as well.
There are several moments in Hans Christian Andersen that simply don’t work, making the film a bit of a disjointed mess. Farley Granger is terribly miscast as Niels, the Copenhagen-based ballet company director. And while accomplished French ballerina Zizi Jeanmaire (in her first film role) is allowed to showcase her talents, particularly in a lengthy ballet sequence based on Andersen’s Little Mermaid, her role and performances feel a bit out of place with the pacing and tone of the film. But every moment Kaye is on the screen, from singing the story of Thumbelina to a little girl or The Ugly Duckling to a sick little boy outcast from his peers, is pure magic. Kaye’s infectious spirit makes Hans Christian Andersen worthwhile, despite the frustrating plotline,
So, after many Danny Kaye-less years, my unexpected adventure continues. And in an effort to not repeat the sins of the past, I’ve brought my daughter along with me.
Jill Blake
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