“Behind the Hollywood Scene”
The Day – Feb. 8, 1955
By: Harrison Carroll
(Distributed by King Features Syndicate)
HOLLYWOOD—The public knows Danny Kaye only as a human dynamo.
For a few minutes, on “The Court Jester” set at Paramount, I catch a different side of him.
Danny, who never had a foil in his hand before this picture, is about to stage a fierce duel up a stone stairway with experienced fencer Basil Rathbone.
He is tired from all the physical demands the picture has made upon him. Just for the moment, before he turns on the nervous energy again, he is like a man from whom all vitality has been drained away.
His lean figure is sprawled in a chair. His expressive face is, for the second, a blank mask.
“When do you finish the picture?” I ask.
“In three more weeks,” he says, “and if I told you I am sorry, I would be careless with the truth. It will be a long time before they get me in armor again. It restricts the movements. I feel caged all the time. I’m a man who doesn’t even like tight clothes.”
Actually, for this particular duel, he won’t be in armor. He’s wearing a doublet and black tights. But it will be a tough session of swordplay in which it will be easy for somebody to get hurt.
As Danny watches director Melvin Frank line up the shot, his manager, Eddie Dukoff, wanders up.
“Ah,” says Dukoff, “you are beginning to like this stuff.”
“I’m not,” says Danny. “It scares the heck out of me.”
Almost as he says it, though, a change starts to come over him. He sits up in his chair. Life seems to flow back into him.
When Frank calls him and Rathbone out to rehearse, he is the familiar on-
“Basil,” hey says, “will you stand a little more to the left?”
“What do you mean?” asks Rathbone.
“I don’t know,” laughs Danny. “but it sounds good.”
The metamorphosis isn’t complete, though, until the rehearsal starts.
Danny swarms up on the staircase after Rathbone. The swords flash back and forth.
After they run through it a couple of times, Frank calls a rest before the take.
Rathbone saunters down the steps.
“Does it make you nervous,” I ask, “doing a sword fight with an amateur?”
“Are you kidding?” he replies. “Danny is the best natural swordsman I ever worked with. His coordination is amazing. He’s extremely fast. Everything he does is so true. Did you see him when I made a mistake just now? He pulled up immediately. He didn’t follow through with his blade.”
“You’ve done a lot of fencing in films,” I remind. “Do you really mean Danny is the best man you have fought?”
“Yes,” replies Basil in his clipped tones. “He’s better than Tyrone Power. He’s better than Errol Flynn.”