Jesters of the North

Critic Reviews

Beneath the gaudy veneer of 'Jesters of the North', lies a narrative as erratic as the mischievous magicks it peddles. One must ponder whether the true sorcery of the film is its ability to squander a concept with potential in a quagmire of cheap gags and a plot that meanders more than a drunkard after last call. As the irreverent bard Matt DaMuffin prances through scenes with all the poise of a marionette in a hurricane, one can't help but feel director Alfred Hitchcockatoo might've finally lost the plot himself. Julienne Salad-stevenson's sorceress brought fleeting moments of genuine humor, but she's but a speck of nutmeg in a depressingly bland stew. And let's not address Chick-o Marx's sorcerer, who invokes all the terror of a damp sponge. This supposed 'uprising' serves less as a narrative revolution and more a testament to the ephemeral nature of slapstick shticks. The rebel's cause might be to laugh, but finding a reason to do so amidst such haphazard hilarity is an insurrection in its own right. One leaves the theater not with a risible memory, but the nagging sense that this jest has fallen woefully flat.