As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride (16 page)

And that is what happened that day as Nick filled us in. We were all then invited to walk around the set as he pointed out various places on the ground through which flames would periodically spurt. Each point had been marked by a bright orange rubber street cone.

“Please make sure that you don’t step on any of these gas outlets,” he cautioned. “Always walk around them. That’s why we have put cones next to each one, so you can all familiarize yourself with where the flames are going to come from. There’s another one over there, and there’s another there. There are three of them in all and we’re going to time these to go off a certain way. Just so you guys will know exactly when the flames are going to spurt we have arranged for the sound of air to be blasted through the pipes containing the gas beforehand as a warning. Okay?”

We all nodded.

“Okay, the last one, right here,” he said, pointing to a cone, “is going to be the one that sets fire to Robin’s dress.”

I looked over at Robin. She betrayed not the slightest bit of concern.

“We’ve had a special dress made for her,” he continued, “that is made out of flame-retardant material.” Rob then turned to Robin and said, “Robin, you’re okay with this, right?”

I’ve done enough movies in the last twenty-five years to know that this is always a difficult moment for an actor. Actors nearly always want to appear courageous and committed, willing to do anything for the team. So while it is perfectly acceptable to opt out of a stunt and let the professionals handle it, there is some pressure, mostly internal, to push yourself beyond your normal comfort zone. Typically, the director will follow up after the consultation with the stunt coordinator and special
effects experts and the actors, just to make sure everyone is at ease with their respective roles when it comes to the stunt. Certainly that was the case on this occasion, as Rob consulted with both Robin and me about our willingness to do the stunt. But more so with her, seeing as she was the one who was actually going to be set on fire.

“If you don’t want to do it, it’s totally fine,” Rob assured her. “We’ve got the doubles. So it’s okay. We can shoot around you.”

Robin looked at me.

I shrugged—if you’re game, so am I.

She then turned back to Rob.

“No, I think we can do this.”

Rob glanced at me.

“Are you guys sure?”

“Absolutely,” I chimed in. “I’ll make sure she’s safe. Let’s give it a shot.”

We carefully watched the scene rehearsed with our stunt doubles—Andy Bradford for me, Sue Crossland for Robin—so we could study in detail what would be required of us. As Nick had warned us, each little burst of flame was preceded by a loud
whoosh!
sound as a thick blast of oxygen was shot out of the gas pipe; so we always knew precisely when and where the actual flame would appear. At the appointed time, we watched as Sue’s flame-retardant dress caught on fire, and Andy put it out. So from what I could gather Robin was essentially going to be set on fire, and my job was to grab her, move her away from the open flame, and then extinguish the fire on her dress without letting her get burned in any way.

No biggie, right?

“All you have to do is rub the dress together, and the retardant will put out the fire by itself,” Nick instructed. “However, if it looks like there’s a problem, just step aside immediately and Peter and myself will
douse her with the fire extinguisher. We’ll be right here next to the camera. It’s only a small flame, so it shouldn’t spread.”

Was I apprehensive about shooting a scene that involved an unstable element on another actor? Especially fire? You bet. It occurred to me that even though Robin was wearing a full layer of fireproof clothing beneath her flame-retardant dress, her face and hands would still be exposed. Interestingly, the stunt coordinators and FX team told her that if anything went wrong, she was to immediately cover her face with her hands, which would have been the natural knee-jerk reaction anyway. Did I do my best to hide my anxiety at being the one to put out the fire on Robin? You bet correctly again.

So we lined up for the shot and Rob yelled, “Action,” and I walked Robin past the last fire pit. There was a “whooshing” sound, and then the flame. And it was a pretty large burst of flame, I can tell you. It caught me by surprise. Obviously Robin’s dress immediately caught fire, but just as I pulled her aside to extinguish it there came a loud yell from behind the camera.

Rob called for cut.

What was the commotion this time? It turns out that even though Bill knew exactly what was going to happen, as he had written this sequence into every version of the screenplay, he had apparently forgotten that this particular stunt was being shot that day and had left the set for some reason, missing the safety meeting, and returned right in the middle of the first take. As soon as he saw Robin on fire he naturally thought there had been some sort of an accident. Thus, he yelled out something to the effect of “OH, MY GOD! HER DRESS IS ON FIRE! SHE’S ON FIRE!!!” effectively ruining another take. After yelling “Cut!” Rob calmly turned to Goldman and said, “Bill, it’s supposed to catch on fire, remember?”

Fortunately, everything went smoothly and I was able to put
out the fire without too much difficulty each and every take thereafter. I remember Robin’s reaction when the large flame caught on her dress was a very small “Ooh!” rather than a scream, which should tell you just how unfazed she was by it all. Or just how good an actress she was at hiding her fear. As soon as Rob yelled, “Cut,” after each take the FX crew and Peter would rush over and douse her with a small fire extinguisher just to be sure. And she would have to change into a succession of dresses once the burn became noticeable.

Bill was so embarrassed at having potentially ruined another take he wanted to book his flight home right away, but Rob convinced him to stay longer. He actually made it to the first day of shooting for the Florin Castle sequences at Haddon Hall before packing his things and leaving. The reason I remember is because I brought a video camera to the set that day and shot some behind-the-scenes footage that included him. And then, the very next
day, he left. Just like that. The man responsible for creating this wondrous world, this magical story, was gone. Fortunately he would return later.

Setting fire to Robin was just the first of a couple of challenging physical sequences to be undertaken in the swamp. Before the day ended, there was another meeting with the FX crew, this time to discuss Buttercup’s disappearance into what looks like quicksand, referred to as “Snow Sand” in the book, and her subsequent rescue by Westley. Again, the entire sequence was explained and demonstrated by the special effects team and by Peter Diamond in a safety meeting. Located just a few inches beneath the quicksand, we were told, was a trapdoor made out of latex and plywood that was being held in place by a member of the FX team. When Buttercup stepped on the appropriate spot at the appropriate time, the door would be released and she would be sucked into the sand. Shortly after she disappeared, I was to jump in after her, using the same technique. Beneath the trapdoor was a pit filled with foam mattresses to ensure that the person falling down would land safely. Peter and the stunt team assured us they would be down there to catch us and make sure we weren’t injured. A marvelous and very effective illusion.

Our doubles, Andy and Sue, began walking us through the stunt effortlessly and safely. As with the fire stunt, they would do one take and then it was to be our turn. In all honesty, this one seemed easy, at least in comparison to the previous stunt. But after watching, there was something about it that seemed a little odd. My initial instructions were to merely walk in after Robin—grab my nose with one hand to prevent sand from getting in it, and jump down feet-first. But when we looked at the scene on playback afterward, it seemed kind of feeble. There was something rather unheroic about jumping into quicksand feet-first. Especially holding one’s nose.

“I don’t know, guys,” I said. “It doesn’t exactly seem swashbuckling, does it? What if I were to dive in headfirst?”

Rob agreed, but both he and the stunt team were reluctant to let me, or anyone, for that matter, dive headfirst into the pit. It was much too dangerous. What if I got injured? It hadn’t really been designed or tested for that purpose, they reasoned quite correctly. I tried to plead my case. What sort of fairy-tale hero would watch his love tumble into a pit of quicksand, and then take the time to place his sword and sheath on the ground and just sort of step casually into the pit to save her?

No one disputed the idea, but there were legitimate safety concerns and insurance issues that had to be considered. The fear, naturally, was that a mistimed headlong dive into the quicksand could result in serious injury (like a broken neck, spinal injury, or fractured skull) and thus, the termination of the entire movie. There was quite a lot at stake. But then, that’s often the case with any special effects or stunt work.

As the relative freshman on the set, it wasn’t easy for me to voice my opinion about something that was not just a matter of safety but also a matter of artistic license. But I instinctively knew that stepping into the quicksand didn’t seem right, that it wasn’t graceful enough to capture the spirit of the story or of the character. I didn’t think Westley was the type of person who would be too timid to dive headfirst into quicksand to save his true love. It didn’t seem true to his nature. I wanted him to be consistent with Goldman’s vision: at once fearless and elegant, romantic and brave. My theory was that if he wasn’t afraid to throttle a giant, wrestle humongous rats, and defeat Inigo Montoya in a duel, he shouldn’t be afraid to dive headlong into quicksand.

“There’s going to be some exciting music here, right?” I asked Rob.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then let’s give Westley some exciting behavior to go along with it!”

After a lot of beard scratching, Rob finally relented.

“Okay. But not with you, with your stunt double,” was his only concession.

This was a big deal for me—it was the first moment in which I felt like a real collaborator in the process, and not merely a hired hand. I had earned the trust and respect of a director I greatly admired.

I pulled Andy Bradford aside.

“Do you think you can do it?”

“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “No problem.” Andy was not someone who showed fear at all.

Peter Diamond then talked Andy through the sequence and how to do it safely. They stood around the pit, miming the dive, discussing proper timing, and then, with the cameras rolling, first Robin disappeared. Then Andy—bless his heart!—after grabbing a piece of vine he had hacked, dove right in after her. He had never practiced the stunt before, and he did it perfectly. The trapdoor opened and he slid smoothly into the sand, looking very heroic in the process.

When he made his way back to the surface with Robin on his back, and using the vine for support, there was big applause from us all. Everyone had become convinced of the merits of diving rather than walking into the quicksand.

“That was great, Andy! Cary, do you think you can do that?” Rob asked excitedly.

“I think so,” I replied.

He then turned to Andy. “Can you show him? That was fantastic!”

Andy spit out a few grains of sand and smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

Unlike Andy, the special effects folks went along reluctantly. They were naturally nervous that the door might not open at the precise
moment. Because if it didn’t, I was warned, then I would be smashing my skull against plywood with the full weight of my body.

“Just so you know, guv’nor,” they said to Rob, “we’re not liable. The trapdoor wasn’t intended for this purpose, so we can’t be certain it’ll work a second time.”

Finally, after a practice run with Andy showing me precisely how it was done, it was my turn.

The first AD called, “Turn over,” the camera started rolling, and Rob yelled, “Action!”

I watched as Robin disappeared into the quicksand, then I cut a piece of vine, stuck my sword into the ground, took a deep breath, and dove headfirst into the pit after her, just as Andy had done a few minutes earlier. Fortunately, I slid neatly into the pile of foam and was caught below by a very relieved Peter Diamond and Andy Bradford. And I didn’t get so much as a bump or a bruise.

After ten days of shooting we were all about ready to leave the Fire Swamp, but we still had one more scene left to do. On the second-to-last day, we were introduced to the little people who would be portraying the Rodents of Unusual Size. In the script there is a protracted and exciting fight scene between Westley and an R.O.U.S. in the Fire Swamp. As opposed to the CGI miracles prevalent in movies
today, we only had a budget that provided for small people wearing rat costumes. One of the little people, Danny Blackner, was from the north of England and had multiple tattoos and earrings all up and down his ears long before it became fashionable, and he looked like a guy who had sprung from the punk rock scene of the late 1970s. I was told that besides being a performer he was also a veteran stuntman, having utilized his skills and diminutive stature to land work in films such as
Labyrinth
and
Return of the Jedi
, in which he played an Ewok. He was an intensely spirited and joyful guy who clearly liked his work.