As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride (28 page)

“SURPRISE!”

And then they sang “Happy Birthday” to me.

I swear I had forgotten that it was my birthday. I stood there silently, taking it all in. For a moment I thought I might cry, I was so moved as they sang. Instead I just laughed. I had just turned twenty-four and was in the final month of possibly the most important job of my career. I couldn’t have felt happier or more at home.

11

I
am often asked what my favorite scene is in the movie but it is difficult to pick just one, as that would mean weighing the importance of one scene against another, or declaring one moment in the film to be of greater significance or achievement than the rest. And the truth is I enjoyed the whole process. Certainly, from the very beginning of pre-production, it had been made clear to all of us—and to Mandy and me in particular—that the elegant swordfight between us would be among the highlights in the film. Moreover, that we were going to strive, at least, for something akin to movie legend.

And indeed there it was, written exactly that way in Goldman’s screenplay: all capital letters, boldface type, and underlined twice, lest there be any doubt. Quite a thing to live up to. Whether we’d fall short of that goal was largely up to both of us, and the degree to which we
were willing to train and study under Bob and Peter. It should also be noted that Chris Guest had to train and rehearse as well, for Rugen’s final encounter with Inigo. And even though that fight is much shorter and more one-sided, and perhaps the training less intense for Chris, it still meant double the training for Mandy.

Chris said that Mandy appeared really “pumped up” during rehearsal and that he had actually stuck him with his sword by mistake. After this accident, Chris apparently told Peter that he was going to throw out everything they had learned and was basically going to try to just defend himself once the cameras started rolling.

As for Mandy and me, through basic training and the first couple months of shooting, we felt reasonably confident about the progress we were making, despite my now injured toe. We had put in the time. That was never an issue—Bob and Peter made certain of that, filling every
free second with practice. Our job was to put some meat on the bones of the fight, to create a duel whose physicality would match the brilliance of the words that accompanied it.

In mid-October, we got our first review while I was filming a scene with the great and greatly underrated Mel Smith. For those of you who don’t recall, Mel played the gleeful Albino who preps Westley for his torture session in the Pit of Despair.

Mel Smith, André jogging his memory, and Mandy

I’d be remiss if I didn’t say a few words about Mel, who was another one of my favorite comedians growing up and has since, sadly, passed away. In the early to mid-1980s, Mel, his writing partner, Griff Rhys Jones, and Rowan Atkinson all starred together in a fantastically funny and popular British sketch comedy show called
Not the Nine O’clock News
.
He was a wonderful improvisational actor and comedian, and, like Billy, clearly grasped the opportunity to embellish the small role and turn it into something memorable. Even though he didn’t look anything like the character, it was a perfect bit of casting. With his white wig, bloodshot eyes, massive cold sore, and a delightfully fey manner seemingly at odds with the awful work he was about to perform, he truly embodied the Albino. And when I heard he would be joining the cast, I was thrilled.

“We got Mel Smith?” I remember saying to Rob. “You’re kidding! That’s great!”

I think Chris Guest, being the incredible connoisseur of comedy that he is, was the only other cast member who actually knew who Mel was. It took all day to film the Pit of Despair because, as with the scenes involving Billy, I found it challenging to maintain my composure. There’s something inherently ridiculous about lying on your back, with suction cups attached to your nipples, staring up at Chris Guest and Mel Smith, pretending to endure searing pain while strapped to a massive “life-sucking machine.” I remember both Rob and I lost it on the first take when Mel unexpectedly did that whole bit on the steps where he loses his balance. Then the whole coughing and hacking bit? Forget it. In the end I think I had to turn away during his off-camera dialogue just because I couldn’t look at his face without laughing.

Since Inigo’s character was not needed for the Pit of Despair scene, Mandy had spent much of the morning training with Bob and Peter between setups. At lunchtime we wandered over to the set for the Cliffs of Insanity where the swordfight would take place, so that we could give Rob and Andy a demonstration. After a few moments of stretching, and some last-minute notes from Bob and Peter, Mandy and I began the duel for the small crowd that had gathered, including some of the department heads and producers.

I thought it went rather well, and when we were finally done, Mandy
and I, both covered with sweat, received a very gracious applause from everyone in attendance. I remember standing there with my sword at my side, my chest still heaving from the effort. Everyone seemed pleased, including Bob and Peter. Rob, however, had a look of not dissatisfaction, but certainly not one of complete approval, either. His expression was kind of blank. Scratching his beard, he walked over to us, deep in thought. He then looked up at us and asked:

“That’s it?”

I looked at Mandy. He looked at me. We both looked at Bob and Peter. There was a long beat, before I responded, “Yeah. That’s it.”

Not exactly the response we had anticipated, as I’m sure you would agree. Mandy and I had spent so many hours practicing and perfecting the duel, mapping out each and every step of the choreography, every thrust and parry of the fight, that we were now able to perform it not only fluidly but flawlessly without even thinking about it. We figured that was the goal. And it was—to a point. There was one thing we hadn’t considered, though. By mastering the sequence, we had also shortened it. A duel that once lasted four to five minutes back in August had by now become considerably faster.

“How long was that?” Rob asked our script supervisor, Ceri Evans.

Ceri approached with a stopwatch.

“One minute, twenty-three seconds,” she reported.

Rob shook his head solemnly.

“Not long enough. This is supposed to be the Greatest Swordfight in Modern Times—but it’s over too quickly.”

“What do we do?” I asked.

Rob shrugged. “Go back and add some more. Look at this beautiful set. We spent all this money. We built it for you guys. We can’t be in here for just a minute.”

Bob Anderson explained to him that we had pretty much used every part of the set and that if we added more we would be just going over the same terrain. Rob then turned to Norman Garwood, who was standing nearby.

“Norman, is there any way you could build up the ruins of a tower over there with some steps? Then maybe these guys could go up the steps, and play around up there. And then we could bring it all the way back down here on the level ground for the finish.”

He paused. Norman nodded.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said. Nothing was ever too much trouble for Norman.

“Great.” Rob turned back to us. “You guys go back and make it longer and better. We need at least three minutes, okay?”

Bob, Peter, Mandy, and I all nodded like schoolkids who got a decent passing grade from our professor, but wanted the highest score possible. As a team we were shooting for 11 out of 10. Like Nigel Tufnel’s amp.

At a subsequent meeting with Peter, Bob, and Mandy I threw out the suggestion that we collect every single swashbuckling movie available on video, including the ones we had already watched, and watch them again to find what we needed. Movies like
The Crimson Pirate, The Mark of Zorro, Captain Blood, The Black Pirate, Adventures of Don Juan, The Count of Monte
Cristo, The Three Musketeers, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Sea Hawk, The Prisoner of Zenda, Scaramouche,
etc. And we did. We would fast-forward to the fight scenes and study them in detail to see if we could spot anything we could borrow or improve on.

We discovered that
Scaramouche,
starring Stewart Granger and Mel Ferrer, featured the longest, most intricate movie swordfight in cinema history. So our rallying cry became, “Let’s beat
Scaramouche
!” Not the time, certainly (the movie’s duel clocked in at six minutes, and we knew we couldn’t beat that!), but we did want to at least try to beat it in terms of being memorable. In order to do that, we added all kinds of extra things—like going up the steps of the castle ruin, as Rob suggested, and almost pushing over a big rock—and then we agreed that we could add a bit of acrobatics, where we throw our swords in the ground, spin off a high bar, and dismount perfectly. Obviously that would involve the use of a stunt double, who turned out to be an accomplished gymnast named Jeff Davis. And since that particular stunt did not actually involve sword fighting, it seemed like fair game. Originally Jeff was going to do the same swing for Westley as he did for Inigo. I asked him if he could do a double for my character. Rob loved the idea and Jeff performed it immaculately on every take. We also added a piece where Mandy and I leap up onto some rocks with the use of a small trampoline and a somersault for Inigo as he leaps off a set of rocks over my head. Also performed by Jeff. And a bit where Mandy would lose his sword for a moment, then catch it in midair.

I’m probably making this sound less stressful than it actually was. The fact is, the moment Rob said, “That’s it?” I think I can speak for Mandy, too, when I say we became just a tad anxious. We had spent nearly three months choreographing one of the biggest scenes in the movie, and now, roughly a few weeks before we were due to shoot it, we had to go back to the drawing board and add two minutes or so.