As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride (10 page)

At that very moment the door to the ornate room opened and in walked the giant himself . . . André. It was like a scene from an old Western, where the guy enters the saloon and everyone stops what they are doing, including the piano player. The first thing I remember about him, besides his immense height, of course, was his beautiful, sweet, beaming smile. It was a
giant
smile, and the reason for this was because his teeth were regular size, so you could see all of them as he opened his mouth. He had to bow down low as he came through the doorway so that he wouldn’t crack his head on the doorframe—obviously something he had become accustomed to over the years. I remember Rob introducing us, and watching my fingers disappear as we shook hands, completely engulfed by a palm bigger than a catcher’s mitt. If you want to get a sense of just how big they were google “André the Giant” and “beer can” and you’ll understand what I’m talking about. According to his official website, his shoe size was twenty-four and his wrist was nearly a foot in circumference. Standing next to him, I only came up to his belly button!

In retrospect, André seemed to have been born to play the role—like Rob said, “It’s not like you put out a casting call for a giant and get a ton of callbacks.” He was a real giant, standing seven feet four inches tall and weighing 540 pounds. According to Rob, André had at first expressed trepidation about being in the film. Being French (his real name is André René Roussimoff), he was apparently highly insecure about his ability to speak English fluently. Rob eased his concerns by sending him an audio-taped version of the scene he wanted him to look at involving Fezzik so André could listen to it and study it, and then, if he was so inclined, read for the part. Which he did for Rob and Andy when they flew to Paris after meeting with me in Berlin. When the reading was
over Rob turned to him and said, “That was great, André. You got it, buddy!”

“Thanks, boss,” came the reply. It should be noted that despite his gargantuan size André took to calling everyone “boss” as a way of disarming them in a very charming way.

Eventually the whole script was put on tape for him so that he could understand and memorize his role. And he did a great job with it, despite English not being his first language and his not being in the best of health. He was apparently due for an operation on his back.

That first table read was an extraordinary experience. There seemed to be so many gifted people in one room. On more than one occasion, I had to choke back nerves provoked by working with such an extraordinary group of talented people. I looked at Chris Sarandon and thought, This is the guy who was nominated for an Academy Award for his portrayal of Leon, his very first film role, in one of my favorite Sidney Lumet movies,
Dog Day Afternoon
.

I looked over and saw Wally Shawn, and I instantly thought not only of his remarkable performance and wonderful writing in
My Dinner with Andre
but his roles in
All That Jazz
and
Manhattan
.

And there was Mandy, whom I now recognized from Miloš Forman’s
Ragtime
, standing in the corner chatting with Chris Guest. Both of them serious veterans of the business. It was crazy! Everyone seemed to have a more prestigious résumé than I did. Even Fred Savage had already managed to cram in an incredible amount of television work by the tender age of ten. This was “not your ordinary Hadassah group,” as Goldman once famously put it. Even though I did my best to hide it, I began to develop a slight inferiority complex.

There were other surprises that day, like the unexpected presence of the screenwriter Buck Henry, wearing his trademark baseball cap and glasses. He had nothing to do with
The Princess Bride,
but happened to be in London on other business and was staying in the hotel. Even though I had never met him, I obviously knew his work. Here was a guy whose acting and writing career had already spanned across three decades, from creating
Get Smart
in the mid-1960s with Mel Brooks to writing screenplays for
The Graduate, Catch-22,
and
Heaven Can Wait,
among many
others. He was a friend of Rob’s and a repeat host of
Saturday Night Live
. I guess everyone felt that if Buck wanted to sit in on the reading, why the heck not? Clearly he wasn’t there to comment on the screenplay—nobody “punches up” Bill Goldman. I suppose the thought was that if we could make Buck Henry laugh, chuckle, or even smile during the read, then maybe we were in good shape.

Ironically—given that our characters were at the center of the story—Robin and I were the relative newcomers in the group. Even André was a far more experienced performer than we were. Besides appearing on
The Six Million Dollar Man
, he had been on a number of TV shows, including
B.J. and the Bear, The Fall Guy,
and
The Greatest American Hero,
and made an uncredited appearance as a favor to his friend Arnold Schwarzenegger in
Conan the Destroyer
. It could also be said that he was a showman in every sense of the word. This was a guy, after all, who put on a leotard just about every night of his life and staged a show for thousands of fans.

Up to that point I had only made British films, and table readings were not really fashionable in the UK back then. A table reading basically serves a dual purpose: The first is to give everyone a sense of the rhythm of the script (there is a difference between reading the words by yourself and hearing them recited aloud by all the actors playing the roles), and the second, to allow everyone to meet one another in a relaxed, fun atmosphere. Basically, it’s a play day, at the end of which, if it’s successful, you can begin to get a sense of the movie in your mind’s eye.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Rob signaled to our production manager, David Barron, for the proceedings to begin.

“Everyone please take a seat,” David announced.

We all took our assigned seats around the table—a little placard stating our name in front of each of us. Rob was seated at the head of the table, to his left was Andy, and to his right, Bill Goldman.

“Let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves,” Rob announced.

“I’m Rob Reiner and I’m the director. Thank you all for being here. I just wanna say how thrilled and excited I am to be making this movie. I know we’re gonna have a lot of fun.” He paused, then gestured to his left and said, “And this is Andy Scheinman, our producer, who will also be directing second unit. And because Billy and Carol aren’t here yet, I will be reading Miracle Max and Andy will be reading Valerie.”

Andy then lifted his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Valerie.” That got a laugh.

As I would find out later, it is customary at table reads for each person around the table to introduce themselves followed by the character they are playing. I sat next to Robin, number four or five on the list of
introductions. I remember feeling my hands start to sweat just thinking about it. I folded them in my lap so that no one would notice. When the appropriate time came, and my heart rate was at an all-time high, I blurted out, “Hi, I’m Cary Elwes. And I’m playing Westley.”

I had no idea whether this reading was a test. Suppose they heard my rendition of this character and decided to replace me?

Calm, Cary! Try to remain calm! I kept telling myself.

The only thing that even began to bring my pulse down was watching Bill. If there was one person at the table who appeared to be more nervous than me, it had to have been him. As I would soon discover, his colossal talent notwithstanding, Goldman was a rather famously anxious writer. As I looked over at him, he seemed to be withdrawing into himself, trying to become smaller. When it came his turn to introduce himself, he offered a brief background about how he came to write the book, and how the book became a screenplay. How it had been a true labor of love and a storybook gift to his daughters. How for years he had wondered whether it would ever be adapted to the screen; even whether it
could
be.

He then grew even quieter.

“Please understand that this is a very personal project,” Bill said, his voice fading almost to a whisper. “Normally I don’t care much for any of my work. But this one is different. It is my favorite thing I’ve ever written in my life. So if I appear a little nervous, that’s the reason.” He then thanked Rob and all of us for being there, and assured us that the project was in good hands.

On some deep and profound level, I think the prospect of
The Princess Bride
coming to life must have terrified him. After all, this was clearly the most cherished accomplishment of his artistic life. And I don’t think many people in the room knew that it was that personal to him until he mentioned it. In hindsight it made sense that he formed a very close
bond with Rob. He didn’t want just anyone making the movie. He really wanted it to be done right.

I can only imagine what it must’ve been like for him—sitting there quietly and listening to other people read the lines he had so meticulously written. To watch the actors bring his words and characters to life and hope and pray to God that it worked. It wasn’t just that he wanted the film to be successful; I think he was actually fearful it might fail. I’m sure he was thinking, What if no one laughs at the jokes? Worse yet, what if they laugh in places where they’re not supposed to? There are so many ways it could all go wrong. Then, after the last actor announced themselves, Rob started to read from the script.

“
The Princess Bride
by William Goldman . . . Fade in on: a video game on a computer screen . . .”

I looked over at Goldman. From that point on, he just sat quietly, taking it all in. No doubt dissecting every word uttered as he silently turned the pages. Every so often he’d pick up his pencil and scribble something in the margin. I noticed he did it a couple of times while I was reading. Perhaps he was just making a note on the dialogue? I certainly hoped that was the reason. Rob did this as well, but mostly he just laughed a lot.

I should take a moment before continuing to explain to those of you who have not seen the movie or read the book what this extraordinary tale of
The Princess Bride
is about. For those of you who have at least a passing acquaintance with the story or maybe even know it by heart, you may skip ahead if you wish. But for those who haven’t, I hereby offer some background. If you don’t want a SPOILER ALERT, then perhaps you should watch the movie first before continuing, or skip this section.

So, with sincere apologies to Mr. Goldman, let’s begin. In the movie version of
The Princess Bride,
the fairy tale is told within the framework
of an elderly grandfather reading a book to his sick grandson. The book the grandfather is reading is entitled
The Princess Bride,
and the grandfather promises him it is filled with action and adventure. But the boy, recoiling at the first “kissing part,” thinks he has been hoodwinked into listening to a love story. Eventually he becomes enthralled by the tale and can’t wait to find out what happens to Westley and his beloved Buttercup. Westley’s first words to her are “As you wish” (which really means “I love you”), and he devotes the entire film, and several years of his life, to the pursuit of making good on that promise.

Fearing that a simple farm boy will never be able to provide adequately for his love, Westley sets off in search of his fortune, intending to return one day and wed Buttercup. Alas, his plans are derailed when his ship is attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts, who, as legend has it, never takes prisoners alive. Several years pass and Buttercup, although still in love and in mourning for Westley, agrees to marry Prince Humperdinck, the rich and duplicitous heir to the throne of Florin. And here the story becomes thick with plot twists—double crosses and triple crosses that make Goldman’s byzantine
Marathon Man
seem almost simplistic by comparison. Prior to the wedding, Buttercup is kidnapped by an unlikely trio of men: Spanish sword master Inigo Montoya, the Sicilian Vizzini, and a giant named Fezzik. Buttercup does not realize that her captors have been hired by Humperdinck, who hopes to blame the kidnapping and eventual killing of Buttercup on his rival country of Guilder, thereby instigating a war between the two. Humperdinck feigns love for Buttercup by setting off with several of his soldiers in pursuit of the captors. At the same time, a mysterious Man in Black also gives chase.