As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride (30 page)

Some people barely get to know their grandparents. People take jobs in far-off places, families become fragmented, and generations occasionally lose track of each other. It happens. But I was one of those fortunate kids who grew up in close proximity to their grandparents, and I developed an especially close relationship with my grandfather. His name was Billy McLean, and he was a true adventurer if ever there was one.

I don’t mean he seemed “adventurous” to a little boy (although he
certainly was that as well). This man was the real deal. He had worked in military intelligence for the British government, and had been sent on undercover missions to all kinds of exotic and dangerous places both during and after World War II. He had even met Ian Fleming, who had been in naval intelligence and who had subsequently used his experiences in that field to create the James Bond character. When he first joined the army, Billy became part of the Royal Scots Greys (originally a Scottish cavalry regiment). So he had all these wonderful ancient regimental swords that he kept on a table in his study. They were just beautiful and they were also my introduction to the almost incongruous elegance of swords. When I was old enough he used to let me handle them and I imagined myself as, among other things, a swashbuckling pirate.

I adored spending time with him, listening to him recount epic tales of his adventures in far-off places, much like Errol Flynn’s character does with the little Indian boy in the film version of Rudyard Kipling’s
Kim
. And as he shared these stories with so much love, it also reminded me of the way Peter Falk’s Grandfather shares his love of adventure with Fred Savage’s character in our movie. Which is why those scenes so resonated with me when I first read the book. Let’s be honest: for a kid, is there anything better than having a grandfather who not only fought for his country but was actually a secret agent? I don’t doubt that my grandfather suffered from some of the effects of his combat service, but he never once let on. Instead, he shared with me a passion for adventure and for life itself.

He was the real hero in my world and I treasured him.

And he loved me. Loved spending time with me. When he found out that I had gotten the part of Westley in
The Princess Bride,
he was thrilled. He knew about the book, that it was an adventure story and that I’d be playing a dashing pirate. He was proud of my success, and
he had been really looking forward to visiting the set to see me at work. Particularly seeing the famous duel itself.

Unfortunately, he never got the chance, as he fell ill around that time. When I went to visit him in the hospital he was only semilucid. Age and the medication the doctors had given him had sapped his strength. Nevertheless, as I sat by his side and held his hand, I told him all about the shoot and how fun it had been. About André the Giant. About the swordfight, and how much he would enjoy watching it on the big screen one day. I even shared with him how much of a clot I had been, breaking my toe on the all-terrain vehicle. And then it dawned on me. It seemed as if the roles had been reversed. Here I was, the grandson recounting tales of adventure to the grandfather. At the end of it, I kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Then, unable to fight back the tears, I told him how much I loved him. I realized I was actually having my “As You Wish” moment with him.

It appeared that he understood what I was saying. I’d like to think so, anyway. Sadly, he passed away in the early hours of the following morning, surrounded by his close friends and family.

The next day I shared the news with Rob and some of the cast and crew when I arrived on the set. And pretty soon everyone knew about my loss. They couldn’t have been nicer or more supportive. When I had to leave to attend my grandfather’s funeral in the last week of November, I was supposed to film a scene that day—a wide shot of the Dread Pirate Roberts exiting his boat. But Rob told me not to worry, that I should go “because family always comes first.”

“Don’t sweat it, Cary,” he said. “We’ll use Andy Bradford to double you.”

As I said, when you’re on a movie set, your coworkers can become like your family.

On the 21st of November, I filmed my final scene in the film: the
now famous movie-ending kiss between Westley and Buttercup. That day was a busy one, with the call sheet being peppered with a lot of pick-up shots that were needed, which we would be shooting in various stages on the Shepperton lot. Prior to the kiss scene we shot a scene that actually never ended up in the movie. It was supposed to be an alternate ending where, after Peter Falk leaves the bedroom, Fred Savage picks up
The Princess Bride
book and is looking through it, at which point he hears something outside his window. He goes to open it only to find all four of us—myself, Robin, Mandy, and André—on top of four gray stallions outside his house beckoning him to join us on our next adventure. Kind of like the concept behind
Time Bandits
where the kid’s dreams come true and the fantasy becomes a reality.

It was to be shot against a black backdrop (there were no green screens in those days) and I was provided with a special Lipizzaner stallion in order to do a specific stunt. Lipizzaners are famous for doing special tricks and maneuvers, and I was supposed to get the horse to rear up on its hind legs in a heroic fashion by giving it a certain cue using the heels of my boots. I had practiced for weeks with this horse between sword-training until I got it right, and thankfully the beautiful creature did not let us down when the cameras began rolling. The horse wrangler had also provided this huge Clydesdale horse, the kind you see on Budweiser ads, for André, as that was the biggest they could find. And they had to build some steps for him to use to climb onto the animal. But this Clydesdale, as big as it was, took one look at André and refused to let him sit on his back. So the stunt team, who had prepared for this eventuality, had a standby harness built to André’s specifications brought out, realizing that the only way to get him on this horse was to lower him gently in place while wired to a huge pulley, allowing him to appear to be on the horse without any weight actually touching it.

In the end Rob felt that the idea was too confusing for audiences.
That the two worlds should not meet. And it turned out to be the better choice.

After we finished that shot, it was time for Robin and I to shoot my last scene. Since Mandy and André had to go shoot other scenes with the second unit involving the tavern, I said my good-byes to them after we finished, hugging them both. I believe I became a little misty-eyed when I tried to wrap my arms around André. I couldn’t believe that our journey was coming to an end.

Robin and I were then led over to another part of the soundstage where we were to sit on our horses against a beautiful sunset backdrop and perform the magical kiss. This would be my actual last scene in the film and it couldn’t have been a more appropriate way to end the movie for me. Once again a crowd had gathered to witness the moment. Watching and smiling, maybe dabbing away a tear or two. This last embrace shared by Buttercup and Westley is described thusly by the Grandfather in his narration:

Since the invention of the kiss . . . there have been five kisses that have been rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.

We certainly did our best, Robin and I, to live up to that lofty standard. And, even though Rob would often shoot multiple takes on any given scene until he felt comfortable that he got exactly what he wanted, when it came to this particular kissing scene, Robin and I kept asking for more takes. I think we were actually so giddy we were giggling like a couple of schoolkids.

After the first take, Rob called out, “Cut and print!”

“Ummm, I’m sorry, I didn’t quite feel right about that one, Rob. Can we try again?” I asked sheepishly, stifling a laugh.

Rob just smiled and said, “Sure, Cary. Why not?”

After the second take, again Rob said, “Print that!”

Then Robin asked for another.

“Yeah! We need to go again, Rob, please.”

Then I asked for another.

So it went, three more takes, all of which concluded with the same directive from Rob: “Cut and print!”

We ended up shooting six takes of that kiss. After printing them all, Rob finally turned to Ceri, our script supervisor, and said after the last one, “That’s a beauty! Print that, too.” He then walked up to us on our horses and said:

“Uh, guys? I think we got it!”

Giggles aside, and I can’t speak for Robin, but I could have gone on shooting that scene all day, as I don’t think I wanted the movie to end. It was also a very tender way to end the movie. Sealing it with a kiss, so to speak.

There was a brief silence followed by an overwhelming applause as Rob announced, “Ladies and gentlemen . . . That’s a wrap on Cary Elwes!”

I remember being very moved by this moment and trying hard to control my emotions as I gave a small speech thanking everyone on the
crew and my fellow cast members. I turned to Robin and told her that no one could have personified the inner and outer beauty of Buttercup more wonderfully than she had. And finally, with a frog of unusual size in my throat, I turned to Rob and thanked him for being so incredibly amazing to work with and for making the experience such a joyful one not just for me but for everyone involved, which was followed by the longest bear hug I ever received from him. I ended by saying what was on my mind and perhaps the minds of many, that I wish we could go on shooting the film forever but that, sadly, all good things eventually have to come to an end.

After I was done there were lots of hugs and tears as I said my good-byes to everyone present. Robin came over and hugged me one last time. Of all the people on the film, I think I had bonded with her the most, as nearly all of our scenes in the movie had been just the two of us. I will always love her, and we will always remain close, because what we shared was a unique bond: for that brief, shining moment in time, we
were
Westley and Buttercup. A fairy-tale love that will forever be immortalized on the screen.

After the movie ended, everyone went their separate ways. I don’t even recall if there was a wrap party. I’m sure there was, but I was spending a lot of time with my family, given the loss of my grandfather, and so might have missed it. Or I might simply have been too distracted by grief to go.

I didn’t know how the movie would turn out. I didn’t even know when or where I’d ever see any of these wonderful people again. I felt good about the film and the work we had done. There is no doubt that
we all had boundless faith in Rob’s ability to create something special. But we didn’t really know how it would be received. As an actor, you never know. You finish one job and, if you are as fortunate as I have been in my career, you are on to the next. Maybe
The Princess Bride
would come and go. Maybe it would be just another line on the résumé. Of course, we were all praying it wouldn’t be.

Only time would tell.

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