by Cary Elwes
For three days straight and ten hours a day, Billy improvised thirteenth-century period jokes, never saying the same thing or the same line twice. Such was the hilarity of his ad-libbing that he actually caused Mandy to injure himself while fighting to suppress the need to laugh. Therefore you can only imagine what it did to me and to Rob, who had to leave the set because his boisterous laugh was ruining too many early takes.
BILLY CRYSTAL
The real joy was that the work itself was fantastic. The craziness of the movies—and it only happens in movies, or at Halloween—is that we go to lunch and there’s Carol, all made up, and I’m with a giant, Mandy, the six-fingered guy, and we’re all sitting down to have lunch together in the middle of the studio commissary. It was hilarious. It just was hilarious. I couldn’t not be in character. Once you have the stuff on, you can’t not be in character. So I’d order lunch in character as Max, and it was like, “How is the shepherd’s pie? Is it spicy? Will I regret it in the morning?” And the waitress would be like, “No, sir, I think it’s quite lovely.” “Well, yeah, but you don’t know my colon.”
Some of the improvs made it into the film. For example, when Max opens the peep door, the original script called for him to say merely, “The king’s stinking son fired me . . . ,” in response to Inigo asking whether he is the same Miracle Max “who worked for the king all those years.”
To better illustrate his character’s bitterness toward the king, Billy decided to add the line “And thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you’re at it, why don’t you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?”
He also came up with the twisted notion of rating “true love” on a scale of the most important things in life with a sandwich.
BILLY CRYSTAL
We did some improvisation. I don’t know exactly how much. It’s so long ago. Rob totally let me go, but first of all, it was a very good scene to begin with. I think Rob wanted me to do it because I could bring flourishes. And it all worked really great.
“Sonny, true love is the greatest thing in the world . . . except for a nice MLT—mutton, lettuce, and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is nice and lean and the tomato is ripe.”
André, dummy me, Billy, and Mandy
A quote that has since followed him in some form or variation into every deli and restaurant for the rest of his life.
BILLY CRYSTAL
How could you not have fun? You’ve got a “mostly dead guy,” a giant, and Mandy, and Carol. And a director who loved to laugh. The only problem with Rob is, he laughs. So sometimes he would ruin takes because he would laugh so hard that we’d have to say, “Go off the set! Go off the set!” He would just let me play around and find things, which happened that day: “mutton, lettuce, and tomato”—that’s all stuff that just happened.
Some of the funniest takes were just too blue, which is why they ended up on the cutting room floor. After all, The Princess Bride is a family-friendly PG film, meant to be appropriate and enjoyable for viewers of nearly all ages, so as you can imagine we really couldn’t have Max comparing true love to a vigorous bowel movement, funny though it was. Nor could you have him explain his foul mood by saying, “Don’t rush me, sonny. I had a difficult night last night. I found my nephew with a sheep!” which couldn’t have been used anyway since the entire crew, and especially Rob, lost it after he delivered the line.
In fact, these lines and countless others led to unusable takes ruined by us all giggling, and if you go to YouTube to find the outtakes, you can hear us all cracking up. For those of us who had never worked with him before, we realized that all Billy needs is a receptive audience and there is just no stopping him.
In some ways I had the most difficult task of all, as I had to present the illusion of someone who is supposed to be “mostly dead.” Rob told me that I could not move at all. Not even a twitch. I wasn’t even supposed to look like I was breathing, let alone laughing, as the camera would be able to see my chest moving. But the insanity of trying not to laugh while Billy was doing his ancient Yiddish stand-up would prove impossible even for me. I think he was actually trying to make me crack up during my one line in the scene when he pushes air out of my stomach, and guess what? He succeeded.
I just couldn’t do it. After I had botched a number of takes, the decision was made to replace me on the table with the rubber dummy that André had been carrying around. I had to join Rob at a monitor set up in the hallway outside the soundstage where we had both now been banished by the sound department for laughing too much.
And it should also be noted that Carol truly enhanced the magic of all of her moments with her improvising as well. She created the whole bit with Billy regarding the chocolate-covered pill, bringing it to a level of hilarity that stands up to this day—offering helpful tips regarding ingestion and dosage:
MANDY PATINKIN
It was one of the most joyous times, certainly of my life. I can only speak for myself, but one wondered why we were getting paid and not paying them! The only injury I sustained in the film was off camera, when I was delivering lines to Billy Crystal in the Miracle Max scene. Cary was dead on the table, André was there, and I was off camera standing next to Rob, giving Billy his cue lines. And Rob couldn’t take it; he was laughing on every take. He didn’t want it on the sound track, so he had to leave the set after he called action. And I was stuck there, having to hold it together, while feeding Billy his lines. I literally bruised a rib from holding in my laughter. That’s the only injury I got on the whole film. And, as I’m sure you well know, we did all the stunts ourselves.
VALERIE:
“The chocolate coating makes it go down easier—but you have to wait fifteen minutes for full potency. And you shouldn’t go in swimming after for at least . . . what?”
MAX:
“An hour.”
VALERIE:
“Yeah.”
MAX:
“A good hour.”
* * *
I have found that some of the most famous lines from the movie are quoted not only when people are thinking or talking about The Princess Bride but also when they find themselves in circumstances entirely at odds with the whimsical tone of the film.
My favorite story about this involves a man and his son whom I met while I was filming a movie in Rochester, New York. The father told me how the movie actually saved him from going insane.
I always have time for fans but this guy definitely piqued my interest.
“How, if you don’t mind my asking?”
He proceeded to explain that he had been on active duty in the military and had recently returned from a long deployment in Iraq. His base had been located in a highly dangerous area. There were lots of snipers, IEDs, and mortar fire, he told me. And after losing a lot of his comrades, morale among the unit had sunk to an all-time low. So every night from that point on, before the soldiers went out in their Humvees to secure the perimeter or go on patrol, their commanding officer would give them their orders and send them on their way with these words: “Have fun storming the castle!”
CAROL KANE
There are so many opportunities for anything to fall apart that hopefully you can take real joy in the process, because that’s all you have. Anything else is just some extra added incredible bonus. What I took away with me was that this process was just twinkling in some way, that this group of people that I was in that room with, each and every one of them, were so extraordinary and so extraordinarily well cast that each day was delicious and valuable, and I was very grateful. I think that’s the odd thing about the movie: we all felt that way.
“Thanks to your movie we were all able to complete our mission on that base, as our CO was able to always make us smile before heading out. And that did a lot for morale.”
I was very moved by his story. I guess you just never know how your work can affect people.
* * *
The only two actors from Rob’s Traveling Circus the cast
didn’t get to spend a lot of time with were Peter Falk and Fred Savage. The scenes between Fred as the sickly grandson being read to by his grandfather, played by Peter, were shot just a few doors down on L stage, long after most of us had wrapped the movie. And, although I never got to work with them or even watch their scenes, I just want to acknowledge just how marvelous I think they both are in the movie. I was not aware of Fred’s talent at the time but had, of course, caught many episodes of Colombo as a kid. Their moments together really anchor the whole movie and they are played with such loving tenderness that, for me they are some of the most moving ones in the film. Falk, incidentally enough, was concerned that he wasn’t actually “old” enough to play the part of the grandfather convincingly, being fifty-nine at the time. And he apparently arranged for the makeup department to put prosthetics on his face to make him look older. But after he saw the dailies, he turned to Rob and said he thought he looked like a “burn victim.”
CAROL KANE
I think my first day of shooting the makeup took something like nine hours. So I was sitting up in this chair and they were shooting already, and doing the parts of the scene that I’m not in. It was very frightening for me because they had all been working together for several hours before I was allowed out of the makeup chair. But then it just was so much fun and you know certain things were improvised, like the thing about the chocolate. But, of course, Billy is the master at that. The absolute master. It was almost impossible not to laugh.
FRED SAVAGE
I remember Peter was in older makeup and he felt like it made him look too old. So we had to shoot it again with different makeup to make him look younger. He was so wonderful. No one was kinder and more patient, and made me feel more comfortable than Peter. Honestly, I don’t even remember when we were shooting or when we weren’t shooting. He would sit in that chair, and I would be in that bed, and he would talk to me all day. I grew very fond of him. Over the years he and I remained in contact. I had great affection for him. I was so devastated, as so many people were, when he passed away. That’s what I remember more than anything: Peter and his warmth. I forgot all about acting or even shooting a movie. He just kind of became my grandfather.
10
A COUPLE OF MISHAPS
Filmmaking is not an inherently risky business, especially for those of us fortunate enough to be working in front of the camera. And, unless you are Tom Cruise, it is usually stuntmen and -women who handle the vast majority of tasks that could by any stretch of the imagination be considered dangerous. And even then, every precaution is taken to ensure the safety and health of everyone concerned. That’s why there are safety meetings where the first AD and the stunt coordinator explain the stunts to the cast and crew and how to keep them and anyone else from getting injured.
That said, if you’re young and reckless enough, you can probably find a way to get banged up in the course of filming a movie. Which is precisely what happened to me on the set of The Princess Bride.
Twice, in fact, although in the interest of full disclosure I should point out that only one of the injuries was incurred while I was actually working.
The first injury happened while I was simply behaving like someone whose sense of adventure exceeded his aptitude.
It happened in late September, while we were shooting the scene where the Man in Black taunts Buttercup about her true love for the Farm Boy, with the line “Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.”
Another priceless Goldman gem.
Little did I know that I would experience true, agonizing “pain” only moments before I could deliver the line. Moreover, I would be the one trying to “sell something” different, just to cover my butt.
The spot that Rob chose to shoot this sequence was high up on a hilltop above a sheer ravine in a place called Cave Dale in Derbyshire. André happened to be there, as he was practicing with his stunt double, Terry Richards, for our fight scene later on. Early in the shoot it became apparent to the crew that it was going to be difficult to get André to any of these exterior sets since his size prevented him from fitting into the transpo van and his health precluded him from walking to and from the many steep, mountainous locations we were using. Therefore, production decided to rent him an all-terrain vehicle (somehow they found one big enough to accommodate him), and he just loved it. I’ll never forget the image of André darting around on his ATV, laughing loudly—the already noisy machine groaning from the weight of him. It was a sight to behold. He could bring the whole crew to a standstill. What really made it compelling was that he clearly had a great command of the vehicle and knew what he was doing.
“I have one just like it on my farm at home,” he explained to me one day. “It’s fun, boss. You should try it sometime.”
For reasons related to both the acknowledged rules of professional conduct and general self-preservation, I politely declined. Actors in the midst of a movie production are expected to refrain from activity that might in any way jeopardize their ability to perform in the film. This includes a broad range of activities, from the merely stupid to the outright dangerous. Generally speaking, these things would normally be written into a contract, which is understandable, really. If you are a movie studio investing millions of dollars in a movie, you have a right to expect that your star (again, unless you are Tom Cruise) will not go off bungee-jumping, skydiving, parasailing, rock climbing, dune-buggying, or ATV off-roading in the middle of the production. Even though there may have been a clause in my contract stating as much, common sense dictated that I exercise prudence and caution when it came to these things.
But André didn’t give up.
“No, boss, really. It’s easy. You’ll like it.”
I remember walking back from lunch to one of the transpo vans that would drive us all up the steep hill to begin shooting, and I noticed André sitting on his four-wheeler by the side of the road, chatting with Terry. As I neared the van, I heard that big booming voice call out to me.
“Hey, boss! Come here!”
I sensed what was coming next, but I walked over anyway.
“You want to try my toy? C’mon. You know you want to.”
I don’t know what came over me—what possible reason there might have been to throw caution and prudence to the wind—but suddenly I could hear these words escaping my lips.
“Sure, why not?”
Within a matter of seconds I was sitting astride the great vehicular beast, which seemed significantly larger and more powerful up close than it had from a safe distance. I should have known better, not only for the aforementioned reasons but also because I had no experience whatsoever on an ATV.
Terry, who was responsible for shepherding the vehicle when André wasn’t using it, gave me a quick tutorial.
“Clutch is right here,” he said. “Put your foot on it like this”—he pressed down with his own foot, then released the clutch. “Brakes are up here.” He then squeezed the brakes on the handlebars. “It’s just like a motorbike.”
“Oh, okay. Cool,” I said as he started up the engine. It was indeed loud. Louder when you are actually on it. A big grin came over André’s face. He was happy to see me about to venture off on my first ATV ride. I had no helmet or protective vest. In fact, I was armed with nothing but hubris.
I released the clutch, and rather than easing slowly off the mark, the way it had when André had driven it, the ATV lurched forward, practically throwing me from the saddle. I held on for dear life, like a rodeo cowboy leaving the stall on a bucking bronco. It must’ve been a comical sight to the bewildered crew, watching me awkwardly try to master this four-wheeled bike. After a minute or so, I got my bearings and began to feel a bit more comfortable, so I foolishly decided to shift gears. As I applied the gas, the vehicle bounced over a thick patch of rocks, and my foot slipped from the clutch and became wedged between the pedal and one of the rocks, which caused the engine to sputter and stall. I looked down to see that the big toe o
n my left foot was bent straight downward.
If this sounds painful, believe me, it was. I let the pain wash over me in excruciating waves. I can still feel it to this day as I remember it.
It’s an odd and no doubt particularly male reaction to feign indifference when confronted with injury in a public setting, especially when that injury is the by-product of one’s own foolish behavior. I looked back to see Terry rushing toward me, along with several concerned members of the crew.
As they drew near, I held up a hand and tried to smile through the pain.
“I’m fine. It’s all good . . .”
But I was merely trying to put on a brave front—kind of like the Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail proclaiming, “It’s only a flesh wound!” after having his legs hacked off.
In reality, the throbbing in my foot was starting to build in intensity. But the initial pain and shock quickly gave way to sheer panic. This was a major shooting day for me. One where I would have to do a lot of walking around. Even running. Not to mention the daily fencing practice. How the heck was I going to fake that? I was so scared and nervous, not only that I’d probably get a serious talking-to from Rob for being so stupid and irresponsible but maybe I’d even be replaced. After all, how could I swordfight if I could barely even walk? So out of utter fear, I did the dumbest thing I could have done. I pleaded with those present not to say anything.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
They could clearly see that I was not. A medic was summoned, and, fortunately for me, like most medics, she was also a trained nurse. She carefully removed my black suede boot and sock, an enormously painful process in itself, and then tenderly studied my swollen big toe, which was pointing at an odd angle.
“Does that hurt?” she said, touching it gently.
“Mmm-hmm.” I winced, clenching my teeth. “A little . . .”
