by Cary Elwes
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.
Pretty scary stuff.
We’d been filming and training five days a week up to that point, but Bob and Peter now declared that Saturday would no longer be a day off.
“Sorry, boys,” I remember Bob saying. “We have to get this right. And we have even less time to do it in.”
So Mandy and I continued to practice and practice until we had carefully plotted out a sequence that would last approximately three minutes total, as per our director’s instructions. It was a little harder for me, as my left foot was still tender, but eventually we felt we had it down cold. By the time Bob and Peter were finally happy with it, we were ready to put it on film.
WALLACE SHAWN
The swordfights took immense discipline and work, and they really did it. I have to say, I was impressed.
We began shooting the scene at 8:30 a.m. on Monday, November 10, on C Stage at Shepperton, which had now been marvelously transformed to look like a castle ruin at the top of the Cliffs of Insanity.
I had a lot of fun days while filming The Princess Bride, but this, for me, was possibly the most memorable. You could feel the magic on the set. There was a palpable sense of excitement and healthy tension.
While Mandy and I warmed up and reviewed the basic choreography with Bob and Peter, the set started getting packed with onlookers. Typically, only the personnel required for a given scene are allowed to watch. But now it seemed that everyone wanted to see us film the swordfight. I swear I saw the studio valet parking guy there, standing at the back with his arms folded, as if to say, entertain me. Even Bill Goldman flew back from New York to see it for himself—as if there weren’t enough pressure.
I’ll admit to having some butterflies in my stomach; they were mostly the good variety, though—the kind you get when you’re excited, not when you think of failing. In fact, I think Mandy and I were so well prepared for this moment, we actually couldn’t wait to get started.
Rob wanted to jump straight into the fight sequence itself and save the long conversation between Inigo and the Man in Black that precedes it—in which Inigo explains his obsession with hunting down the six-fingered man who killed his father—for later. We started with the simple lines: “You seem a decent fellow,” Inigo says as the two men square off. “I hate to kill you.”
“You seem a decent fellow,” the Man in Black replies. “I hate to die.”
If you look at it carefully, the choreography of the piece begins slowly at first, with the two masters testing each other, feeling each other out. Gradually, though, the duel escalates in tempo, speed, and intensity.
ROB REINER
Cary and Mandy had to learn to fence both left-handed and right-handed, and we wanted to make sure that they could design a really cool fencing sequence. So when we finally got to it, I was so proud of the fact that the two of them—I mean, Mandy had started working on it even before we went over to London; he was working on it I think for about four months, and Cary worked for only about two months—I’m very proud of the fact that every single frame of actual sword fighting is both of them. There are no doubles except for the acrobatics when they flip off the bar. The actual swordplay, every single frame, is just the two of them. Left-handed and right-handed. I put it up against any swordfight in movie history.
“You are using Bonetti’s defense against me,” Inigo says, displaying both his knowledge of classic swordsmanship and an appreciation for his opponent. He already knows that this will be a chess match as well as a fight.
“I thought it fitting,” Westley responds with a sly smile, “considering the rocky terrain.”
The beauty of this swordfight, of course, is that it combines the execution of both physical mastery and brilliant dialogue. Goldman has Westley and Inigo exchange gracious, complimentary remarks about their opponent’s tactics and style, even as they try to vanquish one another. In my humble opinion, it has never been equaled. Nor perhaps will it ever be.
“You are wonderful!” Inigo says at one point.
“Thank you,” Westley politely replies. “I’ve worked hard to become so.” (Never a truer line had been spoken!)
And then comes the beautiful moment when Inigo reveals that he is, in fact, not left-handed, and flips the sword into his stronger hand.
“You are amazing!” Westley acknowledges as Inigo pins him against a crumbling rock ledge.
“I ought to be after twenty years,” Inigo replies.
“There is one thing I must tell you,” Westley says.
“What is that?”
“I’m not left-handed, either.”
BILLY CRYSTAL
The swordfight is fantastic. It’s like a very beautiful, old-fashioned—in the best sense of the word—kind of scene.
With that, Westley frees himself, and causes Inigo to lose his sword. Inigo then uses a nearby (and conveniently placed) horizontal bar to perform an acrobatic escape maneuver. In pursuit, Westley does him one better: after throwing his sword expertly so it will stick in the ground, he performs a double giant swing and perfect dismount, landing directly in front of the shocked but impressed Inigo.
“Who are you?” he says, legitimately curious.
“No one of consequence,” the Man in Black responds.
“I must know,” Inigo pleads.
“Get used to disappointment.” One of my favorite Goldman lines.
Mandy then gave the most wonderful unscripted response to this line, a kind of mumbled “Okay” with a little shrug, much like a Spaniard would do, before returning to the duel.
The fight continues, until Westley knocks Inigo’s sword from his hand and holds his blade against the Spaniard’s throat.
“Kill me quickly,” Inigo demands proudly.
But Westley has other plans. “I would as soon destroy a stained-glass window as an artist like yourself; however, since I can’t have you following me, either . . .”
And with that, Westley uses the butt of his sword to knock Inigo unconscious. After my mishap with Chris, it was decided this time that I should walk behind Mandy and swipe the back of his head without actually touching him. An easy “sell” for the camera, and no one would have to go to the hospital. “It’s only a mistake if you don’t learn from it,” as my father used to say.
We did the entire fight sequence from start to finish with Mandy and me (sans the acrobatics, of course) in a sing
le take. Rob captured it on two cameras, from different angles, and I am proud to say, we did not make a single mistake. When we finished, the entire crowd in attendance burst into applause. Bob and Peter were beaming, Goldman was speechless. Only my big toe remained unimpressed.
“Great job, guys!” Rob said. “Fantastic! Now let’s do it again.”
And so we did.
Over and over and over.
One day became two. Two days became three. Three then became four. In all we ended up spending the better part of a week filming the Greatest Swordfight in Modern Times, which I suppose is appropriate. We shot from the front, from the back, wide angles, close-ups, from my point of view, Mandy’s point of view, etc. At one point we even shot seventeen takes from a single angle. All printed. After the tenth take, I remember Rob saying, “Verr-y cool!” in that voice of his.
And then we did seven more.
I remember feeling a true kinship with Mandy that week. The truth is, while we certainly got along very well throughout the production, we really didn’t get to spend a lot of time socializing on the set, as we spent most if not all of our spare time training. By the time we were done with that, and after a long day of shooting, all we wanted to do was go home and soak our weary limbs in a hot bath. During the shooting of the actual fight, however, I remember feeling very close to him. Probably in much the same way that boxers might grow close to each other despite being opponents. We would sit there together between takes, trying to stay hydrated, wiping our faces and hands with towels, talking about what we had done right and wrong, what had worked and what hadn’t worked. Generally helping each other out. We’d go over the things we had been taught: holding the blade correctly, bending our knees, staying limber and loose, and so on. And, most important of all, making sure we were always looking at each other’s eyes.
MANDY PATINKIN
Rob wanted the actors to be seen doing all the fencing. He wanted full-body shots, as opposed to most other fencing pictures, where it would be the point of view of the actors. Where you would see only the hand of the other fencer off camera. In most movies, this would be done by a stunt double. But Rob was adamant that we do all the fighting ourselves. My greatest memory and pleasure, in terms of fencing, was the fact that we became proficient enough to improvise on a dime. I remember on one of the final days of shooting the sequence where we were going up the stairs, changing from the left to the right hand, it didn’t quite work for the camera. And I remember turning to Bob Anderson, a beautiful man, God rest his soul, and he had a suggestion. I said, “Go tell Rob.” And he said, “Oh, no, that’s not my place.” I said, “Bob, he doesn’t know anything about fencing. You’re the guy! You’ve got to tell him.” So Cary and I went over with Bob and Peter and we told him. And Rob took a moment and then said, “Okay, go ahead and fix it. But make it quick!” We only had about twenty minutes, and we rechoreographed that whole sequence, which we had spent weeks choreographing within an inch of its life. We had learned the skill, the basics of fencing, so clearly that Cary and I, with Bob and Peter’s expert guidance, were able to redo the whole sequence up the steps in less than a half hour. That was the highlight of the whole film for me, because we had really learned a skill and we were able to implement it instantly. That was quite thrilling.
If you look closely at the fight scene, you’ll notice that Mandy and I are staring at each other throughout, telegraphing the next move or parry, actually kind of signaling to one another. We had it down to a very precise routine. So much so that the eye triggers basically became supplemental. There was no margin for error. Bob and Peter kept warning us that if we screwed up, it wasn’t so much that the scene would be ruined, your partner might get hurt.
But to our credit we came out cleanly, without so much as a bump or a scratch. And with exactly the scene Rob wanted to capture on film, clocking in at approximately three minutes and ten seconds. A scene that I think did justice to the way it was described on the printed page: The Greatest Swordfight in Modern Times.
MANDY PATINKIN
At one point Rob said, “I want to put the cameras all the way up to the ceiling and do a couple more takes. Are you guys up to it?” This was after we had spent several days doing these fights, and we just jumped at it like wild animals. We did the whole piece without stopping again, like a stage piece. And the only painful moments to me were every time Rob yelled, “Cut! Print!” Because that meant we got it right, and we might not be doing that part again. That was heartbreaking to me. I just didn’t want it to end.
12
ALL GOOD THINGS . . .
It’s true in life, as in the movies, that the greatest highs are often followed by the lowest lows. The day after we finished shooting the sword-fighting scene, I took a day to visit my ailing grandfather in the hospital. He had been diagnosed with diabetes, but it was only after I arrived that I was told that he had taken a turn for the worse.
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.
