by Cary Elwes
“I swear it will be done!”
Moments after Humperdinck leaves with Buttercup, Westley notices the strange glove worn by Rugen.
“You have six fingers on your right hand,” Westley says. “Someone was looking for you. He was . . .”
But before he can finish his sentence, Rugen cuts him off by hitting him over the head with the butt of his sword, knocking him unconscious.
I know I have said this about everyone in the cast, but it is true: Chris Guest is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. He is also one of the funniest. You only have to look at his body of work before and after The Princess Bride to know that. This Is Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman, Best in Show, A Mighty Wind, and For Your Consideration, to name but a few. For me, all I have to do is look at his face and I crack up. The man is a comic genius. Which only made his portrayal of Count Tyrone Rugen even more impressive. Of all the actors who performed in The Princess Bride, I would say Chris is the one who had the least in common with his character. Ironically, given that he is such a great comedian, Chris only has one funny line in the whole movie, when he says to Humperdinck, “Get some rest. If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.”
CHRISTOPHER GUEST
Movie stunts involving contact with weapons or fists require a certain technical way of shooting them. Like when Mandy slashed his sword across my face in our duel, depending on the camera angle we could fake that because when we were shooting over my shoulder onto him, you could see the sword coming toward the camera. But when we shot the reverse, the sword was actually nowhere near my face, even though it looked like it was because of the specific angle. It’s a trick, basically. It’s like when people punch each other in movies where you technically have the actor turn away from the camera, which helps “sell” it. This was quite different, because there was no way to do that in this case. There was nowhere for Cary to actually turn given that the butt of the sword was coming straight down on his head.
For the most part Rugen is a sadist. Chris, however, wouldn’t hurt a fly, gentle fellow that he is. So when it came to doing this particular stunt, he was concerned about even touching me with the sword. That’s because his sword was a real sword. There was no rubber “double” on hand to use for the stunt. It was an actual metal weapon—dense and heavy. As a result, during the first couple of takes, it was obvious that Chris was holding back; I could barely feel the handle tapping my skull, which made it difficult to react appropriately. We tried it a few times, but our camera operator, Shaun O’Dell, told Rob that he could see that the sword was not touching my head and that I was reacting either too soon or too late. That’s when I made a fatal error in judgment by opening my big mouth with a silly suggestion. One that I would come to regret.
“You know what, Chris,” I said, “why don’t you just go ahead and give me a slight tap on the head. Just hard enough that I’ll get the feeling and then I think the timing will work.”
Understandably, Chris was initially reluctant. As was Peter Diamond, who was on hand to coordinate the stunt. Eventually, though, it was decided after a couple of rehearsals that he could put a little force behind the blow, just enough to help me “sell” it. So we started to roll . . .
“Turnover!”
“Sound speed!”
“One forty. Take five!”—Clap! went the clapperboard.
“And . . . action!” yelled Rob.
Chris swung the heavy sword down toward my head. However, as fate would have it, it landed just a touch harder than either of us anticipated. And that, folks, was the last thing I remember from that day’s shoot. In the script Bill’s stage directions from the end of this scene state:
The screen goes black. In the darkness, frightening sounds.
Which is precisely what happened.
I woke up in the emergency room, still in costume, to the frightening sound of stitches being sewn into my skull. From the same doctor, no less, who had treated me only a few weeks earlier for my broken toe. I remember him saying to me after I came to, “Well, Zorro! You seem to be a little accident prone, don’t you?”
And of course Chris felt absolutely terrible about the whole thing, even though I kept telling him it wasn’t his fault. It was my dumb idea. But you know what? That particular take was the one that ended up in the film. So when you see Westley fall to the ground and pass out, that’s not acting. That’s an overzealous actor actually losing consciousness.
The next day on set, the cast and crew went out of their way to make sure I was okay. I’m not sure whether I was admired for suffering for my art, or looked upon as a bit of a nut, given that I actually asked another actor to hit me with a real medieval sword. I do know that I already felt like I had become part of a rather large and diverse family, if a bit of a clumsy, accident-prone addition.
CHRISTOPHER GUEST
Cary was hurt. I cut his head, I believe, with the bottom of the sword. I’m not sure if it was a real sword or not. It might’ve been a real sword. But the handles were real, in any case, even if the blades weren’t. Basically I just came down and actually hit him!
On the 26th of October, 1986, we shot part of the sequence where the Man in Black climbs up the fake Cliffs of Insanity back on C Stage at Shepperton. After we wrapped I headed to my dressing room and went about the process of changing from Westley back into Cary. I washed my face, dressed back into my regular clothes, packed up my script bag, and got ready to head home.
I usually like to listen to music when I unwind from a day’s work. And, after Rob told me that Mark Knopfler had agreed to score the movie, I began listening to Brothers in Arms by Dire Straits, which had come out only the year before. I recall becoming hooked on the album all over again. And on the title track in particular. Rob told me that Knopfler had only one request before agreeing to do the film: that Rob had to find a way to place Marty DiBergi’s USS Coral Sea baseball cap that he wore in Spinal Tap somewhere in the movie. Clearly Tom Petty and Sting weren’t the only rock stars who had a special place in their hearts for the mockumentary. For those of you who never spotted it, the hat can be seen on a shelf in Fred Savage’s bedroom.
According to the liner notes on the Princess Bride album, Knopfler stated that he “was only kidding about the hat.” But Rob is the kind of guy who loves a challenge. Especially if it’s a fun one.
Just as I was leaving my dressing room in my regular clothes after switching off the tape deck (this was the ’80s, after all), one of the assistant directors came running up to me.
“Cary, sorry,” he said out of breath. “They need you back on the set.”
“Oh. I thought I was wrapped?”
“They need to get one more shot, and they need to do it quickly. Can you get dressed again?”
“Okay. But just let them know it’s going to take a little while,” I said, “as I’ll need to put makeup on again.”
The AD continued breathlessly. “Rob said not to worry about that. It’s a wide shot so no one will notice. They just need you in your costume.”
ROB REINER
I had a good friend named Bobby Colomby, a record producer and a really cool guy who used to be the drummer for Blood, Sweat & Tears. So I told him, “I want to get a different take on this, you know? I want a traditional score but I also want it to have a modern feel to it, too.” And it was he who suggested Mark Knopfler. I knew Mark had done the score for Local Hero, so I said, “Geez, that would be great because he has such a distinctive guitar sound.” Mark said he would only do it if I put the cap I wore in Spinal Tap somewhere in the set. So if you look closely in the scenes where Peter Falk is reading the book, you’ll see it in the background.
This sounded a bit strange, but not unusual. On a film it is rare but not out of the ordinary to be called back to set if the director suddenly realizes he needs another shot. Even after you have returned to your hotel sometimes. So I went into my dressing room, put my costume back on, grabbed my mask, sword, and gloves, and headed back wi
th the AD to the soundstage.
As I walked onto the set, the first thing I noticed was a distinct lack of movement. Everyone was just milling about. They weren’t working. They were just standing there . . . as if waiting for something to happen.
Then everyone turned to face me, revealing what they had actually been hiding—a large cake with The Man in Black crafted in icing and lit candles. They all smiled and yelled:
“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
THE GREATEST SWORDFIGHT IN MODERN TIMES
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.
CHRISTOPHER GUEST
It took a lot of work for people who had never done that. And I had never done it, so it took a long time to prepare. We trained with these carbon fiber blades, because they’re lighter. You don’t use real metal swords because they’re too heavy. And then they put in the sound later. In rehearsal with Mandy, I actually got stuck in the thigh; the point went right into my leg. And I thought, Oh, well this hurts. After that, I approached it where I was basically actually defending myself. It’s a strange thing. We had our swordfight in this eleventh-century castle, and it really was like a kid’s dream, to be in a costume and having a swordfight in a place where they probably had a swordfight five hundred years ago. And I was making the sounds when we were fighting. The sounds that the swords would make, as you would when you were a kid—“Ch-ch!”—and Rob yelled, “Cut!” I said, “What? What’s going on?” And he said, “Chris, we’ll put the sounds in later.” That got a huge laugh. The place just exploded, but it would be the perfect sort of thing a kid would do.
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:
CHRISTOPHER GUEST
What’s unusual about this film is that so many people had great turns to do. You look at the richness of these parts and virtually everyone gets to do something that’s memorable in the movie. That’s very unusual and it speaks to the strength of the script and a way of approaching a movie where if all the parts are good and they’re done well, it’s going to be so much better than just having two stars and weaker supporting roles. That’s a disaster, and it takes the whole thing down. And it happens a lot, unfortunately.
“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.
&n
bsp; 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.