The Princess Bride review – golden-age throwback glows brighter than ever
After
30 years, the wit, fun, charm and idealism are fresher than ever. The
Princess Bride, adapted by William Goldman from his novel and directed
by Rob Reiner, now makes a brief reappearance in UK cinemas. Catch it
while you can. My colleague Hadley Freeman has a magisterial chapter on
it in her memoir of 1980s Hollywood, Life Moves Pretty Fast,
showing how it made possible fairytale homages and Shrek and Frozen and
also affected the language of irony and comedy in the television pop
culture that came afterwards. It’s a movie that manages to be both a
pastiche and a fervently real love story. The Princess Bride is an
organically grown comedy romance from an analogue age: different from
the genetically modified, digital creations that came along later. And
there is a specific kind of poignancy given how two of its stars have
since achieved new fame in TV dramas of cynicism and disillusionment:
Robin Wright with House of Cards and Mandy Patinkin in Homeland.
Cary Elwes plays the impossibly handsome farmhand Westley who is devoted
to the beautiful, headstrong young noblewoman who capriciously bosses
him about on her country estate: this is the whimsically named
Buttercup, beguilingly played by Wright. They fall in love, but are
instantly sundered by a political conspiracy planned by the deplorable
Prince Humperdinck (Chris Sarandon), who has his own designs on
Buttercup’s person, and his loathsome attendant Count Rugen (Christopher
Guest). Westley and Buttercup are also to encounter the cynical plotter
Vizzini (Wallace Shawn) but they also find two true friends: hot-headed
Spanish swordsman Inigo Montoya (Patinkin) and the man-mountain Fezzik,
lovably and unselfconsciously played by the 7ft 4in wrestler André the
Giant.
The comedy has something of Douglas Adams, Monty Python and Mel
Brooks, but Reiner and Goldman ensure that the gags and comedy style are
always lightly handled, laugh-lines delivered modestly, and all
subordinate to a story told absolutely straight. It’s an adventure which
reaches back to golden-age Hollywood and the devil-may-care world of
Douglas Fairbanks or Tyrone Power playing Zorro, or Errol Flynn playing
Robin Hood.
Perhaps the most striking thing now about The Princess Bride is the
framing device: it’s a story being told by a kindly grandfather, played
by Peter Falk – but to a little boy, not a little girl. There isn’t the
same gender stereotyping you’d find if the story were pitched today, and
despite the title, The Princess Bride
is not a tweeny sleepover movie like Frozen. Buttercup is not indulged
with lonely monologues, and there is no great interest in how she feels.
What counts with her is bold and resourceful action.
The location work and production design are wonderful and the funny
situations are glorious: it’s an inspired moment when poor Buttercup
disappears into quicksand and Westley dives in to save her – and we, the
audience, are left up at ground level, tensely wondering what can be
happening down there. It’s a nutritious pleasure to see The Princess
Bride back on the big screen.
Comments
Post a Comment