In preparation for this piece, I did a rewatch of course. As I sat there trying to absorb as much as I possibly could– I didn’t want to miss noting even the most minute detail– it suddenly struck me that it’s all over so fast. You can spend days, weeks, months, years fawning over a film you love. You can love it so much it weaves into your personality (here’s where Cameron goes beserk). But in the end it’s just an hour and a half of something extraordinary and then you’re back to your regular life. No amount of obsessive IMDBing can change that. 
That’s where it comes in handy that William Goldman started with the book. There’s a much larger universe in there, and if you can get your hands on one of the many later editions, you’ll find a multitude of multilayered epilogues and other such treasures– like a snippet of Buttercup’s Baby. And then there’s lovely Cary, and his As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales From the Making of The Princess Bride. Just like with the movie, you get the full range of emotions as Mr. Elwes (rhymes with Elvis) lovingly recounts filming with Andre and the steaming hairpiece, the relatably stupid way in which he broke his toe during production, Wallace Shawn’s Danny Devito-inspired torment, endless hours of dutiful fencing with Mandy, and of course a myriad of enchanted descriptions of Robin.
One of the things I love the most about being able to draw– and being able to transfer a fairly unadulterated idea from my head to paper– is that I can say quite a lot without having to actually SAY much at all. The littlest details can shift the earth: the direction of a gaze, the physical distance between two people, the way a lock of hair falls just so. It’s great for me because I have a lot to say, but my mouth and I aren’t always on the same page in the moment. So I’m content to let my work do most of the talking. That’s not to say I won’t ramble on when given the opportunity, but you know, sometimes it’s nice to just step back.
When The Princess Bride was first released, the studio couldn’t figure out how to market it. It was too multifaceted– it was an adventure film, a romance, a drama, a comedy, kinda scary. It was a story within a story. Every age group and every walk of life could find something about it to like. But unfortunately it wasn’t marketed that way. It performed only modestly in theaters. It was only upon home video release that people suddenly got it, and it was given the love and admiration it so deserved. And now, it is a pillar of our pop culture. So there!
“Good night Westley. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”
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