It began, perhaps, not on a flickering CRT screen, but on the pages of a script considered one of Hollywood’s finest unproduced treasures for years. William Goldman, already a titan with screenplays like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) under his belt, penned The Princess Bride novel for his daughters, and his subsequent screenplay adaptation became legendary long before cameras rolled. Getting it made was, fittingly, an adventure in itself. But when it finally arrived in 1987, hitting VHS shelves shortly after, it felt less like a calculated studio product and more like discovering a secret, brilliant fairytale someone was finally allowed to tell.
### More Than Just a Kissing Book
Directed by Rob Reiner, who was then on an incredible hot streak following This Is Spinal Tap (1984) and Stand by Me (1986), The Princess Bride masterfully walks a tightrope few films dare to even approach. It’s a swashbuckling adventure, a hilarious comedy, a genuinely moving romance, and a clever deconstruction of fairy tales, all wrapped in one. The framing device – a grandfather (Peter Falk, utterly perfect) reading to his initially skeptical grandson (Fred Savage) – mirrors how many of us might have first encountered it: maybe slightly resistant, expecting something childish, only to be completely won over by its wit and heart. That framing story isn't just fluff; it grounds the fantasy, reminding us of the power of storytelling itself, that feeling of being pulled into another world from the comfort of your own living room, the VCR humming softly nearby.
The core story follows the beautiful Buttercup (Robin Wright, in her luminous film debut) and her devoted farmhand Westley (Cary Elwes). Their "As you wish" romance is torn apart, leading Westley on a path to becoming the fearsome Dread Pirate Roberts, while Buttercup finds herself betrothed to the scheming Prince Humperdinck (Chris Sarandon, relishing the role). This setup allows for a parade of unforgettable characters who feel less like archetypes and more like treasured, slightly eccentric friends.
### A Cast For the Ages (and Quoting Endlessly)
Could anyone else possibly have played Inigo Montoya? Mandy Patinkin imbued the vengeful Spanish swordsman with such fiery passion and poignant vulnerability. His quest to avenge his father, culminating in that iconic line ("Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."), became instantly legendary. Patinkin has often shared how deeply personal that role was, channeling the grief from his own father's passing into the performance, adding a layer of profound sincerity beneath the bravado. It's a performance that resonates long after the credits roll.
And who could forget the gentle giant Fezzik? André the Giant, a true legend in his own right, brought an irreplaceable warmth and physicality to the role. Behind the scenes, his sheer size presented challenges – Rob Reiner has spoken about needing creative ways to film André riding a horse or ensuring his comfort during long shoots – but his presence is utterly essential. His chemistry with Patinkin and Wallace Shawn (playing the perpetually exasperated Vizzini, whose cries of "Inconceivable!" became another beloved catchphrase) is pure comedic gold. Toss in the delightfully quirky Miracle Max and his wife Valerie, played with zany perfection by Billy Crystal and Carol Kane (much of their hilarious dialogue famously improvised), and you have a supporting cast that elevates an already brilliant script.
### The Charm of the Handmade
The Princess Bride was made for a relatively modest $16 million. While it wasn't a box office smash initially (grossing around $30.8 million domestically), its legend grew exponentially on home video. That slightly lower budget, perhaps, contributes to its enduring charm. The Cliffs of Insanity look dramatic, but retain a tangible, almost theatrical quality. The R.O.U.S. (Rodents of Unusual Size) are clearly men in suits, but they work because the film embraces its own delightful artifice. These aren't sleek, CGI-heavy effects; they have the texture and weight of things made, fitting perfectly with the storybook aesthetic. You can almost feel the care put into crafting this world, a feeling often lost in today's blockbusters. It’s a reminder of an era where imagination often had to fill the gaps left by technology, and the results could be magical.
William Goldman's screenplay is the bedrock – endlessly quotable, perfectly paced, and brimming with clever lines that reward repeat viewings. It’s funny without being cynical, romantic without being saccharine, and adventurous without being hollow. Reiner directs with a light touch, letting the script and the performers shine, capturing both the epic sweep and the intimate character moments. Mark Knopfler's evocative score, too, perfectly complements the film's unique blend of romance and adventure.
### Still As You Wish, Decades Later
Revisiting The Princess Bride today feels like catching up with an old, dear friend. It hasn't aged a day in terms of its humor, heart, or sheer enjoyability. It’s one of those rare films passed down through generations, instantly recognizable from just a single quote. It proved that fairy tales weren't just for children, and that sincerity and satire could coexist beautifully. It’s a film born from passion, expertly crafted, and performed with infectious joy. If your worn-out VHS copy finally gave up the ghost years ago, finding it again feels like uncovering buried treasure.
Rating: 9.5 / 10
This rating reflects the film's near-perfect execution. The script is a masterclass, the casting is iconic across the board, and its unique blend of genres creates something truly special and enduring. It hits that sweet spot of smart comedy, genuine romance, and thrilling adventure that few films ever achieve. The slightly dated practical effects are part of its charm, not a detriment. It's simply one of the most purely enjoyable and rewatchable films to ever grace a VCR.