The Princess Bride (1987)

Like most people of my generation, I’ve seen this movie many, many times. I was eight when this came out, and I’m pretty sure my family saw it on the big screen. We’d go on to rent it and eventually tape it off the TV. As an adult, it was one of those movies Lindsay and I considered essential – I don’t recall when we bought it on DVD, but we’ve had a copy for ages. But eventually the DVD just didn’t seem good enough, so I picked up the Criterion blu-ray in a recent sale.

That was the version we introduced our own daughter to, and the quality, as you’d expect, was fantastic. It’s so good, you can clearly see the Christmas tree behind the mother as she talks to Fred Savage. Likewise, there’s no mistaking the winter landscape or holiday decorations on the next-door house outside his bedroom window.

I’d long been aware there was a paper Santa in his room, but on its own this doesn’t necessarily indicate the season (crafts tend to stick around, after all). But along with the other stuff, it’s pretty conclusive: this movie (or at least the frame story) is set on Christmas Day or almost immediately after. This is, under a comically generous definition, technically a Christmas movie.

To be clear, that “technically” is doing an absurd amount of heavy lifting, even more than in the similarly ambiguous fantasy, Jumanji: The Next Level. That movie’s setting was a plot point, the fantasy sequence (again technically) occurred at the same time of year, and there were some thematic links, albeit tenuous ones. The Princess Bride does none of these things. In fact, the holiday backdrop doesn’t appear to have been part of the script, as there are no lines of dialogue acknowledging it. Really, we’re talking about a design choice only affecting set and props.

Though it’s worth noting one of the props is the book Peter Falk reads from, which is wrapped (though the paper is generic enough to leave the cause unclear). The set dressing seeds the idea this is a Christmas present, though it could just as easily have been a birthday or even get well gift (since Savage’s character is mildly ill).

Is that enough to qualify as a Christmas movie? Not in any meaningful sense of the phrase, but by now I hope it’s obvious we’re more interested in the weird border cases, anyway. And this movie certainly serves as an interesting stress test of our rule-of-thumb that any movie set during the holiday counts. Hell, it might even be a counterexample.

So with that in mind, I thought I’d examine the ways this might or might not tie into Christmas movie and story traditions. And also, you know, just talk about it a little, because it’s a goddamn masterpiece and one of the best films of its era.

How good? This movie’s so good, almost no one notices it screws up its protagonists’ arcs completely. Also, the reason it screws up their arcs is because Cary Elwes and Robin Wright’s chemistry is so good the viewer buys into their storybook love, even though we’re not really supposed to. At least not entirely.

These characters are meant to come off as somewhat ridiculous and childish, though – to be fair – a sense of joy and wonder is ultimately supposed to triumph against cynicism in that struggle. But the struggle itself is essentially absent (or at least invisible) in the film, as are Westley and Buttercup’s arcs in which they’re forced to grow up.

All of this is much clearer in the book, assuming I’m remembering right (I read it in high school, which was a long, long time ago). But elements such as the machine that drains life (i.e.: literally makes Westley grow up) or his time spent in the objectively ridiculously childish profession of fantasy pirating make much more sense in this context.

Speaking of piracy…

The whole thing evokes a sense of Peter Pan, which likewise populates a fantasy world with childish elements and is centered around themes of growing up. And, under a somewhat outdated version of the concept, Peter Pan started as a Christmas play, opening during the holiday season. Similar to the way ghost stories were often associated with Christmas whether set then or not, fantasy adventures such as Peter Pan were viewed as having qualities connected to the holidays. You can see elements of this idea enduring in the way Babes in Toyland remains a property connected with Christmas despite having questionable direct connections. All of this is likely an extension of the British pantomime tradition (it's worth observing the audience participation tradition within pantomime isn't entirely dissimilar to the grandson interrupting the story).

Does that have anything to do with the scattered yuletide objects in the frame story of The Princess Bride? Probably not, but that’s not going to stop me from speculating.

Where was I? Australia? No, sorry, I’m thinking of something else. I was talking about character arcs or lack thereof. None of the main characters in the story-in-a-story really grow or change as people: they start as likeable and heroic as they are at the end.

The frame story is a different matter: Fred Savage’s character (simply credited as “The Grandson”) transitions from a cynical outlook to being open to the world. His relationship with his grandfather also evolves over the course of the film. So in that respect, you could argue the frame story is what’s significant to defining the movie, and therefore its holiday setting is sufficient to consider this a Christmas movie.

You could argue that, but it’d be disingenuous nonsense. Peter Falk is fantastic in everything he did and Fred Savage was well cast, but I can’t imagine anyone claiming with a straight face they’re watching this for the two of them. The frame story makes for a fun aside, but the farcical, fantasy adventure love story is what keeps us coming back.

Actually, Mandy Patinkin’s performance as Inigo Montoya is probably the main reason this is considered as a classic. He sells moments that should be absurd as profound and moving. In around half a dozen lines, he convinces the viewer they’re watching the conclusion of an epic tale of revenge. He’s the strongest asset in a movie full of strong assets.

And speaking of strong assets, Andre the Giant’s sincerity makes such a difference to this movie it’s impossible to imagine it without him.

I could go on. The music is beautiful, the fight choreography masterful, and Rob Reiner’s direction is of course perfect. This film is a miracle, and anyone who hasn’t seen it should remedy that at once.

But as much as we might wish this were a Christmas movie, lies do not become us. The holiday elements are entirely relegated to the background, and there’s little indication they were planted as more than a subtle nod to the sense of whimsy associated with the holidays.

In cases like these, I’m finding myself drawn to the subjective test on whether watching this during the holidays would enhance the experience in any meaningful way, and I don’t think that’s the case here. Granted, how could it? The movie is already virtually perfect.