The Princess Bride: Art and Craft
I just watched the Princess Bride again, with my wife and daughter. I love that movie. It has everything you need in a story: adventure, daring, true love, hope, despair, giants, swordplay, pirate, horses, Rats of Unusual Sizes.
Okay, maybe you don’t need all of those, but you need some of them, surely.
As I watch my daughter grow up and begin to write her own first novel, I can’t help but think about the craft and what it takes to put together something that is not only going to keep an audience’s attention, but keep them on the edge of their seats until the closing credits. (okay, that and the fact I just turned in my third Sarah Beauhall novel to New York).
Before the movie was over, my daughter was leaning against me — something she hasn’t done in a while, now that she’s a teenager. There is something about the romance of Buttercup and Wesley that tugs the heart strings, true (that’s what I think she likes best). But I think it’s Inigo Montoya’s story that carries the story. He’s spent his whole life trying to right a wrong. He’s dedicated every possible moment from the instance his father died until his adulthood, trying to not just kill the man who killed his father — that in itself is worthy of a story — but he what he wants more than anything is to have his father back.
That’s power, ladies and gentlemen. That gut-wrenching need he expresses just as he kills the six-fingered man is so visceral, so heart-stoppingly overwhelming, that the rest of the movie falls to window dressing.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the romance. And the humor, my God. The writing is brilliant.
But that one character, that one dramatic through line that drags him through his life and through this story really is the most compelling aspect of the movie.
At least for me. I’m sure some of you will disagree. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I never got to know my own father. Losing him when I was only 2 years old has shaped my perspective when it comes to story, that’s for sure.
If you are struggling with your own stories, frustrated with craft and just ready to toss the keyboard aside and throw your hands into the air out of frustration, pop in this movie. Check out how utterly simple the plot threads are. How fairly shallow the characters and how derivative the plot.
Then you’ll see how a simple story, when approached with passion and empathy, can become a fine piece of art that touches the audience in ways you may have never dreamed.
And isn’t that why we tell stories?