The Princess Bride

While home sick in bed, a young boy’s grandfather reads him a story called The Princess Bride.

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The Princess Bride is everything an adventure film should be, and yet it slipped past my childhood unnoticed. I suppose that’s because it’s a cult film. Eurgh, I hate that phrase, but I’m using it (I suppose) to emphasise the modesty of its success upon release, and its quotability. It’s a film people go to midnight screenings of – half to actually watch the film, half to enjoy the company of other “cultists”.

Give it a few more viewings, and I’m sure it will enter the ranks of films I can quote confidently, accurately, and pedantically – perhaps someday even reaching the dizzying heights of Mean Girls.

On a slightly more dorky level, I really liked the production. Like in Ben-Hur, the grandness of the sets awards instant kudos to The Princess Bride. I’m reluctant to say they don’t make them like this anymore… Some of the best films of 2015 alone have had marvellous, lavish, impressive sets. But rarely is a set as charming as the characters inhabiting it. And the kudos earned there do more to forgive small errors than anything else can.

The Princess Bride

I didn’t realise until Googling the film who Rob Reiner was. Turns out, he’s the guy in The Wolf of Wall Street who loses his shit every time the phone rings. “Who has the god damn gall to call this house on a Tuesday night?!”

Anyway, unlike my parents, I’ll make sure The Princess Bride is a film my own children grow up with.

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