A Few Words on William Goldman

I feel another serious homily coming on, having just seen Oliver Stone's interesting revisionist US history documentaries on Netflix, and being reminded of the astonishing book by Daniel Ellsberg last year, The Doomsday Machine: Confessions of a Nuclear War Planner.

However, before I get into that, I thought we needed a lighter article - especially after the last one on Covid-19 - so here are a few words on one of my favourite screenwriters: William Goldman, who died a few years ago.

William Goldman is, as Neil Young would say, "an inneresting guy" (actually, so is he, maybe we'll do him later). Anyway, Goldman wrote only a couple of handfuls of screenplays, but almost all of them are very good, and some are simply spectacular. The ones I generally regard as the cream of his output are:

• Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) - that was his Oscar

• Marathon Man (1976)

• All The President's Men (1976)

• The Princess Bride (1987)

Several other scripts which I’m sure you will recognise, that are also good films (although I personally feel would have to be regarded as his second canon), include: Heat (186), Misery (1990), Absolute Power (1997), Masquerade (1965), Harper (1966), Magic (1978), The Great Waldo Pepper (1975), A Bridge Too Far (1977), The Ghost and the Darkness (1996) and The General's Daughter (1999).

Then there is another set of movies for which he is generally agreed to have 'worked on', albeit uncredited, such as the good (A Few Good Men, Good Will Hunting) the not quite so good (Indecent Proposal, Fierce Creatures, Extreme Measures, Malice) and the ugly (Twins, Last Action Hero, Maverick).

He was, apparently, an occasionally irascible character, and his popularity waned temporarily after he wrote a few scrips that were not produced - Wikipedia calls this his "leper period" after a comment he once made. During this stage he started writing books, one might call them exposés that, not quite satirised and vilified Hollywood, but which came close and would have made him few new friends in the 'business'. These books included:

• Adventures in the Screen Trade (1983)

• Hype and Glory (1990)

• Which Lie Did I Tell? (2000)

Nevertheless, he became to be regarded as somewhat of a legend with a Midas touch - which is why he was asked to assist on so many other later works.

What is remarkable about the major works is not just they they are uniformly excellent, but that they are so varied in their genre and approach; however, what they undoubtedly have in common is that they form an effective masterclass in screenplay structure and dialogue.

First we have Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid which I saw at the age of 15 and thought was just captivating, fun and well written - and funny. It also had a headline pair in Paul Newman and Robert Redford at a stage when they just exuded good look and easy charm, 'golden gods' if you will. Apparently it took eight years' research to get the script the way that Goldman wanted it, but as he followed the true history and in the end the 'heroes' both run away, and get killed, studios initially weren't interested. As one executive said "John Wayne don't run away".

Originally Steve McQueen and Paul Newman were scheduled to play Butch and Sundance, in that order. McQueen was then replaced by Redford, and their roles were switched. In production, whilst Paul Newman, Robert Redford and the director George Roy Hill all got on extremely well; Katherine Ross irritated the director on the first day of shooting, and their relationship never recovered. Meanwhile, the guys spent their spare time drinking beer and playing practical jokes on each other: at one point Newman had George Roy Hill's desk sawn in half when he borrowed liquor and failed to replace it.

The film won an Oscar, nine BAFTAs and has been selected for inclusion in US National Film Library by the Library of Congress for being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". The song "Raindrops Keeps Falling On My Head" was a popular song used in the film, and in fact the entire score was also written by Bert Bacharach.

William Goldman was offered a choice of how to be compensated: a $450,000 flat fee, or $400,000 plus a percentage of the box office - either initial payment was handsome by 1968 standards, when $20,000 a year was considered a good middle class income. Goldman opted for the sure thing and took the $450,000. He regretted his choice because this became the top grossing film of 1969, and eventually earned over $100 million at the box office just in North America.

The dialogue was so much fun that bits of it still linger in the mind all these decades later:

Butch & Sundance: "Who are those guys?!"

Butch: I'll jump first. Sundance: Nope. Butch: Then you jump first. Sundance: No, I said! Butch: What's the matter with you?! Sundance: I can't swim! Butch: [laughing] Why, you crazy — the fall'll probably kill ya!

Harvey: Guns or knives? Butch: Neither. Harvey: Pick! Butch: I don't wanna shoot with ya, Harvey. Harvey: [pulling out a large Bowie knife] Anything you say, Butch. Butch: [low voice, to Sundance] Maybe there's a way to make a profit in this. Bet on Logan. Sundance: I would, but who'd bet on you?'

Harvey: Sundance, when we're done and he's dead, you're welcome to stay. Butch: [low voice, to Sundance] Listen, I don't mean to be a sore loser, but when it's done, if I'm dead, kill him. Sundance Kid: [low voice to Butch] Love to. [waves to Harvey and smiles] Butch: No, no, not yet, not until me and Harvey get the rules straightened out. Harvey: Rules? In a knife fight? No rules! [Butch kicks Harvey in the groin] Butch: Well, if there ain't going to be any rules, let's get the fight started. Someone count. 1,2,3 go. Sundance: 1,2,3, go! '['Butch knocks Harvey out]

Butch: What happened to the old bank? It was beautiful. Guard: People kept robbing it. Butch: Small price to pay for beauty.

Then there is the film, from eponymous novel, that has I'm sure been the bane of dentists every since: Marathon Man. A great cast, great acting and with Marthe Kellers's delicious overbite much in evidence - here was another treat.

The two stars were very different people, and very different kinds of actors; reportedly, after Dustin Hoffman stayed up for days' at a time to appear truly out of his mind and in physical pain for the film's famous torture scenes, Olivier simply said to him, "My dear boy, why don't you just try acting". The torture scene was originally even longer, but it was cut after some members of preview audiences had to leave.

Hoffman's 'method acting' also meant that, during the scene where the heavies try to drown Babe in the bathtub, he insisted upon being made to stay underwater as long as possible to make it real. Several takes were done and Hoffman insisted on being kept down longer in the water. By the end of the scene, he had to be given oxygen. In his own words "I said 'Don't press on my Adam's apple, but try to really hold me under. Let me see how long I can stay under. Let me see if I can fight you. Let me see what happens".

Goldman was paid a reported $500,000 for the film rights to his novel and to do a screenplay, before the novel had even been published.

Szell: Is it safe? [pause] Is it safe? Babe: You're talking to me? Szell: Is it safe? Babe: Is what safe? Szell: Is it safe? Babe: I don't know what you mean. I can't tell you something's safe or not, unless I know specifically what you're talking about. Szell: Is it safe? Babe: Tell me what the "it" refers to. Szell: Is it safe? Babe: Yes, it's safe, it's very safe, it's so safe you wouldn't believe it. Szell: Is it safe? Babe: No. It's not safe, it's... very dangerous, be careful. [laughs but in a scared manner][Szell takes his dental explorer and mouth mirror and approaches Babe]

Professor Biesenthal: Well, you four have the dubious honor of having been picked from over two hundred applicants for this seminar. Well, let me just say this. There's a shortage of natural resources. There's a shortage of breathable air, there's even a shortage of adequate claret. But there is no shortage of historians. We grind you out like link sausages. That's called progress. Manufacturing doctorates is called progress. Well, I say, "Let us hush this cry of progress until ten thousand years have passed." That's a quote. Who said that? Come on, who said that? Well, somebody must know the answer [none of the students answer - but Babe jots down 'Tennyson' on his yellow pad] Tennyson! Alfred Lord Tennyson! My God, but you can't compete on a doctoral level and not know "Locksley Hall" and "Locksley Hall 60 Years Later"! I hope you all flunk. Dismissed!

Janeway: Szell's brother's been killed in Manhattan. A collision with an oil truck. Doc: Oh, boy. Any changes? Janeway: Only everything. Doc: They're getting all the couriers.

Then it's straight on, in the same year, to All the President's Men - probably his most exquisitely constructed screenplay. I had followed the Watergate Affair as it happened from 1972 - 1974, and it was a formative chapter in my socio-political viewpoint, but nowadays, when I think about that period of history, it is the scenes from the movie that spring to mind. Even though you know exactly what is going to happen, and there can be few actual surprises, the movie keeps you on the edge of your seat anyway - a neat trick.

Robert Redford bought the rights to Woodward and Bernstein's book in 1974 for $450,000 and went straight to William Goldman to ask him to write the script.

He went to see the protagonists, and said that whilst Bob Woodward was extremely helpful to him Carl Bernstein, played by Dustin Hoffman, was not. That may have been because Bernstein persuaded Redford that he (and his then partner Norah Efron) should have a go at a script, which was rejected. According to Redford their version, "was sophomoric and way off the beat". Goldman comment was, "in what they wrote, Bernstein was sure catnip to the ladies"

Ben Bradlee, executive editor of the Washington Post, also assisted, he realized that the film was going to be made regardless of whether he approved of it and believed that it made "more sense to try to influence it factually". He hoped that the film would show newspapers "strive very hard for responsibility".

Goldman wrote that his crucial decision as to structure was to throw away the second half of the book. After he delivered his first draft in August 1974, Warners agreed to finance the movie.

Deep Throat: Follow the money.

Woodward: You call me in on my day off because some idiots have broken into local Democratic Headquarters - tell me, Harry, why should I be smiling?

Rosenfeld: As usual, that keen mind of yours has pegged the situation perfectly. Except (a) it wasn't local Democratic Headquarters, it was National Democratic Headquarters - and (b) these weren't just any idiots, these were special idiots, seeing as when they were arrested at 2:30 this morning, they were all wearing business suits and Playtex gloves and were carrying - a walkie-talkie, forty rolls of film, cameras, lock picks, pen-sized tear gas guns, plus various bugging devices. Not to mention over two thousand dollars, mostly in sequenced hundred dollar bills.

Ben Bradlee: Goddammit, when is somebody going to go on the record in this story?!...You guys are about to write a story that says the former Attorney General, the highest-ranking law enforcement officer in this country, is a crook! Just be sure you're right...Leave plenty of room for his denial.

Mitchell: “All that crap, you're putting it in the paper? It's all been denied. Katie Graham's gonna get her tit caught in a big fat wringer if that's published.

Now we come to one my, and one of my entire family's, favourite movies - The Princess Bride. It is, to some, a cult movie; but it is also a Marmite experience, as for every person I know that loves it, there is a someone else who just doesn't get it.

Again, it was based on an original Goldman novel. Attempts had been made to film it several times, including by Francois Truffaut, Robert Redford and Normal Jewison - it had been optioned on another occasion for $500,000 but that venture had failed, and Goldman had then bought the rights back. That's when Rob Reiner stepped in - riding high on the recent critical success, albeit commercial failure, of another cult movie, This is Spinal Tap.

Goldman had obviously written the book with an eye to the big screen, and he seems to have hit off with Rob Reiner and they worked very closely together. There was a Green Light, but a restricted budget, so there are no stars - but they just got extremely lucky with the cast of beginners and rag-bags: Cary Elwes, Mandy Patinkin, Chris Sarandon, Christopher Guest, Wallace Shawn, Billy Crystal and Carol Kane, Peter Cook and André the Giant. Then there was the gorgeous, ethereal Princess Buttercup.

Apparently, Robin Wright was cast late in the process, about a week before filming; Reiner and Jenkins had auditioned a number of English actresses but had not found their ideal Buttercup. Wright's agent had heard of the casting call and encouraged Wright to audition - despite being American. Though initially shy, Wright impressed Jenkins, and later Reiner. They invited Wright to come meet Goldman at his house.

Jenkins recalls: "The doorbell rang. Rob went to the door, and literally, as he opened the door, she was standing there in this little white summer dress, with her long blonde hair, and she had a halo from the sun. She was backlit by God. And Bill Goldman looked across the room at her, and he said, 'Well, that's what I wrote.' It was the most perfect thing".

It is a perfect family movie because it is concurrently operating on several levels: one for the eight year old, another for the 15 year old, and one for everybody else - as well as being charming, witty, hilarious and irreverent. The eight year old will just go with it, but the teenager and everyone else have to get past the first few minutes, in which it starts to look like the children's movie they dreaded it was going to be, until they realise there is something else going on and that it is both true to, and simultaneously subversive of, that genre.

[Vizzini has tried cutting the rope to kill the Man in Black, who now clings to a rock] Vizzini: He didn't fall?! Inconceivable! Inigo: You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.

Inigo: You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you. The Man in Black: You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die. Inigo: Begin.

[The swordfight begins; after a while]

Inigo Montoya: You are wonderful!

Man in Black: Thank you. I've worked hard to become so.

Inigo Montoya: I admit it. You are better than I am.

Man in Black: Then why are you smiling?

Inigo Montoya: Because I know something you don't know.

Man in Black: And what is that?

Inigo Montoya: I am not left-handed! [switches to fighting with his right hand]

[The two continue to fight, until the Man in Black is backed against the cliff edge]

Man in Black: You're amazing!

Inigo Montoya: I ought to be, after twenty years.

Man in Black: There's something I ought to tell you.

Inigo Montoya: Tell me.

Man in Black: I'm not left-handed either. [switches his sword to his right hand]

On that sword fight - I have shamelessly copied this from a Vanity Fair article, as it is so interesting:

“ For six months, Princess Bride star Mandy Patinkin had trained to become Inigo Montoya, the world’s greatest swordsman. His worthy opponent, the Man in Black/Westley—played by Cary Elwes - had four months of prep under his belt as well. Spirits were high as the actors performed their duel for director Rob Reiner on the 'Cliffs of Insanity' set for the first time, in London in 1986.

Elwes and Patinkin finished, drawing applause from the film’s crew. Then, both drenched in sweat, they looked to Reiner, who voiced his own response: “That’s it?” It wasn’t exactly the reaction they had hoped for.

“What’s lovely about Rob is he’s nothing if not direct,” Elwes tells Vanity Fair, 30 years after The Princess Bride hit theaters nationwide. “That’s why he’s so wonderful—what you see is what you get.”

As it turns out, the actors had become a little too good at sword fighting. The duel that they had rehearsed for months was over much more quickly than Reiner expected.

”They had certainly mastered the moves,” Reiner says. “But I said, ‘We’ve got to make this more epic. It has to be longer, and it has to use all the parts of the set.’” So the scene’s stars, trainers, and crew went back to the proverbial drawing board.

Diamond and Anderson put Elwes and Patinkin to work. If they weren’t in a scene, they were off-set sword fighting; at every free moment, the actors had faux blades in their hands. The schedule was brutal; at one point, Elwes broke his left big toe, but he continued practicing his handwork until he got full mobility back. “No matter how tired I would get, I would never say anything to Bob because he never showed an ounce of fatigue, and he was in his 60s,” says Patinkin.

Besides learning to fight with both their right and left hands, Elwes and Patinkin also had to learn each other’s duel choreography. “That floored me a bit,” says Elwes. “It meant twice the workload, and they made us learn some of it backwards.”

All that preparation came to a head after Reiner decided the fight needed to be longer. Crew members built up the ruins of the tower, adding steps to the Cliffs of Insanity stage in order to give the fighters more places to duel. On Elwes’s suggestion, he, Patinkin, Diamond, and Anderson watched and re-watched every swashbuckling movie they could find. They discovered that 1952’s Scaramouche featured the longest and most intricate sword fight in cinema. That became their goal: to beat Scaramouche, not in length, but in panache.

As Elwes writes in his book, As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of The Princess Bride, they reached into a deep bag of tricks, interacting more with the set and adding acrobatics to the scene. Jeff Davis, an accomplished gymnast, executed the flips as well as Inigo’s somersault over Westley’s head. Both stars used a small, concealed trampoline to leap onto rocks. They also added the part where the Man in Black knocks Inigo’s sword from his hand, which flies into the air and is perfectly caught by Patinkin. (The secret to that trick? “We had Peter Diamond up there out of frame,” says Reiner. “The sword came up, he caught it, and then he dropped it back into the frame.”)

Once again, this time in full makeup and costume, Elwes and Patinkin performed the scene for Reiner. This time, Reiner’s response was different: “Great job, guys!” he said, according to Elwes’s book. “Fantastic! Now let’s do it again.”

For days, they shot and re-shot the duel from every possible angle. “Every time Rob said those words, ‘Cut. Print!’, I was devastated,” says Patinkin, “because that meant we weren’t going to do that part of the sword fight again.” The final version of the fight was so well done, Elwes says, that fencing academies now show it to their students, who study it to learn their moves.

“It is the best sword fight in movie history,” Reiner concludes, “and I’m not saying it just because it was my movie.” ”

The Man in Black has come upon Vizzini holding Buttercup hostage with a dagger at her throat] Vizzini: I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains. Man in Black: [intrigued] You're that smart? Vizzini: Let me put it this way: Have you ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates?

Man in Black: Yes. Vizzini: Morons! Man in Black: Really? [Vizzini nods] In that case, I challenge you to a battle of wits. Vizzini: For the princess? [The Man in Black nods] To the death? [He nods again and smiles] I accept. [re-sheathes his dagger] Man in Black: Good. Then pour the wine. [Vizzini pours the wine, and the Man in Black pulls out a small vial] Inhale this, but do not touch. Vizzini:[sniffs] I smell nothing. Man in Black: What you do not smell is called iocane powder. It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man.[he puts the goblets behind his back and, presumably, adds the poison to one of them, then sets them down in front of him]All right. Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun. It ends when you decide and we both drink, and find out who is right... and who is dead. Vizzini: But it's so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of man who would put the poison into his own goblet or his enemy's? Now, a clever man would put the poison into his own goblet, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for what he was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool. You would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me. Man in Black: You've made your decision then? Vizzini: Not remotely! Because iocane comes from Australia, as everyone knows! And Australia is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you. Man in Black: Truly, you have a dizzying intellect. Vizzini: Wait till I get going! Now, where was I? Man in Black: Australia. Vizzini: Yes, Australia. And you must have suspected I would have known the powder's origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me. Man in Black: You're just stalling now. Vizzini: You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?! You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong, so you could've put the poison in your own goblet, trusting on your strength to save you, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you! But, you've also bested my Spaniard, which means you must have studied, and in studying you must have learned that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me! Man in Black: You're trying to trick me into giving away something. It won't work. Vizzini: It has worked! You've given everything away! I know where the poison is! Man in Black: Then make your choice. Vizzini: I will, and I choose-[stops] What in the world can that be? [Vizzini points at a rock behind the Man in Black] Man in Black: What? Where? [When he turns to look, Vizzini swaps the goblets] I don't see anything. Vizzini: Well, I- I could have sworn I saw something. No matter. [He is having a hard time containing his laughter] Man in Black: What's so funny? Vizzini: I--I'll tell you in a minute. First, let's drink. Me from my glass, and you from yours. [They drink from their goblets] Man in Black: [smirks] You guessed wrong. Vizzini: You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny! I switched glasses when your back was turned! Ha ha, you fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war in Asia," but only slightly less well-known is this: "never go in against a Sicilian when DEATH is on the line!!!"[He laughs hysterically, but suddenly freezes mid-laugh and dies; the Man in Black removes Buttercup's blindfold] Buttercup: Who are you? Man in Black: I am no one to be trifled with. That is all you ever need know. Buttercup: And to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned. Man in Black: They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.

Inigo Montoya: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

...and so much more wonderful dialogue.

William Goldman is a screenwriter's cult screenwriter, and has influenced a whole generation of them since the 1970s. In his book evaluating Goldman's work, William Goldman: The Reluctant Storyteller (2014), movie critic Sean Egan said Goldman's achievements were made "without ever lunging for the lowest common denominator. Although his body of work has been consumed by millions, he has never let his populism overwhelm a glittering intelligence and penchant for upending expectation".

In 2000, Goldman said of his writing:

"Someone pointed out to me that the most sympathetic characters in my books always died miserably. I didn't consciously know I was doing that. I didn't. I mean, I didn't wake up each morning and think, today I think I'll make a really terrific guy so I can kill him. It just worked out that way. I haven't written a novel in over a decade... and someone very wise suggested that I might have stopped writing novels because my rage was gone. It's possible. All this doesn't mean a helluva lot, except probably there is a reason I was the guy who gave Babe over to Szell in the "Is it safe?" scene and that I was the guy who put Westley into The Machine. I think I have a way with pain. When I come to that kind of sequence I have a certain confidence that I can make it play. Because I come from such a dark corner."

He also said: "I [don't] like my writing. I wrote a movie called Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and I wrote a novel called The Princess Bride and those are the only two things I've ever written, not that I'm proud of, but that I can look at without humiliation".

If there are any of these films that you haven't seen, I would unreservedly commend them for viewing, and they all bear repeated viewing. Any of them I could watch again at any time - and often do.