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Blow by Blow: The Princess Bride

December 31, 2019

I recently realized that 2019 is the tenth anniversary of my little stage combat blog, and I wanted to do something special to mark the occasion. (And I did, albeit squeaked under the wire on the last day of the year, holy cow, where did 2019 go?!) I think this fits the bill, the most epic post that will ever appear on this blog, about the most epic fight that ever was: the Princess Bride duel between Inigo Montoya and the Man in Black. Novelist and screenwriter William Goldman said it should be “the greatest sword fight in modern times,” and, thirty-three years after the film’s release, I’m hard-pressed to argue with him. The film is a touchstone for a whole lot of combat people, but as far as I know, it hasn’t been notated in full anywhere on the internet.

UNTIL NOW. GET READY, FAM.

You seem a decent fellow; I hate to kill you.
You seem a decent fellow; I hate to die.

Some ground rules: Attacks are designated by target name rather than number, and I only make note of parries where there’s some ambiguity as to which one would go with the attack. Parries are numbered according to the system used by the Society of American Fight Directors and Dueling Arts International, the organizations I’ve trained with. On screen, Carey Elwes and Mandy Patinkin aren’t always aiming for the deltoid and mid-thigh targets we drill for stage productions; the lows drift low and the highs drift very high, as they always do, but for simplicity’s sake I’m sticking with the quadrant system and not splitting hairs about where they’re aiming.

When the fight begins, both combatants are feigning left-handedness and parries are numbered accordingly, ie, “5a/9” = sword arm across the body = hilt on the right.

I know a riposte is technically any attack following a defense, but it’s also frequently used as shorthand for an attack to the same target that was just defended, which is how I use it here unless otherwise specified.

The fight is in prose form because it’s easier than charting and because I like to editorialize. Maybe I’ll convert it at some point… or hire an intern. (Now accepting applications!)

Timestamps refer to this video.

Reminder: choreography is copyrighted to the choreographer. I hope Bob Anderson’s estate doesn’t mind my transcribing it, but please don’t use this fight wholesale or in large sections in some other work!

Begin.

Westley is not exactly inviting, but his guard is low and casual. Inigo strikes left hip, left shoulder, right-to-left downward diagonal slash; Westley parries the cuts with very little body movement and then deigns to juuuust barely lean out of the way. They counter 180 degrees, then Inigo extends his blade and Westley parries in 3 and ripostes to Inigo’s right shoulder, then adds the same diagonal slash. Inigo parries and evades these easily, then smiles — this is going to be fun. Westley still appears watchful but unconcerned, guard low. Inigo is a coiled spring.

Read more…

Stage combat stories with Tom Hiddleston

September 18, 2019

Tom Hiddleston, currently starring in The Betrayal on Broadway, was on The Late Show last night. He and Stephen Colbert are both big theater geeks, and soon the Shakespeare quotes were flying–and then, to my surprise and delight, the talk turned to stage combat: the time Tom Hiddleston broke my #1 rule and told Chris Hemsworth to just hit him, the difference between film and stage, and what happens when your sword breaks and you’re only halfway through the fight:

amateurwrestling

It’s this. This is 100% what happens.

thumbwrestling

Or this.

I’ll be sure to tell my next cast to thumb-war each other in case of catastrophic weapons failure!

The full interview:

 

It was particularly cool to hear him talk about how not to hit your partner with your sword, because I didn’t expect to hear kinda technical stage combat talk on an incredibly popular late-night talk show that I usually watch to get the news in palatable form. It felt like the frisson of recognition when someone on TV names a random date and it’s your birthday. Stunts and film fighting definitely have mass appeal these days, especially since the rise of the DVD special feature and the wide availability of behind-the-scenes footage, but it’s nice to get a shout-out to how we do it when we do it live!

These are a few of my favorite knife flips

May 29, 2019

I try not to fall into the YouTube hole of watching behind-the-scenes fight and stunt videos, because I would NEVER STOP, but this footage of Maisie Williams and Gwendolyn Christie came across my timeline the other day and it’s so much fun:

 

Arya knife flip.gif

 

Arya and Brienne’s fight is from last season, but after the Battle of Winterfell, my timeline was all about Arya’s knife skills again!

night king no watermark cut.gif

 

The funny thing is, we went to the GoT party straight from Avengers: Endgame, and we were talking in the car about where the MCU might go with Bucky Barnes — so, all unknowing that we were about to watch Arya rock an ambidextrous surprise, I brought up the knife fight in Captain America: Winter Soldier where Bucky does this:

Highway_Fight_Scene knife drop slow.gif

 

I talk about this fight whenever I can find an excuse, I love it so much. It also includes this knife flip:

Captain_America_The_Winter_Soldier_Highway_Fight_Scene

 

Maybe I should have slowed that one down, too… good thing there’s rehearsal footage!

Knife flip Captain_America_The_Winter_Soldier.gif

 

Sloooooow moooooo:

Knife flip Captain_America_The_Winter_Soldier slow.gif

AROUND HIS OWN ARM. A stunt guy is doing Cap’s part, but that actually is Sebastian Stan. Good flipping, Sebastian and Maisie! If you’re like me and assiduously avoiding your real-life to-do list, you can learn Arya’s knife flip here from Michelle Christa Smith.

I can’t conclude a post about knife flips without mentioning the 1974 Shakespeare in the Park production of King Lear starring James Earl Jones, with Raul Julia as Edmund and Rene Auberjonois as Edgar, because I uploaded this gif to the blog six #*&@$ing years ago with the intention of writing about this move, but I never did, so now I am, and it makes me laugh that this is also technically a knife flip:

LearFight

Knife. Flip! 😀

I’m desperate to try this out some time, just for fun — with a mat, though. Until then, I’ll keep working on Arya’s version.

Fight rehearsal in a nutshell, with Kate Waters

November 29, 2018

It’s not weird that I was browsing the National Theatre Live website today instead of doing something productive — what’s weird is that I’d never checked out their “behind the scenes” material before. Is there anything about fighting? Yes, there is! ::click::

The video below shows fight director Kate Waters rehearsing the tavern brawl in a 2013 production of Othello. If you want to know what a fight rehearsal is like, this is it, distilled into three minutes: Kate starts off by emphasizing safety and spatial awareness, then she collaborates with the actors, changes the choreography around as they work out what the scene needs, reminds everyone to go slow and stay loose, steps in and demonstrates what she wants, teaches new techniques as needed, and cheers when something works out. As a bonus, some footage from the finished production is cut in, so you can see what this rehearsal will eventually become. It looks great, as well it should: there are only two women in the UK who are Equity Registered Fight Directors, and Kate Waters is one of them.

 

Aside from it being a great video, I found it unexpectedly affecting to watch a fairly petite woman run a fight rehearsal of all men, because that’s usually me — but I’ve never seen it from the outside before. I literally just realized that I’ve never worked with another female fight director. I know several, I take class with or from them all the time, but when I was a cast member, my fight directors were all men; so were my two co-fight-directors; so were the fight directors of the shows I teched; and when I was an assistant fight director, so was the boss. (For the record, Dave is amazing and I wouldn’t trade him for anything, but my point remains.) In a parallel universe where I have free time, I should seek out female fight directors to assist — or, given how much I loved watching Kate work for three short minutes — to observe.

As I said, I’ve taken class with female fight directors (ask me what my face did when I met Ricki Ravitts), but there’s a difference between a class and a show. Test fights for class have to demonstrate the techniques the class covered; fights for shows are whatever you want them to be, and the process of working with a team to create a finished product is really special. There’s so much room for creativity and whimsy, like at 1:44 when Kate, just for fun, tells the actor to stand up straight so that she has to jump to head-butt him. (As someone who’s 5’4″ on a tall day, I extra loved it.) That move doesn’t make it into the fight or anything, since the actors are close in height, but everyone laughs together, and that kind of playfulness, that energy of discovery, really makes me light up while I’m working. Also, shows have a lot of moving parts — time constraints, other people and departments with their own priorities — so the fight director’s job is to collaborate not only with the actors, but with the director, the costumer, the sets, and the very script and the performance space itself. It can be a pain, but I actually like that part of the job, because things that seem like constraints are also inspirations (necessity, invention, etc.). And I think it was seeing Kate navigate all those elements at once that made my heart go, yes, this.

I worry sometimes that I won’t get to fight direct shows again. Classes are easier to fit into my insane school schedule, plus I keep moving away from the theater companies I work with, and it takes time to establish those relationships. I don’t mean to be down on classes or informal fight jams — stage combat is joy and I’ll do it any time, anywhere! — but I hope once things get a little more regular, in six or seven years, that I can dip a toe back into fight directing.

TOM HANKS IS MY FALSTAFF

October 27, 2018

henry-iv-tom-hanks-falstaff

This summer, Tom Hanks made his LA stage debut in Henry IV, parts I and II combined and abridged, in a Shakespeare Center of LA production also starring Hamish Linklater as Prince Hal, directed by Daniel Sullivan, and housed at the mini-amphitheater in the Japanese Gardens of the West LA VA Hospital. Casting Tom Hanks as Falstaff is brilliant: he’s a character who only does unlikable things and yet has to remain likable throughout the play(s) or the ending doesn’t work. And you have to like Tom Hanks.

The venue was pretty… but it was also confusing, and even after we parked we had to take a shuttle to the path that would take us to the theater… long story short, we were at the entrance literally 30 seconds after 8:00, and they said we would have to wait for late seating. I’ve never met a show that didn’t habitually hold for two or three minutes! The “cell phones” announcement hadn’t even started yet! So I was standing there, being mad, because I’m late for literally everything in life EXCEPT theater… listening to Hal and Falstaff’s first scene, you know, “what the devil has thou to do with the time of day”…  Well, Tom Hanks’s exit from that scene was down the aisle and out the back exactly where we were standing. He looked at the handful of us dejected souls, grinned under the big fake beard, jerked a thumb toward the entrance, and stage-whispered, “Go on, get in there!” before disappearing under the curtained-off bleachers to his next entrance.

I like to think he did that every night for the late-seaters.

Stage-combat wise, the show was good, thanks to the work of fight director Steve Rankin. I liked Hal and Hotspur’s fight at the end, in which Hal was very clearly outclassed until he got his hands on a fallen soldier’s spear. (I’m a sucker for the underdog victorious.) The only distracting thing, at least to me, was that the spear had a collapsing tip, so when he killed Hotspur it actually did the sinking-into-his-body illusion. It looked good, but it also threw me out of the moment. The general wisdom is that collapsing blades aren’t reliable enough for stage, because if the mechanism sticks, hoo boy. But I think the spear tip was conical and only maybe 6 inches long, so that should be more reliable than a similar mechanism on a blade, i.e., anything long, flat, or thin enough to get bent and foul up the telescoping effect. Still, I would be very nervous aiming that thing at someone’s chest. o_O

I also noticed, for the first time, that although Joan of Arc remains the only canonical female sword fighter in Shakespeare, our girl Doll Tearsheet isn’t exactly helpless: she threatens Falstaff, “by this wine, I’ll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps”! Opportunity for a drunken knife vs tankard fight?

And finally, one night, a couple weeks after we were there, an audience member needed medical attention and they stopped the show — well, they stopped the play. Tom Hanks filled in the time by improvising in character and upbraiding all the people who were leaving: “Get back here, or find this sword, and many a dagger, placed neatly in the tires of your carriage!” The audience member was fine, and yes, there is video.

So long, summer!

September 24, 2018

It was a good one! If I can stretch the definition of “summer” to include late May, I kicked things off at BayCon, the Bay Area’s longest-running science fiction and fantasy convention, where in addition to being on some traditional panels, I taught an Intro to Unarmed Combat workshop. It was geared toward writers who want to write about fighting and LARPers who don’t do boffer-type combat but might want to work in a stage slap here and there, and it was super fun. I even took a new “stage combat profile pic” for the con promotional materials:

broadsword headshot bw edit

LOOKETH AT MY SWORD! (Lutel, model 12003)

Later in the summer, I TA’d an intensive unarmed class with Dave Maier at ACT. I love unarmed for a few reasons: it’s much more a game of misdirection and angles than weapons-work, you don’t need to buy anything to do it, and it is maybe the most visceral and intimate of all combat styles. And in both of my teaching opportunities this summer, there was a student who said they had been afraid to come learn it. I’m so glad they came anyway. The trust they placed in us to take them through something scary is the most precious gift of teaching, and much as I hope they learned a technique or two, more than anything I hope they came away knowing that they can and should be safe doing this work.

I also got to see some shows: Titus Andronicus in Griffith Park; Othello at the Delacorte, my first NYC Shakespeare in the Park in seven years; and Tom Hanks, actual Tom actual Hanks, as Falstaff in a Henry IV mash-up. I’m working on a separate post about that, but while we’re on the subject of fear, a word on Titus…

I was, let’s say, surprised not to see a fight director listed in the program, but not surprised at the result: the fighting itself was fine, but I counted three contact slaps, the swords they were using proved pointy enough to stand upright on their own when thrust into the wooden stage, and the same was true of the knife they used to slit Lavinia’s throat.

I say again: that knife was on an actress’s NECK, and two seconds later, they stuck it point-first in the table. I’m confident they did not swap out the knife.

This is the sort of thing people don’t think about when they’re trying to decide if they need a fight director. It seems so reasonable to save yourself the time and trouble if you have actors with stage combat experience who can put together a short sword fight, like the one between Demetrius and Chiron, but I would bet money that someone got stuck by one of those weapons during rehearsals, and it’s barely more than chance that nothing more serious happened. (See also: Sweeney Todd, the “just a slap” fallacy, and Megan’s mango rule.) I think this casual or slap-dash attitude towards staging violence is what makes people afraid of doing it; stories get around, and gruesome stories and near-misses have more legs than “yeah, our show was so safe, it was great.” I will sign off with my by-now traditional plea: I beg you, hire a fight director. I promise we are not a conspiracy bent on ruining your fun.

Now it’s “toward school with heavy looks” for me–but I do have the Dueling Arts SF Rapier Extravaganza to look forward to! 🙂

William Hobbs (1939-2018)

July 27, 2018

Legendary fight director William Hobbs has passed away at the age of 79, according to his son, who spoke to The Hollywood Reporter last week. If you’ve made your way to this blog, I guarantee you’ve seen his work: Shakespeare in Love, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Man in the Iron Mask, Dangerous Liaisons, Excalibur, The Duellists, Ladyhawke, The Three Musketeers (1973)and so many more–and theater, of course! Here’s a 1995 NYT article about his choreography for a production of Hamlet.

I watched Hobbs’s work over and over again as a middle- and high-schooler, especially The Man in the Iron Mask and Shakespeare in Love, when my enjoyment of period pieces was starting to crystallize into a particular love and appreciation for stage combat. I remember ordering his Fight Direction for Stage and Screen through the school library system, and it remains a great example of what I think a useful stage combat book should be, not so much trying to teach technique on paper and more about sharing a point of view. In its earlier incarnation as Stage Combat: Word to the Action, the book was also special to British fight director Tony Wolf, who shares some thoughts and anecdotes over on his blog,

There’s a 14-minute compilation of Hobbs’s fights on YouTube, and here are two of my favorites: the delightful, protean fight between Will and Lord Wessex, from Shakespeare in Love:

 

And possibly the best study in pitting contrasting styles against each other on film, the duel from Rob Roy:

 

Beautiful, thoughtful work — not clashing swords for the sake of clashing swords, but using the fight to tell a story and showing us who the people are by how they fight. Bravo, sir, and thank you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think it’s time for a movie marathon….