Hollywood loves a good origin story, but the aftermath stories are usually more interesting. Cary Elwes has one of the strangest.
After starring in The Princess Bride—a film that would become one of the most beloved comedies ever made—Elwes found himself unemployed. Not "between projects" unemployed. Actually, genuinely struggling to book work.
How does that happen? You star in a Rob Reiner film that's quotable, charming, and destined for immortality, and somehow the phone stops ringing? Welcome to the paradox of being perfectly cast.
The Princess Bride made Elwes Westley, the swashbuckling romantic hero with perfect comic timing. The problem was that Hollywood couldn't imagine him as anything else. He was too identified with the role, too locked into the archetype. And in the late 1980s, there weren't a lot of scripts calling for charming, sword-fighting romantics.
So he floundered. Until Al Pacino stepped in.
Pacino, who was directing Chinese Coffee, cast Elwes in a small but crucial role. It wasn't charity—Pacino saw something beyond the blonde hair and the "as you wish" smile. He saw an actor, not just a pretty face.
That vote of confidence mattered. Elwes went on to build a solid career: Liar Liar, Saw, a steady stream of character work. He never became a leading man, but he became something better—a working actor with range.
The lesson here isn't new, but it's worth repeating: being iconic in one role can be a curse. Elwes created a character that people still quote 40 years later, and that's both a gift and a trap. Ask . Ask . Ask anyone who became face of something beloved.
