Definition: Liner notes (also sleeve notes or album notes) are the writings found on the sleeves of LP record albums and in booklets which come inserted into the Compact Disc jewel case or the equivalent packaging for vinyl records and cassettes. Such notes often contained a mix of factual and anecdotal material, and occasionally a discography for the artist or the issuing record label. Liner notes were also an occasion for thoughtful signed essays on the artist by another party, often a sympathetic music journalist, a custom that has largely died out.
“Do you want to hear a story? It’s a good one.”
Note to future journalists, if there are any left: if you’re interviewing someone who’s super-famous, these are precisely the words you want to hear. This will also be the story that will absolutely not fit into your word count, no matter how many tricks you try. A few weeks ago, this is what I heard myself when I was sitting at a hotel room desk with Cary Elwes, the actor most famous for his role as the farm boy Westley (aka The Dread Pirate Roberts) in the 1987 cult classic The Princess Bride. You can read my short feature interview with him at Kirkus Reviews about his new memoir, As You Wish. But there’s always so much more behind these interviews—I swear I could compose an entire book based on outtakes alone. That being the case, here’s a couple of interesting moments that didn’t make it into my story.
Elwes has a reputation in Hollywood for exacting preparation, for starters. This isn’t surprising, given his background at The Actor’s Studio in New York, as well as the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute, which is part of the story I mentioned above. I was, however, surprised at the actor’s reasoning behind it.
“I’m a historian at heart, if you look at my body of work,” Elwes said. “History was absolutely my favorite subject at school. It’s the only subject where a professor is standing up there just telling you stories. I loved history and I loved learning about our species and all the crazy things we’ve gotten up to in the past, so I became an avid historian by accident. It’s not happenstance that much of my work has led towards that kind of genre. Before the Internet, you would find me in the library. Once the Internet came alone, my life as an actor changed. I used to overdo it. I used to show up with a ton of research, and directors would be like, ‘Cary, relax, it’s just a movie.’ So I finally learned to relax and take the notes I need to take and read the material I need to read and just download it and let the character remember it all. It’s so much easier to let that information come through the pores of a character rather than scrambling to remember ever little detail.”
The only real trouble I had with this particular interview was its timing. As You Wish, you see, was published on October 14th, well in advance of Christmas sales and in plenty of time for Simon & Schuster’s considerable publicity department and Cary’s own team to do their thing. This means that by the time I happened to luck into an in-person interview, Cary Elwes has pretty much been interviewed by anybody who possesses some form of electricity—we’re talking dozens of newspapers, hundreds of morning shows, an epic appearance on Kevin Pollack’s Chat Show, and a good number of podcasts to boot. (Note to self: your own grasp of technology did not prevent the new Apple iOS update from screwing up your recording app, forcing you to record this interview on two antique tape recorders. Your interview prep could definitely use some brushing up.)
Add to this fact that my subject was a bit beat from speaking at Powell’s Books in Portland the night before—an event that drew over 2,000 people during the largest event in the bookstore’s storied history, mind you—and you might see my concern. That was why I brazenly cautioned him that if I started to hear a story that I’ve heard before, I might guide him in a different direction. (Yes, this would be me advising a world-famous actor how to do an interview.) So this is when Cary Elwes decided to tell me a story about being a very non-famous actor, long before The Princess Bride made him a household name.
“I’m in New York and I’m at a restaurant,” he said. “I moved to New York to be around all these titans that I worshiped as an actor. Suddenly, across this restaurant I see Al Pacino sitting down to a meal. Now, you have to watch everything of Pacino’s if you’re serious about acting. You’re not studying the craft if you don’t. My friend I was with pointed him out, so I turned around, trying not to be obvious, and there he was. I thought, ‘I’ll kill myself if I don’t meet him.’ So I timed it as I he started to leave, one of those so-called, coincidental, just bumped-into-him things. He asked my name, and he could tell right away that I was an actor, and he asked, ‘So what are you doing?’ I said, ‘Well, you know, I just got here.’ And he says, ‘No, you’re not. You’re drifting.’ So, Michael Corleone just called me a drifter, and my heart sank.”
“Then he taps me on the head, and says, ‘What’s this?’ And I said, ‘My brain?’ and he goes, ‘No.’ This is getting better by the minute. Then he tapped me on the chest and says, ‘What’s this?’ ‘My heart?’ I said. He says, ‘Wrong. They’re both muscles. You work out, right? What happens when you don’t go to the gym? They atrophy. Why wouldn’t you go work out both of these muscles? Whenever I’m not shooting, I go work them out.'”
“That was the moment that really inspired me,” Elwes said. “He was the one who introduced me to the people at the Actor’s Studio, and after I had spent a year with them, he introduced me to his mentor, Charlie Laughton. I spent the next two years studying under the great Charlie Laughton and Anna Strasberg, getting lessons that Lee Strasberg once taught, passed down to me from my heroes. Al didn’t really know me at all, and he opened a lot of doors for me, which changed my life.”
All in all, he seems like a decent fellow.