The pre-production phase for The Princess Bride moved with the precision of a military operation, fueled by the enthusiasm of its creative team. In a spacious conference room at Hayes Productions Alex Hayes, director Rob Reiner, screenwriter William Goldman, and producer Andrew Scheinman—gathered to finalize the logistics of their upcoming film.
The room was darkened, illuminated only by the glow of a television screen showing sweeping aerial footage.
"To get the true feeling of a storybook fantasy," Alex said, gesturing to the screen, "we decided early on that soundstages wouldn't cut it. We needed history in the stones. We needed England and Ireland."
Alex hit pause on the remote, freezing an image of the majestic Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, standing in for the Cliffs of Insanity . He then cycled through photos of Haddon Hall in Derbyshire and Penshurst Place in Kent, ancient structures that screamed of Florin, the country from the book 'The Princess Bride'.
"The location scouts have done a better job than I could have hoped for," Alex noted, presenting the final batch of photos and videos. "These are the tapes from last week."
They watched in silence as the camera panned over rolling green hills and terrifyingly steep drops. The atmosphere on screen was perfect—dramatic, timeless, and slightly foreboding.
Alex turned the lights back on and looked at the director. "So, what's the verdict?"
Rob Reiner leaned forward, clearly impressed. "They have done an excellent job. It's not just scenery; it's character. The landscape feels like it's part of the story."
William Goldman nodded in agreement. "It looks exactly like Florin. It's how I pictured it when I wrote it."
Goldman was a veteran of the industry, a novelist and screenwriter whose name commanded instant respect. By 1987, he was already a legend, having won two Academy Awards—one for his original screenplay of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) and another for adapting All the President's Men (1976). He was the mind behind the thriller Marathon Man proving his versatility across genres. But The Princess Bride was his passion project, a book he wrote for his daughters that had languished in development hell for years until now.
"Do we have the permissions secured for all these sites?" Reiner asked, looking toward his producing partner Andrew Scheinman. "Some of these look like heritage sites."
Andrew Scheinman was Reiner's trusted right hand. He had produced Reiner's previous directorial hits, The Sure Thing (1985) and the critically acclaimed Stand by Me (1986). Scheinman possessed a calm, logistical precision that perfectly balanced Reiner's creative energy, allowing the director to focus on performance and tone while he handled the nuts and bolts of production.
Andrew Scheinman, who had been managing the physical production details, smiled. "We do. In fact, the permitting process was surprisingly smooth. The local governments in both the UK and Ireland are more than happy to let an Alex Hayes film shoot there. They rolled out the red carpet."
Alex looked at them, feigning a haughty expression, and adjusted his collar. "Yeah, well, I am an international star," he said with mock pride.
The room erupted in laughter.
"So, how are all the other preparations?" Goldman asked, ever the worrier about his film.
"Performance and dress rehearsals with the actors are done," Andrew confirmed confidently. "The fencing training for Mandy and Alex is on schedule, and the costumes are fitted. Everything is ready to start filming."
Alex nodded, a sense of finality settling over him. The pieces were all in place.
"Then all that is left," Andrew said, checking the timeline, "is the release of your film, Top Gun."
Everyone nodded in acknowledgement. In just two weeks, on June 26, the film would hit theaters.
"I have never seen an actor promote his film that much," William Goldman remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.
He wasn't wrong. Alex had been relentless, appearing on every late-night talk show, morning program, and game show available to push the film. Universal Pictures had shifted into high gear to match his energy. At this point, it would be a wonder if there was anyone in America who didn't know about the film.
Alex smiled. "I just hope all the hard work pays off."
*******
The evening of June 25, 1987, buzzed with the kind of electricity that only a massive summer blockbuster can generate. Across the country, preview screenings were just letting out, but the lines for the midnight shows and the next day's tickets were already wrapping around the block.
At the Village Theater in Westwood, Los Angeles, the neon marquee hummed against the twilight sky, displaying the words ALEX HAYES in TOP GUN.
Near the ticket window, a group of teenagers and college students waited eagerly, their excitement palpable.
"I'm telling you, this is going to be the one," a guy in a denim jacket said to his friends. "I mean, Platoon and The Color of Money were incredible, but those were... heavy, you know? Top Gun looks like it's 100% pure Alex Hayes charm. It's the classic Alex we missed."
"Yeah, exactly!" a girl next to him agreed, her voice rising in excitement. "I'm so excited to see Alex back in his pure charming avatar. But honestly, the best part about being his fan is that you never have to defend him. He hasn't made a truly bad film yet. Seriously, name one other actor who can say that?"
"Zero," another friend chimed in. "He's got the golden touch."
A few feet away, a couple in their mid-thirties overheard the conversation and nodded. "They're not wrong," the man said to his wife. "Though honestly, I preferred him in The Color of Money and Platoon. "
"I agree," she replied. "But it's nice to see he can still just be a movie star. He doesn't take himself so seriously that he refuses to entertain us."
At the front of the line, two old men who clearly hadn't followed the industry news stepped up to the glass partition. They scanned the list of current features posted beside the window:
TOP GUN, THE UNTOUCHABLES, ROXANNE, DRAGNET
"Goodness, so many films," the first man muttered, squinting at the poster board. "We haven't been to the cinema in years. We just want something good."
"Nothing too complicated," the second man added, looking at the ticket seller. "What do you recommend? What's the safe bet for the evening?"
The ticket seller pointed a thumb at the main marquee. "Take Top Gun. It's Alex Hayes' new one."
The first man tilted his head. "Alex Hayes... I've heard the name. I think my grandchildren watch his films on TV sometimes, catching a bit as I pass by."
The second man frowned, still hesitant. "But is it any good?"
A wave of genuine, good-natured laughter rippled from the group of students behind them. "Go for it, Grandpa!" one guy yelled. "Alex Hayes doesn't ever miss. That's the undisputed truth!"
The older men exchanged a knowing look. The first man smiled faintly and pulled out his wallet. "Alright, then. Two for Top Gun, please."
It was the ultimate testament to his standing in the industry. Alex Hayes had established himself as Hollywood's gold standard: his presence in a film was the ultimate assurance of a quality, entertaining experience.
Inside the packed theater the audience took their seats and waiting for titles.
Universal logo first comes. And the film starts
The film, they quickly realized, was not high art. It was a glorious, silly fun ride. It was a movie built on the thrill of speed and the swoon of charm.
The plot was simple and effective: Alex Hayes played Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, a reckless but brilliant Naval aviator sent to the prestigious Top Gun flight school. The audience immediately latched onto his charisma and his fiery rivalry with the cool, composed "Iceman" (played by Val Kilmer). The film delivered on all fronts: the thrilling competition, the effortless romance between Maverick and his instructor, Charlie (Madeleine Stowe's character), and the underlying theme of dealing with failure and loss after the tragic death of Maverick's co-pilot, Goose (Anthony Edwards).
After Goose's death, a grief-stricken Maverick nearly quits, haunted by the accident and his own reckless flying. He spends time in the hanger, grappling with his future, until his commanding officers—and Charlie—help him recognize his true worth and talent. He returns to the fleet, a newly matured pilot, ready to confront his past recklessness and step up when his country needs him most.
The climax saw Maverick and Iceman, who had just graduated from Top Gun, deployed together on an actual mission to provide air support after an American aircraft is disabled over hostile waters. The stakes were instantly raised from competition to life-and-death teamwork. Maverick initially freezes during the engagement, reliving the trauma of Goose's crash, but snaps out of it just in time to re-engage the superior enemy forces (unspecified MiGs). After a heart-stopping series of aerial maneuvers and explosions, Maverick and Iceman successfully neutralize the threat, saving their fellow pilots.
When the scene came where Alex's character, Maverick, spontaneously launched into a serenade of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" with his buddies to woo Madeleine Stowe's character, the entire front row of college girls released a collective, breathless sigh. It was audacious, cheesy, and utterly irresistible. The sound was like a wave of pure, romantic gratification washing over the room.
Later, the beach volleyball scene—the iconic sequence of sun, sweat, and competitive male rivalry—was met with a mix of appreciative chuckles. It was blatant eye-candy, sure, but executed with such committed bravado that the sheer kinetic energy of the sequence transcended the silliness.
But the defining moments, the ones that had everyone gripping their armrests, were the air combat sequences. The camera didn't just film the planes; it became a part of the cockpit, twisting and barrel-rolling. The surrounding world was reduced to streaks and blurs, whipping past the camera lens to give the audience a stomach-lurching, visceral experience of G-force and velocity. Gasps punctuated the roar of the jets, a raw, primal reaction to the pure adrenaline rush.
Ultimately, the film was a perfect storm of star power, aesthetic, and sound. Alex Hayes, with his leather jacket, Aviators, and that dazzling, slightly dangerous grin, was pure swoonworthy. The music was instantly iconic, and the soundtrack album was released on the same day as the film. Alex Hayes himself sang the film's defining track, "Danger Zone," making this his second film where he contributed vocals, following the success of Footloose. The music was a character unto itself, and when the opening chords of "Danger Zone" hit, the audience felt the acceleration, cementing his image not just as an actor, but as the embodiment of 80s cool.
As the credits rolled, the audience erupted in cheers. Exhilarated and deeply satisfied, they spilled out into the night, the film's adrenaline still coursing through their veins. The collective roar of jet engines echoed in their minds, cementing the feeling that Top Gun was a pure, high-octane experience they would certainly be queuing up to repeat.