Remember that scene in The Princess Bride where Westley challenges Vizzini to a battle of the wits—you know, the one with the iocane powder?
The last few times I watched the movie, something about that scene didn’t set quite right with me, and I’ve been developing a theory about what’s really going on.
Westley was involved in a battle of wits against Vizzini, a battle which, necessarily, involves a certain amount of deception. I think that Westley was deceiving Vizzini about his use of the iocane powder.
Westley describes iocane powder to Vizzini as being “odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in liquid, and is among the more deadly poisons known to man.”
When presenting the poison to Vizzini, Westley also gives him the explicit instructions “Inhale this, but do not touch.”
While I believe Westley may truthfully have spent several years building up a resistance to the effects of iocane powder, I propose that rather than poisoning both goblets as he claimed to have done, Westley didn’t pour the iocane powder into either cup of wine!
Especially since the iocane was in powder form, I suspect that rather than being an ingested poison, it was an inhalation poison!
Vizzini wasn’t poisoned when Westley poured (or didn’t pour) iocane powder into the wine goblets, but when Westley told him to waft the vial of iocane powder. Since iocane powder is odorless, Vizzini wouldn’t have noticed that trace amounts of one of the “more deadly poisons known to man” had been introduced into his system…trace amounts that were still enough to kill a man within minutes.
And since iocane powder came from Australia, and it’s well documented that Australia is home to some of the most venomous species of plants and animals on earth, there’s no reason not to believe that such a small quantity iocane powder could have killed a man of Vizzini’s stature.
Westley had already won the battle of wits before it had begun, and was simply stalling for time until the poison took it’s effect.
All quotes from the script accessed from this site: [X]
This is, in all likelihood, the most important post I’ve ever made on this blue-bordered website.
Holy shit.
Blog
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And on the topic of Cary Elwes… (Iocane Powder in The Princess Bride)
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NaNoWriMo – the ongoing failure
I’m still surprised that my (less than) half-finished novel, which I tried to write more of in one of the last few years’ NaNoWriMo’s doesn’t actually make me go “Oh god, that’s terrible”. Which is usually what happens when I leave something alone and come back to it.
Some of the writing is quite acceptable to me, even.
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Never fails.
J! J! JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
WHY AREN’T YOU WORKING FASTER?
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Have you ever been so upper class that you think a 24 hour plane ride is comfortable
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Can I just…Like, people are joyful over Trudeau’s new cabinet. Joyful. Over a federal cabinet. But look:
Our new Minister of Justice and Attorney General of Canada is Jody Wilson-Raybould, an aboriginal woman and leader. This when we’re dealing with a crisis around missing and murdered aboriginal women.
Our new Minister of Defense is Harjit Sajjan, an actual combat veteran and first generation immigrant. This when former the PM’s rhetoric on Canada’s military tradition centered mostly on white British stuff around the War of 1812.
Our new Minister of Veterans Affairs is Kent Hehr, a lawyer who is physically disabled and an experienced activist in the areas of gun violence and LBGTA+ rights. This after a period when Canadian veterans hadn’t just been denied an advocate in Veterans affairs but it had almost become hostile towards them.
Our new minister of Fisheries and Oceans and the Coast Guard is Hunter Tootoo. An Inuit man has been given the portfolio responsible for issues of natural resources and Canadian sovereignty.
(Hold on, I need a minute. Hunter Tootoo is hotter than Trudeau. By far. Holy shit. Okay, I’m good now)
And I could go on. We have an actual scientist handling science! A first generation immigrant in charge of democratic institutions! A paralympian in charge of sports and people with disabilities! A doctor as minister of health!
AN ASTRONAUT IS MINISTER OF TRANSPORT!!!
AN ASTRONAUT IS MINISTER OF TRANSPORT!!!
Keep going Trudeau. You’re doing brilliantly so far.
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Maybe my favorite gif of Janeway because it looks like she’s reading someone’s smut and isn’t pleased with the quality.
“Their flesh melted together like they were a weird sort of siamese twins but sexyily… are you serious Chakotay?”
can we make “Captain reads bad smut written by first officer” a thing
“he gasped as he pinned his captain against the wall and his hot rod twitched impatiently, eager to get closer to that glorious ass… Will, what the fuck?”
“If it pleases you plant your seed in my garden and I will bear the fruit of your loins” she screamed, slamming back into him as he flooded her internal organs violently….Major…what the fuck.”
“But by the prophets, not 50 of them Nerys!”
OMG.
I just love where this post went. It was not what I expected.
“Well, Mister Spock, I can’t say that I’m not intrigued, but unless I’ve misread the species of your leads that’s too many hands.”
“Actually, this is pretty tasty stuff, T’Pol”
I love the idea that the entirety of the Star Trek fandom, from TOS to ENT, from J7 to Spirk, from the depths of Geordi/Data slash to the highs of canon human lizard babies – can come together for smut.
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Women’s anger isn’t pretty or useful to men. It prevents them from cheering their male superhero on from the peanut gallery; it makes them unattainable in a way that’s not because the hero is being admirably noble. Also, it makes their faces go all scrunchy, and we can’t have that; never forget Jessica Alba being told to “cry pretty” on the set of Rise of the Silver Surfer, or, more recently, Joss Whedon telling Elizabeth Olsen to keep her face calm during Age of Ultron’s fight scenes because an angry, combative face was unattractive.
There’s a reason women love Agent Carter, a show powered by a subtextual engine of Peggy’s grief, frustration, and rage. There’s a reason Laurel Lance never clicked as a character until her largely incoherent but still deeply satisfying Season 2 rage spiral; life has done her wrong, and she’s finally, finally hitting back. There’s a reason so many readers are proudly labeling themselves non-compliant. We so rarely get to see our own anger reflected in mass media, and when we do, it’s deeply cathartic.
I’m so ready for Jessica Jones to be furious for a whole 13 episodes of her first season. I’m hoping Karen Page gets to be as livid as Foggy was when she finds out that Matt is Daredevil. I want Sara Lance to come back from the grave as spitting mad as she was when she went in, and I want Laurel and Thea and especially poor Felicity, sadly defanged by her romantic entanglement with Oliver in Season 3, to get and stay angry with Oliver when he inevitably does something dishonest or ethically dubious. Even Supergirl – as sunshiney as Kara seems, and as I want her to be, I also want her to be allowed to get pissed when the situation warrants it. Girl’s got laser-eyes for a reason.
I’m so excited for this coming year of superhero TV to bring me Supergirl, and Jessica Jones, and Peggy Carter, and Speedy and Hawkgirl and two different Canaries. And I’m excited for the supporting stories of Iris West and Karen Page and Felicity Smoak and Caitlin Snow and Alex Danvers and Angie Martinelli.
But God, I hope they get to be angry this year. Because these women have been through enough to make them mad as hell. And I don’t want them to have to take it anymore.
SUPERHEROES AND THE GENDER POLITICS OF ANGER (x)
