October arrived, blanketing the English countryside in a perpetual, damp chill. The filming of The Princess Bride continued at a quick, intense pace. The production, which had been navigating scheduling constraints around its large ensemble cast, was desperate to wrap principal photography before the weather truly turned unforgiving.
Alex was relentlessly focused on his dual roles: star and co-producer.
It was during a wide shot that required the entire main cast to be assembled that Alex caught it—a flicker of pure, unmasked agony on the face of André Roussimoff, known worldwide as André the Giant. They were waiting for director Rob Reiner to adjust the camera focus for a transition into a new scene. André, standing impossibly tall at over seven feet, was positioned perfectly, but his shoulders were held rigid, and the massive hand gripping the hilt of his sword trembled almost imperceptibly.
Alex walked over, keeping his voice low and casual, shielding the conversation from the nearby crew.
"André," Alex said quietly, tilting his head up. "Are you alright?"
André blinked, the pain receding behind a familiar, good-natured facade. "Of course, Alex. Just tired. Long day of standing." He tried a smile, but it looked strained. They both knew that was a lie. Alex had observed André over the past weeks, noticing the slow, careful way he moved, the stiffness of his neck, and the way he often rubbed his knuckles when he thought no one was looking. The immense size that made him a spectacle was also slowly destroying him from the inside.
Alex thought of the medical profiles he'd read on André, detailing his primary health condition: acromegaly, a disorder caused by a pituitary gland tumor that resulted in excessive growth hormone production. It was a condition that made him larger than life, but also one that condemned him to chronic joint pain and other severe, life-threatening complications.
"We can stop, André," Alex insisted, his tone gentle but firm. "You look like you're in real pain. Do you need a rest?"
André shook his head slightly. "No, no. I am done after this. Last day of shooting for me, Alex. I want to finish. Let's just do it."
Alex ignored the cameras and the sound technicians preparing around them. He looked directly at Reiner and raised his hand, signaling a halt.
"We're taking five, Rob. Hold the shot." He turned to Robin Wright, who was watching with concern. "Robin, can you find a medic or a set doctor? Ask them for something strong for acute joint pain, and let André sit down now."
Robin, her expression immediately shifting from worry to action, nodded sharply. "Of course, Alex. I'm on it." She quickly rose and moved toward the production trailers where the medical staff were usually stationed, her long dress trailing slightly on the set floor.
As André carefully lowered his immense frame onto a specially reinforced stool, Alex pulled up a smaller chair facing him.
"Why, André?" Alex asked, his voice low and personal. "Why don't you get it treated? It doesn't have to be this way, suffering through every scene."
André sighed, the sound like a quiet rush of air. "They told me in my early twenties, after the X-rays. Told me about the tumor, the surgery. I refused it, Alex. You know why. My size… it is my gift. It is how I make my living. Without it, I am nobody."
He was referring to the fear that removing the tumor might stop the excessive growth hormone and, in the process, normalize his features and stature too much, ending his unique career as a professional wrestler.
"That's not accurate anymore, André, not entirely," Alex countered, leaning forward earnestly. "Treatment can improve swelling of soft tissues, such as the skin, and other symptoms related to the condition. More importantly, enlarged organs like your heart will become healthier. That's what matters most."
"But the bone size doesn't decrease," Alex stressed, holding up his hand. "The growth that made you this tall, this unique—that height is locked in. Even with decreases in soft tissue and swelling, you will still be a giant. You will always be André the Giant. You won't have to worry about making a living."
Alex paused, meeting André's eyes. "And if, by some chance, you ever feel like your size is compromised for you making a living, I promise you this, my friend: I will give you chances in my films. You will always have a job with me. You deserve to live without this pain."
André looked down at his enormous hands resting on his knees, his brow furrowed with doubt. "It's a risk. A big risk."
"The biggest risk, my friend, is doing nothing," Alex said softly. "André, you are a good man and a gentleman. A true rarity. And men like you, those are in short supply in this world. Please, talk to a specialist. Get a new medical opinion."
André simply nodded, his gaze distant, but he didn't verbally agree to seek treatment. The conversation ended there as the set doctor arrived with an injection of a strong painkiller.
With the medication administered, the pain in André's joints subsided just enough for him to move again. He insisted on getting up for the final take, which he completed flawlessly. By late afternoon, his work on The Princess Bride was officially complete. Alex, Reiner, and the entire cast gave him a standing ovation as he slowly made his way to his transportation.
A few days later, the entire production team celebrated as the final camera rolls were put away. By the end of October 1987, principal photography on The Princess Bride was complete.
By the time the last scenes were filmed in England, Top Gun had been a cultural and financial phenomenon in theaters for nearly four months. Its domestic box office receipts had reached a staggering $245.6 million, making it not only Alex's highest-grossing domestic film but also one of the top five highest-grossing domestic films released up to that point in cinema history.
The film's international performance was equally spectacular, capitalizing on its global appeal, slick production, and soundtrack. Top Gun grossed an additional $235.7 million in international markets. This brought its total worldwide box office collection to a colossal $481.3 million.
This total placed Top Gun as the third highest-grossing film of all time worldwide, only trailing two other cinematic giants. The reigning champion was E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial, which had grossed over $700 million globally through its 1985 re-release. Second was the original Star Wars (1977), with a worldwide gross of approximately $530 million following its numerous re-releases up to that time. While Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back was a close contender and might eventually outgross Top Gun with its numerous future releases, as of late 1987, Alex's film was solidly in third place. With its current momentum, Top Gun was certain to cross the $500 million mark, a feat achieved only by E.T. and Star Wars before it, further solidifying Alex's status as a Hollywood Superstar.
The spectacular success of Top Gun also solved the difficulties regarding the purchase of Manchester United. The film's massive backend salary demonstrated Alex's financial reliability to the Football League. Furthermore, due to the conviction that Alex's international celebrity would significantly spread the popularity of the English league, the League readily accepted the purchase of 80 percent of the club for £16 million (approximately $26.1 million USD in 1987).
With all the necessary paperwork finalized on the purchase, Alex Hayes boarded his private jet, departing from England and heading toward the familiar hustle of America.