‘The Princess Bride’ music grows in the hands of the Philadelphia Orchestra — but not enough

Rodents of Unusual Size. The way Cary Elwes’ golden coif always looks terrific — even after he emerges from a sandpit. The sound of the word inconceivable, of course.

There are lots of good reasons for wanting to be in the presence of a movie that viscerally transports you to who you once were, sitting in a movie theater carefree with nonpareils in hand. And judging from a packed Verizon Hall on Saturday night, The Princess Bride and its enduring pop-culture souvenirs are still that vehicle for many.

The 1987 movie, written by William Goldman and directed by Rob Reiner, only seems to get better. Its fantasy-to-romance ratio leavened by slightly self-mocking humor remains just right. The film has even acquired an oddly clairvoyant twist when Elwes, the story’s hero, utters the line that masks are “terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.”

What’s hard to say, though, is that The Princess Bride comes with a great musical score. The occasion at Verizon was a live-to-screen performance of the music by a great orchestra, and it landed as a mismatch of resources.

The orchestra was, of course, the Philadelphia Orchestra, which for several years has made much of movie scores with happy results for the music, box office, and often both. Earlier this month, the orchestra gorgeously summoned Gershwin and Paris — or at least the 1950s Hollywood impression of Gershwin’s 1920s impression of Paris — in its screening of An American in Paris. The series of Harry Potter scores at the Mann Center each summer has given the orchestra an emotional spectrum several shades more sinister and euphoric than commonly heard.

But those film-orchestra presentations have qualities that Saturday’s did not. The Princess Bride was originally released with music by Mark Knopfler, admired by some for its haze of synthesizers. For this show, expertly led by veteran film composer and conductor David Newman, Knopfler’s music was blown up into an orchestral score by Mark Graham.

Graham does a nice job coloring moments with specific instruments — the tuba as the giant; trombones warning what’s to come in the Fire Swamp. Peter Richard Conte was live organist for the wedding scene, and guitarist Pat Mercuri was front and center, adding a bit of a folk mood here and there.

But Knopfler’s music, fine as it is, doesn’t have the nuance that, say, the best scores of John Williams have. Trumpets announce moments of arrival, and some sound painting is effective — such as the floating part that flutist Patrick Williams played as Princess Buttercup jumps down into the arms of Fezzik (André the Giant).

What you want from a live-to-screen show, though, is the almost three-dimension sensation of being enveloped in sound and image so each element is made more powerful by the other. This wasn’t that. The music doesn’t quite achieve scope and sweep.

It was a fun night out. There’s a definite tingle to sitting in an audience as connected to the material as this one, laughing and applauding at dialogue and action at key moments. An intermission-time marriage proposal in the audience suggested the film’s romantic power. And, at this precise moment in human history, who can’t use a dose of the sadistic bully getting what he has coming to him?

But there are times when you need a live orchestra — even an Orchestra of Unusual Skill — and times you don’t. On this night my thoughts kept turning to all the great movie music the orchestra could be playing. Vertigo, Our Town, The Nightmare Before Christmas. …