I didn't plan or intend this, but the first three books that I read this year were memoirs written by famous baby boomers (Bruce Springsteen, Ruth Reichl, and Carrie Fisher.) I started this post as a comparison/mini review of the three books, but then I saw "Bright Lights: Starring Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds" on HBO, and decided to just write about that instead.
*****
I hate most fantasy and sci-fi books and movies. As a Catholic, for example, I'm supposed to love Tolkien, but I don't. Not the books, not the movies. No Hobbits, no Towers, no Lords of the Ring, and ABSOLUTELY NO GOLLUM. There are, however, two exceptions to my complete and utter disdain for science fiction and fantasy: C.S. Lewis's Space Trilogy, and "Star Wars."
I love "Star Wars," especially the original movie. And first among the many reasons that I love Star Wars is Carrie Fisher's Princess Leia. I was 11 when I first saw Star Wars, and I felt about Princess Leia the way I felt about Billie Jean King. Like young Billie Jean, Carrie Fisher's Princess Leia was adorable, but not intimidatingly beautiful. Like Billie Jean, Princess Leia could stand up to bullies, fight and win the good fight, and still look impeccable in an all-white ensemble. I loved her.
*****
I read Postcards from the Edge years ago, and when Carrie died, I tried to buy a Kindle edition, but shockingly, no such thing exists. Amazon, I hope, is working diligently to remedy that situation. Meanwhile, I bought and read the Kindle edition of Wishful Drinking, It didn't surprise me that Carrie in her own words comes across as an old-time wise-cracking gum-snapping Hollywood dame. She was born and raised that way. What did surprise me was how much she really loved her mother. Not just out of a sense of duty and not despite whatever her flaws might have been. Carrie loved Debbie wholeheartedly, and vice versa. They lived next door to each other, on a property that they called "the compound" (because of course it was called "the compound") and they seemed to never tire of each other's company. Having read Postcards (and also having seen the movie version), I just assumed that there was the sort of lingering bitterness and resentment that seems to be the stereotypical attitude of old Hollywood children toward their movie star parents, but Postcards is a novel--maybe Carrie thought that the unabashed love and admiration of a daughter for her mother wouldn't have made an interesting conflict for a work of fiction.
"Bright Lights," a reality-style documentary with cameras and interviewers following Carrie and Debbie around, uses lots of the material that Carrie covered in Wishful Drinking, Having just finished reading it, I recognized some passages from the book in some of Carrie's voice-over narration. This is fitting; Carrie was a great writer, and there was no one better suited to write the voice-overs. Great writer that she was, though, she didn't really capture the day-in and day-out relationship with her mother as the movie does. Carrie and Debbie tease each other, interrupt each other, and break into frequent song and comedy routines that are at once impromptu and highly polished and rehearsed, because they've been perfecting their mother-daughter act for over 50 years.
My husband actually saw "Bright Lights" first. He found Carrie and Debbie's "schtick," as he called it, annoying; he also commented on Carrie's struggles with mental illness and drug addiction, the effects of which are apparent as you watch the movie. But I found their banter and silliness charming, and the genuine affection between mother and daughter is touching. I teared up more than once.
Just as remarkable is the role of Todd Fisher, Carrie's brother, both in the movie and in their lives. Although I liked watching Carrie and Debbie being themselves and performing together, I can also easily see that the relationship between them was a closed world, unwelcoming to outsiders, and Todd might have felt like an odd man out when he was with the two of them . If he did, he concealed it well. His observations about his mother and sister come across as truthful, but kind and compassionate. The camera often catches Todd as he watches Carrie and Debbie doing their routine, both onstage and off, and his affection for both of them is obvious and moving. Debbie raised a generous man.
Carrie and Debbie were also generous with their great personal and professional gifts. There's a scene in which Carrie appears at a Star Wars fan fest where attendees paid $70 to stand in line and meet Carrie and get her autograph on posters and shirts and other memorabilia. It's easy to criticize athletes and movie stars who charge for their autographs at such events, but what's most striking about this particular scene is how much of herself Carrie gives to each of the fans--hugs, pictures, and genuine emotional connection, however brief. The punters got their money's worth. Debbie, too, was generous with her audiences. The camera pans the audience at one of her last Las Vegas shows, and every single face shines with love and happiness. As I told my son, who watched with me, that was Debbie's great gift. She was a good dancer, singer, and actress, but making people happy was what she did best.
*****
I saw "Rogue One" today, finally, and like last year's "The Force Awakens," it was a fitting continuation of the franchise's great tradition of fearless and beautiful female heroines (don't get me started on Episodes 2 and 3. As much as I love everything Star Wars, I believe that Episode 2 is one of the worst movies ever made; some other time, I'll tell you why, at considerable length.) Young Princess Leia has the last word in "Rogue One." I'm sad that it's one of the last times that we'll see her on film (she finished filming Episode 8, which will be released later this year), but I'm happy to have seen Princess Leia one more time. Rest in peace, Carrie and Debbie. You'll be missed.
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