Once upon a time a tiny Blondeheadedgirl sat down to watch a movie. And that movie had a Princess for the ages. She was a leader, could withstand torture, and managed to carry on even after her home and her family were destroyed. She was, you might guess, Princess Leia, and she was one of my first feminist icons, even before I knew what that word was.
Carrie Fisher’s death on December 27 has hit all of us here at the Bitchery very hard – after an exhausting and heartbreaking year, this feels like one of the hardest blows. We wanted to talk about it with you, even as we process the news that Carrie’s mother, Debbie Reynolds, has also just passed away.
Sarah: I read Postcards From the Edge before I was probably meant to age-wise. I wanted her love story with Bruno Kirby in When Harry Met Sally to be its own movie because honestly they were just enchanting, especially Carrie. I was never as into Harry or Sally, but hot damn, romance with a wagon wheel coffee table? I’d have watched that movie until the tape wore out.
I liked her as Leia, I loved her as General Organa. The Force Awakens was brilliant and breath-stopping for me the moment she showed up. I loved her press tour, and I particularly loved how she had a negative number of fucks to give when it came to stupid-ass insulting questions about weight. (I mean, COME ON. Does anyone ask Mark Hamill questions like that? I watched a voiceover documentary where his segments were filmed while he wore a silk shirt unbuttoned down past his navel like he was in some sort of shirtfront competition with deSalvo, and not one mention of it anywhere.)
But where I loved Carrie Fisher most was her bravery. She was public about having bi-polar disorder before I understood what that meant, but when I DID understand that people weren’t supposed to be talking about things like that (and my understanding was from other people’s reactions for the most part. I was very young, and it left a walloping impression on me). She wanted her story on her terms instead of having her life framed as tragic and sad.
And beyond that, always above ass kicking and bravery: she was funny. She was a script doctor for so many movies I loved, and she made them better, usually without credit.
True embarrassing stories from four hard drives ago: I tried to write a contemporary romance about a script doctor who had been a child actor, based in part on Carrie Fisher. It’s the pinnacle of Not Good Writing, but the idea of someone so fluent and so funny improving script after script, sometimes without credit, still fascinates me.
Carrie Fisher’s career as a script doctor became the stuff of legend in the 1990s. Fisher was responsible for fixing up Hook in 1991, Sister Act in 1992, Lethal Weapon 3 in 1992 and The Wedding Singer in 1998. In 1992, Entertainment Weekly called Carrie Fisher “one of the most sought after doctors in town”—high praise, and one of the only accolades that Fisher would ever receive in printed form, given that she was not credited by name as a writer for any of the films in which she had a hand….
In 2008, Fisher told Newsweek that she hadn’t done script doctoring for a few years, but that it had once been a very lucrative career for her. Nowadays, she says, the process is very different: in order to be considered for script consulting gigs, you have to submit your notes and ideas ahead of time. But then they can keep those notes and not hire you, Fisher points out. She calls it “free work”—”that’s what I always call life-wasting events.”
When I see a person who gives less than zero fucks about what people think, who has survived and thrived in front of the camera and behind the scenes in an industry that seems mostly impossible, it’s enough to make me stand still in awe. I was in tears when her heart attack was first reported, and was again when news came that she died, which was shortly followed by her mother’s death.
She was so inspiring to me. When I see footage of her in the next Star Wars installment, I’m going to need at least two boxes of tissues.
RHG: luckily for us, principal photography for Episode VIII wrapped in July of this year. We have one last ride with the General. One of the many tributes to Carrie and Leia is this: a critical obituary for General Organa.
There’s a lovely moment at ComicCon where a young boy asked Carrie what bipolar meant, and she said it was like a virus that makes your brain go very sad or very fast. She had the talent with words to explain what it was in terms a small kid could understand. And she wasn’t afraid to do it. Her brain was her brain, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it or try to pretend her brain was something it wasn’t. She showed us how to live with mental illness, not in spite of it.
CarrieS: Carrie taught me as a young child (also named Carrie!) that you could kick ass and also end up the princess of a teddy bear village, which at the time I thought was pretty cool. I loved her so much in Blues Brothers (“You contemptible pig!) and When Harry Met Sally (“I will never want that coffee table”). The movie version of Postcards From the Edge came out at the same time that my dad first entered rehab, and it helped me understand addiction. But like many people my favorite Carrie is the one who was an advocate for mental illness, the one who taught us how to age wonderfully and without shame or artifice, and the one who was candid about her substance abuse in the past.
One reason I think this year hit people so hard in terms of all the losses is that so many people we lost were our role models and leaders. Now we have to actually lead the Rebellion ourselves.
I also think that many of the people who passed away this year led by having priorities beyond fame and overwhelming riches. David Bowie and Prince and George Michael challenged toxic masculinity and also gave lavishly and often anonymously to others. Alan Rickman taught us about work ethic – he made every movie he was in better – and kindness. Carrie Fisher taught us about the importance of owning our mistakes and loving our imperfections. As we take our own places in our own rebellions, we will have to remember to work hard, to practice self-care, to stand up for others, and to love ourselves.
RHG: Remember that the moment when our scrappy young protagonists realize that they are the ones that have to pick up the mantles of their heroes and carry is the moment that the good part of the movie is about to start.
Carrie left us a hell of a mantle. She left us so many tools to fight the good fight. She is one of the Force, and the Force is with us. So we will honor her memory and her gifts.
May the Force be with you all.
Oh, the many heartbreaking feels this week. Yes, Leia was a character she played, but I don’t think the two were very different. Carrie’s bold take me as I am or piss off attitude pared with her sense of humor certainly informed Leia as both a princess and a general.
As the aunt of a paranoid schizophrenic, her advocacy for mental illness issues was what sealed her place in my pantheon of personal heroes.
And, as I grew up with princesses who needed to be rescued, my grief is tempered by the smile it gives me knowing, thanks to a multi billion dollar deal, Leia is now a Disney princess. I think they’ll find she was worth every penny.
Too many feels to say anything except thank you for this. <3
I am fortunate enough not to have a mental illness. It was nothing College-age me could understand when talking to my friend who has depression. I really thought an ice cream break could “cheer up” anything. The book The Best Awful, which I experienced as an audio book read by Carrie Fisher herself (fantastic), suddenly made everything comprehensible to me. I hope that I am able to be more supportive to people with mental illnesses today because of it.
This says it all. Carrie’s death hit me very hard too. I adore her books, her honesty, and her humor. She was fierce and beautiful, and even if she didn’t know it, WE sure did!
Carrie Fisher has been an idol since I first sat down in a theatre in May of 1977 and saw that kick-ass princess she embodied. I really don’t think that there’s a celebrity death that has hit me as hard as hers did – she was so open, smart, funny and wise.
Yes. All of this indeed.
Leia was hugely important to me, enough that I wound up posting about it twice this week, once on my own blog and again on the Here Be Magic group blog I’m on with several PR, UF, and fantasy authors. As I’ve said in those posts, I have a whole lot of SF/F heroines who have been meaningful to me over the years–but Leia was first.
May the Force be with her and her mother, and their family in their time of grief. And with all of us who love Star Wars and who have loved Carrie Fisher for the light she brought to our worlds.
(I tried an earlier comment that might have gotten eaten by spam filters? Apologies if I double post!)
I’m still gobsmacked! I’ve admired her for so long and I am outraged that she doesn’t have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!
I haven’t commented about Carrie anywhere else, because this has just been really hard for me. Then to have Debbie Reynolds die so soon after-I feel like I am in mourning. I loved Carrie for all the reasons you mentioned-her absolute fearlessness-her willingness to share about her bipolar disorder-her warmth, wisdom and humor.
I loved how she and her mom had rough times, but found their way back to each other.
I always thought she stole that movie When Harry Met Sally from Meg Ryan-I didn’t give a crap about Meg, but I sure wanted to see the story between Carrie and Bruno Kirby. They had chemistry.
Debbie Reynolds? An icon to me, and once again, I am a huge fan. One of my favorite lines in a movie is from The Unsinkable Molly Brown, at the beginning of the movie-she is down on the ground-some kid on top of her and she says “sure I may be tuckered, and I may give out but I won’t give in!”. That has always been such a wonderful mantra to me, I may give out but I won’t give in. My body might fail me, but my mind will triumph.
I just finished watching Wishful Drinking on HBO. While I was sad, it still made me laugh so hard I snorted and almost peed. And I had seen it before. Several times when they first ran it. I think I will miss her witty voice most. Thank goodness for books.
No one could play that wide-eyed innocence as convincingly as Debbie. Watch Tammy and the Bachelor. Watch any of the things she did in the late 50’s and into the 60’s. This is a woman who had her life turned upside down in public for all the world to see, was a single mother and yet, she never came off as bitter or as a victim either in interviews or her work. I could never be that gracious. It’s a gift I lack.
If we feel this distraught over Carrie and Debbie’s death, imagine how their family is feeling. I wish them peace.
I first became aware of Carrie Fisher in late summer 1977 when a group of us med students skipped Friday afternoon OB conference to see a movie at the Chinese. What an eye-opener. A strong woman hero! Something I badly needed as I dealt with misogyny daily.
And then she wrote Postcards from the Edge. I used to corner people and read it to them.
Gonna miss her.
Thank you for this. She will be missed. <3 <3
I’m been very sad over Carrie’s and Debbie’s deaths, but this made me cry.
Back in the day, I was *not* a fan, even though my friends were rabid about Star Wars, until I finally watched it. And the reason for that was Princess Leia. I had thought it was going to be like all the other space sagas, which I was tired of, but Leia was no real damsel in distress. They might have saved her, but she saved them, too. And she never was tempted by the Dark Side, unique among the Skywalkers, I believe.
After her death, I wasn’t surprised that Debbie died as sad as that was. I watched quite a few of her movies for film class and enjoyed them. Plus, her recent works were fun, too.
I really feel sad for Todd and Billie, to lose two such vibrant members of their family.
I came in a little late to really appreciate Debbie Reynolds; she was getting toward the end of her career when I was growing up. But I remember a lot of her films, in particular The Unsinkable Molly Brown, and the sparkle and fire she put into her roles. You can see where Princess Leia got a lot of her spunk, growing up with that role model. And I can understand how her overwhelming grief for her daughter could have caused her to succumb.
Oh God, Carrie. She was such a role model for so many generations of women. She was the kind of princess we all aspired to be, who talked back to tyrants, then picked up a rifle and fought her own way out, rescuing the clueless guys along the way, as soon as her Intergalactic Uber showed up. Every loss she suffered only made her madder, and stronger, and fiercer. And while Han was showing off and Luke was out of the picture off training with Yoda, she was the one getting shit done, running the rebellion, deploying troops, pushing for every victory, taking every failure to heart. And she only got better, stronger, smarter with age. In real life she was equally remarkable, a smart-ass, kick-ass woman who faced her daily demons, skewered them, laughed at them, and carried on being amazing. And now, when we need her the most, she’s gone. If they have to write her out of the SW series, I hope they give her a fitting end, an on-screen hero’s death, even if it’s not the one I really wanted to see. (Honestly? I wanted to see Leia pick up a lightsaber and go all Molly Weasley on Snoke’s ass.) The Force was with Carrie Fisher, and like the Force, as long as her films survive, she will be with us always.
I feel like I grew up with Carrie Fisher – I was 7 when Star Wars came out and I imprinted hard on Leia.
I remember reading an interview with her – it must have been sometime in the mid 80s to early 90s – about caring for her friends with AIDS. And by caring I mean opening up her home.
I read Postcards from the Edge in my 20s.
I loved her as a loose cannon guest on misc tv and radio talk shows.
Rest in peace Carrie.
I don’t think I’ve had another movie experience that tops sitting in the State Theater opening week in 1977–repeatedly, since I went back multiple times in a matter of days. The only Fisher book I’ve read is Postcards, but I loved both it and the movie version. (It’s one of my favorite Streep performances, to boot.) I’ve also been a Reynolds fan since childhood, when I spent hours after school watching old movies and Star Trek reruns. The shocking double whammy of losing them both at once so quickly and unexpectedly is a bitter blow. But I can truthfully say that they both enriched my life and I’m thankful to them for that. Thank you, ladies.
Carrie was a very very bright and shining star (and I don’t mean in the Hollywood sense). Since her death I have so many of her interviews from the past, drawn in by the incredible heart and spirit – and brain – that she had and utilized so wonderfully. I love her self-acceptance.
One of her quotes that just knocked me back, to which I can SO CLEARLY relate, is from her stand up routine, where she says, speaking of her and Paul Simon’s attempt at reconciliation: “things were getting worse faster than I could lower my standards” ……
what a beautiful woman.
I still remember wanting to be Princess Leia and making a homemade costume circa 1978.
I cried at the end of Rogue One…
Godspeed, Carrie Fisher. She was a brave soul both on and off-screen.
One of my favorite Debbie Reynolds movies is “Goodbye, Charley”. With Tony Curtis and Pat Boone, IMDB says “Shot by a jealous husband, Charley Sorel falls out a porthole and is lost at sea only to find himself returned as an attractive blond woman.” Curtis played his best friend and has to put Charlie’s affairs in order. Debbie played to female façade as she always was the lovely, sweet woman she always played. But she got to show her bawdier side playing Charley, the no good womanizer. From this performance, I see Carrie.
Will miss both of them so much. The world became a less funnier place.
One of my favorite Debbie Reynolds movies is “Goodbye, Charley”. With Tony Curtis and Pat Boone, IMDB says “Shot by a jealous husband, Charley Sorel falls out a porthole and is lost at sea only to find himself returned as an attractive blond woman.” Curtis played his best friend and has to put Charlie’s affairs in order. Debbie played the female façade as she always was the lovely, sweet woman she always played. But she got to show her bawdier side playing Charley, the no good womanizer. From this performance, I see Carrie.
Will miss both of them so much. The world became a less funnier place.