We went to see Solo: A Star Wars Story last week, which prompted us to rent the first three Star Wars films, meaning the three prequels that came out after the dynamic three from the seventies and eighties. I gave each one between 2-21/2 stars each. It doesn’t really matter which was which, as I truly did not enjoy myself except in spots. After we watched Revenge of the Sith, I was so depressed we watched Spaceballs to feel better. But this is not about the Star Wars franchise, this is about Carrie Fisher, who died in December, 2016.
I wasn’t allowed to go to movies that weren’t rated G until I was 18. When I did, one of the first movies I saw was The Empire Strikes Back. I saw it five times in a row. Wow, that was so cool. I was kind of torn about who was coolest, because truly it was so well cast. I knew all the lines by heart. Being the newly independent teen, I especially got a kick out of scenes such as this one:
Carrie starred in all three of the original Star Wars films. She reprised her role of Leia Organa in Star Wars: The Last Jedi which was released last year.
She was a beautiful woman inside and out, with such an interesting personality. She struggled with mental illness, and even came out public with it, like in this Oprah episode where she sang with her mother. I found this very touching and beautiful. It made me think of my relationship with my mother.
I read Carrie Fisher’s book, Shockaholic, in fact I listened to it in audio, ready by Carrie herself. I finished the book in a couple of days and thought about wanting to write a fan letter for the first time in years, because her book meant so much to me. She died the next day. It’s crazy to think you know a celebrity just because you admire them, but there was something meaningful about hearing her read about struggles I also was dealing with. I felt less alone, and hopeful.
Carrie Fisher died too soon, and I will miss her. Here’s a parting shot–