Wishful Drinking, all 170 pages of it, is a rather scatterbrained exercise in hilarity, written by Carrie Fisher fresh out of electroshock therapy (this is still a thing?). It gives you the feeling of privately dishing with a Hollywood celebrity, almost like a real-world Dame Edna, over tea and gummy worms in the Mos Eisley Cantina. It really picks up a few chapters in and I could have used more Star Wars stuff (though I had no clue she was married to Paul Simon, or that George Lucas was very quiet back then and only gave the main actors two notes during the entire filming). I enjoyed Fisher's point of view of being only 19 during the filming of SW, a young would-be actress fresh out of a London voice and acting school:
"Now if you enjoyed my performance as Princess Leia-and who could resist my stunning, layered, and moving portrait not-unlike-Mary-Poppins performance-then it's thanks to tongue twisters...
Consider: "You'll never get that bucket of bolts past that blockade." Proper coffee pot?
Or: "Why, you stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking nerf herder!"-proper copper coffee pot, I'll have a cup of tea!
And don't forget, I had that weird little English accent that came and went like weather or bloat all through the movie.
And all my friends made fun of me because they said the title of the film sounded like a fight between my parents-Star Wars!"
There's a lot of great lines and some throwaway clutter and the strange details of Carrie waking up beside her dead gay friend after he overdoses, which sends her into rehab and eventually leads her to being diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I don't know what exactly we learn from this book other than it's weird to be Carrie Fisher, but then shit gets weird when people start making sex dolls in your youthful likeness!
And we've all been there, right?
on Tuesday, January 14, 2014