Saturday, December 31, 2016
The princess is dead. Long live the princess
When I heard that Carrie Fisher, 60, unexpectedly died earlier this week, I was shocked, just as, I think, the rest of the world was.
After all she was relatively young and enjoying something of a movie comeback with the release of “Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens,” “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story” and the upcoming and as yet untitled “Star Wars” episode VIII film. She’d been all over TV talk shows with her beloved dog, Gary, promoting the films and her latest book, “The Princess Diarist” and outwardly showed no signs of illness.
The fact that she was suddenly gone was hard to get my head around. She was part of a franchise that played an important part in my childhood and adolesence. Death, it seems, had yet again stolen a “friend” from me who I’d naively assumed would always be around to cheer me up or inspire me.
Naturally, I thought I should write something about her for this month’s post. But what could I say about this talented actress, author and mental health advocate that hasn’t already been so eloquently expressed by dozens of others?
I had to think long and hard about this.
Fisher’s life was far from that of the proverbial fairytale princess. Born to two famous celebrities, Debbie Reynolds, who died of a stroke only a day after her daughter; and Eddie Fisher, she grew up in the circus of the Hollywood spotlight. As a young woman she was terribly insecure, turned to drugs and alcohol and became an addict. Then later in life she was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder.
These facts alone would seem to disqualify her as being a role model, and yet through her portrayal of the galaxy’s most famous royal, she became one anyway.
I heard her remark how surprised she was by this on a recent interview on NPR’s “Fresh Air” program.
She recalled a woman, dressed as Princess Leia, coming up to her at a “Star Wars” convention and telling her that she’d been an inspiration.
Fisher was shocked:
“I've been to an autograph thing of theirs, and it was
beyond belief. I wanted to make a documentary of the people that get in the
outfits. One woman cried and said that I had inspired her. I said, to what end?
What are you? She said, a lawyer. And I didn't know how Princess Leia had
inspired her to be a lawyer.”
But in reality she shouldn’t have been.
Despite her turbulent personal life, Fisher’s best-known role as Princess Leia showed both boys and girls that women in sci-fi didn’t just have to be the male hero’s love interest or relegated to the role of sexy damsel in distress. She could “kick ass and take names” just like “one of the boys” and be a competent leader just like the men.
Take for example, the scene in the original “Star Wars” movie where Luke and Han rescue Leia from her jail cell on the Death Star. At first it seems like the typical rescue damsel in distress trope. But when the male heroes’ plans go awry, the film turns that trope on its head and has the Princess rescue her male rescuers. (Okay, you could argue the garbage compactor wasn’t much more effective a rescue than Luke and Han’s plan, but her quick thinking did prevent them from all from ending up in their own detention cells or being killed).
From there on out, it’s obviously Leia calling the shots and she continues to take an active role in their adventures throughout the rest of the trilogy.
Even in “Return of Jedi,” when she was forced to wear that now famous metal bikini, Fisher showed her princess wasn’t just sexy set dressing like the women featured on the sci-fi pulp covers of the 1930s, ’40s and ’50s from where “Star Wars” drew its obvious inspiration.
While Luke and Han were preoccupied by not getting tossed into the Sarlacc pit, Leia not only manages to free herself, but kill the villain who was holding her and her friends captive.
I can’t really claim that seeing Fisher’s performance as Princess Leia had as much influence on my life as that “Star Wars” fan who became a lawyer because she loved the character so much. But it did have an effect that until just a few days ago, I never realized.
The female protagonist in the story I’ve been working on for years, owes a lot to her. When I first started writing this story way back in my early teens, before “Star Wars” came out, this character was relegated to the girlfriend of male hero role.
But over the years, she moved from love-interest to one of the main characters who helps drive the plot along. She’s far from the shrieking damsel in distress like many of the female characters I saw in sci-fi stories of my youth (cough, “Doctor Who” cough). She’s just as tough as her male companions and in many ways provides them with their moral compass.
Perhaps that’s Fisher’s real legacy. A subtle reminder over a lifetime, that heroes can come in both genders. And if we really wish to honor her, then we as sci-fi/fantasy fans and content producers need to remember this.
If we do, then Carrie Fisher will never really be gone from us. The flesh and blood princess may be dead, but the ideal she showed us will live on and on.
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