Star Wars was released on May 25, 1977. I was 13 years old. I seem to remember it being a little later than that but that's only because my mother retrieved me and my brother from the airport, having just spent a month in the Midwest and took us directly to the theater. It was summer. Somehow I expect she'd already seen it. My father and the Lion were in Europe.
Carrie Fisher was 21.
I just watched this movie again for the first time in 38 years with my family in anticipation of seeing the latest film (they did, I did not). I saw a few of the others but certainly not all of them. I got bored; there's only so much of the same general theme I can tolerate before my eyes roll back into the sockets.
So here we are, 38 years later and I am 51 and Carrie Fisher is 58. Or maybe she's 59. Does it matter? There is no reason to expect that I'd look anything like that preadolescent girl (oh thank the gods) and certainly no reason to expect Ms Fisher to look like the white gowned fighting bun head from 1977. I understand later on we sexualized her further by sticking her in some sort of gold bikini which reminds me of Jane Fonda for some obscure reason. Chalk that up to another reason I got bored.
It isn't that I have anything against violent movies. On the contrary, just about anything with Vin Diesel will get my attention. I'm more inclined toward The Chronicles of Riddick than The Fast and the Furious (I believe there are 8 now) but I wouldn't walk away. I like Game of Thrones as much as the next junkie but I'm almost more inclined to The Borgias series on Netflix which quite honestly isn't any more gory than GoT but it is lacking the fantasy and promise of magic so it might be a little tough to swallow if you have trouble with the reality of violence (as opposed to the pretend of violence). Both series have some pretty tough women; The Borgias might just be a little more honest in terms of human nature. Again, might be a little tough to swallow.
But the objectification of women for the pleasure of adolescent boys and the original aging adolescent boys has gotten old, and if we need any proof that they're out there all we need to do is listen to the uproar over what happened to Carrie Fisher's body.
It aged, mother-fuckers.
Not only that, but according to the fan base, it aged BADLY, which apparently hurt all three of her feelings.
Yup, you read that right, it hurt all three of her feelings.
I want to be her.
Her body is a meat bag for her mind.
Well that's intense.
That's not quite how I feel about my body but I understand the principle and it's something to work toward.
Now let's talk about that other guy, Mr. Skywalker. Not even recognizable. Just sayin'. All my school girl fantasies right out the window. I'm crushed. I'm heart broken. I want to write him a letter and ask him what the hell happened. How could he have allowed this to happen? Doesn't he realize he's the bar I've held all men up to all these years? The blond crush?
OK, it wasn't really him, it was Harrison Ford and he HAS aged well. He's as yummy as he always was and I'd run off with him in a heartbeat despite the fact that I don't know a damn thing about the man. Arm candy. Wait. He might turn out to be a head banger... don't care, lousy lover or not, he still looks good and I'll take him.
Have I made my point?
Carrie Fisher. I want to be her. She wrote Postcards From the Edge. Definitely worth checking out. I never did see the film.