In October 1977, a new space saga was released, forever changing space operas. Star Wars: A New Hope launched its stars Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill and Harrison Ford into superstardom overnight in 1977.
Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia redefined what a damsel-in-distress was, becoming an action hero in her own right. Journalist Susan Duncan sat down with the actress ahead of the film’s Australian release in The Australian Women’s Weekly. Carrie was the cover star of the 19 October 1977 issue, speaking about her newfound fame.
The writer and actress reprised her iconic role as Princess Leia in Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) and Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017). She also appeared posthumously in the final episode of the rebooted trilogy, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019) via unused footage from The Force Awakens.
Carrie sadly passed away at the age of 60 years old from a cardiac arrest.
Read on for our interview with Carrie Fisher from The Weekly’s archives.
Carrie Fisher: Rocketing to Stardom
She may not be the traditional image of a leading lady. Short, with long brown hair falling almost to her waist, framing a soft, girlish face. Yet Carrie Fisher is almost certain to be the “most seen” leading lady on the cinema screen this year.
This 20-year-old daughter of Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher has been rocketed to stardom by the zany new science-fiction movie Star Wars, which is breaking all box office records in America and is likely to do the same in Australia when it is shown later this month.
When Susan Duncan went along to talk to her in New York, Carrie was lounging in a chair, drinking iced tea.
“You know,” she mused, “I’m gonna ring 20th Century-Fox tomorrow and demand it gives me back this day at the end of my life. It’s been a total mess.”
Since her leading role as Princess Leia in Star Wars, she’s been getting the full star treatment.
That morning, she’d given an interview, started to prepare for a European tour, and endured a one-hour photography session that stretched into a mammoth five hours.
“Photography is just not my thing. It’s based on the premise that you’ve got gorgeous Katharine Hepburn-type cheekbones, a long, slim figure and that your overall impression is one of svelte beauty. Now, no one could honestly call me a beauty.”
It wasn’t a search for compliments; it was a totally honest Carrie Fisher self-appraisal.
Her snub nose, round face and her slight stature (she is 132cm tall) are about as far from a traditional leading lady as you could get.
But it doesn’t seem to matter once Carrie gets in front of the movie cameras. She gives off an energy and spunkiness that is both endearing and compelling.
“Even though Star Wars was a hit, I can’t honestly say that new offers have been pouring in,” she says. “I’ve been offered a role as a mentally challenged human being, and there’s talk about a musical, but you couldn’t really call that being besieged, could you?”
Carrie Fisher lives in a roomy old apartment in the semi-tough part of Central Park West. The paint is peeling on her front door, and the plumbing, well . . . “what plumbing?” she’ll retort. Inside, though, the furnishings are a mixture of steak house signs, old photographs of college classes of the 20s and 30s, and incredible hallstands carved from tree trunks to resemble grizzly bears and fruit trees. Her bed is a crazy design which looks like a whole lot of firewood laced together.
“I love old things,” says Carrie. “I used to buy all my clothes from opportunity shops, and I’ll still hunt through piles of junk for a bargain.
She adds enthusiastically, “I think I’m a bit of an eccentric”. After her movie debut in Shampoo, with Warren Beatty, Carrie was all set for a career in films. But mother Debbie put her foot down.
“No more roles,” she ordered, “you’re going to acting school.”
So Carrie set off for London, where she attended the Central School of Speech and Drama. A former schoolmate, Selina Cadell, described the impressions Carrie made there.
“She was a tremendously generous person, always throwing parties, and motivating everyone to get up and do things rather than sit around the common room being bored,” she said. “I remember my first meeting with her. I was trying out for a part, and my hair kept falling in my eyes. Finally, the director told me to do something about it or else. I rushed into the cloakroom and asked this kid wearing a black felt hat whether she had a hairpin. It was Carrie, and she said. “Hairpin? I’m bald!”
Carrie explained: “I’d been to a really ritzy hairdresser who’d cut off all my hair. I refused to take off my hat until it grew.”
Because of her family background. Carrie had to try harder at school. “Everyone seemed to expect more from her,” Selina said. “It would’ve depressed me. But Carrie kept her wonderful American humour about it all.”
Carrie Fisher dropped out of drama school in her third year – she’d dropped out of high school when she was 15 to tour with her mother in the show Irene.
“Do I have any regrets?” Carrie mused. “Everyone asks me that question all the time. You know the stuff … do you regret your privileged childhood, your famous parents, their famous divorce, your father’s drug addiction and so on … Well, honestly, it’s pointless to regret anything. That’s retrogressive. The only thing I do regret, though, is that I dropped out of school. Truly.”
“I know a little bit about a lot of things, but I want to know more. Everyone writes about me as either pretentious or precocious, except that I’m too old to be precocious now. You could just say that I’m curious.”
Coincidentally, the phone rang.
“Hi, Martin,” she said. “Nope, let’s cancel today. I just can’t make it. I’ll pay you for the lesson.”
Martin is her philosophy teacher. Carrie had a lesson scheduled that afternoon, but the photography session had thrown the whole day out.
“You know that bit about asking for today back at the end of my life?” Carrie asked. “Well, actually. I stole that line from Harrison Ford. He said it first.” Harrison Ford also starred in Star Wars.
Inevitably, I asked Carrie about the rumours about her mother. The ones that insist Debbie deserted Harry Kuhn, her second husband, when he went broke, that she wangles financial deals, that she’s
difficult to deal with.
Carrie drew in a deep breath and paused. “Poor Mom,” she said. “She’s so little, and everyone picks on her. She tries so hard to be honest and a thorough-going professional, but she just can’t win.
“Look,” she said, “I like my mother. She’s never pretended to be a great actress, but she works like a dog at her profession.”
“She didn’t leave Harry until four years after he went broke. I think she’s just chosen her husbands badly. As for Liz Taylor, well, that hurt my father more than it hurt Deb. I don’t think the public ever forgave Eddie for turning out to be a bad guy.
“But what the hell, everything gets so messed up in stories. Do you know what one magazine had me doing? I was living with this guy – untrue. Then it published this poem I’d written as a teenager, which was meant to be a bit of fun and treated it seriously.”
She got up to set up a projector. It was Friday night, and home-movie time in the Carrie Fisher apartment.
“Wanna come along?” she asked. “We’re showing Fellini, but really we need more girls. We’re always short of girls.”
No wonder Carrie Fisher is totally captivating.
WORDS: Susan Duncan, The Australian Women’s Weekly, 19 October 1977. With thanks to Trove.
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