Originally published on Medium, 4/15/18
I recently finished The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher. While I would expect nothing less from Carrie Fisher, it exceeded my expectations. For anyone who’s ever read, heard or watched her previous works (Post Cards From the Edge, Wishful Drinking, Surrender the Pink) you understand my meaning. For those who haven’t, work on changing that as soon as possible. Shove it to the top of your to-do list. Now.
Fisher’s storytelling is sharp and witty, incredibly nuanced and oozes brutal — but never cruel — honesty. Those last few words are exactly how I would describe The Princess Diarist. Fisher paints a picture of an unsure 19-year-old getting her feet wet in Hollywood. She takes us for a stroll through a park of memories: growing up with a celebrity mother, an absent father figure, her first forays into performing, and her audition for the role that would eventually define her career and Fisher as a person. All of these slices of life build up to the tale all Star Wars fans suspected and hoped was true — Carrie Fisher’s affair with Harrison Ford while filming Star Wars in 1976.
I read multiple reviews claiming the book was a rough read and, more than anything, not kind to Harrison Ford. Yes, the book does not shine a particularly glamorous light on the iconic star, however, the real issue is that’s everyone’s response. When the book was released, critics and fans focused on the wrong side of the story. Nearly all of the review headlines were a commentary on Harrison Ford’s personal character. Really, they should have read The Princess Diarist: An Honest and Brave Confession.
Fisher’s intent, as she makes clear in the book, is not to damage anyone’s career or life but to tell her story. And the most important thing to do when anyone tells their story is to listen. Listen to what they’re saying or not saying, listen to the subtext, listen to the emotion, listen to the intent. At a time when so many women have finally come forward to tell their story, it goes without saying this book is important. It’s important not just for women, but for society as a whole. Listen closely and you’ll hear Fisher screaming in your ears.
“Do not let what you think they think of you make you stop and question everything you are.”
There. Did you hear it? It’s Fisher’s way of saying listen up, everyone, women have their own stories to tell and it’s time to hear them out. More than anything The Princess Diaristis a lesson in being honest, not just with the world, but with yourself.
Around the same time, I finally got my lazy ass to a movie theater and saw Black Panther. I know, it was released two months ago and I’m a bad nerd for waiting this long. Comic book gods, please forgive me.
Much like Fisher’s book, I’d heard a lot of hype from friends, colleagues and critics — not all of it positive. For all the haters, I have just one question: did we see the same movie? Cultural impact aside, it’s just a good film. Done. Period. The end.
When you go to film school you learn how to dissect a film down to its most minute inner workings. Why did the director choose that shot? What is the writer trying to say? How does the lighting parallel the storytelling? What does the editor’s pacing say about the emotion of the scene? You spend so much time understanding you forget how to sit back and enjoy the show. I mean, that’s what film is really about…isn’t it? Black Panthermay be the most fun I’ve had in a movie theater in a while. But the brilliance of Ryan Coogler’s blockbuster is the fun forces you to sit back and listen. And by listen I don’t mean to T’Challa. Listen to Killmonger.
Alright, out of context that sounds wrong. Some of the most famous villains in cinematic history — the Wicked Witch, Darth Vader, Nurse Ratched — are pure evil. It’s that classic story of good versus evil. We as humans naturally wants to see the villain fail in the end. But not all villains wear black hats (and not all heroes wear white hats). The more interesting villains are neither inherently good or evil. They tread not-so-lightly in the gray area and since the world is one giant gray area, it feels more real, more relatable. The villains that really stick with us are the ones whose manifesto speaks to us.
“How do you think your ancestors got these? You think they paid full price it? Or did they take them like they took everything else?”
Enter Killmonger, a man raised in a society built on the oppression of people of color. While I’m not sitting here encouraging anyone to go out and earn themselves the nickname Killmonger (seriously, how many scars did he have?), listen to the heart of what he’s saying: we can longer ignore the world’s atrocities. T’Challa stops long enough to listen and interprets the basis of Killmonger’s message in his own way. He takes action through a positive lens, something I most certainly encourage all of us to do.
So, what the hell does this have to do with Kodachrome? The Paul Simon variety that is, not the Kodak type. Famous for his half of the Simon and Garfunkel duo, his equally successful solo career and, coincidentally, once being married to Princess Leia herself, Carrie Fisher. There are few songwriters who can match Paul Simon’s ability to pack a lifetime of emotion and story into a few lines.
“When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all.”
Kodachromerefers to the once great Kodak film stock, meant to represent nostalgia and the pedestal we put it on. My fellow Millennials, we are incredibly guilty of this — hence all of the series revivals. Do we really need three seasons of Fuller House? What Kodachromelays at our feet is the line between nostalgia and reality. The line is pretty clear, but so many of us choose the former every time.
Nostalgia feels good because it’s familiar. It’s warm and comforting. Stranger Things, for example, works because of a modern take on something familiar. But nostalgia is also dangerous. Just look at vacation spots like Colonial Williamsburg and bands like Lady Antebellum. Remember the good times and ignore the bad times because they didn’t affect you. Longing for the good old days is what Donald Trump’s signature “Make American Great Again” thrives on; it’s used like a weapon to keep the oppressed oppressed.
The Princess Diarist and Black Pantherrefuse to let that happen. Sure, there are more eloquent works that are considered “reputable,” but the advantage Fisher’s honesty and Coogler’s masterful work have is incredibly important: they’re mainstream. You can rail all the live long-long day, but if you only reach three people it’s not going to do the world any good. When you sell millions of copies of a book (even if it’s posthumously) or your movie makes $1,302,113,844 (and counting), it means people are listening. And that’s really what we need.
I’m not smart enough to wrap this all up, so I’ll let Carrie Fisher do it for me.