Perfect remedy (or at least treatment) for those who were genuinely upset at the death of Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds so close to each other. It's a fascinating look at these two old broads - kind of like Grey Gardens only with money and more career respect: they were neighbours, great friends, who cared for each other. It's easy to see why Debbie would not want to have lasted long without Carrie.
It's also clear why Carrie didn't live to an old age - she doesn't look well, puffing away on the ciggies and sucking down the Cokes, grumbling at the personal trainer hired by Lucasfilm to look after her (I kept calling out to the screen "listen to him, Carrie! He's not a bad guy.") There's also a few scenes where Carrie seems to be high on something.
Debbie is no saint. She looks fantastic, with little plastic surgery - but to be blunt in a few scenes (especially at the end) she seems to be tripping on something as well.
The directors had incredible access and there's some amazing home footage of little Carrie and Todd, as well as Harry Karl and a handsome Eddie Fisher. There's also a later interview with Debbie's mum who seemed like a bitch and an old Eddie Fisher who looks awful - this was the most disturbing part of it for me.
Debbie does her one woman show full of corny jokes and her fluffing lines and misremembering lyrics (the directors devote long takes to this, which is great), but she loves performing. Todd helps out. Carrie goes to London, attends Star Wars conventions. Both go to award ceremonies and live in a houses full of trinkets and junk. Both mad, both lovely, both talented, both pros. It's a fantastic love story.
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