Sex, Drugs and Electroshock Therapy: Wishful Drinking's Carrie Fisher on...Carrie Fisher

It’s not that Carrie Fisher doesn’t enjoy her privacy. It’s just that, for her, drug addiction, cheating parents, failed romances, mental illness and a gay husband don’t fall into the category of “private.” You can trace some of that back to an overexposed childhood—the daughter of Singin’ in the Rain icon Debbie Reynolds and “Oh My Papa” crooner Eddie Fisher, Carrie had her picture splashed across magazine covers before she was more than a few weeks old—and some to the fact that Fisher honestly doesn’t give a damn what you think about her. Which is probably why her one-woman show Wishful Drinking, a wry exploration of everything from her notorious Star Wars fame to the addictions that eventually landed her in a psych ward, is entertaining enough to have nabbed a spot at Roundabout Theatre Company’s Studio 54, where it will open on October 4. We sat down with the witty artist formerly known as Princess Leia (or, for you young-guns, the campy den mother in new college-slasher flick Sorority Row) for a frank discussion about dancing with the skeletons in her closet onstage—and why her show has a lesson or two for Next to Normal.

So, why take your most intimate personal information and put it onstage?
I’ve always used this as a sort of survival technique. If you can declare something, it has less power over you. It’s sort of like coming out and saying, “I’m Carrie, and I’m an alcoholic.” When you say that, it has less power over you. So this [show] is just a really long version of that. For a long time, I had things I was ashamed of—secrets, you know—and that’s really exhausting. Of course, this is the other extreme! And I also partly do it because I can, which is great. Basically, I talk about myself behind my back.

For people who have no idea what Wishful Drinking is about, can you preview what’s in store?
They are going to learn far more about me than they ever wanted to know [laughs]. For some people, that might be a good thing. The others? Well, you never know. The good news is that I give people who are having a hard time with the performance a drink voucher! I basically tell all about the most difficult parts of my life. But it’s a smorgasbord of events. It starts with me waking up next to my dead, gay, Republican, drug-addict friend. I get that out of the way, ask if people have any questions, and then go through bullet points of my life.

Which is a little wilder than most. You’re being serious when you say you ask the audience for questions?
Oh yeah, I ask, and then they ask. I was going to see if I could get anyone to ask questions about my Electro-Convulsive Therapy specifically, but I haven’t quite managed to do that [successfully] yet.

I’ll ask. What’s up with your ECT?
I am bipolar. I have been on medication for it for a long time, which is why I have weight problems and why people online say I look like Elton John. Over a period of time, medication stopped being effective. I started looking for other options, and my doctors recommended ECT. I freaked out, like anybody would. I’m going, “Isn’t that like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? Don’t do this to me!” But it’s completely different from that today. And it was a very useful form of therapy for getting me out of a particular depression that I was in at the time.

ECT affects the memory, correct?
It does—wait. What? Who are you? I mean, yes, it does, when you’re having the initial treatment. Then, over time, you go into maintenance—you’re getting it once every six weeks, or few months. Once you hit that, it doesn’t really happen at all. But during that initial treatment you lose about four months [of memory], totally goodbye. If you meet someone during that four months, you very likely won’t remember them—so, worth it! Look, if the trade-off is “I’m not depressed anymore,” it is worth it. The doctor said I was really freaked out beforehand, and I have no memory of that, so there’s an added bonus. But you should know there’s no more convulsing these days, so they should just call it ET. They give you medicine that freezes your muscles and a medicine to put you to sleep. Then they put these two little pieces of film on your head. You’re asleep for seven minutes and [snaps fingers] done! That’s it. But it has a really, really, really bad rep.

You’re the second currently running Broadway show to feature ECT.
I saw the other one, Next to Normal, right? But they’re continuing the bad rap! They basically stay with the whole stereotype of what ECT is. They have that whole thing where their patient goes home and doesn’t know who anyone is! If I saw that, I’d go, “That’s not something I’m going to do!”

Well, you’re here now to balance it out and set us straight.
Yes I do! I put the fun in funeral. Look, ECT works great for some people. It’s probably not right for others. It does affect the memory. But who knows whether my memory loss is because I’m old, the ECT, or because I used to take a lot of LSD? We [can blame it on] anything with three letters.

So there’s no risk of you stopping in for a treatment and, say, forgetting the entire show.
No, no, nothing like that’s going to happen. But at my age, no matter what, you’re still going to have moments of, “Wait, who was that? What’s going on? What was her name?” And yes, you lose those four months, but at my age what’s going to happen in one four-month period that isn’t going to happen in the next four months? For me, that’s an easy swap of time.

You made your Broadway debut as a teenager in your mother’s show Irene. How has the scene changed since then?
We didn’t have crack then. No, the city is more intense now! Then, it was just this exciting, vital place to be. New York was a very manic place, and I was a lot younger. When you’re manic in a manic city you’re fine. Now it’s more difficult for me to navigate.

How have your parents and ex-lovers handled your airing their dirty laundry on stage?
I went to everyone that I talk about in the show and said, “Here’s what I’m going to say.” So I’ve gotten permission. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. The show is about me, or me in relationship to someone. If they had a problem with anything I wrote, I just took it out.

We should probably make it clear that despite talking about mental illness, ECT and dead friends, this is a comedy.
I like to make fun of stuff that’s not funny! And it’s not just the heavy stuff. There’s Star Wars, my relationships, my daughter. I circled the drain, but in a good way.

You say, “If my life wasn’t funny, it’d just be true…"
“…and that’s unacceptable.” Some of the things that have happened in my life, without adornment or a particular slant, would be…well, how funny is it to be left by a man for a man? [She fakes a happy giggle.] It wasn’t funny! But years later, I can say something like, “I turned him gay by taking Codeine”—which is what he told me—“but I never read that warning on the label!” And that is funny. Some things are funny by necessity. But you’re right, the show isn’t all stories like that. I talk about my lofty Hollywood experiences too [rolls eyes].

Will your teenage daughter, Billie, follow tradition and join you onstage for your show?
Oh man, NO. My daughter, thankfully, is in school. She’s a senior, and I was a dropout. She has unbelievable scores on her SATs, and I go for ECT. My daughter says she wants to be a writer or a doctor, and I think, “Yes, please!” I don’t want her in show business.

See Carrie Fisher in Wishful Drinking at Studio 54.