Before reading Being a Rockefeller, Becoming Myself all I knew of the Rockefeller’s, or any members of the American ‘aristocracy’ for that matter, was from Thoroughly Modern Millie (one of my favourite films.) There is a scene in the second half of the film where the protagonist, Millie, is paying a taxi driver on behalf of the clueless Miss Dorothy, as she carefully counts her change – not leaving a tip – the cab driver retorts sarcastically, “well it’s not everyday you meet a Rockefeller and a Vanderbilt.” I should have realised then, if you are mentioned in popular culture, you’re big.
“Hello and welcome to Carrie’s voice mail. Due to recent electroconvulsive therapy, please pay close attention to the following options. Leave your name, number, and a brief history as to how Carrie knows you, and she’ll get back to you if this jogs what’s left of her memory. Thank you for calling and have a great day.”
Fisher is candid, sarcastic and wonderfully honest – she is open about her illness and this honesty is refreshing and hilarious. She isn’t self-pitying, shit has happened and she is living life best she can.
My friend Louise once taught me that it is healthier to find things funny than dwell over the horrendousness of them – and that is exactly what Fisher does; you either laugh or you cry and Fisher has chosen laughter.
I have had an epiphany; well, a realisation; well, a thought – my film taste is the total opposite to my literary. On a small and effortless quest during one massive bout of procrastination, I began listing my favourite films – anything not Tarantino or Ghibli was either a musical or teen’s dream; Meet me in St Louis, Thoroughly Modern Millie, My Fair Lady, The Holiday, 27 Dresses, 10 Things I Hate About you, Pitch Perfect, Hairspray, Get Over It, Pretty In Pink, Sixteen Candles, Breakfast Club. A collection of films design to stop me thinking.
This really has no relations to my Miranda review, I just felt like sharing. Onwards!