In November 1996, while I was free-lancing for NBC affiliate KRRC-TV, I drove to Austin to cover the junket for Albert Brooks’ Mother – and had a brief one-on-one sit-down with Debbie Reynolds.
Funnily enough,
I had asked her a question during a press conference for the very same movie a
few weeks earlier at the Toronto Film Festival: “How would you compare working
for Albert Brooks to working for Oliver Stone?” (Afterwards, I had to remind
more than a few of my quizzical colleagues that she had played a supporting
role in Stone’s Heaven & Earth.) And
she was very gracious while saying nice things about both gentlemen.
But in
Austin, she displayed — well, a delightfully bawdier side of her character.
As I walked into the hotel suite where the videotaping
would take place, Reynolds was talking with the production crew about her… her…
well, OK, her breasts. Specifically: She was discussing how she had maintained
her figure despite the passing of years — she was 64 at the time, the same age
I am now — and the laws of gravity. And she wanted everyone within earshot to know:
“I’m very proud of my tits.” When she realized a newcomer had entered the
interview zone, she turned her gaze to me, and bluntly asked: “Don’t you think
I still have great tits?”
For a second, I thought: “Just how does one respond to a
question like that?”
And then I figured, what the hell, say what you think.
So I answered: “They look terrific, ma’am. And your ass looks
pretty good, too.”
She laughed, but demurred. “Oh, no, that’s gone to hell. But
my tits…”
I have dined out on that anecdote many times over the past
two decades. And I thought about it again yesterday, when I learned of Carrie
Fisher’s passing, and recalled how she was a fabulously and fearlessly funny
woman who never shied away from making herself the butt of her own jokes. (Pardon the pun.) Tonight, I grieve for Debbie Reynolds, and find myself painfully reminded of
the classic explanation of the difference between plot and story. (Plot: “The queen
died. And then five days later, the king died.” Story: “The queen died. And
then five days later, the king died — of a broken heart.”) At the same time,
however, I take some solace and amusement in my happy memory: Like mother, like
daughter.
2 comments:
It makes me smile to hear about what a sense of humor she had - even though I must smile through my tears. Thank you, Mr. Leydon, for sharing this story. And thank you, Debbie Reynolds, for being the wonderful entertainer you were.
Thank you for sharing your memories. Well said.
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