It's hard to imagine the dizzying speed with which Carrie Fisher's life and career had exploded at barely 20 years old.
She only counted one credit, a minor role in 1975's Shampoo comedy, before landing the role of Princess Leia in George Lucas' silly little Buck Rogers project. It had been a long time since Hollywood had created an old-fashioned space opera, and a risky gamble for 20th-century Fox to sink their money into, taking a punt on a slice of fantasy fodder amid a box office dominated by the era's pessimistic wallow in moral ambiguity and subversive anti-heroes.
They needn't have worried. Released in the summer of 1977, Star Wars was launched into the pop cultural landscape as cinema's biggest ever veritable phenomenon, raking in millions worldwide, further establishing the blockbuster model after Jaws' high-concept pointer, and gifting America with a feel-good slice of escapist fun injecting a buoyant surge of sorely-needed optimism just as the nation was in serious, post Watergate and Vietnam War doubt.
Fisher found herself caught right in the centre of Star Wars' blockbuster whirlwind. An overnight star, Fisher was whisked from a teen hopeful trying to find their break to her likeness slapped on a mountain of action figures and official merchandise. Boasting your own Kenner Barbie rip-off doll before your third movie is as good a sign as any that you've made it.
There was some seasoned acting pedigree on set. Along with the equally fresh-faced Mark Hamill and frustrated actor-come-carpenter Harrison Ford yet to grab fame, Ealing stalwart and David Lean regular Alec Guinness was on hand as a reliable morale booster, his Obi-Wan Kenobi lending the cast and crew a reassuring Jedi gravitas to the production, much needed when doubts were had about Lucas' bizarre alien folly.
Another pro was Peter Cushing. Playing the evil Galactic Empire's Grand Moff Tarkin, Cushing's former credentials counted numerous roles in the UK's much-loved Hammer horror features, as well as playing the Timelord Doctor Who in both big screen adaptations. Despite rarely playing the bloodcurdling monsters themselves, an honour bestowed upon fellow Hammer legend and future Star Wars alumni Christopher Lee, Cushing's litany of villainous roles spelt a fierce reputation around the old Shakespearean actor.
Such a foreboding aura was an energy Fisher could work with. Eager to drum up the defiant charge needed to first face off with Tarkin for the Alderaan home planet explosion scene, Fisher needed as much inspiration as possible to reel off lines like "Governor Tarkin, I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash. I recognised your foul stench when I was brought on board," with any conviction.
The fact is, Cushing was nothing but an old-fashioned, English gent. Softly-spoken, courteous to crew, and a delight to work with professionally, any gothic Baron Victor Frankenstein vibes were swiftly swept aside the moment the two met. Able to muster the cold menace needed during takes, the sinister Tarkin couldn't be further from the performer.
"He was just so nice, so gentle, so kind," Fisher recalled in JW Rinzler's making of book. "I kept trying to be mad at him, but it was impossible." As for the immortal line, "I had to substitute somebody else in order to get hatred for him. I had to say, 'I recognised your foul stench...' But the man smelled like linen and lavender."