TELEVISION REVIEW
'Super Skinny Me' isn't heavy
Here in the land of Big Macs and thin obsessions, 'Super Skinny Me' just seems so British.
By Mary McNamara, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
Strangely enough, December is "body image month" on BBC America, which translates into five hourlong documentaries looking at issues as varied as small breasts, obesity and transgenderism. In "Super Skinny Me," which kicks off the series, two female journalists go on five-week crash diets to see what it takes to whittle their normal-sized bodies down to a model- esque size 0.
No, wait. That's what the documentary would have been about if it had been made in the U.S., where dieting is an obsession, a national hobby and often a competitive sport. But "Super Skinny Me" is British, and so, rather than glamorizing the quest for thinness for the audience, the emphasis is what happens, physically and psychologically, to two women who have never been on diets before as they make their way through a regimen of cleansing drinks, rigorous workouts and colonics. (Hint: nothing good.)
You can tell this is not an American production right away, and not because of the accents. First off, can you imagine finding two female American journalists who had never ever been on a diet? Can you imagine a 28-year-old American woman saying, as Louise Burke does, that at size 4 she felt too skinny? Really, it's worth watching for the contrast in cultures alone.
"Super Skinny Me" is billed as a "Super Size Me" in reverse. But whereas Morgan Spurlock was willing to go to extreme lengths to make his point about the harmful effects of junk food -- growing bloated and pale and sweaty right before our eyes -- the creators of "Super Skinny" play it very safe. This is good for the mental and physical health of the participants, of course, but bad for the documentary.
When, after four weeks, Kate Spicer, 37, develops a fondness for colonics and has some binge issues -- her eating is described as "chaotic" -- she is taken out of the experiment. The decision is obviously the humane one, but it requires an appreciation for subtlety that is not what we expect from documentaries like this one. To an American eye, at least, Spicer's "chaotic" misery over drinking yet another glass of cleansing lemonade or sudden surrender to a dessert looks normal enough for a woman trying to squeeze down several dress sizes. This may be a sad reflection on the state of eating, or perhaps television, in America, but it seems something a little more dramatic is called for -- fainting, or meltdowns or something. Frankly, I've seen more physical and emotional deterioration on "Project Runway."
The very nature of the project makes it perhaps not the best choice for film. Although there was a wince-worthy fascination with watching Spurlock shove Big Macs in his face, it is not terribly exciting to watch women not eat. Five weeks may be a long time to exist on protein shakes, but listening to the women complain of fatigue and crankiness was a bit like listening to every woman I know, including myself, at some dieting point in their lives. Suck it up, I wanted to say, that's why it's called dieting.
Of course, the point is that these women didn't need to lose weight -- their weight, size and body-fat levels were all healthy. So right there you lose half of the obesity-prone American audience. What the filmmakers are saying -- that so many stars and, by extension, young women are obsessed with being very skinny -- is obviously valid. But neither of the women come close to the skeletal images of Nicole Richie or Keira Knightley. The visuals are not exactly startling, no hair loss or ashen skin, no cessation of menstrual periods. In fact, the women look pretty darn good after the five weeks, though, of course, that may be my media conditioning speaking.
All of which makes me wonder if this wouldn't have been a better newspaper story. The strongest moments came when the women were discussing how they felt on the diets -- exhausted or irritable or out of control. How it put a strain on their relationships, how it made them measure their self-worth in pounds (or stones). What was occurring internally was more interesting than what was happening externally. When Louise says straight out, "I don't think I've ever been so unhappy in my life," it's a little hard to believe. Yes, we've seen her slumping at work, but we haven't been made privy to her depressive thoughts.
And she's even pretty excited when those size-0 jeans slide on so nicely.
mary.mcnamara@latimes.com
No, wait. That's what the documentary would have been about if it had been made in the U.S., where dieting is an obsession, a national hobby and often a competitive sport. But "Super Skinny Me" is British, and so, rather than glamorizing the quest for thinness for the audience, the emphasis is what happens, physically and psychologically, to two women who have never been on diets before as they make their way through a regimen of cleansing drinks, rigorous workouts and colonics. (Hint: nothing good.)
You can tell this is not an American production right away, and not because of the accents. First off, can you imagine finding two female American journalists who had never ever been on a diet? Can you imagine a 28-year-old American woman saying, as Louise Burke does, that at size 4 she felt too skinny? Really, it's worth watching for the contrast in cultures alone.
"Super Skinny Me" is billed as a "Super Size Me" in reverse. But whereas Morgan Spurlock was willing to go to extreme lengths to make his point about the harmful effects of junk food -- growing bloated and pale and sweaty right before our eyes -- the creators of "Super Skinny" play it very safe. This is good for the mental and physical health of the participants, of course, but bad for the documentary.
When, after four weeks, Kate Spicer, 37, develops a fondness for colonics and has some binge issues -- her eating is described as "chaotic" -- she is taken out of the experiment. The decision is obviously the humane one, but it requires an appreciation for subtlety that is not what we expect from documentaries like this one. To an American eye, at least, Spicer's "chaotic" misery over drinking yet another glass of cleansing lemonade or sudden surrender to a dessert looks normal enough for a woman trying to squeeze down several dress sizes. This may be a sad reflection on the state of eating, or perhaps television, in America, but it seems something a little more dramatic is called for -- fainting, or meltdowns or something. Frankly, I've seen more physical and emotional deterioration on "Project Runway."
The very nature of the project makes it perhaps not the best choice for film. Although there was a wince-worthy fascination with watching Spurlock shove Big Macs in his face, it is not terribly exciting to watch women not eat. Five weeks may be a long time to exist on protein shakes, but listening to the women complain of fatigue and crankiness was a bit like listening to every woman I know, including myself, at some dieting point in their lives. Suck it up, I wanted to say, that's why it's called dieting.
Of course, the point is that these women didn't need to lose weight -- their weight, size and body-fat levels were all healthy. So right there you lose half of the obesity-prone American audience. What the filmmakers are saying -- that so many stars and, by extension, young women are obsessed with being very skinny -- is obviously valid. But neither of the women come close to the skeletal images of Nicole Richie or Keira Knightley. The visuals are not exactly startling, no hair loss or ashen skin, no cessation of menstrual periods. In fact, the women look pretty darn good after the five weeks, though, of course, that may be my media conditioning speaking.
All of which makes me wonder if this wouldn't have been a better newspaper story. The strongest moments came when the women were discussing how they felt on the diets -- exhausted or irritable or out of control. How it put a strain on their relationships, how it made them measure their self-worth in pounds (or stones). What was occurring internally was more interesting than what was happening externally. When Louise says straight out, "I don't think I've ever been so unhappy in my life," it's a little hard to believe. Yes, we've seen her slumping at work, but we haven't been made privy to her depressive thoughts.
And she's even pretty excited when those size-0 jeans slide on so nicely.
mary.mcnamara@latimes.com
