Super Size...Me?
by Robert S. Jersak

I’ll admit it -- I was smug. Too smug. I was set to enjoy a screening of Super Size Me, first-time director Morgan Spurlock's searing critique of America’s fast-food behemoth, knowing full well that I hadn’t eaten under the golden arches in years. I’m a vegetarian, a health nut, one of those pasty jerks who consume copious amounts of soy and use the word "phytonutrients" in everyday conversation. Yep, unlike other recent social commentary documentaries -- Life and Debt, Surplus: Terrorized into Being Consumers, Control Room -- I knew going in that I wasn’t a part of the problem; I was a part of the solution. But then Spurlock had to bring up Baskin-Robbins. Hey man, is nothing sacred?

Nobody is safe from Super Size Me, and that’s a good thing. Though the McDonald’s franchise receives the bulk of the attention in the film, it’s clear that the myriad of other fast food chains are all following a similar market strategy. Fast food has become such a pervasive part of our diet, our culture and our street corners that we’ve essentially stopped thinking about what we’re putting into our mouths. The eternal debate, touched on by Spurlock, is whether corporate restaurateurs are liable for the result -- an obesity epidemic -- or the people are solely responsible for choosing between fit and fat.

How Spurlock enters into this debate is now the stuff of contention, lore and, potentially, lawsuit: he embarks on a 30-day McDonald’s binge, with these provisions: 1) He will eat only what McDonald’s sells to its consumers 2) He will eat only three meals each day 3) He will try everything on the menu at least once 4) He will “Supersize” his meal whenever asked to do so by the McDonald’s cashier Yes, this is definitely what we would call a publicity stunt, and not a very thrilling one at that. Will he get fatter, become less healthy, begin to change the structure of his metabolism? The answers won’t leave too many people scratching their heads, even before heading into the theater. In fact, several prominent film critics have seconded McDonald’s official comment on Spurlock’s spurious antics: “Stupid.”

And it is stupid. Even his girlfriend, on screen, admits it's stupid. It’s reality-series junk, and if high-fat hijinks were all there was to the film, it would be about as worthwhile as a filet-o-fish sandwich. But there is more to this film, more than any of the harsher critics, defense lawyers or smug vegetarians perhaps want to admit. As one watches Super Size Me unfold, one gets the feeling that just as Spurlock’s waist is widening, so too is his thinking on the issue of consumer foods and nutrition. The film begins to examine state school lunch programs (naturally-made foods are as cost-effective as corporate-shipped freezer paks), the effects of corporate marketing campaigns (Ronald McDonald is instantly recognizable to children) and the remarkable leaps in fast-food serving sizes (what was once a standard adult portion is now called “child”) in recent years. He brings in other voices: doctors, nutritionists, lobbyists and consumers, all of whom deepen the debate. Is junk food marketed to kids? How often should someone eat processed foods? Can an excess of saturated fat really cut off your love life? The discussion that Spurlock coaxes out of his jackassed stunt is nothing short of brilliant -- a diamond ring hidden in a happy meal.

It's also stragely reminiscent. This exposé of “more” will undoubtedly bring to mind the work of another “Moore.” Super Size Me is almost a second generation Roger & Me, in which a new everyday schmoe singularly takes on a corporate giant and, in the process, reveals something amiss in our workaday world -- something to which we all are unwitting contributors. There’s even a sequence in which Spurlock tries to track down McDonald’s head of corporate responsibility. Though Spurlock isn’t as resolute as Moore was in his quest for an interview, his results are much the same -- both filmmakers fail to get answers from their targeted corporate honchos. And really, what answers could these people give that would be suitable?

The genius of these films is the subtle acknowledgement that the solutions to these issues lie within the purview of the general public -- the difficult choices they make after they step out of the theater. So maybe I’ll cut down on the ice cream, and look into my district's school lunch supplier. And I can tell you this, after leaving a packed screening of Super Size Me, the McDonald’s across from the Uptown Theater seemed to be the loneliest place on earth, despite the drastic new campaign for "Go Active" meals. Hey, they said so themselves: "Stupid."

©2004 Robert S. Jersak
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