The Whale won for both best actor and best makeup during the 95th Academy Awards. Winning the awards was probably one of the happiest moments in those artists’ lives, but it also caused many fat people pain.
Another film that was nominated (but didn’t win) was To Leslie—the story of a mother who fights the disease of alcoholism and works to mend familial relationships as she gets sober. It avoids the clichés common to unrealistic recovery stories. It’s bold and tender in all the right ways. Just like The Whale, To Leslie uses substance abuse to help us recognize the overwhelming emotional pain of the character. Both lead actors consume in order to numb their feelings of loneliness, isolation, and hopelessness. One uses food, the other uses alcohol.
From an objective standpoint both films are honest about how food and alcohol can potentially be used. In To Leslie we see her drink irresponsibly, and we watch as her makeup smears and she loses control of her body in a bar. She lies and steals from her son to maintain her addiction. In The Whale, we watch him tear into a bucket of fried chicken and lick his fingers as grease covers his face. He has a drawer for candy bars and he struggles to move in his kitchen as he eats one after another. Both characters are desperate to feel less and somehow also feel more, all at the same time.
These stories would hold similar value if we lived in a neutral space, but context matters. It is more socially acceptable to be addicted to alcohol than it is to be addicted to food. Fat people are objectified and made an example of in our current context—their bodies are gawked at in a shameful way. They never get to be “normal,” unlike those who abuse alcohol, whom we shame them only when they are drunk.
Fat people are forced to earn our respect. They are made to prove they are not lazy. Fat people are seen as less fun and unable to participate fully in our social gatherings. People who drink too much might be our favorite silly friend who always makes parties a little more rambunctious and interesting. The mostly internal physical damage that friend suffers is still severe, but we don’t alientate and torture them the way we do fat people.
The Whale perpetuates stigmas and encourages objectification. Specifically, having an actor who is not fat wear layers of makeup—and the makeup artists winning Oscars for their work—perpetuated our societal pettiness of seeing fat people as a spectacle. We shouldn’t be asking, “Was it talented work?” We should be asking, ”Was it ethical?” There’s no question it took great skill to turn Brendan Fraser into a 600-lb man, but what are the ethical repercussions of that creative work? It just perpetuates our “othering” of fatness, and it does nothing to help us encounter fat people as people first, who happen to also be fat. Fat people are real people and we don’t need makeup artists creating them in order for us to hear their stories. We can ask them. We can hire them. We can cast them.
Besides the gluttonous montages in The Whale, the film also further perpetuates the lie that all fat people are fat (and about to die) because they uncontrollably overeat. And while this might be true for some—we don’t need to reinforce this limited perspective on fat bodies. We need movies that show the varieties of life in a fat body and the ways that each body is different. Humans put on and carry weight for a wide range of reasons: from medication reactions to genetics to a lack of access to food. Where are the movies about those fat bodies? Our culture is in desperate need of a broader imagination about all bodies.
As followers of the way of Jesus, we are invited to see people—all people—as made in the image of God. This is one of the hardest parts of being Christian. We should first see every person as a mirror of divinity, a part of divine creation. No matter how we feel about their bodies or what they look like, they are primarily a messenger of God’s goodness. The Whale missed an opportunity for us to encounter the image of God in an actual fat body.
The Whale capitalized on our collective obsession with gawking at fat people. Sure, the character is kind and thoughtful and a minority (he is also gay), so there are beautiful scenes emphasizing his humanity, but the total circus the writer/director made of scenes when the character obsessively eats dwarfs all other messaging in the film. We love to blame fat people for their fatness, and unfortunately, The Whale invites us to gawk more than it leads us toward empathy, understanding, and respect.
The Whale won for both best actor and best makeup during the 95th Academy Awards. Winning the awards was probably one of the happiest moments in those artists’ lives, but it also caused many fat people pain.
Another film that was nominated (but didn’t win) was To Leslie—the story of a mother who fights the disease of alcoholism and works to mend familial relationships as she gets sober. It avoids the clichés common to unrealistic recovery stories. It’s bold and tender in all the right ways. Just like The Whale, To Leslie uses substance abuse to help us recognize the overwhelming emotional pain of the character. Both lead actors consume in order to numb their feelings of loneliness, isolation, and hopelessness. One uses food, the other uses alcohol.
From an objective standpoint both films are honest about how food and alcohol can potentially be used. In To Leslie we see her drink irresponsibly, and we watch as her makeup smears and she loses control of her body in a bar. She lies and steals from her son to maintain her addiction. In The Whale, we watch him tear into a bucket of fried chicken and lick his fingers as grease covers his face. He has a drawer for candy bars and he struggles to move in his kitchen as he eats one after another. Both characters are desperate to feel less and somehow also feel more, all at the same time.
These stories would hold similar value if we lived in a neutral space, but context matters. It is more socially acceptable to be addicted to alcohol than it is to be addicted to food. Fat people are objectified and made an example of in our current context—their bodies are gawked at in a shameful way. They never get to be “normal,” unlike those who abuse alcohol, whom we shame them only when they are drunk.
Fat people are forced to earn our respect. They are made to prove they are not lazy. Fat people are seen as less fun and unable to participate fully in our social gatherings. People who drink too much might be our favorite silly friend who always makes parties a little more rambunctious and interesting. The mostly internal physical damage that friend suffers is still severe, but we don’t alientate and torture them the way we do fat people.
The Whale perpetuates stigmas and encourages objectification. Specifically, having an actor who is not fat wear layers of makeup—and the makeup artists winning Oscars for their work—perpetuated our societal pettiness of seeing fat people as a spectacle. We shouldn’t be asking, “Was it talented work?” We should be asking, ”Was it ethical?” There’s no question it took great skill to turn Brendan Fraser into a 600-lb man, but what are the ethical repercussions of that creative work? It just perpetuates our “othering” of fatness, and it does nothing to help us encounter fat people as people first, who happen to also be fat. Fat people are real people and we don’t need makeup artists creating them in order for us to hear their stories. We can ask them. We can hire them. We can cast them.
Besides the gluttonous montages in The Whale, the film also further perpetuates the lie that all fat people are fat (and about to die) because they uncontrollably overeat. And while this might be true for some—we don’t need to reinforce this limited perspective on fat bodies. We need movies that show the varieties of life in a fat body and the ways that each body is different. Humans put on and carry weight for a wide range of reasons: from medication reactions to genetics to a lack of access to food. Where are the movies about those fat bodies? Our culture is in desperate need of a broader imagination about all bodies.
As followers of the way of Jesus, we are invited to see people—all people—as made in the image of God. This is one of the hardest parts of being Christian. We should first see every person as a mirror of divinity, a part of divine creation. No matter how we feel about their bodies or what they look like, they are primarily a messenger of God’s goodness. The Whale missed an opportunity for us to encounter the image of God in an actual fat body.
The Whale capitalized on our collective obsession with gawking at fat people. Sure, the character is kind and thoughtful and a minority (he is also gay), so there are beautiful scenes emphasizing his humanity, but the total circus the writer/director made of scenes when the character obsessively eats dwarfs all other messaging in the film. We love to blame fat people for their fatness, and unfortunately, The Whale invites us to gawk more than it leads us toward empathy, understanding, and respect.
Ruth Schmidt is Co-Director of Brehm Film.
Avatar: The Way of Water insists that deep, emotional connection between things with breath and blood in them is more powerful and important than any technological ambition or achievement. That’s an admirable message.
