As I've mentioned before, the archives here at Shared Darkness will soon swell with past legit reviews and other material. Right now I feel disgusting and disgusted from stuffing my face for lunch (though not a hamburger, mind you), so up goes this review of Morgan Spurlock's superlative documentary Super Size Me, originally published upon its release in 2004. To wit:



You might not on the surface think that serving witness to one man’s socio-curious pledge to eat nothing but McDonald’s food for one month straight would be so entertaining, let alone enlightening, but you would be wrong. By turns silly, stomach-churning, affecting and perversely brilliant, director Morgan Spurlock’s Super Size Me is one of the best — and certainly the most fun and entertaining — documentary of 2004, a mischievous inquisition into a growing American epidemic in which a full two-thirds of the adult population are medically classifiable as overweight or obese and adult-onset diabetes stands poised in under a generation to overtake stalwarts like smoking as among the leading causes of preventable death.

Before you try this at home… just don’t. Prior to undertaking his month of deep-fried reckoning, Spurlock — whose girlfriend Alexandra is, of all things, a vegan chef — enlists the services of three separate doctors (a general practitioner, a gastroenterologist and a cardiologist), as well as a board-certified nutritionist and exercise specialist who give him a full workout beforehand and monitor his weight and health weekly thereafter. (He’s generally regarded as healthy, and has no history of heart disease in his family.) The rules Spurlock then devises and adheres to are simple: 1) he can only eat things sold over the counter at McDonald’s (water included) for 30 days; 2) he must eat three square meals a day, no excuses; 3) he must try everything on the menu at least once; and 4) he will “super size” his meal only — but always — when asked. The only other limitation Spurlock imposes is one of limited physical activity, meaning no formal exercise and only the average amount of American walking per day (a handy pedometer counts the paces).

The results are — for anyone who’s ever gorged themselves into a saturated fat coma rushing between commitments, and that would be all of us — equally astounding and completely unsurprising. Spurlock’s cholesterol jumps 65 points, he gains roughly 25 pounds and his body fat index swells from around 11 to 18 percent. Only a few weeks in, he’s stricken with vague, recurring chest pains, and advised by a doctor at one point that the damage he is doing to his liver is akin to that of an alcoholic who is on the way to drinking themselves to death.

It’s not all mindless gorging, though. In fact, the film isn’t mindless at all. Spurlock’s month-long binge is supplemented with insightful, eye-opening interviews with top medical and health professionals, including former Surgeon General David Satcher, George Washington University law professor John Banzhaf, author and ice cream heir John Robbins, members of the NYU School of Nutrition and more. On the surface, the inspiration behind Spurlock’s idea for the film — two teenage girls suing McDonald’s for making them overweight — is preposterous, a big, fat (pun intended), shining example of everything that makes average, ordinary Americans so cynical about our judicial system. Yet by the time the movie makes the point that children are bombarded with an estimated 10,000 views of food-related ads per year, around 95 percent of which are for candy, sugary cereals, soda and fast food, you come around to the notion that no amount of sensible parenting alone can counter these media images and that while perhaps not legally culpable, there’s an ethical/social obligation on the part of the fast food industry to level the playing field and help provide healthier choices and more information to the public than they are collectively contributing right now.

As a screen presence, Spurlock has an easygoing, immediately charming demeanor, and his film — which chides rather than scolds, energizes and incites more than nakedly provokes — benefits tremendously from this. Super Size Me is a rare breed — one of only a handful of select films that I can recall as being as important as it is entertaining. If you still haven't seen it, make it part of your cinematic diet, and quickly. Just make sure you’ve eaten healthy beforehand. (Samuel Goldwyn/Roadside Attractions, PG-13, 100 mins.)