You Drop Dead.
We've long known that Hollywood has an obsession with 'thin'. The thinner the better. Where, as they say in The Devil Wears Prada, 0 is the new 2, and 2 is the new 4. And 6 is the new 14. But Hollywood is also the land of the saccharine sentiment, where they try EVER so hard to convince you that the important thing about these exceptionally beautiful size 0 people is that they're beautiful on the INSIDE.
So, when recently I saw an advert for the new series Drop Dead Diva, I have no idea why I thought something might be different. Why I thought that maybe this time a show about a woman who's clearly not a size 0 might actually be a sign of the turning tide of size- and image-obsessed television land.
The premise is simple: shallow, vacuous, very beautiful thin person dies, goes to the pearly gates, and through an hilarious administrative bungle is accidentally returned to earth in the body of an extremely successful, intelligent lawyer. Only, she's a US size 16 (a UK 20). Obviously this is the worst thing that could ever have happened to anyone. Ever.
I decided to watch it though. I was interested. What is this series trying to say? Are they going to tell me that beauty doesn't matter (bullshit)? Are they going to gradually makeover the 'fat' girl until she fits some Hollywood stereotype (good grief)? Or, dare I hope, that they might be challenging the notion that attractive has to equal thin (unlikely)?
Because the point, as I see it, is this. It does matter what's on the inside. But what's on the outside matters too. Everyone wants to feel attractive. And life is easier for attractive people, there's not getting away from it. They earn more, get better jobs, and are treated with more respect. So this “it's what's on the inside that counts” is, frankly, bollocks.
But beauty is not an absolute truth. There is no 'right' and 'wrong' of beauty. Beauty is entirely subjective. Because of this there is nothing to say that someone who's a size 16 can't be just as beautiful as someone who's a size 6. To one person, to different people. It depends on the beholder(s).
Drop Dead Diva didn't disappoint. Well, that's not entirely true. The cynical, hard-hearted, blogging side of me that sneers at everything saccharine and contrived was not disappointed, and promptly opened a large hessian sack to gather up all that extra grist to the mill. The soft, romantic, ballet slippers and love-at-first-sight side of me, however, withered up and died just that little bit more.
Because what Drop Dead Diva turned out to be was a glossy, patronising, pity-the-hideous-fat-person, vom-com wolf in a right-on, beautiful-on-the-inside, challenging-the-stereotypes sheep's clothing. While it swears blind it's overturning the Hollywood stereotype of fat=unnattractive, it shoots itself sharply in the Jimmy Choos by requiring the (attractive) larger actress playing Jane (imaginative name choice, people) to well up or wince every time she catches sight of her own reflection. What torment she must be going through. My heart bleeds.
What I don't understand, as an actress of a certain circumference, is how they ever got that past the table read. I can just hear the director now...: “OK, so here's the thing – she's intelligent, she's canny, she's smart. We love Jane. She wins all her cases. She really connects with people. She has empathy and brains. She drives a Porsche. She has an assistant. She's making it in a man's world. All in all, she really is a champion for the modern woman. OK? Great. Oh, just one other thing – she can't catch sight of herself in the rear view mirror or coffee pot without wanting to cry. OK?”
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Perhaps the series gets better with time. But you know what, Hollywood? I don't give a toss. I've had enough of your patronising, condescending 'it doesn't matter if you're overweight, you can still be gorgeous (on the inside)' bullshit, because that bit 'on the inside' is the part of that sentence that gets me spitting bile in the general direction of the Atlantic.
You show me a programme where the lead character is bigger than a UK 14 (that's a 10, to you, Hollywood) and where her weight isn't an issue, isn't even mentioned, and then we might be looking at progress. By which I mean NO jokes about her wardrobe, no makeover scenes, no heartwarming comeuppances for airheaded high school jocks or vacant cheerleader bitches. No 'business' with the platter of donuts. No lines about her 'fuller figure' or her being lovely 'in spite' of her hips. Just take a part you were going to give to Halle Berry or Charlize Theron or Scarlett Johanson, and let someone with a real woman's figure play it, and don't mention a word about it. And then, THEN maybe we can talk.
xx
So, when recently I saw an advert for the new series Drop Dead Diva, I have no idea why I thought something might be different. Why I thought that maybe this time a show about a woman who's clearly not a size 0 might actually be a sign of the turning tide of size- and image-obsessed television land.
The premise is simple: shallow, vacuous, very beautiful thin person dies, goes to the pearly gates, and through an hilarious administrative bungle is accidentally returned to earth in the body of an extremely successful, intelligent lawyer. Only, she's a US size 16 (a UK 20). Obviously this is the worst thing that could ever have happened to anyone. Ever.
I decided to watch it though. I was interested. What is this series trying to say? Are they going to tell me that beauty doesn't matter (bullshit)? Are they going to gradually makeover the 'fat' girl until she fits some Hollywood stereotype (good grief)? Or, dare I hope, that they might be challenging the notion that attractive has to equal thin (unlikely)?
Because the point, as I see it, is this. It does matter what's on the inside. But what's on the outside matters too. Everyone wants to feel attractive. And life is easier for attractive people, there's not getting away from it. They earn more, get better jobs, and are treated with more respect. So this “it's what's on the inside that counts” is, frankly, bollocks.
But beauty is not an absolute truth. There is no 'right' and 'wrong' of beauty. Beauty is entirely subjective. Because of this there is nothing to say that someone who's a size 16 can't be just as beautiful as someone who's a size 6. To one person, to different people. It depends on the beholder(s).
Drop Dead Diva didn't disappoint. Well, that's not entirely true. The cynical, hard-hearted, blogging side of me that sneers at everything saccharine and contrived was not disappointed, and promptly opened a large hessian sack to gather up all that extra grist to the mill. The soft, romantic, ballet slippers and love-at-first-sight side of me, however, withered up and died just that little bit more.
Because what Drop Dead Diva turned out to be was a glossy, patronising, pity-the-hideous-fat-person, vom-com wolf in a right-on, beautiful-on-the-inside, challenging-the-stereotypes sheep's clothing. While it swears blind it's overturning the Hollywood stereotype of fat=unnattractive, it shoots itself sharply in the Jimmy Choos by requiring the (attractive) larger actress playing Jane (imaginative name choice, people) to well up or wince every time she catches sight of her own reflection. What torment she must be going through. My heart bleeds.
What I don't understand, as an actress of a certain circumference, is how they ever got that past the table read. I can just hear the director now...: “OK, so here's the thing – she's intelligent, she's canny, she's smart. We love Jane. She wins all her cases. She really connects with people. She has empathy and brains. She drives a Porsche. She has an assistant. She's making it in a man's world. All in all, she really is a champion for the modern woman. OK? Great. Oh, just one other thing – she can't catch sight of herself in the rear view mirror or coffee pot without wanting to cry. OK?”
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Perhaps the series gets better with time. But you know what, Hollywood? I don't give a toss. I've had enough of your patronising, condescending 'it doesn't matter if you're overweight, you can still be gorgeous (on the inside)' bullshit, because that bit 'on the inside' is the part of that sentence that gets me spitting bile in the general direction of the Atlantic.
You show me a programme where the lead character is bigger than a UK 14 (that's a 10, to you, Hollywood) and where her weight isn't an issue, isn't even mentioned, and then we might be looking at progress. By which I mean NO jokes about her wardrobe, no makeover scenes, no heartwarming comeuppances for airheaded high school jocks or vacant cheerleader bitches. No 'business' with the platter of donuts. No lines about her 'fuller figure' or her being lovely 'in spite' of her hips. Just take a part you were going to give to Halle Berry or Charlize Theron or Scarlett Johanson, and let someone with a real woman's figure play it, and don't mention a word about it. And then, THEN maybe we can talk.
xx
posted by Tegwen at 21:53
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