Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Article views: 87
Introduction
In a review of the Melissa McCarthy comedy Identity Thief (2013), film critic Rex Reed
(2013) called McCarthy tractor sized and a hippo, prompting a wave of media furore
directed against the prominent critic for demeaning the actress. Fellow critic Richard
Roeper condemned Reeds mean-spirited name-calling (Chen 2013), and the incident
became so well known that Oscar host Seth Macfarlane even made a joke about Reed at
that years ceremony.
Instead of a well-publicised apology (the routine response to public shaming in
todays celebrity culture), Reed doubled down on his comments. He told Us Weekly that
he stands by his review, deploying the logic of the so-called obesity epidemic to
rationalise his rant about the actress:
I object to the disgusting attempt to pretend obesity is funny. It is not remotely humorous,
and every obese comedian who ever made jokes about the disease are now dead from strokes,
heart disease, high blood pressure, and diabetes. I stand by all of my original remarks
about Melissa McCarthys obesity, which I consider about as amusing as cancer, and
apologize for nothing. (Chen 2013)
*Email: rmeeuf@uidaho.edu
2015 Taylor & Francis
R. Meeuf
Celebrity Studies
a particular historical moment. Stars resonate, in other words, precisely because they embody
contradictions and anxieties that get lost behind the veneer of the complete individual.
McCarthys star text, then, reflects different, competing visions of corpulence: on screen,
she is most often an out-of-control, trashy model of vulgar excess who embodies all of US
cultures stereotypes about obesity; off screen, she is a sweet, classy (at times elegant) mom
who offers platitudes about self-acceptance. McCarthys celebrity displays all the tensions of
obesity, self-discipline, and female empowerment circulating and competing within US media
culture.
McCarthys star text, however, is not simply a collection of different cultural
trajectories regarding weight and the female body rather, the contours of McCarthys
public image provide a kind of map for the very boundaries of cultural citizenship in a
neoliberal world when it comes to obesity, femininity, and self-transformation.
Neoliberalism, of course, refers to a set of economic and policy assumptions that has
ascended globally since the 1970s. In contrast to the liberal nation-state that supports its
citizens through social welfare programmes, neoliberalism has encouraged the shifting of
responsibility away from government programmes and toward individuals acting on the
free market. Promoting privatisation over state control, neoliberalism has impacted a
variety of programmes and institutions central to economic mobility, from the slashing
of welfare programmes to rolling back consumer protection regulations. The dominance
of neoliberal policy has been met with significant resistance recently from the Podemos
movement in Spain and the Indignant Citizens Movement in Greece challenging neoliberal imperatives for budget austerity that slash government services, to the Occupy Wall
Street movement in the USA which has increased public discourse on class inequality and
the government policies that maintain such inequality but the assumptions of neoliberalism remain powerful in US and global politics.
The rise of neoliberalism, however, impacts not just economic policy but the culture of
individualism and consumerism in an increasingly privatised world. Neoliberalism promotes not only a model of citizenship as consumerism (privileging the choices of
individuals on the private market over the ability of the state to provide support) but
also a model of individualism based on adaptability and self-transformation. It is now the
individuals responsibility to adapt to changing market conditions, constantly remaking
their skills, habits, and even identities to meet the shifting demands of the economy. Even
beyond the economy, individual identity in the age of neoliberalism increasingly revolves
around projects of self-improvement, self-promotion, and the constant disciplining of
ones identity. Thus, as Raisborough (2011) explains, the rise of lifestyle media
media organised around individual transformation and self-improvement such as selfhelp books or makeover TV shows has ballooned in the era of neoliberalism.
Referencing Foucaults later work on governance as central to this phenomenon,
Raisborough argues that an ethos of transformation and re-creation permeates most,
if not all, aspects of our daily life and organization (2011, p. 7). But far from a neutral
vision of betterment, these transformations tend to police the boundaries of race, class,
gender, sexuality, and ability, often providing explicit lessons on how to design out
exterior markers of inequality, whether through physical appearance, fashion, behaviour,
or the appearance of ones home (Raisborough 2011).
This model of consumer citizenship and self-transformation has yielded more
pronounced anxieties about the concept of citizenship itself within neoliberalism. The
transition to individual responsibility on the free market, in theory, should make the
concept of citizenship outmoded, a relic of liberal nation-states as they systematise who
is eligible for state support and benefits (rather than simply allowing individuals to
R. Meeuf
participate in the free market). As the liberal nation-state slowly erodes in a world of
neoliberal privatisation, however, questions of citizenship and cultural belonging have
intensified in the USA and abroad (Wingard 2013). If neoliberal citizenship can be
practiced through consumption (or exploitation) on the free market rather than being
defined by the state, what are the new boundaries of national identity and cultural
belonging? What others are acceptable to the fabric of a multicultural neoliberalism
and what other-others (Ahmed 2000) must be excluded from cultural citizenship?
What bodies are marked as dangerous threats to the economy and society and what
bodies are acceptable as participants in free exchange?1
At stake in the celebrity of Melissa McCarthy, then, are these boundaries of inclusion
and citizenship: what kinds of bodies are dangerous and must be reshaped (literally) in
order to embody responsible citizenship and what bodies are appropriate as sites of selfconfidence and inner beauty? The discourses of the obesity epidemic in US media
increasingly show weight gain to be not only a sign of poor health but a social concern,
with overweight individuals constructed as a drain on the nations resources and a sign of
national, moral failure. Media images of obesity, then, must navigate this cultural landscape, representing some overweight bodies as needing shame and self-discipline and
others as appropriate models of female empowerment.
McCarthys celebrity provides a map to this landscape by deploying the imagery and
stereotypes of social class to mark the boundaries of cultural citizenship for corpulent, female
bodies. Analysing McCarthys three turns as host of SNL, this paper shows that markers of
social class manage the meanings and implications of McCarthys excessive, exuberant, and
transgressive performances on the show. After all, McCarthys most resonant comic performances are defined not only by violence, swearing, and hyper-sexuality but also by excessive
markers of low social class and bad taste, from the bowling shirt-clad Megan in Bridesmaids
to Dianes permed bouffant in Identity Thief. In fact, almost all of McCarthys SNL characters
are shrouded in the paraphernalia of lower class stereotypes: bad perms or stringy hair,
horribly tacky glasses, and shabby, ill-fitting clothes. When her performances on the show
are at their most over the top (in terms of sex, violence, or gluttony), her costuming relies on an
equally excessive vision of tackiness and lack of good taste. McCarthys humour has
become synonymous with not only raunchy transgression but trashiness and the flouting of
middle-class respectability.
Or at least she has proven adept at performing obese trashiness. By contrast,
McCarthys authentic self as seen in the monologues on SNL is humble, wellspoken, lovable, and classy. This real McCarthy provides an uplifting affirmation that
the culture can accept an overweight woman as a movie star, obscuring and diminishing the stigmatising class and body politics of her over-the-top performances of crass
obesity.
A failure to recognise this distinction between McCarthys off-screen lovability and
on-screen trashiness seems to have been Rex Reeds biggest mistake. While it was easy
for the media to castigate the critic for his nasty insults to McCarthys size, Reeds real
transgression was suggesting that McCarthy herself is as crass as the characters she
plays. When he targeted McCarthy claiming that she is a gimmick comedian who
has devoted her short career to being obese and obnoxious with equal success he
collapsed this important distinction in her star persona (Reed 2013). The image of
McCarthy as an icon of middle-class fat-acceptance must function in tandem with her
onscreen trashiness in order to manage the boundaries of overweight citizenship in our
neoliberal world.
Celebrity Studies
R. Meeuf
book Killer Fat details the creation and perpetuation of this epidemic in news media,
public health policy, medical discourse, and the diet industry, each bolstering a massive
weight-loss and self-help culture that has not only produced trillions in revenue but has
helped shape the insistent belief that body shape and size is an external reflection of
individual, psychological factors. Suggesting that individuals willingness to submit
themselves to regimes of self-discipline and self-improvement is vital to the social
order, the logic of the obesity epidemic stipulates that individual failures to conform
to dominant ideals (of health, beauty, normalcy) reflect social malaise in addition to
personal, moral failures. Within this neoliberal view of the body, consumption of
weight-loss goods and services is the only responsible way to discipline ones body and
save US society from the dangers of overweight bodes.
Even more so than when Roseanne graced the airwaves in the 1990s, the image of an
overweight woman in the media signals the moral degradation of US culture and the
imperative to discipline and control that body, bolstered by medical discourse and policy
prognostications that rationalise the fear of obesity. So why was Roseanne an object of
fear and derision in the early 1990s while McCarthy Rex Reeds objections aside is
well on her way to becoming one of Americas sweethearts?
Ironically, the intensification of the obesity epidemic narrative in recent years
coincided with a wider cultural acceptance of feminist media critiques of body image.
Even the mainstream media today readily acknowledges the popular narrative that
Hollywoods obsession with thinness may be related to body image disorders such as
anorexia and bulimia, despite the fact that the same media outlets still engage in fatshaming coverage of female celebrities such as Oprah Winfrey, Jessica Simpson, Lady
Gaga and others. Celebrities such as McCarthy, Lena Dunham, Queen Latifah, Gabourey
Sidibe and others frequently provide entertainment journalists with feel-good narratives
that demonstrate how progressive Hollywood casting can be. Fashion magazines, moreover, with their Photoshopping practices and pole-thin models, often function as the easy
scapegoat for the evils of media beauty standards. In fact, after the Rex Reed incident,
McCarthy again found herself at the centre of a media and beauty standards scandal as
critics at first lauded the fashion magazine Elle for including McCarthy on the cover of
their Women in Hollywood edition, only to publically shame the magazine for outfitting
McCarthy with a loose-fitting jacket that hid the curves of her body (Thomas 2013).
The mainstream acceptance of such feminist media critiques can also be seen in the
Dove True Beauty campaign, in which a massive line of beauty products bases their
advertising around sentimental images that urge women to accept their bodies just the way
they are instead of trying to look like fashion models. As more and more news organisations include uplifting stories about plus-size models, the satirical news site The Onion
was quick to mock the self-congratulatory trend, publishing its own slideshow of plus-size
models with captions such as: Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. We are goddamn
saints for recognizing that and making a slideshow about it (The Onion 2013).
McCarthy herself has come to embody this trend, acting as a body image heroine.
Especially on the cover of womens magazines, she is touted as a self-confidence guru. On
Good Housekeepings cover, McCarthy tells us that Its whats inside that counts! Ladies
Home Journal promises instructions for loving who you are, and her image on Mores
cover assures the reader of the power of being yourself. These images of McCarthy
promote her as a likeable, ordinary (i.e. middle class and white), plus-sized woman
whose fame affirms every heart-warming platitude about self-confidence and inner beauty.
Contemporary media, then, spends half its time telling overweight individuals to
discipline their bodies into conformity and the other half maintaining that self-confidence
Celebrity Studies
and inner beauty will triumph, as it did for Melissa McCarthy and other body image
heroines. The key to deciding what message is appropriate for what populations seems to
be social class. After all, one of the key ways in which images of obesity are linked to
moral and cultural degradation is through appeals to low social class visual markers of
trashiness or bad taste often function as shorthand for the shame of obesity. In order to
signify the horrors of obesity, overweight bodies in the media tend to be associated with
working-class culture and its stereotypes: for example, tacky clothes, slovenly appearance,
and fast food (Puhl, Peterson, et al. 2013). To signify that the epidemic is a kind of
regression in the human species, many images and narratives of obesity depict it as a kind
of backslide into trashy class values (see Whites [2013] discussion of evolution images
and obesity).
This definition of social class is based on Bourdieus (1984) foundational understanding of taste (in clothes, music, food, etc.) as a key means of marking and maintaining
class divisions. Particularly important in this context are markers of exterior appearance
hairstyle, fashion, make-up as a means of policing the boundaries between highbrow
(the styles associated with the economic elite, including high fashion), middle-class
(bourgeois styles based around respectability, professionalism, and traditional gender
norms), and lower- and working-class values (styles often defined by being too loud,
too crass, too racialised, or too redneck). These boundaries help reify economic inequalities and perpetuate class antagonism, as is the case with the category of white trash as a
subset of working-class values. As Newitz and Wray (1997) explain, the ascendance of
white trash as a cultural category uses markers of taste (usually stereotypes about trailer
parks and tacky fashion) to give a racial inflection to the overlapping of whiteness and
poverty: by challenging cultural associations between whiteness and economic prosperity,
poor whites are constructed as not quite white. The cultural stigmas against white trash
also obscure systems of class inequality poor whites are poor not because of economic
policies that stifle opportunity among the working class but because they are cultural
Others who refuse to transform themselves according to dominant values and norms.
As this suggests, racial anxieties are almost always central to the negotiation of social class
in the USA, especially in the context of obesity. Research on images of obesity in news media
shows that images of African American women evoke higher levels of disdain and anti-fat
bias than images of obesity in any other category (Puhl, Luedicke et al. 2013). Moreover, the
moral panic over obesity in US media has only intensified stigma against overweight black
bodies, marking them as objects of revulsion and deploying their images to signify the horrors
of low social class. The colour-blind rhetoric of the anti-obesity movement posits a seemingly
universal notion of health as the marker of responsible citizenship, but the use of bodies of
colour to signify the degradation of obesity in pop culture suggests that the rhetoric of health
masks the governance of white, middle-class cultural values. As Stoneman (2012, p. 200)
argues, the intersection of the war on obesity with a continuing class antagonism toward
racialized ethnic others is a consequential part of understanding the construction of the
normatively healthy body, harnessed as it is to a privileged notion of whiteness. The
trashiness of white obesity in the popular imagination, then, is deeply tied to anxieties
about the borders of whiteness itself.
The scandals that plagued pop star Brittany Spears in 2007 and her subsequent
comeback provide a telling example of these dynamics between weight gain, social
class, and whiteness. As Weber (2012) astutely teases out, the media discourses surrounding Spears antics wove together issues of weight gain, sanity, and social class in
describing the pop icons fall from grace. Spears weight gain of around 2040 pounds
came to signify an unstable psyche and a supposed backslide into her white trash,
R. Meeuf
Southern roots, questioning her embodiment of middle-class whiteness. For Weber, this
indicates that the thin body is always one step closer to a Western ideal of empowered
rational individualism and increasing class mobility (2012, p. 3).
Thus one of the most popular phases of the weight loss show The Biggest Loser and
other individual transformation shows is the makeover episode, where contestants can
demonstrate their newfound control over their bodies by being brought into the fold of
middle-class style and attire. The kinds of self-transformation dictated by neoliberal
culture are not limited to the numbers on the scale the physical transformation of the
body must be constructed as a fundamental, psychological transformation of individual
identity itself, with the weight loss and external appearance seen as a reflection of the
contestants internal discipline and self-acceptance. Far from an ideological neutral vision
of a healthy psychology, the contestants initiation into middle-class taste and appearance aligns a normal outlook on ones body and lifestyle with white, bourgeois values
and sensibilities. The audience cannot be assured that the contestant has really changed
until they don the habiliments of bourgeois fashion.
Given this fear of obesity as trashiness, it is not surprising that the media discourses of
fat-acceptance are securely middle and upper-middle class (and generally white) in their
imagery and outlook. Lena Dunhams body (she is often described as being chubby) has
made her the new darling of feminist body image critiques, but such critiques are
acceptable because Dunham is firmly rooted in privileged, white, urban hipster culture.
Meanwhile, reality TV-star Honey Boo Boo and her family are rarely held up as models of
body-type diversity, instead functioning as icons of white trash culture who serve as the
butt of jokes. Fat-acceptance discourses are fine as long as they are solidly middle class
or highbrow but other kinds of obese bodies are trashy objects of humour and derision.
So while Roseanne in the 1990s also embodied this dynamic her working-class
crassness became tied to her weight and her sanity to make her seem out of control
Melissa McCarthys stardom hinges upon a separation of her over-the-top, trashy
characters and her authentic self, which must maintain certain class norms. Such a
separation allows for the articulation of fat-acceptance narratives about McCarthy and
feminist critiques of media and body image as long as they are acceptably classy while
also authorising the to-be-laughed-at-ness (Hole 2003) of the overweight, female body
as long as it is a trashy body.
At stake in these class dynamics are the boundaries of ideal, neoliberal citizenship. As
LeBesco (2003, p. 56) notes, fatness has long excluded individuals from full, cultural
citizenship within US capitalism. Fatness has long been linked to over-consumption and
signifies an excessive appetite that showcases the ills of consumer culture. Thinness, by
contrast, signifies disciplined consumption and thus a more moral vision of citizenship
(since overweight individuals are often blamed for social ills and for diverting food from
the needy). This is especially true in an era of neoliberal governmentality, where the ideal,
thin individual consumes food only to be followed by the consumption of exercise and
weight-loss products in an endless cycle of sustenance and discipline.
Today, however, the discourses of self-acceptance and self-confidence when linked to
the markers of social class provide an alternative route to obese cultural citizenship. The
rising power of feminist media critique has carved out a cultural space accepting of certain
kinds of overweight femininity. Such femininities first and foremost must demonstrate
particular kinds of class markers and good taste in order to disavow the troubling combination of low-class fatness, which continues to signify moral failure, social decline, and bad
consumer citizenship. However, these femininities must also ascribe to the mantras of selfacceptance and self-confidence, because these refrains facilitate participation in consumer
Celebrity Studies
10
R. Meeuf
Celebrity Studies
11
While Farleys paradoxical persona became a cautionary tale about the dangers of
transgression with the comedians death in 1997, the rebellious transgressions of
McCarthys persona are often contained by displacing them into class stereotypes. Her
vivid depictions of sexual, violent, and gastronomical excess are matched on SNL by the
elaborate and excessive markers of low-class trashiness. The pizza-eating Barb Kellner,
for example, dons a pink tracksuit and huge outdated glasses under her curly bouffant.
Violent-tempered Shelia Kelly sports an oversized pantsuit and unflattering short haircut.
Season 39s Diane a foul-mouthed, red-nosed, rib-eating woman who becomes the
object of Bobby Moynihans affection drapes an unshapely cardigan over a frumpy
brown dress while wearing more giant glasses. As Jennifer Evans in Season 37 a
stereotypical online comments section troll who once called the cartoon cat Garfield the
N-word McCarthy sports long stringy hair while she wears that same brown cardigan.
As Kathleen in Season 39 a dim-witted game-show contestant who proffers nonsensical
answers like Pass the mash! her stringy wig makes her look balding as she wears a
frumpy, brown turtleneck sweater. Clearly, the writers and costume department at SNL see
McCarthys characters as exemplars of bad taste and crassness.
By using these markers of low social class, McCarthys characters on SNL become
objects of stigma, bodies unsuitable for cultural citizenship because they transgress
appropriate femininity and spaces of middle-class male authority. Examine, for instance,
the Season 37 sketch Arlene. In the sketch, a bland corporate setting finds Arlene
(McCarthy) making none-too-subtle sexual advances to her polite and uninterested coworker, Tim (Jason Sudekis). As the sketch progresses, Arlenes overt sexuality overwhelms the protestations of her coworker as her antics become increasingly graphic and
over the top. From rubbing his tie over her breasts and mock pole dancing on the string of
a helium balloon, to licking and fellating the nose of a horse-shaped balloon, Arlenes
unbridled sexual desire (her lady boner, as she calls it) cannot be contained by the rules
of proper office decorum or middle-class romantic values he protests that he is married
and has children, but Arlene only pretends to toss his wedding ring aside while continuing
to rub his chest.
These sexual excesses make a mockery of respectable, middle-class culture, using Tim
as a polite, white, male, middle-class foil to Arlenes uncontained sexual explosion. A
classic example of Bakhtins carnival-grotesque, Arlene turns the rules of the dominant
culture on their head: a bland place of corporate labour becomes a colourful site of
dancing, rubbing, and sexual innuendo; appropriate feminine norms of passivity are
tossed aside in favour of aggression; the nuclear family is dismissed as a hindrance to
passionate sex; mock bestiality serves as a symbol for human sex acts; an overweight
woman normally a symbol of ugliness or asexuality promotes herself as an object of
sexual desire; and female sexual desire is made visible and masculine (her lady boner)
instead of being denied as impure. Her wild, open sexuality demonstrates the ability of
corpulent femininity to overwhelm and elude the structures of male control (Braziel 2001,
p. 246).
But obesity and low social class cohere in the figure of Arlene to transform this ludic
rebellion against acceptable bourgeois values into a reactionary burlesque: Arlenes
inversions of the social order can be contained by making her ridiculous as a trashy, fat
lady. As with McCarthys other characters, Arlene exudes bad taste, from her wacky,
curled bouffant, brown sweater vest over a turtleneck and (again) outdated, oversized
glasses. Her appearance suggests another class inversion, setting her tacky appearance
against the mundane but professional world of middle-class corporate life. Rather than
enacting a transgressive critique of corporate labour, Arlenes appearance only marks her
12
R. Meeuf
as an object of ridicule, establishing that the humour is rooted in the supposed discrepancy
between professionalism and bad taste, and also between trashy obesity and desirable
femininity.
Many of the sketches follow the lead of Arlene, rooting their humour in the spectacle
of obesity as trashiness. Exemplary among this trend is McCarthys most popular SNL
sketch about a Hidden Valley Ranch salad dressing focus group in Season 37. In the
sketch McCarthy plays Linda, a Hidden Valley Ranch aficionado who has been invited to
participate in a focus group trying new flavours. When Linda learns that the participant
who gives the best comment will win $50, she aggressively pursues this goal. She begins
tossing out ridiculous catchphrases (Thats jack-tastic!), gets hostile with the blonde
woman next to her, and eventually squirts an entire bottle of the dressing in her face to
show her enthusiasm.
As if her love of Hidden Valley Ranch was not enough to convey bad taste (in an era
where highbrow foods come from farmers markets, Hidden Valley Ranch is the Walmart
of salad dressings), Linda sports a bad perm and an oversized sweatshirt with Mr Spock
(Leonard Nimoy) emblazoned on it, suggesting fan-geek stereotypes in lieu of trashy
working-class culture. Her out-of-control antics stem directly from her low-class status
her unusual admiration for Hidden Valley Ranch and her obesity the gluttonous
consumption of the dressing, even scraping the spilt dressing off her sweatshirt and
spooning it into her mouth. Instead of inverting or mocking the conventions and values
of bourgeois culture, Lindas behaviour instead simply invites the ridicule of those with
bad taste. By organising this mockery around a trashy food product, the sketch suggests
that obesity and low-class status are just two sides of the same coin: taken together, they
offer a convenient shorthand for signifying outcasts who cannot control their impulses or
conform to bourgeois cultural norms.
McCarthys monologues: authenticity and middle-class norms
In contrast to the excessive and confrontational characters McCarthy brought to life on
SNL, her monologues the stand-up comedy introduction each host offers near the
beginning of the show present McCarthy herself as a self-deprecating and lovable
woman whose humbling failures to conform to Hollywoods strict beauty norms reveal
how ridiculous those norms are to begin with. Instead of the excessively low-class get
ups that her characters wear, the monologues are some of the few times that we see
McCarthy in stylish clothes with her hair and make-up done according to current
standards of beauty and class, even when those very standards are the source of her
jokes.
Her Season 38 monologue demonstrates this tendency best. Dressed in black tights
and a black blouse with a stylish black cardigan over the top, her outfit is completed with
dazzlingly bright red, platform wedge, high heels. Her shoes style, however, trumps their
practicality; McCarthy attempts to finish her monologue while completely unstable,
desperately grabbing at the band members sharing the stage with her, flailing her arms
wildly, using a stool for balance, and ultimately just crawling on all fours to keep her
balance. Showing off a more subtle physicality to her slapstick skills than we see in her
excessive characters, McCarthy then attempts to complete the song-and-dance number
commemorating her second time hosting the show while barely able to contain her
frustration at the peppy cast member (Taran Killam) dancing around her. She then
explains to the crowd that she primarily wears Crocs but wanted to get gussied up for
the show.
Celebrity Studies
13
14
R. Meeuf
Celebrity Studies
15
One of my favourite things is playing someone whos utterly confident even if they are, just,
like wrong. Theyre off the beaten track. Theyre not polished or perfect, but theyre so solid in
their shoes. And I always think, Now thats someone whos interesting. They dont give a s what
theyre supposed to be, or who theyre supposed to look. I find them mesmerizing. I think theres
greatness in not caring what other people think. (Newman 2012)
For McCarthy, this greatness is also clearly tied to social class, to individuals who deviate
from bourgeois norms. Later in that interview, her example of these mesmerising individuals is the woman at Walmart whos happy in her cat sweater (Newman 2012), using
the popular meanings of Walmart stores as a locus of low social class to suggest this
carefree attitude. For McCarthy, self-confidence and bad taste cohere in figures like the
Walmart cat lady or Arlene on SNL, making them philosophical challenges to
Hollywoods glamorous but unhealthy promotion of perfect (highbrow) women.
However, the self-confidence that McCarthy models is not that of Arlene on SNL, who
casually tosses aside good taste and bourgeois sexual norms. Instead, McCarthy is celebrated for being a nice, polite, middle-class woman who excels at pretending she can be
Arlene (or any of the other zany, trashy characters she portrays). Figures like the Walmart
cat lady are appropriated as idols of self-confidence, but only when they can be used by
regular, middle-class women to affirm life lessons about self-assurance. In a neoliberal
culture in which obesity represents a monumental transgression signalling a loss of morals
and personal control the spectacle of corpulence can also signal the ultimate form of selfconfidence, as long as it is a farce put on by respectable, middle-class women.
This insistence that high social class and self-confidence are the keys to citizenship and
belonging in a neoliberal world create a narrative around McCarthy that, ostensibly, makes
her a figure of rebellion. Thanks to her self-assurance and middle-class respectability, she
can challenge Hollywoods cult of thinness and be a role model for real women, ensuring
that a broader range of bodies is represented on US screens. But this narrative places
responsibility on individuals to transform, if not their bodies then their outlook and
appearance as a solution to social inequalities, helping to obscure the stereotypes and
discrimination faced by people who violate social norms concerning normal or healthy
bodies. The real causes of inequality, from this perspective, are people who refuse to change
their physical appearance or their sense of self-confidence, not a system of stigma. As
McCarthys fame suggests, for those whose bodies mark them as outsiders or dangers to
social well-being, the path to cultural citizenship and acceptance leads through assurances of
high social class and a commitment to self-improvement, not social change.
Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.
Notes
1.
2.
See Wingard (2013) for a detailed discussion of citizenship within neoliberalism, with particular
attention paid to immigration and LGBTQ issues.
Guthman (2011) offers a detailed exploration of the obesity epidemic as a social construction
and the problematic science linking obesity to individual choices.
16
R. Meeuf
Notes on contributor
Russell Meeuf is an assistant professor in the School of Journalism and Mass Media at the
University of Idaho. His research focuses on popular media, celebrity and stardom, and issues of
cultural diversity. He is the author of John Waynes World: Transnational Masculinity in the Fifties
(2013, University of Texas Press) and the co-editor of Transnational Stardom: International
Celebrity in Film and Popular Culture (2013, Palgrave Macmillan). He is currently writing a
book on the negotiation of cultural citizenship in popular entertainment media, examining US
film and television stars with non-normative bodies.
References
Ahmed, S., 2000. Strange encounters: embodied others in post-coloniality. New York: Routledge.
Boero, N., 2013. Killer fat: media, medicine, and morals in the American obesity epidemic. New
Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press.
Bourdieu, P., 1984. Distinction: a social critique of the judgment of taste. Abingdon: Routledge.
Braziel, J.E., 2001. Sex and fat chicks: deterritorializing the fat female body. In: J.E. Braziel and K.
LeBesco, eds. Bodies out of bounds: fatness and transgression. Berkeley, CA: University of
California Press, 231254.
Bridesmaids, 2011. Film. Directed by Paul Feig. USA: Apatow Productions & Relativity Media.
Chen, J., 2013. Rex Reed refuses to apologize for Melissa McCarthy comments. Us Weekly, June 21.
Available from: <http://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-news/news/rex-reed-refuses-to-apolo
gize-for-melissa-mccarthy-comments-i-stand-by-all-of-my-original-remarks-2013216>
Doty, A., 2007. Introduction: theres something about Mary. Camera Obscura: Feminism, Culture,
and Media Studies, 22 (2 65), 19. doi:10.1215/02705346-2007-001
Dyer, R., 1979. Stars. London: British Film Institute.
Dyer, R., 1984/2004. Heavenly bodies: film stars and society. London: Routledge.
Gilmore girls, 20002007. TV, Warner Brothers.
Guthman, J., 2011. Weighing in: obesity, food justice, and the limits of capitalism. Berkeley, CA:
University of California Press.
Hole, A., 2003. Performing identity: Dawn French and the funny fat female body. Feminist Media
Studies, 3 (3), 315328. doi:10.1080/1468077032000166540
Identity thief, 2013. Film. Directed by Seth Gordon. USA: Relativity Media.
Kay, K. and Shipman, C., 2014. The confidence code: the science and art of self-assurance what
women should know. New York: HarperCollins.
Keeps, D., 2012. Funny girl. Good Housekeeping, December, 134147.
LeBesco, K., 2003. Revolting bodies: the struggle to redefine fat identity. Amherst, MA: University
of Massachusetts Press.
Marshall, P.D., 1997. Celebrity and power: fame in contemporary culture. Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press.
Mike and Molly, 2010present. TV, CBS.
Newitz, A. and Wray, M., eds., 1997. White trash: race and class in America. New York:
Routledge.
Newman, J., 2012. Funny girl. Ladies Home Journal, May, 8487.
Olbrys, S.G., 2006. Disciplining the carnivalesque: Chris Farleys exotic dance. Communication and
Critical/Cultural Studies, 3 (3), 240259. doi:10.1080/14791420600841435
Petersen, A.H., 2013. Good, giving, and game: Toward a theory of SNL hosting. LA Review of
Books Blog. Nov. 26. Available from: <http://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/deartv/good-givinggame-towards-theory-snl-hosting/>.
Puhl, R.M., Luedicke, J., and Heuer, C.A., 2013. The stigmatizing effect of visual media portrayals
of obese persons on public attitudes: does race or gender matter? Journal of Health
Communication: International Perspectives, 18, 805826.
Puhl, R.M. Peterson, J.L., DePierre, J.A., and Luedicke, J., 2013. Headless, hungry, and unhealthy:
a video content analysis of obese persons portrayed in online news. Journal of Health
Communication, 18, 686702.
Raisborough, J., 2011. Lifestyle media and the transformation of the self. New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 7.
Celebrity Studies
17
Reed, R., 2013. Declined: in Identity Thief, Batemans bankable billing cant lift this flick out of the
red. New York Observer, Feb. 5. Available from: http://observer.com/2013/02/declined-in-iden
tity-thief-batemans-bankable-billing-cant-lift-this-flick-out-of-the-red/
Roseanne, 19881997. TV, Wild Dancer Productions & Carsey-Werner Company.
Rowe Karlyn, K., 1995. The unruly woman: gender and the genres of laughter. Austin, TX:
University of Texas Press.
St Vincent, 2014. Film. Directed by Theodore Melfi. USA: Chernin Entertainment.
Sandberg, S., 2013. Lean in: women, work, and the will to lead. New York: Random House.
Saturday night live, 2011. Episode 704. TV, NBC. Oct 1.
Saturday night live, 2013. Episode 741. TV, NBC. April 6.
Saturday night live, 2014. Episode 758. TV, NBC. Feb 1.
Spy, 2015. Film. Directed by Paul Feig. USA: Chernin Entertainment & Feigco Entertainment.
Stoneman, S., 2012. Ending fat-stigma: Precious, visual culture, and anti-obesity in the fat movement. Review of Education, Pedagogy, and Cultural Studies, 34, 197207.
Tammy, 2014. Film. Directed by Ben Falcone. USA: New Line Cinema.
The biggest loser, 2004present. TV, NBC.
The hangover III, 2013. Film. Directed by Todd Phillips. USA: Legendary Pictures.
The heat, 2013. Film. Directed by Paul Feig. USA: Chernin Entertainment & TSG Entertainment.
The Onion, 2013. 10 photos of plus-size models we deserve a pat on the back for running. Nov. 26.
Available from: <http://www.theonion.com/articles/10-photos-of-plussize-models-we-deserve-apat-on-t,34700/#1>
This is 40, 2012. Film. Directed by Judd Apatow. USA: Apatow Productions.
Thomas, J., 2013. Elle put Melissa McCarthy on its cover, and then covered her up. Slate.com. Oct.
15. Available from: <http://www.slate.com/blogs/xx_factor/2013/10/15/melissa_mccarthy_in_
elle_the_magazine_put_the_plus_size_comedian_on_its.html>
Turner, G., 2004. Understanding celebrity. Los Angeles: Sage.
Valenti, J., 2014. The female confidence gap is a sham. theguardian.com, April 23. Available
from: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/apr/23/female-confidence-gap-kattykay-claire-shipman
Weber, B., 2012. Stark raving fat: celebrity, cellulite and the sliding scale of sanity. Feminism &
Psychology, 0 (0), 116.
White, F.R., 2013. Were kind of devolving: visual tropes of evolution in obesity discourse.
Critical Public Health, 23 (3), 320330.
Wingard, J., 2013. Branded bodies, rhetoric, and the neoliberal nation-state. Lanham, MD:
Lexington Books.