How the Monoculture Made "Super Size Me"

Morgan Spurlock’s Untimely Death and Film Industry Groupthink

Dear Coddling Movie Community,

At Team Coddling Movie, our goal has been to bring the important ideas in Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt’s bestselling book to a wider audience, especially Gen Zers and their parents. We hope that, through the inspiring stories of Greg and Jon and our global group of 20-somethings, viewers will be better able to conquer anxiety and depression and find happiness. 

Our team also has a second goal. 

We want to help Substack become a place where heterodox filmmakers and film lovers can connect.

So many writers have escaped from stifling corporate environments to enjoy greater artistic freedom on Substack. It should come as no surprise that filmmakers yearn for that kind of artistic freedom.

Here’s how Courtney and I put it to Substack leadership: Substack has liberated writers, now it’s time to liberate filmmakers.

After all, filmmakers can’t count on the film industry to support intellectually eclectic projects.

Gatekeepers routinely suppress worthy movies that would likely interest the vast majority of film lovers. Courtney and I have witnessed industry cowardice first hand, and I’ve written about our Coddling movie journey in a three-part essay. 

Here’s Part 1: Filmmaking During The Great Chill: Why We’re Releasing Our Movie on Substack

Courtney and I and the rest of our team are grateful to have made a little history with Substack. The Coddling movie is the first “Substack presents” feature film, and we hope our experiment will help pave the way for other heterodox filmmakers to sidestep the gatekeepers and connect directly with viewers. 

In the coming weeks, I’ll be focusing a bit more attention on our second goal. 

I’ll provide some encouraging news—from the film community’s growing interest in our Substack experiment to the new ways viewers will be able to watch The Coddling movie.

I’ll also continue to explain why filmmakers and film lovers can’t rely on the film industry to provide a freewheeling mix of high-quality films from many points of view. It’s a topic today’s essay explores.

I hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for being a part of the Coddling Movie Community.

All the best,

Ted

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I’ve never eaten McDonald’s food voluntarily. I don’t mean to evoke some Saw-like scene where I’m strapped to a chair while Grimace force feeds me Egg McMuffins. 

All I mean is I’ve never hungered for McDonald’s, and I’ve never headed to the Golden Arches on my own accord.

I think I’ve eaten McDonald’s food three times in my life. The first time was in high school. For reasons I can’t recall, one day our normal cafeteria food was replaced with McDonald’s. 

The second time was probably a couple years later, while I was out with some older cousins in Chicago. They wanted to go to McDonald’s, so we went. 

The third time was when I was in Sao Paulo, Brazil in my 20s. My friend Fernando was letting me stay at his place for a while. He wanted to go to McDonald’s, so I went. 

What accounts for my anti-McDonald’s attitude? Mom and Dad.

As my two brothers and I came of age in the 80s and 90s, our parents taught us to hate McDonalds. Actually, it was Dad who provided the anti-arches intensity. He dismissed the ubiquitous chain as “crap,” and we kids knew we were to never, ever eat there. (I hope my dad will forgive the transgressions I outlined above—I didn’t want to do it, Dad!) 

You might think that denying us the famous grub would make us crave the forbidden fruit pie even more, but it didn’t. That’s where my mom came in. She’s a masterful “old country” Slovenian cook, and she expresses love with food—meat, potatoes, sauerkraut, chicken soup, legendary apple strudel, and massive, colorful salads sourced from my dad’s vegetable garden. 

The difference in taste between a home-grown carrot and a store-bought one is so great, they should be categorized as different things. Imagine squabbling over second helpings of salads. Ours were so good, we’d do just that. My parents were “real food” proponents long before influencers were invented. 

I recalled this slice of family history because Morgan Spurlock, the filmmaker behind the smash hit documentary Super Size Me, recently succumbed to cancer at age 53. He died as a celebrity filmmaker and one of the world’s most recognizable documentarians.

Although Spurlock made other films and shows, it was Super Size Me that made him a star. And it all started with the hook: Spurlock would eat nothing but McDonald’s for a month, and if an employee asked him if he’d like to super size his meal, he’d always say yes. Along the way, he’d document how the fast food experiment changed his body. 

It’s almost like I was raised to be a Super Size Me superfan. Not only was I steeped in anti-McDonald’s ideology, I was also a budding documentary filmmaker. 

But when Morgan Spurlock’s hit rippled through the world in 2004, I was puzzled. Why all the fuss? McDonald’s is crap, so of course eating lots of it will pollute your innards. To me, Spurlock might as well have documented the health effects of stepping in front of a speeding bus. 

But lots of moviegoers disagreed with my take because the movie grossed more than $22 million (and lots more on licensing agreements). The performance was all the more impressive when you consider the film’s tiny $65,000 budget. The film achieved the one-two punch so many documentary filmmakers dream about—financial success and real-world impact. 

The movie has long been a fixture in high school health classes, and shortly after its release McDonald’s pulled the plug on super sizes. The official company position was that the move had nothing to do with Spurlock’s movie, but I wonder if execs really expect the rest of the world to believe that. 

So how did one newbie filmmaker accomplish so much? 

Irresistible Ingredients

No doubt hard work, talent, and a strong hook were important, but those ingredients wouldn’t be enough to cook up a blockbuster. Perhaps Spurlock knew his most important audience wasn’t the American public, but industry gatekeepers. The filmmaker was savvy enough to dangle irresistible ingredients in front of them.

Film industry gatekeepers love a good David and Goliath story—that is, as long as the roles reflect the “correct” worldview. That was no problem for Spurlock.

He, the independent filmmaker on a shoestring budget, assumed the role of David, daring to step forward to challenge the corporate Goliath—McDonald’s. 

Many other elements play to Eight Percenter tastes: The film takes some swipes at Texas. It includes reflections from progressive public health superstars like Marion Nestle, Kelly Brownell, and lawsuit machine John Banzhaf.

Even Spurlock’s girlfriend plays an important supporting role as the noble vegan chef who tries to steer him toward what she regards as a more ethical lifestyle.

Burgers and Stakes

And, of course, we can’t forget the stakes. The movie’s success hinged on stakes. 

If the filmmaker didn’t face serious health repercussions, Spurlock’s film would be dead on arrival. A five pound weight gain and some heartburn just wouldn’t cut it. 

But here crafty Spurlock delivers again.