Directed by: Darryl Roberts
Review by: Laura Hawbaker
The long-standing convention of beauty in Fiji was “big is beautiful.” It had been that way for hundreds of years. A big body was the result of a plentiful village, a village that could feed its people. There were no reported cases of anorexia or bulimia. Then, in 1995, Western television was introduced to the island, and in 1998, 11% of teenage girls (the same percentage as in America) admitted to throwing up in order to lose weight. Centuries of Fiji culture was undone, in just three years.
How can an anorexic supermodel be paid $30,000 for strutting down a catwalk, while an anorexic girl spends $30,000 on eating disorder treatment? What is the thin line between the two? According to Darryl Robert’s new documentary, “America the Beautiful,” it is our culture’s obsession (to the point of derangement) with an unhealthy and unachievable definition of beauty.
The film is a collection of everything we already know about beauty in America. The link between advertising and self-image. The plastic surgery boom. The health concerns surrounding beauty products. Light skin vs. dark skin. Though none of this is new territory, it is eye-opening to see all the individual criticisms snapped together, like jigsaw puzzles finally forming a comprehensive picture of how the fashion, publishing, advertising, entertainment, dieting and healthcare, plastic surgery and cosmetic industries affect the consumers and culture of America. Roberts hopes to dissuade his audience from feeding the marketing machine. “Don’t let them tell you your ugly,” the film says, “they’re only in it for the money.” Literally, like when a fashion designer admits his models are size zeros, not because a zero is beautiful, but because it means he only has to buy three yards of fabric for a dress, instead of nine.
“America the Beautiful” begins with two twelve year old girls. Aesthetically, both look very similar—a warm brown skin tone, wide-set eyes, full lips. One is a public school student who announces, begrudgingly, that she is “ugly.” The other is Gerren Taylor, a leading model not yet in her teens, a girl the American fashion industry has labeled “beautiful.” Over the course of two years, Roberts follows Gerren’s modeling career. She is first hailed as the twelve-year-old second coming of Naomi Campbell. She books gigs with international designers, Marc Jacobs, DKNY, and Tommy Hilfiger, and struts the catwalk of seven shows at New York Fashion Week.
Just one year later she is discarded by the industry, and the fashion mavens of Paris and Milan label the 6 foot tall, 130 lb girl with a 23 inch waist, “obese.” By the end of Gerren’s fashion journey, she is a perfect clone of her public school counterpart. She begrudgingly announces, “I’m ugly.”
Kudos must be given to Roberts. Far too many modern filmmakers jump on the pop documentary wagon and swiftly cobble together their propaganda with no love for the craft. Roberts, on the other hand, spent five years filming “America the Beautiful” and amassed an enormous amount of footage. He landed interviews with leading fashion photographers, clothing designers, the senior editors of nationwide magazines like Elle, Seventeen and gossip rags like U.S. Weekly, entertainment correspondents, marketing directors, plastic surgeons, fragrance manufacturers, celebrities like Paris Hilton, critics like The Vagina Monologues playwright, Eve Ensler, and any other representative of the beauty industry he could snag a clip from.
But it is Roberts’ interviews with the “regular Joes” of our society that pack the most powerful punch. A group of four dudes, spewed straight out of feminist Hell, sling back beers on a couch and pontificate about women. The mother and father who blame themselves for the death of their bulimic daughter. Or the pre-pubescent boy from a mall, who shows more wisdom than any adult interviewed when he announces, point blank, “Companies put people down to make money.”
The film is not without flaws. Certain clips are unnecessary distractions from the main thread of Roberts’ message. The editing is clunky and oftentimes disconcerting, such as an interview at an anorexia treatment center. The footage itself, which offers solutions to America’s beauty problem, is compelling, but it’s placement in the film is utterly confounding: it interrupts the credits, as if it’s an afterthought. There is also the film’s rating (Restricted), which means it won’t be seen by the audience it would most benefit: teenage girls.
Nevertheless, these flaws are few and far outweighed by the comprehensive criticism of America’s beauty culture. Darryl Roberts himself, by no means, fits the standard conventions of beauty. He’s big and bald, but according to Anthony Kiedis of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, has a “beautiful handshake.”
Eve Ensler regales one of the most poignant stories in the film. She describes a trip she took to Africa, where she spoke to a tribal woman about beauty. Ensler asked the woman if she liked her body. The woman, aghast, replied, “My body? Of course I love my body! Look at my hands, my beautiful hands! I love my hands! Look at my arms, so strong and powerful!” When Ensler confessed she couldn’t help but think of herself as ugly, the African woman said, “Look at that tree. Isn’t that a beautiful tree? Now look at that other tree. Would you say that tree is ugly because it doesn’t look the same?”
Hopefully, audience members will leave “America the Beautiful” thinking of themselves, and all of the diverse people in this world, as one big, beautiful forest of trees.
