By Scott Muoio

Documentaries are all the rage in 2004. They are earning their highest cinematic grosses of all-time and reaching more viewers than ever before. But with their newfound success comes their newest and greatest criticism: where does truth end and manipulative rhetoric begin? The year’s best known “truth tale,” Fahrenheit 9-11, was content to a) give one and only one side of the story, b) arrogantly attack without offering solutions, and c) self-obsessively trumpet its filmmaker as its star. It is a prime example of the polarizing effect documentaries can potentially have on an audience because of the way in which context dictates conclusion. Super Size Me, with its message that fast food is bad for you, follows a cleaner path since I doubt anyone would argue against that claim, even the restaurants, themselves. But like Fahrenheit, writer/director Morgan Spurlock is utterly guilty of c); but in contrast to Moore, Spurlock is happier to revel in his Reality TV style self-aggrandizement than do battle with corporate and political giants in the name of truth and all that is good. Where Moore’s film, metaphorically speaking, seeks the Presidency for its documentarian, Spurlock’s film is content merely to get its main man a hosting job between Jerry Springer and Montel Williams on syndicated television.

Super Size Me is supposed everyman Morgan Spurlock’s fast food odyssey. Over the course of thirty days he forces himself to eat at McDonald’s three meals a day, everyday, or until he drops dead, whichever comes first. He allows himself only food served at McDonald’s, he must “super size” when asked, and he must try every item on the menu at least once. If this sounds like some sort of bizarre fraternity stunt, well, it is, and gets treated as such by Spurlock.

The “experiment” is put into context by the requisite information plastered on the screen about “fast food lawsuits,” the health horrors of obesity, and the evil role corporations play in manipulating everything from school cafeterias to office vending machines. As Americans, it should be nothing we haven’t heard already. But like rubbernecking at a car wreck, Spurlock’s pursuit of dietary carnage is a cheap thrill I couldn’t help but keep watching through to its grisly conclusion.

Watching Super Size Me, you will most likely be grossed out somewhere during the proceedings. But then again, that is partially the point. This movie contains puke, gastric intestinal surgery, lots of cellulite, and perhaps most annoyingly, Spurlock’s vegetarian girlfriend, who feels the need to tell us all about the couple’s sex life. Also, there are lots of stats and charts, a stream of doctors and corporate figureheads, a number of creepy oil paintings of evil clowns done by someone known as “artistic genius” in the credits, and Spurlock himself, holding the whole thing together by telling us fifty different ways fast food consumption is unhealthy while desperately seeking his fifteen minutes of fame.

My verdict: check it because Spurlock deserves his fifteen minutes. Sure, you won’t learn very much but for pure entertainment value Spurlock has Michael Moore beat hands down. And in Spurlock’s case, the only rhetoric he might fairly be accused of is trying to convince us that he’s a star. But that’s ok; if I can forgive Richard Hatch from Survivor, then Spurlock’s no problem.

Director: Morgan Spurlock

Producer: Morgan Spurlock

Writer: Morgan Spurlock

Starring: Morgan Spurlock, Alexandra Jamieson, Daryl Isaacs

Original Music: Doug Ray, Steve Horowitz, Michael Parrish

Cinematographer: Scott Ambrozy

Editor: Julie “Bob” Lombardi