The Fat Stardom of James Gandolfini

What’s clear is that, in our contemporary society and culture, the male body is not invisible. Although the female body continues to be more heavily regulated and controlled, particularly in terms of weight and appearance, the male body is no longer removed from similar considerations. As we continue to look more intensely and critically at the male body, we can anticipate a time when new images of masculinity become not only realized but embodied.

James Gandolfini and his formidable body
James Gandolfini and his formidable body

 


Written by Sarah Smyth as part of our theme week on Fatphobia and Fat Positivity.


Early in his career, James Gandolfini starred in Tony Scott’s blood-pumping, adrenaline-rushing military action film, Crimson Tide. Like Scott’s cult-classic, Top Gun, the construction and display of the male body within Crimson Tide symbolises the “masculine” tensions centralised within the narrative. Set in an American submarine, the film follows Captain Frank Ramsey (Gene Hackman) and Lieutenant Commander Ron Hunter (Denzel Washington) who butt heads throughout a series of nuclear missiles crises. Particularly, through the racial dichotomy between the two lead characters, Crimson Tide explores the ideas and ideals of rationality, logic, nationalism, supremacy and power, inverting the traditional racist narrative of the irrational, brutal and animalistic black man through Lt. Commander Hunter triumphant ending. However, although the film challenges conventional depictions of racial embodiment, its investment in the young, slim, athletic body as the traditional symbol of (masculine) strength, restraint and power remains prevalent. Compared to Capt. Ramsey’s ageing and paunchy body, Lt. Commander Hunter remains slim and fit with key scenes depicting him running, skipping and boxing in the submarine. Despite the (literal) visibility of Gandolfini’s overweight body throughout his career, Gandolfini’s weight is not central to the role he plays in this film; another actor takes on the role of the “excessive” and “revolting” fat crewmember. Nevertheless, in this piece, I use the symbols of masculinity imbued in the male body, particularly the fat male body, suggested in Crimson Tide as the starting point for my analysis into Gandolfini’s stardom. Particularly, in the piece, I will look at the specificity and uniqueness of Gandolfini’s fat stardom, asking what his literal fleshy embodiment reveals about the masculine image portrayed on screen.

In his most famous role, playing Tony Soprano in the hit HBO series, The Sopranos, Gandolfini embodies the complex relationship contemporary Western culture has with male fatness. One the one hand, Tony’s fatness most obviously represents his over-indulgence and lack of control. He constantly eats, smokes, drinks and sleeps with numerous women. His body, therefore, is a reflection or extension of the excessive bodily desires in which he continually indulges. Gandolfini’s body was particularly used to represent this in the 2012 film, Killing Them Softly. He plays Mickey, an ineffectual hitman to Brad Pitt’s partner-in-crime, who spends the film a slave to his bodily desires, smoking, drinking and sleeping with prostitutes throughout. He fails to complete a single hit and make any money. He’s lazy, stupid and a slob – and the film represents this through Gandolfini’s body.

Mickey (James Gandolfini) enjoys a drink or three with Jackie (Brad Pitt) in Killing Them Softly
Mickey (James Gandolfini) enjoys a drink or three with Jackie (Brad Pitt) in Killing Them Softly

 

In contrast, Brad Pitt’s character, Jackie Cogan, touches neither drink nor women. He’s an effective and successful hitman who maintains his authority within the Mafia throughout the film. Although Pitt doesn’t display the slimness and athleticism of his body in the same way as Washington in Crimson Tide, Pitt’s stardom or, more specifically, the stardom derived from Pitt’s much desired and desirable body imbues the character with the symbols of power and authority. At its most ambitious, Killing Them Softly attempts to link this to the American dream. At the end of the film, Jackie claims, “[Barack Obama] wants to tell me we’re living in a community? Don’t make me laugh. I’m living in America, and in America, you’re on your own. America is not a country; it’s just a business. Now fucking pay me.” The ultimate self-made man, Jackie/Pitt literally and figuratively embody the ideal of the American dream. In the twentieth and twenty-first century, fatness symbolises defiance against the middle-class interest in constraint, discipline and moderation; as consumerism became the site of approved indulgence, fatness became the site of necessary restraint. Within this indulgence/restraint paradigm, then, Pitt/Jackie represent the successful image of masculinity through the very slimness of his body.

Yet, male fatness is not always disempowering. As the gangster genre demonstrates, the fat cats really do get rich. Although Mickey may not exploit his potential monetary earnings, Tony certainly does. Throughout the show, Tony maintains a powerful position because of, rather than despite of, his fat body. This is done in two ways. Firstly, through the figure of Bobby Bacala, The Soprano transfers any of the disempowering features of fatness away from Tony. A carer to Tony’s uncle, Bacala is domesticated, feminised and removed from the main action of the mobster activities. In contrast, Tony looks aggressive, powerful and masculine. Secondly, like other fat figures in the gangster genre, which was epitomised by Marlon Brando’s Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather, The Soprano’s foregrounds Tony’s body as a crucial indication of his excessive financial greed and the violent measures he will take to pursue them, enabling him to maintain control over the mob.

The Sopranos plays into the tradition of the fat gangster figure as epitomised by Don Vito Corleone in "The Godfather"
The Sopranos plays into the tradition of the fat gangster figure as epitomised by Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather

 

Throughout the show, Tony’s embodiment of financial greed becomes embroiled with the complexities of class politics. Whereas Jackie’s embodiment of the American dream in Killing Them Softly was warped, Tony’s embodiment of the American dream in The Sopranos is completely corrupted. In the pilot episode, as Tony collects his newspaper at the end of his drive, his sloppy appearance – all dishevelled dressing gown and protruding belly – contrast hugely with the wealthy middle-class neighbourhood in which he lives. Tony may have the money to afford such a house, but his illegal and immoral mobster activities and the excess of his consumer consumption continually place him outside of this social order. The Sopranos makes clear that, rather than failing to embody the successful image of the self-made man, Tony, in fact, embodies it too much. Through the excesses of his fat body, Tony embodies the extremes of consumer and capitalist culture.

Tony Soprano's "excessive" body contrasts with the social values of restraint and moderation
Tony Soprano’s “excessive” body contrasts with the social values of restraint and moderation

 

The Sopranos also makes clear that, despite Tony’s fat body, he’s never considered undesirable by women. He never fails to get laid by women inside or outside of his marriage, and, in this way, never “fails” as a heterosexual man. Furthermore, when on display, the slim and athletic man has to deal with the potential feminizing and queering repercussions of his body; within traditional structures of on-screen looking, the heterosexual male body looks but is never looked at. The Soprano’s undermines this potential emasculation by refusing to position Tony’s fat body as something to-be-looked-at. Instead, through his fatness and male privilege, he has full autonomy over his body and sexuality.

In contrast, in Enough Said, the relationship between Gandolfini’s weight and desirability is centralised and discussed primarily by women. In a very different role, Gandolfini plays Albert, a divorcee who starts dating Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s Eva. During the film, we see Albert’s body through Julia’s eyes as she starts off uncertain about him, claiming “he’s kind of fat,” to discovering she enjoys sex with him. Nevertheless, the problems that arise in their developing relationship are consistently linked to Albert’s weight. As Julia (unknowingly) befriends Albert’s ex-wife, Marianne (Catherine Keener), she lets Marianne’s fat-phobic opinions influence her attitude toward Albert and his body. Marianne was always repulsed by Albert’s weight, calling him a slob. Similarly, Julia jokes about buying Albert a calorie book which deeply upsets him. Likewise, Marianne always hated the way Albert picked the onions out the guacamole. When Julia sees Albert doing this, she can’t help but comment on it and remind him that guacamole has a lot of calories in it. By opening up a new space of (heterosexual) female desire and looking and by consistently linking Albert’s flaws to his weight, Enough Said refuses to excuse the male body, particularly the fat male body, as some thing not to be examined, as something not to be looked at.

James Gandolfini's body becomes subject to female scrutiny in Enough Said
James Gandolfini’s body becomes subject to female scrutiny in Enough Said

 

The representation of Gandolfini’s body on-screen continues to reveal and contribute towards the hugely complex and often contradictory image of masculinity within our contemporary culture. He is as much powerful as powerless, effectual as ineffectual, desirable as undesirable. His untimely death in 2013 demonstrated just how polarizing his body is. For every fat shaming response to his death, another person celebrated him for being an inspiration and an icon. What’s clear, however, is that, in our contemporary society and culture, the male body is not invisible. Although the female body continues to be more heavily regulated and controlled, particularly in terms of weight and appearance, the male body is no longer removed from similar considerations. As we continue to look more intensely and critically at the male body, we can anticipate a time when new images of masculinity become not only realised but embodied.

 

Sophie in Don Bluth’s ‘Anastasia’

Sophie is still exceptional among animated characters, and even live action characters. Though a fantastic character, she should not be the exception. She should not be a rare case of fat-acceptance. It should not be rare that a fat woman loves herself and is loved.


Written by Jackson Adler as part of our theme week on Fatphobia and Fat Positivity.


Don Bluth’s animated film musical Anastasia is incredibly historically inaccurate, and even offensive in how it depicts the Russian Revolution, its aftermath, and various historical figures. However, it also passes the Bechdel Test (and in more than one scene!), which is extremely rare for children’s films. It also shows the heroine and her love interest saving each other – with the heroine taking down the villain at the end. Possibly even more notable, the film also portrays positive representation of a fat woman in its character Sophie.

Vlad and Sophie
Vlad and Sophie

 

Before the audience meets Sophie, we hear of her from the character Vlad, who calls her “ravishing” and like a cup of “hot chocolate” after a “walk in the snow.” Sophie is indeed ravishing, and she certainly has a warm personality. Sophie (voiced by Bernadette Peters) is a fat woman who is independent, caring, sexy, confident, smart, savvy, sensitive, and powerful. She loves Paris, flowers, fashion, and the Russian ballet. As if she were the bubbly younger sister of Ursula, Sophie is confidant in her body, and seems to care little about respectability politics. If she wants to wear an off-the-shoulder dress that shows off her cleavage and has a very short skirt, she does! And she’ll roll her shoulder and shake her tush in it! And wear bright colors? Why wouldn’t she? She likes them! Eating good food and drinking champagne? Again, she likes them, so why wouldn’t she? She dances with multiple young and handsome men, and has lots of fun doing it. She takes Anya, Vlad, and Dmitri for a night on the town, introducing them to all the things she likes about Paris, and having just as much fun as them.

She deeply cares about family, especially her cousin, the Dowager Empress Marie (voiced by Angela Lansbury). She is supportive of other women, taking her cousin’s interests to heart, while also helping Anya. She enjoys luxury, but is willing to share her wealth with others, even taking Anya shopping for clothes in which to meet her possible grandmother. While a bit of a romantic, she doesn’t let the possibility of romance dictate her entire life. She has a short hair cut suitable for a “modern” woman of the time. She is her own human being, with her own interests, and who has pastimes other than supporting the skinny heroine in getting a make over or getting to the ball or getting the guy. She does not compete with or try to tear down Anya (or any other woman), either. It’s just that being kind to Anya, or “motherly,” is not all that she is. She is kind, but she has a personality and her own desires.

Sophie singing on top of the Eiffel Tower.
Sophie singing on top of the Eiffel Tower.

 

Sophie is neither fairy godmother nor villainess. She does not exist only for comedic relief. She does not exist to fawn over other people, nor does it occur to her to hurt anyone. She helps to reunite her cousin with her cousin’s granddaughter, enjoying her relationship with both, and enjoying doing things with both – whether shopping on the streets of Paris or attending the Russian ballet together. She supports the women in her life doing whatever makes them happy, tearing up when Anya chooses to elope with Dmitri instead of taking her place as Empress of Russia. By the same token, no one slutshames or fatshames Sophie or attempts to tell her not to do what she likes (as if she would listen to them!).

Sophie is a fun supporting character who keeps the story going. While there is nothing wrong with that, portrayals of characters like Sophie are incredibly rare, and viewers deserve to have more Sophies on their screens. While there have occasionally been other fat women in animated children’s films, they are side characters whose own narratives are rarely told, and who instead make their lives entirely about the skinny heroes and heroines, whether as mothering and mammy types or as villains. Sophie is not a fairy, like Flora or Merryweather or the nameless Fairy Godmother, nor is she a sea witch. Sophie is a human being who deserves to be seen and treated as such, which, in the film, is how she is seen and treated. She is not just respected, but admired. She is not just accepted, she is praised.

Sophie does not just move, she dances. She does not just talk, she sings. She does not just serve the heroine, she is kind to everyone and expects the same kindness in return. When someone is overstaying their welcome, she is not afraid to say “Out!” or “Bye, bye!” When a man isn’t what she wants, she finds another man, or even just dances by herself. Sophie’s confidence is rare for women on screen in general, but especially for fat women – and she’s not there to be laughed at (like Merryweather) or sneered at (like Ursula), either.

Ursula showing off her curves and celebrating "body language."
Ursula showing off her curves and celebrating “body language.”

 

When are confident fat women like Sophie going to get their own film? We have a Malificent, but where’s Ursula? When is Disney going to make that film? We have the live action movie musical Hairspray, but audiences deserve many more films that celebrate fat bodies. And what about fat Women of Color? There should be many more than Precious. What about fat lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, transgender, and genderqueer women of all ethnicities?

Sophie is a complex female character (which, alone, is still quite rare) who is also fat. She embraces and loves her fatness. She and her fatness are also loved by others. Not every woman has the same body type, and not everyone finds skinny to be the only body type worth admiring. In Hairspray, Edna has Wilbur and Tracey has Link, and Mercedes and Sam dated in Glee. Slowly, representation of fat women who are happy in romance is expanding, but in 2015 the Disney princesses are all still extremely skinny. Ursula herself has had skinny makeovers, or often been left out of Disney villain media. Dreamworks’ Home features a mixed race middle-school heroine who has hips, but her waste is still very small. Meanwhile, Disney is making a sequel to Frozen, further featuring White skinny heroines.

Don Bluth’s Anastasia was released in 1997. It’s 2015 now. Dreamworks and Disney have made small strides in showing complex female characters, and have had a (very) few female character of Color. However, by mainly depicting skinny bodies, especially as leading characters, these companies are participating in fatshaming. Sophie is still exceptional among animated characters, and even live action characters. Though a fantastic character, she should not be the exception. She should not be a rare case of fat-acceptance. It should not be rare that a fat woman loves herself and is loved. Sophie is still a “cup of hot chocolate” after a “walk in the snow,” only it’s not just because of her warm personality, but because she is a symbol of not just fat-acceptance, but fat-love. She knows that she is “ravishing,” and she and the characters who love her won’t let anyone forget it.