Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead Confused Me
Somewhere along the way I must have missed the memo when they gave every Tom, Dick and Harry with a half-baked idea and a decent camera the divine right to produce a documentary.
So, at this juncture I’d like to pitch any willing investors on what promises to be the most compelling tale of human connection ever filmed.
“Watch as we chronicle the daily hilarity, led by a loud, annoying middle-aged woman who never amounted to much. Her joys, her sorrows, her embarrassing habits… all laid bare for the audience to see…”
My phone is already ringing off the hook.
Anyway, I can find no other explanation for Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead, a documentary about a seemingly-normal-looking guy who doesn’t feel really well.
Ok, I’m being harsh.
In reality, Joe was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder that was destroying his health and his life, so he decided to do something about it!
This life change involved packing up a juicer and going on the road.
Let me say right now that when I read the synopsis for this film I was expecting some sort of epic fat-guy-meets-The Hangover-mixed-with-Ishtar film. A real road movie.
What I felt I got fell just a little short of my sick, little expectations.
While it’s not unusual for things like this to disappoint me, I DO expect for them to make some sort of sense.
I know that on the inside I am quietly applauding Joe for going out and speaking to people about the body’s ability to heal itself, and what a wonderful and awe-inspiring epiphany he had. But I didn’t think Joe’s weight had all that much to do with some of the things that were plaguing him.
While he travels, he meets a delightful fellow named Joe, and soon enough he’s on the bandwagon and headed down a healthy path right behind our hero.
Look, it’s not that I don’t love a good road trip flick or a success story, but I was cranky, it was late and it seemed totally unrealistic to subsist on juice for that amount of time.
So, I promise to rewatch what might have been a sweet, little feel-good film about life-affirming changes when I’m not suffering from Acerbic Annie syndrome.