Last weekend Channel Nine screened advertisements for a new show, Big, hosted by Deborah Hutton. It is described as ''a unique television series about epic journeys and monumental struggles in the battle with obesity''. The advertisement depicts a head-to-toe shot of a naked man overflowing with fat. It was an uncomfortable image, repelling and fascinating.
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In previous centuries the freak show was a popular attraction in carnivals and circuses, particularly in the United States. Names such as the Bearded Lady, the Legless Wonder and Lobster Boy reflected their unusual body formations. The world's most famous freak, Joseph Merrick, was portrayed by John Hurt in the 1980 movie The Elephant Man. Merrick's medical deformities led him to be toured across Europe as an exhibit before his manager robbed him of his savings. He spent his last years in hospital and died at the age of 27. His life was described as a perfect misery.
The freak show lost appeal as the public and legislators questioned the ethics of exhibiting deformity as entertainment. As medical knowledge improved and explained the reasons for genetic abnormality the public became less intrigued. Countries began to ban the commercial gain of vulnerable individuals.
But the society of the 21st century is smart. Television and magazines realise curiosity about the unusual can still pull in ratings and revenue. Now we create programs and stories that tell of courage and inspiration in overcoming human ugliness. The British documentary maker Mark Dolan is the expert. His series, covering topics such as the world's tallest woman, hairiest man and strongest child, is engaging.
In an interview on the website for Britain's Channel Four he says being nearly two metres tall gave him great empathy for people who are ''a bit different physically''. He found the people he met ''stronger and more inspirational figures than the rest of us'', with ''unique strength, a unique resourcefulness, a unique courage''.
We learn that ''he was most fascinated by the tall women, particularly as he had never previously met a woman taller than him. The first woman towered over him, leading him to reflect: ''When I hugged her my head was actually on her chest; it was exciting - a personal goal achieved, to be nestled in a woman's bosom without having to kneel down'.'' Where is the integrity in that statement?
Each year magazines churn birthday picture spreads of conjoined twins, quintuplets and children born without limbs. Sometimes the parents have signed contracts with the publishers, particularly if they need the income to raise children needing extra care and medical attention. It is understandable. Yet these children are too young to state whether they desire international attention.
Shows such as Embarrassing Bodies, Big and The Biggest Loser make irresistible viewing. Their stars have probably had their life transformed, even improved. But one wonders who cares for them after each series finishes, particularly those who vanish into suburban life without the support of the show's consultant psychologists, trainers and make-over artists.
Those who have lost a lot of weight must still decide whether to have surgery to remove uncomfortable excess flesh. Do the networks supply the same team of supporters when this is needed?
Cleverly, Big offers ''no contests, no prizemoney and no hiding from the temptations of everyday life'', thus offsetting potential criticism of exploitation. But there is a fine line between the inspirational and the exploitational. Who is making the call on what constitutes an appropriate reality show? Not content with ''freaks'', we are now attempting to change the looks of those born with agreeable family genetics.
Last year an American network launched Bridalplasty in which 12 engaged women competed to win plastic surgery. Each week they were set a new challenge, with the surgery of their choice as the prize. The winner, Allyson Donovan, cut back her list of a dozen surgeries because she was a type 1 diabetic, but still managed to have work done on her arms, chin, jowls and flanks, as well as a breast lift and dental work. This is a new take on the freak show in which we coerce people with no unusual physical characteristics to undergo serious procedures in an attempt to attain ''perfection''.
A website in the US offers ''freaks'', including ''Flipper Boy'', ''the Dancing Dwarf'' and ''Freak Mama'' to appear at festivals, parties, schools, universities, bar mitzvahs, weddings and funerals. How does society push for greater equality for those with disabilities when businesses profit from these practices?
Merrick is reputed to have sometimes quoted the words of the 18th century poet Isaac Watts:
Were I so tall to reach the pole,
Or grasp the ocean with my span,
I must be measur'd by my soul;
The mind's the standard of the man.
We need to keep our own minds open when we accept modern versions of freak shows as entertainment.
Ros Marsden is a writer and a former producer with Channel Ten.
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