Welcome back to the Deep Dive. Great to be here.
So today we're diving into a really, um, a profoundly
complex figure. Yeah, absolutely. An American
filmmaker, Morgan Spurlock. Right. His whole
professional life was, you know, dedicated to
digging up uncomfortable truths about society.
But then his personal life, well, it held secrets
that ultimately just completely shattered the
career he'd built. We lost him recently too.
We did. Age 53, complications from cancer. And
that contradiction you mentioned, that's really
the heart of this deep dive for us today. It
really is. We're talking about his unique method.
You know, experiential, super personal, often
confrontational. He kind of set a new bar for
documentaries in some ways. He didn't just point
a camera, did he? He jumped right in, became
the subject himself, often at like significant
personal risk. Exactly. And the scale of his
work was pretty vast. Directed 23 films, produced
nearly 70 through his company, Warrior Poets.
But really, it all comes back to that one huge
hit, doesn't it? The one that put him on the
map. Oh, for sure. Supersize me. 2004. That film
was massive. More than just successful, it got
an Oscar nomination, Best Documentary Feature.
And it cemented his reputation, his whole style,
this immersive, controversial approach where
the filmmaker is... The story, almost. So that's
the journey we're tracing for you, the listener.
We'll start with his roots, you know, where he
came from. Yeah, his background in West Virginia,
his creative beginnings. Then we'll get right
into the methodology, especially with Supersize
Me, how he did it, what the impact was. And crucially,
the later context that makes you rethink that
impact. Right. And then we have to spend real
time on the end of his public career. This 2017
resignation. The hashtag MeToo post, the confessions
about misconduct, addiction. It's heavy stuff.
It is. And how those revelations force us to
look at his entire body of work differently.
It's about media authenticity and that blurry
line between the public investigator and the
private person. A complicated legacy, no doubt.
Okay, so let's lay that foundation. Where did
Morgan Spurlock come from? He wasn't exactly
a product of the, you know, Hollywood system.
No, not at all. More classic Americana, actually,
with a side of theater. He was born November
7, 1970. Parkersburg, West Virginia. Parkersburg,
okay. But mostly raised in Beckley, West Virginia.
Sources point to a pretty stable middle -class
upbringing. His dad had a business. Yeah. Ben
Spurlock owned an auto repair shop. His mom,
Phyllis, was an English teacher, later became
a guidance counselor. And there's that interesting
detail about his childhood. The ballet lessons,
yeah. Yeah. He was the youngest of three boys.
Craig and Barry were his brothers, and all three
of them took ballet. Which, you know, maybe hints
at that creative environment or at least a willingness
to step outside the norm early on. Not exactly
typical for Beckley, West Virginia in the 70s,
maybe. Probably not. It suggests a certain openness,
maybe a comfort with performance. What about
his religious background? Raised Methodist. But
later on, around 2014, he mentioned he'd become
agnostic. Okay. And we also know, tragically,
from his later confessions. Yeah, that his childhood
wasn't entirely idyllic. He disclosed in that
2017 post that he'd been sexually abused as a
boy and also as a teenager. Such a painful detail.
And it definitely adds another layer when we
think about the struggles he revealed later in
life. Absolutely. It contextualizes things. doesn't
justify them, but provides context. So after
high school, Woodrow Wilson High, he makes the
move. Yep, off to New York City. The classic
path for an ambitious artist. Got into NYU's
Tisch School of the Arts, the film program. Which
is a big deal. Prestigious program. Definitely.
He graduated in 93 with a BFA in film. So he
had that formal training, you know, structure
narrative. It wasn't just point and shoot. You
can see that training in his films, actually.
Even the chaotic ones feel tightly constructed
underneath. Right. And interestingly, before
film really took off for him, he was actually
doing pretty well as a playwright. I didn't know
that. Yeah. Won awards for his play The Phoenix.
Yeah. New York International French Festival
in 99. Route 66 American Playwriting Competition
in 2000. So he understood storytelling on a deep
level. Makes sense. Then he combined that narrative
skill with film. Exactly. Co -founded his production
company, Warrior Poets, in 2004. That became
the engine for basically all his major work afterwards.
Until he stepped down, of course. Until he stepped
down. And he wasn't just making films in isolation.
He really saw himself as part of a documentary
tradition. Yeah, the sources list some key influences.
What did he admire? Well, films that really emphasized
immersion and maybe... He loved Roger and Me.
Michael Moore's film. Very personal, confrontational.
Right. And Hoop Dreams, that incredible long
-form character study. Errol Morris' The Thin
Blue Line. Also very stylized, playing with truth
and perspective. And he apparently called Brothers
Keeper, that 1992 doc, the greatest documentary
of all time. Wow. What's that one about? It's
about this murder confession in a really rural
community. This semi -literate guy is accused,
and his whole family, the whole community, kind
of circles the wagons. It's all about subjectivity,
moral gray areas, uses dramatic techniques. So
that tells you a lot, doesn't it? He wasn't just
interested in facts. He was interested in the
messy human experience of those facts. Exactly,
which totally sets the stage for, well, for putting
himself right in the middle of the mess. Okay,
let's talk about the breakthrough. Supersize
me. That moment of inspiration is kind of perfect
Spurlock, isn't it? Not some high -concept pitch
meeting. No, not at all. It was Thanksgiving.
He was back home at his parents' place in West
Virginia in 2002. Just watching TV. Yeah. Saw
a news report about those two teenage girls in
the Bronx suing McDonald's, blaming the chain
for their obesity, their health problems. And
a light bulb went off. Pretty much. He figured,
okay, instead of arguing it in court, let's just
do it. Let's make myself the evidence. Personal,
undeniable experiment. And the way he pulled
it off financially, that's almost as striking.
Oh, it's pure indie grit. Made for, what, $65
,000? Pocket change for a future film? 22 million
dollars. A massive return. It just proved there
was this huge appetite for that kind of DIY,
high -impact critique of corporate power. Delivered
by someone with literal skin in the game. Or
maybe fat in the game. Yeah, increased cholesterol
in the game, definitely. People wanted that.
authenticity, that commitment. So let's break
down the rules. They sound simple, but the implications
were huge. Okay. Rule one, three McDonald's meals
a day, breakfast, lunch, dinner for 30 days straight.
Rule two. Had to try everything on the menu at
least once over those 30 days. And rule three,
the big one. The supersized rule. He wouldn't
ask for it, but if the cashier offered it, would
you like to supersize that? Yeah. He had to say
yes. Couldn't refuse. Which is clever, right?
It shifts the focus to the company's upselling
tactics. It's not just about his choice. Exactly.
And the result was, well, a caloric onslaught.
Sources say he was often taking in over 5 ,000
calories a day. Which is roughly double the USDA
recommendation, right? Easily double. And then
there was the activity level. Right. He deliberately
cut back on exercise. Yeah. Tried to mimic the
average American's physical activity. Or lack
thereof. He went from walking about, say, three
miles a day. Which is pretty active. Down to
about 1 .5 miles a day. So massive calorie increase,
massive activity decrease, a perfect storm for
weight gain and health issues. And the health
issues came fast. He had doctors monitoring him,
right? Well, three of them. A cardiologist, a
gastroenterologist, a general practitioner. They
tracked everything. And the results were alarming.
To say the least. Yeah. In just 30 days, he gained
25 pounds. That's 11 kilos. Wow. Blood pressure
shot up, cholesterol went through the roof, and
his liver. That was the really scary part. What
happened to his liver? Significant dysfunction.
The doctors were seriously concerned. He became
lethargic, depressed, moody, quite puffy, as
he put it. But the liver finding was the bombshell.
It was. Because his doctors made that comparison.
They said the effects on his liver were similar
to what they'd see in a case of severe, prolonged
binge alcoholism. And that comparison, fast food
equals alcohol abuse damage, that's what blew
up culturally. Absolutely. That was the soundbite,
the takeaway that shocked everyone and made the
film impossible to ignore. The impact was immediate,
too. McDonald's phased out the supersize option
not long after the film came out. They did, though
they claimed it was already planned. Of course.
But the timing was undeniable. The film hit a
nerve. OK, but now we have to bring in the elephant
in the room, the thing that complicates this
entire narrative. The 2017 confession. Exactly.
13 years after Supersize Me, Spurlock drops this
bombshell blog post where he admits, well, a
lot of things, but specifically related to this.
He said he hadn't been sober for more than a
week since he was 13 years old. Three decades
of consistent heavy drinking. Which means he
was drinking during the supersize me experiment.
He must have been based on that timeline. He
didn't disclose it in the film, didn't disclose
it during promotion. So here's the critical question
for you, the listener, right? If the guy making
the film that links fast food to liver damage
comparable to alcoholism is actually drinking
heavily himself during the experiment, doesn't
that completely muddy the waters? How can you
separate the effects of the food from the effects
of the undisclosed alcohol? You really can't,
scientifically. It casts significant doubt on
the central medical claim of the film. Was the
liver damage solely the Big Macs and fries? Or
was his existing hidden alcoholism the main driver,
or at least a major contributing factor? And
it's interesting, isn't it? The guy demanding
transparency from a giant corporation. Wasn't
transparent himself. Sources mentioned he never
publicly released his detailed food log from
the experiment. Which could have maybe shed some
light, but he kept it private. The truth he presented
was wrapped up in his own secrets. It makes the
film almost more of a psychological document
now, doesn't it? About him as much as about McDonald's.
Yeah. Despite those later questions, though,
the initial recovery was brutal for him. Took
him 14 months, apparently, to get back to his
normal weight, around 185 pounds. And his girlfriend
at the time, Alexandra Jameson. Right, the vegan
chef. She guided him through it with a detox
diet, which, you know, she then turned into her
own successful book, The Great American Detox
Diet. Everyone capitalized on it. And the industry
loved the film initially. Oh, yeah. Oscar nomination,
like you said. Plus, he won the very first Writers
Guild of America Award for Best Documentary Screenplay.
Which highlights the writing, the narrative construction.
He told a damn good story. He did. And he followed
it up quickly with the book Don't Eat This Book
to keep the momentum going. So Supersize Me gave
him this template, right? This immersive, first
-person investigation style. And he realized,
hey. This works. Yeah, he basically franchised
the concept, took that experiential formula,
and applied it everywhere, especially on TV.
Which led directly to 30 Days. That show on FX
ran from 2005 to 2008. Great concept for a show.
Basically supersized me, but for social issues
instead of just food. Exactly. Take someone,
sometimes Burlock himself, sometimes another
person, and drop them into a life totally different
from their own for a month. And they covered
some really thorny topics. Oh, yeah. Living on
minimum wage, outsourcing jobs by moving to India,
trying medical marijuana. But also those direct
culture clash episodes. I remember the one where
the devout Christian goes to leave with a Muslim
family. Right. Tackling post 9 -11 Islamophobia
head on. Or the homophobe living with a gay man.
Forcing empathy through proximity. And Spurlock
didn't shy away from putting himself in tough
spots for the show either. No, he kept his skin
in the game, Cred. He spent 25 days locked up
in a county jail in Virginia. Wow. And he went
back to his roots near Beckley, West Virginia,
for an episode called Working in a Coal Mine,
showing the danger, the reality of that life.
Before 30 days, though, he'd already dabbled
in something much lighter, trashier. Huh. Yeah,
I bet you will for MTV. Yeah. That started as
an internet webcast, actually. Little short episodes.
MTV saw potential and picked it up. What was
the premise? Pretty simple. Get ordinary people
to do stunts, usually gross or weird stunts,
for cash. Like what? Give us some examples. Okay,
eating a whole jar of mayonnaise for $235. Ugh.
Eating a worm burrito for $265. Oh, come on.
Or downing a series of shots, corn oil, Pepto
-Bismol, lemon juice, hot sauce, cold chicken
broth, and cod liver oil for $450. Okay, so pure
shock value entertainment. A far cry from his
serious docs. Totally different vibe. But showed
he understood the, you know, burgeoning attention
economy. Eyeballs matter. But he didn't stay
in that lane for long. Pivoted back to bigger
themes pretty quickly. Yeah, his next major film
was Where in the World is Osama bin Laden? Premiered
at Sundance in 2008. Back to the globe -trotting
investigator persona. Pretty much. Exploring
the war on terror, talking to people on different
sides, framing it all around this kind of mock
-serious quest to find bin Laden himself. Same
personal journey structure. And then came the
really meta one, the film about advertising.
POM Wonderful Presence, the greatest movie ever
sold, 2011. Just the title tells you something's
up. Oh, yeah. It's a documentary about product
placement, branding, marketing. Okay. But the
kicker is the film itself was funded entirely
by product placement and sponsorships. Get out
of here. Seriously. Yep. The whole movie is basically
Spurlock pitching brands. POM Wonderful Juice,
Sheetz Convenience Stores, JetBlue, Main Tail
Shampoo, you name it, trying to get them to pay
for the film, often by buying naming rights within
the film itself. So he's critiquing the system
by fully participating in it. That's bold. It's
incredibly ironic. He becomes a walking billboard
to make a movie about how pervasive branding
is. It's a critique that eats itself in a way.
Yeah. Very clever. Very Spurlock. He clearly
wasn't afraid of contradictions. What else was
he up to around this time? He was prolific. Incredibly.
2011 also saw Comic -Con episode fourth. A fan's
hope. Exploring fan culture. Yeah, that had some
big names attached, right? Yeah, Joss Whedon,
Stan Lee, Harry Knowles were executive producers.
It was a respectful look at the passion of convention
goers. Less confrontational, more observational.
He also did a segment for the Freakonomics movie.
Right, the one about names of Roshanda by any
other name. And directed Manson in 2012, a funny
look at male grooming and identity. And the TV
work continued beyond 30 days. Oh, yeah. He hosted
and produced Morgan Spurlock Inside Man for CNN
from 2013 to 2016. More immersion journalism.
And then something totally different. He directed
the One Direction concert movie. One Direction.
This is us in 3D. 2013. A huge commercial project.
Shows his versatility, or at least the versatility
of warrior poets. They could handle mainstream
pop docs, too. So Warrior Poets was really churning
stuff out. Absolutely. He was also executive
producing other people's films, like A Brony
Tale. About the adult fans of My Little Pony.
That's the one. And the critically acclaimed
documentary The Eagle Huntress in 2016. He even
did a comedy show for Sky Atlantic in the UK,
Morgan Spurlock's New Britannia, about US -UK
cultural differences. The guy was everywhere,
building this brand as the relatable, curious,
immersive investigator. And then... December
2017. Everything just implodes. Yeah. All that
work, that reputation as the public truth teller,
it came to a screeching halt. And it was self
-inflicted. Right in the thick of the hashtag
MeToo movement gaining momentum. He decided to
get out ahead of it, in a way. He published this
incredibly raw confessional blog post. Starting
with that line. Just brutal. I've come to understand
that I'm not some innocent bystander. I am also
a part of the problem. Yeah. Just laid it bare.
And the details were specific. And damaging.
Extremely. He admitted to being unfaithful to
every wife and girlfriend. Serial infidelity,
basically. And then the workplace misconduct.
Right. He talked about settling a sexual harassment
claim from a female assistant at Warrior Poets.
What did he admit to doing? Verbal harassment.
Calling her names across the office like hot
pants or sex pants. Demeaning, unprofessional
behavior. He admitted it. Said he paid a settlement,
acknowledged creating a toxic environment. And
then there was the college incident he described.
That part was really complex. Yeah, it was. He
recounted a one -night stand from college. Said
both he and the woman had been drinking heavily.
And during sex? She started crying, and they
stopped. That was his memory. But years later?
She wrote a short story for a class, describing
the encounter as rape, and named him in the story.
And his reflection on that discrepancy? That's
the really crucial part of his confession, maybe.
I think so. He wrote something like this wasn't
how I remembered it, but she believes she was
raped. That's why I'm part of the problem. That's
a huge statement. He's essentially saying her
reality, her experience of the event trumped
his own memory or intent. especially given the
alcohol, he was accepting accountability for
the impact regardless. It's a profound shift,
acknowledging the validity of her perspective,
even if it differed from his. And in that same
post, he tried to provide some context, though
not excuses. Right. That's where he brought up
being a victim of sexual abuse himself as a child
and teen. Yeah. And he reiterated the lifelong
drinking problem, consistently been drinking
since the age of 13. tying his behavior patterns
to his trauma and addiction. The fallout from
that post was instantaneous. Absolutely immediate.
He stepped down from Warrior Poets the same day
the company he built effectively ended his own
career with that blog post. Career suicide by
confession. Pretty much. Yeah. And the tangible
consequences followed fast. Remember Super Size
Me Too? Holy chicken. The sequel he'd made. Yeah.
It was finished, ready for release in 2017. YouTube
Red was set to distribute it. And they dropped
it. Pulled the plug immediately after his confession.
Said they wouldn't release a film by him, given
the circumstances. Wow. Did it ever get released?
Eventually, yeah. Yeah. Samuel Goldwyn Films
picked it up and released it in 2019. But the
damage was done. The initial rejection spoke
volumes. The Washington Post later called it
career death. And it basically was. He vanished
from the public eye, professionally speaking.
Despite that professional implosion, it seems
like he stood by the necessity of that confession.
It appears so. His personal life continued to
have its complexities. His three marriages to
Priscilla Sommer, Alexander Jameson, and Sarah
Bernstein all ended in divorce. He had two children.
And then the final news this year. Morgan Spurlock
died May 23, 2024, age 53. Upstate New York.
Complications related to cancer. A really sad
end to a very turbulent life. Where that final
act of, you know, attempted truth telling about
himself essentially cost him everything he'd
built professionally. So when you put it all
together, the groundbreaking films, the unique
style, and then this catastrophic ending. Yeah.
What are we left with? It's just this massive
contradiction. Totally. Here's a guy who built
his entire brand on being the fearless truth
teller, right? Exposing corporate lies, societal
hypocrisy. making you, the viewer, question everything.
Fast food, advertising, the war on terror, you
name it. He wanted you to scrutinize these big
external systems. Yet his own private life was,
well, a carefully hidden counter -narrative.
Decades of addiction, infidelity, admitted workplace
harassment, that complex college incident. It's
this stark contrast between the public persona
demanding transparency and the private reality
built on secrets. Until the very end when he
seemed to... finally apply that documentary lens
to himself. Yeah, it's like his final film was
that blog post. His last most difficult immersive
investigation was into his own failings, and
he knew the cost. He chose to expose himself
anyway. Which forces us, doesn't it, to go back
and reevaluate the work, especially Supersize
Me. Absolutely. Knowing about the undisclosed
drinking changes how you see that experiment.
Was it pure scientific inquiry, or was it partly
driven or at least clouded by the very addiction
he was comparing the food's effects to? You can't
unknow it now. It adds this layer of necessary
skepticism about the messenger himself, even
when the message seems so clear at the time.
His whole career blurred the line between filmmaker
and subject. But his downfall showed just how
blurry and how potentially deceptive that line
can be. It really pushes us to be more critical
consumers of this kind of first person media,
doesn't it? Yeah. When the filmmaker is the experiment.
Their own biases, their own hidden issues are
always part of the data, whether acknowledged
or not. So maybe that leads us to a final thought,
something for you, the listener, to take away
from this. Spurlock's films always challenged
you to look behind the curtain, right? To question
the motives of corporations, of advertisers.
Oh, definitely. To be skeptical of the polished
surface. So reflecting on his entire story, the
triumphs, the methods, the final painful honesty.
How does his complex legacy force us as media
consumers to apply that same level of critical
scrutiny, not just to the subject being filmed,
but directly onto the filmmaker? To question
the authenticity, the motivations, maybe even
the private integrity of the person telling the
story, especially when they put themselves at
the center of it. Exactly. How much does the
messenger matter? And how much should we demand
transparency, not just from them about the subject,
but about themselves? Experiential documentary
promises truth through transparency. Spurlock's
life and its end kind of taught us that the hardest
truth to document might just be the one inside
the person holding the camera. A complicated,
fascinating, and ultimately tragic deep dive.
Thanks for joining us. See you next time.