Insatiable, review: even more sordid and nauseating than the trailer that provoked a backlash

Debby Ryan, left, in Insatiable - _DSC0576
Debby Ryan, left, in Insatiable - _DSC0576

There was probably never a good time for Netflix to release a body-shaming anti-comedy that pokes fun at the #MeToo movement, cracks wise about paedophilia and milks laughs from a homeless man nearly burning to death. But it’s difficult to imagine Insatiable arriving at a more egregious moment in popular culture – for which it has duly copped an almighty backlash, with a petition for its cancellation attracting tens of thousands of signatures within hours of the release of the trailer last month.

The actual series is, if anything, even more sordid and nauseating than the teaser. Patty (Debby Ryan) is an overweight high-schooler in the state of Georgia who, required to drink through a straw for three months after being assaulted by a vagrant, slims down to what Insatiable regards as the appropriate weight for a conventionally attractive person and thus has her life transformed.

“Skinny is magic” is the mantra repeated throughout the 12 episodes, though the real juju Patty seeks to work is taking revenge against all those who disparaged her when she was “Fatty Patty”.

Squint and you can imagine an arch-satirist such as Ryan Murphy running with the premise and delivering a taboo-busting critique of how women are encouraged to relate to their bodies by society. But showrunner Lauren Gussis, getting her defence in early by stating Insatiable was inspired by her weight struggles as an adolescent, prefers cheap shots and juvenile levels of gross-out. 

She lays her cards on the table early on, with a scene at an “anal cancer” fundraiser that dissolves into a stampede of bum and poo jokes. It’s as if your television was suddenly possessed by the vengeful spirit of Carry On… Up the Khyber.

As commentary on body image, Insatiable misfires so wildly that it transcends offensive and veers into the surreal. Ryan spends the opening several minutes plodding around in a fatsuit yet once the pounds have come off, her new “super-hot” appearance is more or less forgotten (the adult obesity rate in Georgia, incidentally, is 31 per cent – would she truly be regarded as a freak?). 

Rather than strike back against the mean girls in school – the storyline hinted at in the trailer – Insatiable metastasises into a queasy rip-off of Desperate Housewives. Brace yourself for a stock parade of shrew-ish social climbers (including one played by former child star Alyssa Milano), dumb hunks and teenagers gagging to sleep with their middle-aged neighbours. 

The first person you’ll feel sorry for sitting through the chuckle-free carnage is obviously yourself. But you’ll also experience a twinge for the cast, who do their best with a script that is under the terrifying misapprehension that it’s stuffed with zingers (“I’m Christian… that’s my name… and my religion.”). 

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With dead eyes and a skittish smile Ryan seems to be channelling the tabloid caricature of Lindsay Lohan as the vindictive Patty. Opposite her Dallas Roberts does well to locate a seam of humanity as Bob Armstrong, a lawyer moonlighting as a beauty pageant coach. He takes Petty under his wing in order to restore his reputation after he is falsely accused of interfering with a teenager – a turn of events presented as a rib-tickler for the ages.

As an extrovert required to hide his flamboyance from a judgmental society Bob is the most competently realised character (he is run a close second by Kimmy Shields as Patty’s closeted best pal Nonnie). 

And when Insatiable eventually tires of pressing the audience’s outrage buttons, his emerges as the most humane and plausible storyline. But by then most viewers will have run screaming, possibly sobbing, from this grisly, ghoulish non-com.