Thin – Lauren
Greenfield (2006)
Review by Katie Findlay
At first encounter, Thin,
the 2006 documentary by Lauren Greenfield, seems aptly titled. ‘Thin’ is the
word that leaves the lips of the women the film follows most frequently; it is
what they are, it is what they aspire to be, and it is the mantra that directs
their lives. However, the crux of Greenfield’s project, shot in the Renfrew
Treatment Centre in Florida, is not the struggle of four young women against
their eating disorders, but rather the incapability of the American healthcare
system to treat their complex illnesses. By the end of the documentary one realises
her title is misleading, but it is succinct, memorable and sums up these
women’s lives in a word.
“Her capillary refill is good” observes a nurse, “but her
nail beds are more blue”. The patient seems only half alive, referred to in the
third person despite her presence. We see the women emerge as shadowy corpses
from their bedrooms, shuffling down sterile corridors to rooms where they are
weighed and their vital signs checked. Greenfield’s choice of audio clips from
the nurses are powerful, especially when placed alongside long shots of the
women waiting, bleary-eyed, for their medical screenings in the metallic
interior of the surgery. We feel that the centre, where they have come to seek
treatment for diseases that are taking their lives, is removing the last few
scraps of their humanity. In this clinical world the women have no voice, they
put up no struggle; they seem truly unwell.
Although Greenfield includes all the classic images of stark
spines and angular elbows, it is the meal-time scenes that are hardest to
watch. We see, at eye level, the painstaking reluctance with which the women
place morsels of food into their mouths. What they are eating is as clinical
and unappealing as their medical exams; Greenfield makes no effort to make the
meals look appetizing. There is a saddening moment as Polly faces her birthday
cake, seemingly in front of an audience, and hollowly ‘thanks’ the chef for his
handiwork. The scene cuts quickly away to her crying on the shoulder of a
friend, heartily regretting what she’d had to eat. Although Greenfield’s
depiction of the birthday is probably not the true sequence of events, we are
left with the nagging feeling that Renfrew is doing little to change these
women’s difficult relationships with food. If anything, it’s making them worse.
In contrast to their medical exams and regimented meals, the
pastoral care offered by the centre appears unprofessional and disorganised.
‘Bekah Bardwell, Evening Councillor’ we are informed on-screen as a woman hands
out cigarettes. ‘Family therapy with Shelley’s mother’ appears whilst the voice
of Shelley’s mother emanates from a phone; the object in-shot acting as a glaring
symbol of her absence from the session. We receive little information about the
care the women receive, and what we do is sporadic and uninformative. The
audience is left to fill in the gaps themselves, giving the impression that
there is no useful, linear care programme in place at the centre. If this was
her message, Greenfield presents it well.
The question goes unanswered when Shelley asks the same
therapist “So why should I tell you?”, highlighting another subtext that
Greenfield develops: the complete lack of trust between the patients and staff.
Whilst we speak to the women one-on-one, getting to know them personally,
Greenfield does not create this same dialogue with the care team. All we know
is that they are there, and they are not to be trusted. What’s more, they
openly discuss the patients in group meetings. Although presumably this is a
part of the women’s care programme, the choice of sequences does not present
the staff in a favourable light. “I don’t trust [Shelley] as far as I could
throw her’ – a common colloquialism becomes a bout of petty unprofessionalism
when quoted with little context.
Alongside their clinical treatment, struggles with food and
uncaring staff, Greenfield includes documentary on the relationships between
the women. Shots of friendships, fun, and schoolgirl-like rebellion present a
much needed escape from the emotionally-charged silences of counselling sessions.
“I used to have a personality” Shelley says quietly to her therapist. “I don’t
have any friends” Alisa confesses; statements which prove wildly untrue when
the women are seen turning somersaults onto Polly’s bed or smoking contraband
cigarettes against a bathroom fan. Learning how to build relationships seems to
be the best therapy these women are getting, portrayed by Greenfield like
breaks of sunshine in the otherwise dreary atmosphere of the centre.
Greenfield’s choice to follow Polly’s story is evidently
directed by her interest in the women’s inter-personal relationships. She is
portrayed as the most spunky, most rebellious of the group, although it is her
personality that eventually causes her to be evicted from the centre. There is
a harrowing scene as the team and Polly speak to her mother by phone, telling
her that Polly is to be discharged. As her mother begs the councillors to re-consider,
Polly breaks down like a child. “I’m so sorry mom”, she sobs. Meanwhile the
staff look on, unmoved.
This is a recurrent theme in Greenfield’s choice of subjects
– being discharged from the centre before they are ready. Polly for her
rule-breaking, and Alisa, Shelley and the young teen Brittany because their
insurance refuses to pay. We are left with little hope that these women are going
to get better, as they have not really been cured. This is confirmed when
Greenfield includes documentary taken after Alisa’s discharge; she picks over a
salad in front of her children, then purges the meal behind their backs at home.
The follow-up text at the end of the documentary accompanied by the same
haunting music heard at the beginning presents a bleak image; all of the women
continue to struggle with their eating disorders. Nothing has changed during
their, and our, time at Renfrew.
Overall, Greenfield has created a harrowing documentary of
the struggle of four women against their eating disorders, and against a healthcare
system that provides very little in the way of support. Her short cuts and
uneven camerawork give the documentary an authentic, honest feel, adding power
to her message. She re-humanises the patients by recording their friendships
and rebellions, restoring their personalities and highlighting the everyday
battles that the Renfrew Centre, and the American Healthcare system in general,
seems to care so little about.
