Fat suits take jobs from fat performers ( here's looking at you, Falstaff)

One of the few explicitly fat roles in the operatic repertoire is that of Falstaff by Giuseppe Verdi. It’s Verdi’s only comic opera, and it was the last thing he ever wrote. It tells the Shakespearean story of Sir John Falstaff and the Merry Wives of Windsor. It features, among other things, an always stressful ensemble patter section in the first act with the leading men and women simultaneously singing in different time signatures, a truly masterful fugue which ends the piece by breaking the fourth wall and poking fun at the audience, as well as one of the most magical arias ever written for soubrette soprano, “Sul fin d’un soffio etesio”, or, Nanetta’s aria. The aria requires a perfect, silvery float and the breath control of a free diver. Here’s a video of American soprano Kathleen Battle singing a shimmering, incandescent version.

The young woman sings to the other women and ensemble in the moonlight, everyone dressed up as fairies and nymphs in an elaborate plan to prank Falstaff in the dark woods as a punishment for being an all-around rascal. Kind of a fun women-get-the-revenge-in-the-end story that rarely happens in opera. 

The catch being that Falstaff and his supposedly disgusting fatness is the entire butt of the joke. 

The final act with Nanetta as the fairy queen and the prank in the woods ends with all the women shoving and pinching and poking Falstaff with sticks and literally rolling him around on the floor and scaring the ever-loving sh*t out of him. Between the fatphobia and the quasi-comic violence and the fairy disguises which always require masks you can only partially see out of and the punishing Italian tongue twister “Pizzica, stuzzica, spizzica, pungi spiluzzica, finch’egli abbai!” — this scene always stressed me tf out in performance.

So who cares, right? This is one of many, many pieces of music composed in the 19th century which are unsurprisingly problematic by modern standards. But unlike other problematic masterpieces which have been recognized by the industry as requiring context or commentary or at least some thoughtfulness in modern performance — most famously, Madame Butterfly — Falstaff gets none of that recognition or thoughtful contextualization. And I would venture to say close to 100% of productions use a singer wearing a fat suit or prosthetics to play the role of Sir John.

I’ve had the pleasure of having performed two different roles in this opera — the soprano leader of the pack, Alice Ford, and Mistress Quickly in my mezzo days (back when I was fun). Both production teams were populated with brilliant people that I deeply respect.

But with both roles and both productions, fat suits were used, and I was in the uncomfortable position of playing a fatphobic character whilst being fat myself. Those productions pre-dated my fatpolitik, so rather than really question the ethics of the fat suit and the general sh*t-show of a plot, most of my focus was centered on the anxiety of what the audience was thinking about while watching me. The character Alice goes on and on about how fat and disgusting Falstaff is — and as I sang those words and had to live in a character uproariously laughing with her friends and daughter as they make plans to f*ck with this genuinely annoying, misogynistic, gluttonous, slovenly, cheap, (but above all else, FAT) creep who thinks he has a chance at getting laid — much of what I thought about throughout that (besides that super hard ascending line to a C natural in gaie comari di Windsor) was, “God they must all be thinking about my actual fat body as I make fun of his faux one”.

Years later, with space away from the piece and a world of change in my thoughts about my right to make art and music no matter what my body looks like — all I can think about is what a terrible piece it is to sit through. Not to knock the bard, who I hold in such high esteem — but the plot is literally, *fat man has the audacity to think women find him attractive and is soundly mocked and humiliated for the transgression*. 

The music is a masterwork — but I can tell you that the way it is commonly presented, it is just not funny to modern audiences. No matter how funny or great the singers are. Collectively watching a dude in a fat suit get poked with sticks and dumped out of a laundry basket into a river. Hilar. 

I’m NOT saying to take it out of the repertoire. But doesn’t it deserve a fresh perspective? One that acknowledges that fat people are…human beings? One that presents the complex, devious, brave & silly John Falstaff as a real person?

In the words of my favorite ass-kicker of late, Elizabeth Warren, “understand this”: it is a moral wrong and a distasteful, dehumanizing practice to produce operas, plays, or films which feature performers in fat suits.

I’m betting the rationale for the fat suit on the part of production teams has often been something along the lines of — well it would be too cruel and uncomfortable to hire a fat baritone to sing this role. And I would ask: how is it any less cruel when it stars a normative bodied baritone in a fat suit? It’s still about a fat *person*. It still dehumanizes *fat people*. Even more so — because actual fat people aren’t even allowed on the stage to participate in a story that manages to give a glimpse of the real life cruelty that they regularly endure. No matter how grotesque and outlandish you make the fat suit and the costume. No matter how silly and cartoonish the character can be. No matter how deftly conducted and gloriously sung.

It’s still about a stigmatized group of people who often aren’t even allowed on the operatic stage in any role these days — even when it’s to play a fat character. Nothing about that makes me want to spend an evening at the opera, I’ll tell you that much. Not even for the music. I’ll listen to Kathleen Battle sing Nanetta on youtube and call it a f*cking night.