Here’s an idea: the director of such classics as Cannibal Ferox and Eaten Alive! brings the same subtlety and nuance with which he crafts horror films to a comedy about women’s body issues. In a shocking twist, Fatty Girl Goes to New York finds itself devoured by every possible pitfall a film with this subject matter and director could theoretically be exposed to. Umberto Lenzi’s creation features an inane plot, wretched acting, unfunny gags, and only about two more minutes of the New York than Jason Takes Manhattan. 

The main character is Miri, played by Italian pop star Donatella Rettore, an obnoxious and overweight young woman with a passion for music, being a radio DJ, and irritating everyone around her. In fact, Rettore’s portrayal of Miri is so insufferably annoying that feeling any sympathy for the character is impossible. Sure, her classmates are rather cruel to her (everyone, including her priest, nonchalantly refers to her as “fatty”), but you kind of sympathize with them every time Miri opens her mouth.

Miri’s unsympathetic nature is compounded by the utter ridiculousness of her appearance. Apparently, Umberto Lenzi’s idea of casting a fat girl is to hire a thin and physically attractive woman, pack some oversized clothes with pillows, draw some freckles on her face with a magic marker (because freckles only appear on fat people?), and stuff her cheeks full of cotton balls. The character is so obviously played by someone not overweight that the copious references made to her size seem, well, pretty dumb. In fact, almost all of the dialogue is so mind-numbingly inane that the prospect of it inciting laughter in a viewer is about as remote as this review winning a Pulitzer. In one early scene, for example, there is an exchange where Miri and her grandmother discuss why their canary should be named Mao Zedong. Get it? Because Mao was Chinese… and canaries are yellow! Hilarious!    

Since I do not speak Italian, however, I am forced to judge the dialogue on the subtitles. Saying the translation into English is a dismal mess would be paying it an undue compliment. Such luminous examples of translated dialogue include a priest, after becoming angry at encountering a transvestite at Miri’s radio program, yelling “no troubles in this Catholic radio! No relationship with ambiguous people!”   

            Anyway, one of Miri’s tormentors, intent on humiliating her, phones her pretending to be a drug addict who fantasizes about killing his mother while doped up on methadone. Of course, this ruse causes Miri to immediately fall in love with the mysterious matricidal caller. Because it is only logical, this prank climaxes with Miri getting sprayed with a garden hose. After a lifetime of rejection and verbal abuse by everyone around her, Miri apparently decides she has had enough ridicule because she gets wet. 

In her grief, she consumes a box of chocolates that, for some reason, contains the grand prize in a “Happiness Contest,” which happens to be a ticket to New York. While in the city, she begins taking an experimental weight loss drug that, when combined with a rigorous regime of diet and exercise, causes her to lose weight over the course of a month. The wonders of technology (and jogging) never cease to amaze! Also, she dresses like the Tin Man in scuba gear. For obvious reasons, this turns her into an instant rock star and an annoying musical performance number and montage ensues, after which she returns to Italy, intent on getting revenge on those that made her life miserable. This revenge involves defrauding municipal leaders, kidnapping, false imprisonment, and torture by force-feeding. Oh Miri, you scamp!