Exploring Theatre Hot Takes: Fat Characters & Actors Deserve Better
by Chris Peterson
Theatre people always have opinions and sometimes those opinions come in hot. Recently, I put out a call on social media asking for your boldest, spiciest theatre takes, and the responses did not disappoint. From thought-provoking critiques to eyebrow-raising declarations, you gave me plenty to chew on.
So here’s what we’re going to do: I’ll be exploring as many of these submissions as I can in this column series. Some I may agree with, others I may not, but that’s the fun of it. Theatre thrives on conversation, and even the most out-there hot take can lead to surprising insights and fascinating discussions.
Think of this as an open forum, where no opinion is too bold to examine. Ready to dive in? Click on the “Exploring Theatre Hot Takes” tag at the bottom to keep up with every installment.
Noah Webster wrote the following:
“There need to be more roles written for fat actors that don’t also lock fat actors out of playing other roles in the show.
E.g. Tracy in Hairspray, Nadia in Bare, and Martha in Heathers are good roles—but the way that their stories center around fatphobia and, specifically, the contrast of their fatness/perceived “ugliness” compared to other characters means it would be pretty difficult to cast a fat actress as Amber, Ivy, or Veronica.
Ideally, more directors would just cast their shows without regard to body size. In practice, that almost never happens, and the vast majority of productions only cast thin actors. So while I’d love to one day just see more fat actors cast as actors whose role has nothing to do with their body type, in the meantime, I’d love to see more roles written specifically for fat actors that 1) don’t revolve around fatphobia and 2) don’t lock fat actors out of playing other roles in the production due to the script necessitating that one (and only one) character must be uniquely fat.”
This isn’t necessarily a “hot take” but Noah’s comment about fat roles in theatre struck me. It gets to the heart of an issue that does not get nearly enough discussion: the way scripts and casting practices combine to limit opportunities for fat actors.
Yes, there are roles that seem to exist as representation for fat actors. Tracy in Hairspray, Nadia in Bare, and Martha in Heathers are examples that often come up. On the surface these characters look like victories. They are prominent, they get to sing great numbers, and they are not relegated to the background of the ensemble. But when you look closer, you start to see the trap. Each of these characters’ entire dramatic function is tied to body size. Tracy is the plucky heroine who still has to overcome her weight to be seen as beautiful. Nadia’s arc is filled with loneliness and pain directly linked to her body. Martha exists largely in contrast to Veronica and Heather Chandler. These roles center fatphobia. They define their characters by how other people perceive them, and by extension they reinforce the idea that the fat character is a narrative exception rather than simply another human being onstage.
There is another layer here that makes the problem worse. When a script establishes that one character is explicitly the fat one, it automatically restricts the casting of every other role in that show. If Tracy must be fat, then Amber must be thin for the contrast to make sense. If Martha is marked as undesirable, then Veronica must be read as conventionally attractive. It is not only that fat actors are boxed into a handful of roles. The roles themselves create a ripple effect of exclusion across the entire production. What looks like representation on the surface actually winds up deepening the divide.
Noah’s ideal is that directors should cast without regard to body size. That is something most of us would like to believe is possible. Technically it is. Nothing prevents a director from casting a fat actor as Ivy in Bare or Veronica in Heathers except their own imagination. Yet in practice it almost never happens. The vast majority of productions default to thin bodies for leads, for love interests, for characters associated with desirability. This is less about talent than about entrenched bias and industry habit. We have been conditioned to equate thinness with certain character types, and that conditioning has seeped into the bones of casting.
So where does that leave us. For one, it means new work is essential. We need writers who are willing to create roles for fat actors that are not dictated by fatphobia. That does not mean writing a character who happens to be fat but spends the entire show talking about it. It means writing a romantic lead whose body size is not the conflict. It means writing a villain who is compelling because of their choices, not because they are grotesque. It means writing an ingénue whose voice soars, whose heart breaks, whose story matters, without once having to reference their weight.
But the second piece of the puzzle is just as important. We need to dismantle the notion that fat actors can only play fat roles. Representation is not solved by a handful of designated parts. It is solved by the freedom for fat performers to embody the full spectrum of characters that thin performers have always had access to. When a casting team looks at a breakdown for a show, the question should never be where does the fat actor go. The question should be who is the best artist for this story.
That is the vision Noah put forward, and it is one we need to hold onto. The theatre cannot call itself inclusive while continuing to police bodies onstage. If we want our stages to reflect the real world, then fat actors must be given the same range of opportunities as anyone else, without restriction, without caveat, and without apology.