Decoding the Unexpected Success of “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”
Upon leaving screenings of “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” one question lingered: what exactly is the reason for its popularity? A familiar Cinderella story, albeit with a national twist, it achieved sensational box office success on a minimal budget, topping charts and enjoying enduring fame. Did American audiences possess a unique insight, perceiving something that remained elusive to others?
What distinguishes “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” from similar films like “East is East,” “The Wedding Singer,” “The Wedding Planner,” or “Runaway Bride”? The answer isn’t immediately obvious.
The comedy centers on Toula, a woman who, approaching thirty, remains unmarried. Under pressure from her large, successful Greek family in Chicago, she encounters her “prince charming” and transforms her life. She takes computer classes, finds a job at a travel agency, embraces a more stylish look, and subsequently wins him over. However, the obstacle isn’t a wicked stepmother, but rather national prejudice, as the prince is a Chicago native, not a Greek immigrant. The plot unfolds without significant surprises, primarily revolving around the family’s constant interference in Toula’s personal life. The national element, while present, is less pronounced than in “East is East.” Perhaps this is due to the difference in cultural context, with the humor being less subtle. It relies on recurring jokes about the Greek origins of words, the Greek penchant for food and drink, and the sheer number of Greeks. Naturally, the Chicago prince, with his vegetarianism, agnosticism, and selective social interactions, doesn’t immediately fit into this boisterous environment, which is supposedly humorous. While it’s a well-known stereotype that Americans are like big children, shouldn’t they be aware of this by the 21st century? Why then, are they paying for such blatant mockery?
The Underlying Appeal: Beyond Humor
The film’s appeal lies beyond its humor, tapping into American sensibilities regarding political correctness. Toula and the prince seem mismatched on every level: he’s a handsome, broad-shouldered man, while she’s portrayed as an overweight woman who only makes an effort with her appearance later in the film. He’s well-integrated into society, while she’s deeply embedded in her Greek family. However, they share a common ground: a dislike for loud noises, ostentatious displays, and rigid rules. Both, for different reasons, are insecure and compensate with a quiet, pervasive disdain for the world around them. This shared secret mockery is what draws them together, a psychologically accurate portrayal. This accuracy allows the film to realize the idea that any “ugly duckling” can win over a “prince charming.”
This “getting what you don’t deserve” resonates with audiences, and the film provides ample justification. The national issue is resolved peacefully through shared character traits. In essence, political correctness reaches a new level: a psychological one, rather than a physical one. Now, complexes and manners must tolerate each other. This is commendable, and the idea of connecting through shared character traits is universally appealing. However, Americans still seem blind to certain aspects, justifying the “big children” label. While the “cancer ward” is always worse than the “madhouse”, the prince, named Ian Miller, is played by young TV star John Corbett, while Toula is played by Nia Vardalos, the playwright and screenwriter.
The Unseen Truth: Casting and Reality
Some women are unattractive to one person but acceptable to another. One might grow accustomed to a large nose if the skin is soft, while another might overlook acne if the lips are full. Some women are simply unattractive, but are appreciated for their intelligence. Unfortunately, Nia Vardalos, while perhaps charming in person, has zero “photogenic” appeal. On screen, this woman with a large nose, acne, and a bloated appearance has thin lips and slanted eyes. She exudes a constant lack of charisma. It’s impossible to become accustomed to this, especially for a “prince” like John Corbett. Why would he want to look at her every morning for the rest of his life? It’s absurd.
The explanation lies in the fact that Nia Vardalos’s one-woman show, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” was based on her own life. She didn’t have a partner on stage, but she did have a husband. You’ll see him if you watch the movie. He’s a certain Ian Gomez, who plays a colleague of her “prince charming.” In real life, he is indeed named Ian, like John Corbett in the film, but he’s also short, bald, overweight, and unattractive. If he had been paired with Nia Vardalos on screen, it would have made sense. It’s honest when the unpleasant feelings from looking at each other are mutual. Over time, they would simply be ignored, which is also psychologically accurate. But few would want to watch such a movie, so John Corbett, who is pleasing to the eye, was cast in the film instead of the real Ian Gomez. However, it was impossible to replace Nia Vardalos as the author of the idea. “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” is her creation, and without her, there would be no movie.
Producers Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, also a married couple but without the aforementioned problem, gave Nia Vardalos a great gift. At the same time, exploiting the trend of political correctness and the national question, they deceived millions of Americans. Now, America, while establishing world order, can confidently consider itself entitled to cross a hedgehog with a snake, or a giraffe with an antelope. After all, Vysotsky’s old song isn’t even two hundred years old yet.