CLOSE
MENUCLOSE

Is Lurch From ‘The Addams Family’ Actually A Babe?

Culture
Photo courtesy of Filmways Television

An investigation

It was a normal afternoon, and I was falling deep into the abyss of watching The Addams Family television show, thanks to the complete box set I scored on Amazon. Per usual, I was melting at my favorite onscreen romance of all time (Gomez and Morticia 4eva), when I noticed something new: Lurch, the tall and lanky butler for the Addams', the one with the chiseled jawbone and deep voice… is kinda hot.

Huh, I thought, squinting at the TV. I squinted a little bit more, and then a little more, and then it hit me; Lurch isn’t only kind of hot, he’s definitely hot… in a brooding, goth sort of way. Lurch is the undercover babe, especially as the seasons progress and we get to see more of his personality. I was officially sucked into the Addams family rabbit hole, and soon I was texting my favorite goths asking, “Hey, Lurch is kinda hot isn’t he????” Because he totally is! But I need validation, okay?

Also, let me start this off by saying that Lurch is already my type because my type is tall, dark, and haunted. Wikipedia points out that he’s like a cross between Frankenstein’s monster and a zombie, which sounds pretty hot if you’re into the morbid undead like I am. And while at first, I thought the whole Frankenstein thing was simply a reference to Lurch's looks, it turns out, Lurch may actually be Frankenstein’s monster’s monster. In the animated version of the series, when someone points out the resemblance between the two, Lurch says: “He put me together.” And, in the Addams Family Reunion, it’s stated that Lurch is "part Addams," playing into the idea that Lurch has, like, the literal heart of an Addams, which explains his macabre and misunderstood demeanor.

But besides being a monster (albeit a loving, devoted one), Lurch also looks killer in a suit, which is another sexy bonus. In the episode “Lurch Learns to Dance,” we see him in a shrunken bolero-style outfit, in which he looks super-chic thanks to his runway ready bod, pale white skin, and deep-set (you could also say sunken) eyes. If classic beauty is your thing, then you probably won’t be into Lurch, but also why are you watching The Addams Family anyway?

The thing with Lurch is that he’s misunderstood, just like the rest of the family. Everyone thinks he’s a monster upon meeting him, but, in truth, he couldn’t even hurt a fly. He’s a gentle giant who gets along with everyone in the family—even the one family member who hates everyone: Wednesday. Lurch's paternal feelings for both Wednesday and her brother, Pugsley, also makes him an honorary DILF.

When I turned to social media to corroborate my findings of Lurch actually being a level 10 hottie, I was surprised to find that my opinion of him was not that obscure. As someone pointed out, “he's one of the only people Wednesday will associate with and THAT is saying something.” And it is! Everyone knows little Wednesday and her sociopathic tendencies. But even she loves Lurch, and since she's the coolest, that's saying a lot. “Lurch is a total babe! He is sweet, gentle, good with kids, keeps the house spooky and is a man of few words, but when he speaks everyone listens,” someone else points out.

Lurch may be known for his low, grumbling “you rannnnngggggg,” and what's a more compelling quality than being a man of few words? Oh, I don't know, maybe having cheekbones and a jawline so sharp they could give you a very close shave. Or really being able to pull off the black-on-black aesthetic. Ultimately, though, Lurch's killer looks are only out-shined by his “shy, sensitive soul,” as Morticia points out in “Lurch’s Little Helper.” Even Gomez agrees, calling him “a warm and friendly sort.”

But while the Addams family may see the loving nature of Lurch, other’s do not, especially upon first meeting him. Visitors are constantly shocked by Lurch and his tall, looming demeanor. But, if they just gave him a chance they’d see his true colors.  ”Lurch has similar energy to Credence in Fantastic Beasts,” someone points out on Facebook, which goes back to the tall, dark, and haunted thing. Yes, Credence may have actually been an evil demon, but that’s missing the point; he was still tall, dark, handsome and misunderstood… much like our beloved Lurch.

So while, yes, Gomez may be swoon-worthy, romantic, and an all-around gentleman, I would argue that it’s Lurch, in all his mysterious, brooding, chiseled glory, who is the true babe of The Addams Family. And I'd be right.

Nail polish is for novices

Fashion label The Blonds is known for its high-intensity looks that you'd only wear if you wanted to stand out (and who doesn't?). For its runway shows, wild press-on nails are the beauty step that can't be missed. So, since the brand has partnered with CND since it was founded, we thought it best to get prepped for the show with Jan Arnold, CND's co-founder.

See why you should take your nail look from a zero to a 10, in the video above.

Credits:
Shot by Charlotte Prager
Edited by Gretta Wilson
Produced by Alexandra Hsie
Production Assistant: Polina Buchak
Featuring Jan Arnold of CND Nails and The Blonds

True

FROM THE WORLD WIDE WEB

Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures.

It would've been nice if someone said the word "fat"

Back in November, Rebel Wilson claimed to be the first plus-sized lead in a romantic comedy when she appeared on Ellen to talk about her role in Isn't It Romantic. Wilson was not only wrong, but she was—even if inadvertently—erasing the work of Black plus-size actresses like Queen Latifah and Mo'Nique, both of whom have expansive resumes that include romantic comedies.

Wilson's comment isn't the first example of white women taking up a little too much space in the fat acceptance ethos. It's actually quite common. But there is a reason why women like Wilson—women who are blonde, pretty, successful, and white—get put front and center in calls for body positivity. In the same way that feminism—the movement from which body positivity was born—has often failed to address how gender intersects with other identities like race and class; so, too, has body positivity been championed as a cause for otherwise privileged women. And that's why it's no surprise that Isn't It Romantic, which aspires to be both a spot-on mockery of rom-coms and a celebration of body positivity, is actually a perfect example of how very white both the movie genre and the body positivity movement tend to be.

In the film, Wilson plays Natalie, an architect based in New York, who is single and plus-sized—the archetypal rom-com underdog. Very early on in the movie, she endures the double humiliation of both being hit by a runaway food cart and then accosted by its owner for not stopping it with her "cement truck"-like body. At work, Natalie is similarly disrespected: The office manager hands off troubleshooting tasks to Natalie; another colleague always tasks Natalie to throw out his trash; her assistant Whitney (Betty Gilpin) won't stop watching movies (rom-coms, naturally) while in the office; and Natalie is so afraid to present her ideas for more innovative parking garage designs that she isn't even widely known in the firm as an architect, and is treated like an intern.

But is Natalie just a doormat? Or is it that she isn't asking for what she wants? And isn't very nice about not getting it? If Natalie's life is any example, the bar on suffering is set pretty low for white women. In her personal life, Natalie lives alone with her dog, and seems to be pretty well-off, financially; her best friend is actually her slacker assistant, Whitney, and she's close with another coworker, Josh (Adam Devine), who gives Natalie constant emotional support. She's decidedly anti-romantic, having been told by her mother from a young age that there's no such thing as real-life fairy tales; she's level-headed and practical. But also, she's filled with self-loathing. This leads her to be crass, sarcastic, and disconnected from people. And it was this last part that was hard for me. As a fat Black woman who grew up broke, does not have an assistant, and would get fired if I didn't do my job well, it was hard, if not impossible, to root for her.

For Natalie, though, everything changes when she bangs her head while fighting off a mugger. Her mundane life is tinted through rosy rom-com glasses. Suddenly, all the things that sucked about her life are gone, and everything is beautiful and perfect. But was her life so bad before? It didn't really seem to be.

And yet, looking around the theater at the mostly white, female audience, I accepted that my feelings didn't seem to be shared. But that almost seems to be by design; this feels like a movie for a white, female audience. There is only one person of color in the movie who even has a name: It's Isabelle (Priyanka Chopra), who shows up about halfway through the film—after everything has been rom-com filtered—as a yoga ambassador and swimsuit model. But a name is all Isabella has. A supporting character at best, she doesn't have any connection to anyone other than her white boyfriend, and is sketchily drawn. We learn nothing of her familial or ethnic background, and, even when she is shown at her wedding, there is nobody from her family celebrating with her. This huge oversight is particularly bizarre, given that Natalie has already bemoaned the lack of diversity in romantic films.

Another huge oversight? The presence of the word "fat." I don't think I heard it used a single time. Natalie only references her weight indirectly, by commenting on the appearance of straight-sized women; when talking about her own body, the word "fat" is replaced with "girl like me." But by ignoring this aspect of herself, and refusing to address it head-on, Natalie is succumbing to the same fatphobia that shapes her world, whether she identifies it as being a problem or not.

Before her life becomes a rom-com, Natalie feels invisible at work and in the world. Some of this is certainly her fault, but fatphobia is also at play. Fatphobia chips away at the humanity of fat people from different angles. It means that Natalie gets used to being dehumanized; she doesn't expect others to have empathy for her when she's physically hurt, because they don't value her body. And it's no coincidence that Natalie's fantasy world includes a magically bigger apartment with unlimited clothing options, because discrimination against fat people isn't just a matter aesthetics and preferences—it affects everything from our ability to dress ourselves to our ability to make and save money, since there's a price to pay for being fat, even if it's just having to pay more to travel. Just as much as gender and race intersect with fat bodies, so, too, do economics and class.

I knew I could count on a plus-sized white comedian to take down a genre of films that prioritized thin women. But I ventured to see if Wilson could go further than that, and challenge what it means to be white and well-off and fat in the process; it isn't just about taking down rom-coms but about doing so in a way that isn't just a mouthpiece for white feminist values. But, in the end, that isn't what happened. Isn't It Romantic is fine, but it needed to do more than target an audience of girls who are 10 to 30 pounds overweight and still too jolted by the word "fat" to ever apply it to themselves, so they go for acceptable alternatives, like curvy, plus-sized—or thicc, if they're hip. But I'm not afraid to say I'm fat, I'm just disappointed I will be waiting even longer to see a realistic reflection of that experience onscreen.

Isn't It Romantic is in theaters now.