Sunday, May 3, 2009
hiatus
Thing is, I haven't been able to watch that much TV lately and my desire to write critical essays about commercials is waning. I'd rather not devolve into just mocking them for their hypocrisy, which is where my mind is heading at the moment, so instead I'm going to take a break and try to build up some material.
Monday, April 27, 2009
I Need a New URL
The thing is, I don't specifically want a job in advertising anymore, I just want to write about commercials. I'm not trying to alienate potential employers. Also, my current URL is pretty long. Any and all suggestions are welcome. Please post them as replies here.
Scotch Rock meets Scotch Tape meets the Academy Awards meets John Lennon meets Microsoft
Grade: B
The collage is my new favorite medium. I wish there were more collages in the world. If you have collages, please e-mail a picture of one of them to me so I can look at them and say, "That's a nice collage. I wish I had one."
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
What's the Deal with Metaconsumerism?
Grade: B
Recap: I guess I'm missing something. Apparently, having your spokesperson not want to endorse your product is a powerful form of marketing. (See post on Geico below.) Healthy Choice uses this tactic in the most direct way. In their new commercial with Julia Louis Dreyfus, JLD meets with her agent to discuss endorsing their new line of frozen dinners, a prospect she opposes quite clearly. A clever bit of dialogue the metaphorical functionality of which I don't feel like explaining develops, but then JLDreyfus affirms that, despite what just sounded like praise, she still doesn't want to endorse the product.
Analysis A: I generally don't like self-contradicting commercials. But while I don't love this one, I do like it much better than other similar ads because Healthy Choice is praised, though indirectly, and JuliaLDrey doesn't contradict that praise to explain why she won't endorse the product, she just seems to be a little lazy about acting.
I don't know how she is received by Healthy Choice's target audience because, well, I don't think I'm part of that audience. But if the target audience is women who want to look good as they approach 50, then JLouisD was a good choice. She's kind of a babe. Also she is an heiress to an enormous fortune.
Analysis B: Here's where things get whacky, wild, meta, even. First off, this is not just a commercial, but a commercial about a commercial. Whoa! More on that motif later.
Second off, Julia Louis Dreyfus, famous for her role as Christine on The New Adventures of Old Christine, is playing herself. What does that even mean? Is she really acting, or is this the real deal? Hm. Let's dig deeper.
Now, for some more meta: In the scene depicted, Dreyfus rejects the offer to endorse Healthy Choice. Apparently, she still has that spunk and brutal honesty she was known for on Seinfeld, taking no guff from nobody never. "But wait!" say the observant observer. "She clearly accepted this offer and was probably even paid for it, since she's in a commercial for Healthy Choice." Gah! So she does endorse it! But wait, she was playing herself and she rejected the offer, so thus she does not endorse Healthy Choice, right? Circular...
This raises an important philosophical question: Is it possible to play yourself when acting, or are you simply being yourself among actors? It's most likely that it's possible to play yourself and that Julia Louis Dreyfus endorses Healthy Choice. I like to think there could be more to it than that, but I know very little formal philosophy and thus lack the vocabulary to discuss it properly. Any insight into the matter would be much appreciated.
But back to the fact that this is a commercial about a commercial. I realize now that the Geico Caveman ads are commercials about commercials, and the Quizno's commercial is a metacommercial too. Apparently these and other products are not good enough to sell themselves, and/or Americans are desensitized to straightforward advertising. Instead, my compatriots and I must be manipulated with irony and self-referential commercials that demonstrate a company's sense of humor and humility.
So what have I learned? While image has always been an important component of brand management, it appears that image has become the only marketable quality for many products. I argue that physical quality is now so uniform across and between different brands that some goods and services are now purchased only because of the intangible, nonexistent qualities associated with them, and which the consumer hopes to acquire through a purchase. That is, we don't buy the product, we buy the product of the product. As metacommercials continue to respond and facilitate this trend, I am led to the following conclusion: We are no longer a society of consumers. We are metaconsumers.
Suggested Ads: A commercial about a commercial about a commercial, wherein a black hole develops and my head explodes.
Tidbits: There's a huge antique diving helmet on the bookcase and a smaller one, I think, on the desk. Also, this commercial was directed by Christopher Guest.
Recap: I guess I'm missing something. Apparently, having your spokesperson not want to endorse your product is a powerful form of marketing. (See post on Geico below.) Healthy Choice uses this tactic in the most direct way. In their new commercial with Julia Louis Dreyfus, JLD meets with her agent to discuss endorsing their new line of frozen dinners, a prospect she opposes quite clearly. A clever bit of dialogue the metaphorical functionality of which I don't feel like explaining develops, but then JLDreyfus affirms that, despite what just sounded like praise, she still doesn't want to endorse the product.
Analysis A: I generally don't like self-contradicting commercials. But while I don't love this one, I do like it much better than other similar ads because Healthy Choice is praised, though indirectly, and JuliaLDrey doesn't contradict that praise to explain why she won't endorse the product, she just seems to be a little lazy about acting.
I don't know how she is received by Healthy Choice's target audience because, well, I don't think I'm part of that audience. But if the target audience is women who want to look good as they approach 50, then JLouisD was a good choice. She's kind of a babe. Also she is an heiress to an enormous fortune.
Analysis B: Here's where things get whacky, wild, meta, even. First off, this is not just a commercial, but a commercial about a commercial. Whoa! More on that motif later.
Second off, Julia Louis Dreyfus, famous for her role as Christine on The New Adventures of Old Christine, is playing herself. What does that even mean? Is she really acting, or is this the real deal? Hm. Let's dig deeper.
Now, for some more meta: In the scene depicted, Dreyfus rejects the offer to endorse Healthy Choice. Apparently, she still has that spunk and brutal honesty she was known for on Seinfeld, taking no guff from nobody never. "But wait!" say the observant observer. "She clearly accepted this offer and was probably even paid for it, since she's in a commercial for Healthy Choice." Gah! So she does endorse it! But wait, she was playing herself and she rejected the offer, so thus she does not endorse Healthy Choice, right? Circular...
This raises an important philosophical question: Is it possible to play yourself when acting, or are you simply being yourself among actors? It's most likely that it's possible to play yourself and that Julia Louis Dreyfus endorses Healthy Choice. I like to think there could be more to it than that, but I know very little formal philosophy and thus lack the vocabulary to discuss it properly. Any insight into the matter would be much appreciated.
But back to the fact that this is a commercial about a commercial. I realize now that the Geico Caveman ads are commercials about commercials, and the Quizno's commercial is a metacommercial too. Apparently these and other products are not good enough to sell themselves, and/or Americans are desensitized to straightforward advertising. Instead, my compatriots and I must be manipulated with irony and self-referential commercials that demonstrate a company's sense of humor and humility.
So what have I learned? While image has always been an important component of brand management, it appears that image has become the only marketable quality for many products. I argue that physical quality is now so uniform across and between different brands that some goods and services are now purchased only because of the intangible, nonexistent qualities associated with them, and which the consumer hopes to acquire through a purchase. That is, we don't buy the product, we buy the product of the product. As metacommercials continue to respond and facilitate this trend, I am led to the following conclusion: We are no longer a society of consumers. We are metaconsumers.
Suggested Ads: A commercial about a commercial about a commercial, wherein a black hole develops and my head explodes.
Tidbits: There's a huge antique diving helmet on the bookcase and a smaller one, I think, on the desk. Also, this commercial was directed by Christopher Guest.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Dancing, Asexual Cellphones
Grade: A
I see no reason to write only about commercials currently airing on American television. As such, here's one from Ireland, that probably is not on the air anymore, but is great. It involves anthropomorphic mobiles. The music is Hot Butter's version of "Popcorn," though from what I read the original song is by Gershon Kingsley.
And here's a detailed summary that may not be necessary but which I want to write in order to facilitate my analysis and point out some of the interesting technical aspects of this ad.
So the commercial opens with an assortment of cell phones with and arms and legs run toward the viewer. They all have the same shape, but each is differentiated by accessories. One has a soccer ball. Another has a bandana and chain. The leader has a viking helmet and shield (This plays upon the stereotype that Vikings are malicious man-bulls. No viking helmet with horns or holes for horns has ever been discovered. Furthermore, Vikings had a complex civilization whose trade connections help bring about the Renaissance.) So while similar, then, each character is nevertheless independently recognizable. This is an important thematic element I'll address later. When all the phones reach a set distance away from the camera they arrange themselves into a line.
But when the melody comes in over the underdub, changes beginto happen. The accessories of each phone morph in time with the music. Suddenly one has a cowboy hat, another a mortarboard, another a bathing suit and beach ball. The phones look around confusedly for a moment, examining their new accoutrements, but seem to say to themselves, "Hey, this ain't no big deal. Let's form a circle and dance."
Except instead of dance, they spontaneously regenerate. Six new phones spring out of the first six, including a Groucho Marxy type and a snorkeler blowing bubbles. We also see that the bringer of the beach ball is wearing a thong. Then everyone lies down and starts rolling in sync with each other, which somehow generates and degenerates phoneclones. Then all the phones leap back up and decide to head the beach ball around. The magic beach ball gives each phone it touches a new perphona, until one phone heads the ball at the camera. This acts as a cut in what has thus far been a single shot.
When the beach ball disappears the viewer sees several phones drifting to the ground among large bubbles, presumably bubbles from the snorkeler. When each of these bubble pops, a new phone comes out. All these phones then line up in a semicircle, where a magician phone makes them disappear with his wand. He then turns to face the screen, and it appears he has multiple hands a la Goro when, lo and behold, the disappeared phones have reappeared behind him to create what is only an illusion. They jump out into a semicircle, and the center phone unfurls a screen-blocking umbrella.
The umbrella, like the beachball before it, acts as a cut. The new shot shows a birds eye view of dozens of different phones all dancing, and others appearing in the free space. The voice-over begins, and the camera rolls down to show that these dozens of phone represent just one side of an enormous phone prism. There are likely hundreds of phones off-screen.
End Scene
Here's why I think it works:
Each phone in this commercial has an identical body: A rectangular torso, two micky mouse arms, and some spindly legs. This corresponds to how every cell phone is the same, or is used for the same basic function, which is to allow audible verbal communication between to users regardless of a user's proximity to another (A phone call!). What makes a phone different from another is its accessory features. That is, whether it has a full keyboard, a color screen, a camera, internet capability, email, MP3 capability, how big is it, what color is it, how many British villages has it plundered, how much afrosheen does it need, really, afrosheen does not get underlined by spellcheck? In the commercial, these features are represented by hats, hairstyles, bathing suits, sports gear, and rune stones.
Well that's a pretty clear representation, I think. Less clear, perhaps, is how such a representation transcends the line between user and object. Through personification, the phones in the commercial can not only be seen to represent the phone itself, but the prospective user of each phone. Every person, apparently, has a phone that it is built just for them, whether they be greasy lothario (0:04, second from left) or axe wielding maniac (0:28, one left from center).
But why, you may ask, are phones constantly morphing into other phones? Here are two postulations: First, a person's taste in cell phone changes frequently, perhaps correlating with a change in that person's personality or profession; from say cowboy to professor. The Carphone Warehouse wants you to know it accommodates such shifts. The second reason is magic realism. Well, maybe not quite that, but the ability of the phones to clone themselves, and to synchronize a beach party, and to change their outfits at the tap of a moog make them seem like pretty magical devices. And they are kind of magical, what with the phone calls and the bluetooth and the texting and the sexting. But also very real.
The commercial has super visuals, aurals, and visual-aural synchronization. The simple artwork for each phone allows their differences to be highlighted. The green background allows for the phones to be fully visible yet maintain their simplicity, the way green phones on a white background would not have. And the shots are pleasant. Actually, the whole commercial is a single, long, magical shot (though the beachballs and umbrella, as I said before, serve as cuts), but what a shot it is! There is no sudden movement or out of place object to jar the eyes, and the choreography is hypnotic. I've watched this commercial two dozen times in the past two days and each time find something new to enjoy about it.
I see no reason to write only about commercials currently airing on American television. As such, here's one from Ireland, that probably is not on the air anymore, but is great. It involves anthropomorphic mobiles. The music is Hot Butter's version of "Popcorn," though from what I read the original song is by Gershon Kingsley.
And here's a detailed summary that may not be necessary but which I want to write in order to facilitate my analysis and point out some of the interesting technical aspects of this ad.
So the commercial opens with an assortment of cell phones with and arms and legs run toward the viewer. They all have the same shape, but each is differentiated by accessories. One has a soccer ball. Another has a bandana and chain. The leader has a viking helmet and shield (This plays upon the stereotype that Vikings are malicious man-bulls. No viking helmet with horns or holes for horns has ever been discovered. Furthermore, Vikings had a complex civilization whose trade connections help bring about the Renaissance.) So while similar, then, each character is nevertheless independently recognizable. This is an important thematic element I'll address later. When all the phones reach a set distance away from the camera they arrange themselves into a line.
But when the melody comes in over the underdub, changes beginto happen. The accessories of each phone morph in time with the music. Suddenly one has a cowboy hat, another a mortarboard, another a bathing suit and beach ball. The phones look around confusedly for a moment, examining their new accoutrements, but seem to say to themselves, "Hey, this ain't no big deal. Let's form a circle and dance."
Except instead of dance, they spontaneously regenerate. Six new phones spring out of the first six, including a Groucho Marxy type and a snorkeler blowing bubbles. We also see that the bringer of the beach ball is wearing a thong. Then everyone lies down and starts rolling in sync with each other, which somehow generates and degenerates phoneclones. Then all the phones leap back up and decide to head the beach ball around. The magic beach ball gives each phone it touches a new perphona, until one phone heads the ball at the camera. This acts as a cut in what has thus far been a single shot.
When the beach ball disappears the viewer sees several phones drifting to the ground among large bubbles, presumably bubbles from the snorkeler. When each of these bubble pops, a new phone comes out. All these phones then line up in a semicircle, where a magician phone makes them disappear with his wand. He then turns to face the screen, and it appears he has multiple hands a la Goro when, lo and behold, the disappeared phones have reappeared behind him to create what is only an illusion. They jump out into a semicircle, and the center phone unfurls a screen-blocking umbrella.
The umbrella, like the beachball before it, acts as a cut. The new shot shows a birds eye view of dozens of different phones all dancing, and others appearing in the free space. The voice-over begins, and the camera rolls down to show that these dozens of phone represent just one side of an enormous phone prism. There are likely hundreds of phones off-screen.
End Scene
Here's why I think it works:
Each phone in this commercial has an identical body: A rectangular torso, two micky mouse arms, and some spindly legs. This corresponds to how every cell phone is the same, or is used for the same basic function, which is to allow audible verbal communication between to users regardless of a user's proximity to another (A phone call!). What makes a phone different from another is its accessory features. That is, whether it has a full keyboard, a color screen, a camera, internet capability, email, MP3 capability, how big is it, what color is it, how many British villages has it plundered, how much afrosheen does it need, really, afrosheen does not get underlined by spellcheck? In the commercial, these features are represented by hats, hairstyles, bathing suits, sports gear, and rune stones.
Well that's a pretty clear representation, I think. Less clear, perhaps, is how such a representation transcends the line between user and object. Through personification, the phones in the commercial can not only be seen to represent the phone itself, but the prospective user of each phone. Every person, apparently, has a phone that it is built just for them, whether they be greasy lothario (0:04, second from left) or axe wielding maniac (0:28, one left from center).
But why, you may ask, are phones constantly morphing into other phones? Here are two postulations: First, a person's taste in cell phone changes frequently, perhaps correlating with a change in that person's personality or profession; from say cowboy to professor. The Carphone Warehouse wants you to know it accommodates such shifts. The second reason is magic realism. Well, maybe not quite that, but the ability of the phones to clone themselves, and to synchronize a beach party, and to change their outfits at the tap of a moog make them seem like pretty magical devices. And they are kind of magical, what with the phone calls and the bluetooth and the texting and the sexting. But also very real.
The commercial has super visuals, aurals, and visual-aural synchronization. The simple artwork for each phone allows their differences to be highlighted. The green background allows for the phones to be fully visible yet maintain their simplicity, the way green phones on a white background would not have. And the shots are pleasant. Actually, the whole commercial is a single, long, magical shot (though the beachballs and umbrella, as I said before, serve as cuts), but what a shot it is! There is no sudden movement or out of place object to jar the eyes, and the choreography is hypnotic. I've watched this commercial two dozen times in the past two days and each time find something new to enjoy about it.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Cute, Geico. Cute.
So this particular post, in addition to being temporally sporatic and irrelevant, sarcastic, and about largely self-evident issues, is also a bit whiny. For that I apologize. I toned it down some, but I still would never buy car insurance from Geico, based on these commercials.
A brief if poorly executed syllogism:
(1) Soon, I will need to choose a car insurance provider.
(2) In order to choose the best car insurance provider, I will rely on information about and an impression of that provider's standards and practices.
(3) Commercials provide information about a company and give the viewer an impression of that company's standards and practices.
(4) Car insurance companies make commercials.
(5) I will watch car insurance commercials.
(1), (2,). (3),(4). Therefore, (5).
Makes sense, I think. Also making sense is the following statement, which I've sufficiently set-up and which is largely self-evident: Geico car insurance commercials do not make sense. Here's a brief list of some that make me want a slick new Cannondale.
Trust the Geico Gecko
Why should I trust the Geico Gecko? He's small and weak and doesn't assert himself. And their executives seem to have poor judgement.
The Gecko Values a Dollar
Here the Gecko takes the money I pay the company to help insure my car and spends it on potato chips. Geico values cholesterol?
All Geico Cavemen Commercials
Saving money with Geico is so easy a caveman can do it. Except according to Geico, cavemen are educated, sophisticated, athleticly inclined, ethnically proud, and emotionally deep, which is to say, capable of many things. So thus I have no reason to think that just because a Caveman can do it, I can do it.
Money Breaks Up Marriages
Here the money I could be saving with Geico has sat himself at the table of an older couple and started to flirt with the woman. The man looks nonplussed. The woman is Carolyn Hennesy, who has appeared in Dawson's Creek, Terminator 3, and Click. She giggles. The waiter acts silly.
Roofers Need Car Insurance too, and an Education
Here Geico makes uninformed assumptions about the intelligence and singlemindedness of young roofers. What's with the stereotyping, Geico?
---
Of the lizard, the caveman, and the pile of money, the pile of money is for me the most effective and least annoying, probably because he doesn't say anything. The gecko and the caveman, however, spend most commercials contradicting the claim each commercial is trying to put forth. So then I get confused. I thought I was supposed to respect and sympathize with these characters, yet if I do that the Geico corporation seems culturally insensitive and cold-blooded. I have no desire to support such a company.
So it seems that whole Caveman/Gecko/Googlyeyed Money ad campaigns are there to entertain the viewer and paint the company as funny, lighthearted, and creative, not really to inform me. If I'm going to spend several thousand dollars a year on a policy required by law for me to operate an automobile, then I don't really care for how creative my provider is. I'd prefer to know whether they are efficient, compassionate, well-managed, and competitively priced. Geico commercials, though, suggest none of these qualities. Instead, they suggest that I shouldn't put any thought into an important financial decision and that I can be manipulated into buying a car insurance policy by situation comedy and detachable tails. That's insulting.
You know what's not insulting? Allstate's Dennis Haysbert and his soothing baritone. What's that, Dennis? You'd like to give me specific information about your company's policies and use American History to underscore Allstate's long commitment to quality service and acknowledge the significance of car insurance in my everyday life? And then not contradict yourself? Sign me up! I am not in good hands, Mr. Haysbert, but I'd like to be in yours.
You know whose hands I don't want to be in? These girls'. Also, Geico's.
A brief if poorly executed syllogism:
(1) Soon, I will need to choose a car insurance provider.
(2) In order to choose the best car insurance provider, I will rely on information about and an impression of that provider's standards and practices.
(3) Commercials provide information about a company and give the viewer an impression of that company's standards and practices.
(4) Car insurance companies make commercials.
(5) I will watch car insurance commercials.
(1), (2,). (3),(4). Therefore, (5).
Makes sense, I think. Also making sense is the following statement, which I've sufficiently set-up and which is largely self-evident: Geico car insurance commercials do not make sense. Here's a brief list of some that make me want a slick new Cannondale.
Trust the Geico Gecko
Why should I trust the Geico Gecko? He's small and weak and doesn't assert himself. And their executives seem to have poor judgement.
The Gecko Values a Dollar
Here the Gecko takes the money I pay the company to help insure my car and spends it on potato chips. Geico values cholesterol?
All Geico Cavemen Commercials
Saving money with Geico is so easy a caveman can do it. Except according to Geico, cavemen are educated, sophisticated, athleticly inclined, ethnically proud, and emotionally deep, which is to say, capable of many things. So thus I have no reason to think that just because a Caveman can do it, I can do it.
Money Breaks Up Marriages
Here the money I could be saving with Geico has sat himself at the table of an older couple and started to flirt with the woman. The man looks nonplussed. The woman is Carolyn Hennesy, who has appeared in Dawson's Creek, Terminator 3, and Click. She giggles. The waiter acts silly.
Roofers Need Car Insurance too, and an Education
Here Geico makes uninformed assumptions about the intelligence and singlemindedness of young roofers. What's with the stereotyping, Geico?
---
Of the lizard, the caveman, and the pile of money, the pile of money is for me the most effective and least annoying, probably because he doesn't say anything. The gecko and the caveman, however, spend most commercials contradicting the claim each commercial is trying to put forth. So then I get confused. I thought I was supposed to respect and sympathize with these characters, yet if I do that the Geico corporation seems culturally insensitive and cold-blooded. I have no desire to support such a company.
So it seems that whole Caveman/Gecko/Googlyeyed Money ad campaigns are there to entertain the viewer and paint the company as funny, lighthearted, and creative, not really to inform me. If I'm going to spend several thousand dollars a year on a policy required by law for me to operate an automobile, then I don't really care for how creative my provider is. I'd prefer to know whether they are efficient, compassionate, well-managed, and competitively priced. Geico commercials, though, suggest none of these qualities. Instead, they suggest that I shouldn't put any thought into an important financial decision and that I can be manipulated into buying a car insurance policy by situation comedy and detachable tails. That's insulting.
You know what's not insulting? Allstate's Dennis Haysbert and his soothing baritone. What's that, Dennis? You'd like to give me specific information about your company's policies and use American History to underscore Allstate's long commitment to quality service and acknowledge the significance of car insurance in my everyday life? And then not contradict yourself? Sign me up! I am not in good hands, Mr. Haysbert, but I'd like to be in yours.
You know whose hands I don't want to be in? These girls'. Also, Geico's.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Put It in Me, Scott
Grade: C
Here I am faced with a dilemma: forgo a great deal on what looks to be a delicious sandwich or eat what looks like a delicious sandwich while having to consider phallic symbolism. I prefer to separate sex from fast food so I'll just go to Subway and be done with it. Decide for yourself after watching the Quizno's commercial with an erotic toaster, then let me decide for you.
So the applianchomoerotic relationship that Scott has with the toaster is the most memorable aspect of this commercial. Apparently, for a toaster, cooking a sandwich in itself is like sex. And cooking an inexpensive sandwich is like great sex. But why do I want to satisfy a toaster by ordering up a cheap sandwich? I could care less about a toaster's needs, especially one reminiscent of a villainous computer in a movie I've never seen but know enough about to get the reference. Instead, I want to disappoint that toaster because I don't like his attitude. He's manipulative and pushy. The last thing I want to be is an enabler of sexual harassment in the workplace.
An aside about the 2001: A Space Odysey thing: it's a little pandering. To appreciate that reference I would have to say, "Boy I sure am cultured for being familiar with a groundbreaking science fiction movie made nearly 2 decades ere I was born! Whew, I bet some of my friends don't get it and I can explain it to them and they'll think I'm cultured and maybe a girl who is hanging out with my boys and I but whom I don't know that well will want to sleep with me more than she did earlier in the night, although she was probably already into me since I'm so comfortable with my sexuality that I can pretend a sandwich is a penis while I chow down." In short, appreciating that reference forces me to be a jerk, and I don't want to be that so bad. Or maybe now it's just impossible to have a talking machine without thinking of Hal.
I've never before seen an ad that so unabashedly jokes around with homosexuality. Refreshing to see, but I imagine it could polarize some audiences away from the product. If a man says the commercial is gross his friends might call him homophobic, and if he says that sandwich looks really good his friends might call him a homosexual. No man wants to be defined by a sandwich. But maybe his friends are tolerant, and won't care either way. Or maybe someone can stand up to their friends and use the sandwich as a means of spreading tolerance and defying prejudice. Thus, this commercial is a catalyst for social change.
And for the conscientious among us that's reason enough to get a Toasted Torpedo. I don't know how much universal appeal that kind of baggage has when attached to a lunch, though. And with no established sympathetic contract and an annoying film reference the whole ad leaves me ambivalent.
Suggestions for future ads: Have the relationship between the oven and Scott become more romantic and less lusty. A long term commitment would be more profitable than a one night stand.
Here I am faced with a dilemma: forgo a great deal on what looks to be a delicious sandwich or eat what looks like a delicious sandwich while having to consider phallic symbolism. I prefer to separate sex from fast food so I'll just go to Subway and be done with it. Decide for yourself after watching the Quizno's commercial with an erotic toaster, then let me decide for you.
So the applianchomoerotic relationship that Scott has with the toaster is the most memorable aspect of this commercial. Apparently, for a toaster, cooking a sandwich in itself is like sex. And cooking an inexpensive sandwich is like great sex. But why do I want to satisfy a toaster by ordering up a cheap sandwich? I could care less about a toaster's needs, especially one reminiscent of a villainous computer in a movie I've never seen but know enough about to get the reference. Instead, I want to disappoint that toaster because I don't like his attitude. He's manipulative and pushy. The last thing I want to be is an enabler of sexual harassment in the workplace.
An aside about the 2001: A Space Odysey thing: it's a little pandering. To appreciate that reference I would have to say, "Boy I sure am cultured for being familiar with a groundbreaking science fiction movie made nearly 2 decades ere I was born! Whew, I bet some of my friends don't get it and I can explain it to them and they'll think I'm cultured and maybe a girl who is hanging out with my boys and I but whom I don't know that well will want to sleep with me more than she did earlier in the night, although she was probably already into me since I'm so comfortable with my sexuality that I can pretend a sandwich is a penis while I chow down." In short, appreciating that reference forces me to be a jerk, and I don't want to be that so bad. Or maybe now it's just impossible to have a talking machine without thinking of Hal.
I've never before seen an ad that so unabashedly jokes around with homosexuality. Refreshing to see, but I imagine it could polarize some audiences away from the product. If a man says the commercial is gross his friends might call him homophobic, and if he says that sandwich looks really good his friends might call him a homosexual. No man wants to be defined by a sandwich. But maybe his friends are tolerant, and won't care either way. Or maybe someone can stand up to their friends and use the sandwich as a means of spreading tolerance and defying prejudice. Thus, this commercial is a catalyst for social change.
And for the conscientious among us that's reason enough to get a Toasted Torpedo. I don't know how much universal appeal that kind of baggage has when attached to a lunch, though. And with no established sympathetic contract and an annoying film reference the whole ad leaves me ambivalent.
Suggestions for future ads: Have the relationship between the oven and Scott become more romantic and less lusty. A long term commitment would be more profitable than a one night stand.
Get Dunked on by Patrick Chewing!
Grade: A
I see no greater incentive to eating a candy bar than this commercial. At present, it's my favorite on television. Here's a link to the Snickers commercial starring Patrick Ewing.
And here's a subjective transcription:
(Enter Ryan, magically opening and biting into a Snicker's Bar. Ryan looks up as he chews, wide-eyed and pleased, as if finding his long lost father.)
Ryan: Patrick?
(The camera shows Patrick Ewing with Hoya Hair.)
Patrick Ewing: What's up, Ryan?
(Patrick power-dribbles once, then leaps at the rim of a basketball hoop behind to Ryan.)
Patrick Ewing: Ahhhhhggg!
(Patrick throws the hammer down with two hands all up in Ryan's face and the backboard explodes. Ryan is knocked to the ground.)
Patrick Chewing: Oops!
(Patrick walks away from scene. The backboard is in splinters, the ball has somehow rolled all the way down an alley, and Pat is still holding on to the rim.)
Voiceover Guy: Get dunked on by Patrick Chewing!
-FIN-
This commercial is tremendous for many reasons, several of which I pointed out in my adapted screenplay. But there's more to why I want to eat a Snicker's right now. Allow me to dig deeper for that.
For one, I'm confident this commercial was made specifically for me. Why? Because I'm an undersized white kit who wears plaid shirts and wishes he was better at basketball. If I see a commercial that I think I could have starred in without having to do much acting, then I'm going to want to buy that product and hope a similar situation will arise in my everyday life. And I could have starred in this commercial, easily. Instead I just pause every time I eat a Snickers next to a basketball hoop.
For two, the catchphrase is awesome. "Get dunked on by Patrick Chewing" provides a vivid metaphor of what eating a Snickers is like. Apparently, there is some common ground between eating this candy bar and getting posterized by a hall-of-fame center. Some mutual characteristics this comparison suggests include strength, energy, explosiveness, and unexpected yet welcomed celebrity encounters. I expect a candy bar can contain the first three qualities, given that it's mostly sugar and protein, and I want those qualities because, remember, I'm an undersized white kid who wishes he was better at basketball.
(In comparison, "Get some bling with Master P-Nut" is a bit of a dud. I can't picture how eating a Snickers bar is like getting an enormous gold chain, and equating a candy bar with jewelry in the first place seems vain and bad for my teeth.)
But let's not forget the stellar casting choice. Sure, the pun lends itself to the selection of Patrick Ewing, but beyond that, Patrick Ewing is for me and many other people my age something of a novelty that gives the commercial a whole other layer of humor. "Get Dunked on by Caramel-o Anthony" would not have provided this humor. When I think of Carmelo, I think of undeserved championships for Syracuse. When I think of Ewing I think of
1. Space Jam
2. The Dream Team
3. The scene in Space Jam where he hits his head on the ceiling but Mugsy Bogues Doesn't
4. The time he got blocked by Mugsy Bogues
5. 11 time all-star, 20pts/10rebounds a game, hall of famer.
Thus eating a Snickers not only caters to my athletic aspirations, but it does so in an ironic way via punnery and funny, nostalgic casting. If there's one thing college-educated young men approve of, it's doing things for the sake of irony. Hat's off to Snickers, I'm going to eat you and then laugh inwardly about how subversively funny I am.
Suggestions for Future Ads: "Rock out with Ted Nougat"
I see no greater incentive to eating a candy bar than this commercial. At present, it's my favorite on television. Here's a link to the Snickers commercial starring Patrick Ewing.
And here's a subjective transcription:
(Enter Ryan, magically opening and biting into a Snicker's Bar. Ryan looks up as he chews, wide-eyed and pleased, as if finding his long lost father.)
Ryan: Patrick?
(The camera shows Patrick Ewing with Hoya Hair.)
Patrick Ewing: What's up, Ryan?
(Patrick power-dribbles once, then leaps at the rim of a basketball hoop behind to Ryan.)
Patrick Ewing: Ahhhhhggg!
(Patrick throws the hammer down with two hands all up in Ryan's face and the backboard explodes. Ryan is knocked to the ground.)
Patrick Chewing: Oops!
(Patrick walks away from scene. The backboard is in splinters, the ball has somehow rolled all the way down an alley, and Pat is still holding on to the rim.)
Voiceover Guy: Get dunked on by Patrick Chewing!
-FIN-
This commercial is tremendous for many reasons, several of which I pointed out in my adapted screenplay. But there's more to why I want to eat a Snicker's right now. Allow me to dig deeper for that.
For one, I'm confident this commercial was made specifically for me. Why? Because I'm an undersized white kit who wears plaid shirts and wishes he was better at basketball. If I see a commercial that I think I could have starred in without having to do much acting, then I'm going to want to buy that product and hope a similar situation will arise in my everyday life. And I could have starred in this commercial, easily. Instead I just pause every time I eat a Snickers next to a basketball hoop.
For two, the catchphrase is awesome. "Get dunked on by Patrick Chewing" provides a vivid metaphor of what eating a Snickers is like. Apparently, there is some common ground between eating this candy bar and getting posterized by a hall-of-fame center. Some mutual characteristics this comparison suggests include strength, energy, explosiveness, and unexpected yet welcomed celebrity encounters. I expect a candy bar can contain the first three qualities, given that it's mostly sugar and protein, and I want those qualities because, remember, I'm an undersized white kid who wishes he was better at basketball.
(In comparison, "Get some bling with Master P-Nut" is a bit of a dud. I can't picture how eating a Snickers bar is like getting an enormous gold chain, and equating a candy bar with jewelry in the first place seems vain and bad for my teeth.)
But let's not forget the stellar casting choice. Sure, the pun lends itself to the selection of Patrick Ewing, but beyond that, Patrick Ewing is for me and many other people my age something of a novelty that gives the commercial a whole other layer of humor. "Get Dunked on by Caramel-o Anthony" would not have provided this humor. When I think of Carmelo, I think of undeserved championships for Syracuse. When I think of Ewing I think of
1. Space Jam
2. The Dream Team
3. The scene in Space Jam where he hits his head on the ceiling but Mugsy Bogues Doesn't
4. The time he got blocked by Mugsy Bogues
5. 11 time all-star, 20pts/10rebounds a game, hall of famer.
Thus eating a Snickers not only caters to my athletic aspirations, but it does so in an ironic way via punnery and funny, nostalgic casting. If there's one thing college-educated young men approve of, it's doing things for the sake of irony. Hat's off to Snickers, I'm going to eat you and then laugh inwardly about how subversively funny I am.
Suggestions for Future Ads: "Rock out with Ted Nougat"
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