Friday, January 16, 2009

The following post was written by a male boomer advertising professional and may therefore only interest male boomer advertising professionals.


In the past year, I've read a few books and seen a few movies in which not one person looks like me. I won't bore you with all of them, but here's a range of what I'm talking about.

I read the sequel to The Woman Who Walked Through Doors by Roddy Doyle. In Paula Spencer, we check in to see how Paula, the once battered house cleaner in Dublin, a widow and alcoholic, is getting on 9 years later. And you know what? She looks nothing like me. She didn't in the original and now, at 48, the dissemblance has not decreased. She is an amazing woman, with an inspiring tenacity and sense of humor, but she doesn't even look like my sister.

Last week I read P.D. James's book, Cover Her Face, the first of the Adam Dalgliesh murder mysteries. And Adam doesn't look like me either. Actually, the way I see Adam, I wish that I resembled him––he's so suave and cool, so much more together than me. 

A couple of months ago, I finally read One Hundred Years of Solitude. Nope––I don't think I look anything like its Juans and Aurelianos. They all have mustaches.

As far as the other books go, they were more of the same–-no one looked like me.

And what about the silver screen? Could I be seen anywhere on that? No, I did not appear there either. I look nothing like the stoners in Pineapple Express, nothing like Batman or the Joker, or the one-eyed blinker in Diving Bell.

Oh it's okay, really. It may come as a surprise to some people that it doesn't bother me, but it really doesn't. I didn't even seem to miss me. The fact is, it's not important. It's about the stories. And in one capacity or another, each of those works moved me. I like being taken away from me.

Now this observation came about as the issue of diversity resurfaced in the trades last week, prompted by the study, "Perspectives on Race and Employment in the Advertising Industry" (Adweek, 1/09/09). Let me say outright that I am not disputing any of it. My commentary is more about a slight omission. I have seen no mention of those client mandates about the target audience being in the commercials and photo shoots, or that scenes reflect perfect percentages––you know, so that every gathering looks like the UN, everyone all toothy, happy and plastic. (I once did a spot for a diner-style chain that started out with one couple and ended up with 3–-one white, one African American and one Asian couple. The setting was Utopian, though the spot turned out cheesy.) It happens all the time. Yes, yes I sympathize with the pressures that HR directors confront and understand that it's all for a good cause––I get that. But given that this effects the work and therefore, potentially, lots of consumers, I am compelled to point out that whether I appear in ads for products I might consider is, also, not important. Should we see more diversity? Absolutely, but we should realize that seeing one's likeness is not the magic key to feeling welcomed to Walmart, and we should stick to what we know about communication that communicates. So, if a story doesn't provide the proper visual, we should probably recommend a different story.

Seriously, was the target for Bugs Bunny silly slavering rabbits that own a television?

I have an inkling that if we focus on touching  people's hearts, speak to people as if they are more than their skin color or gender, diversity––at least in the advertising––would be a non-issue. Either that, or consider reverting to ads with only copy, like this post. Assuming that research indicates that your consumer reads such things. 


Monday, January 5, 2009

50,000,000 music fans can't go wrong.

It didn't cause major pile-ups in Manhattan, but Elvis's photo on the side of a bus did stop me short and send the pedestrian behind me swerving and grumbling to avoid a collision. It was sensational––not the accident, the photo, that is. It was one of those ultra close ups, Elvis's Buddy Holly glasses filling a quarter of the ad space to promote his show, Spectacle. Whoa. Not only is Elvis no Brad Pitt, but, now, having seen the show, I believe the ad is a bit misleading.

The show, which appears on the Sundance Channel, is not, ultimately, about Elvis Costello. You don't have to like Elvis to like the show; his persona is not the reason this may be, right now, the absolutely best thing on TV. Spectacle transcends our expectations of a celebrity hosted chat show, transcending any of Elvis's and any of his guest's accomplishments, which are not insignificant––I mean, so far he's had Elton John, Lou Reed, Bill Clinton and James Taylor.

  Each week one guest appears for the whole hour, and not because he or she is promoting a new release. They are not there to make Elvis look good, either. They are there because at some point Elvis, the fan, was moved by something they composed, or in the case of President Clinton, was curious about Bill's passion for the saxophone. Elvis wants to know how they do it; he's genuinely into them. You can see him stretching. And if you're an Elvis fan, well, you're probably going to have to stretch, too, because––let's face it, Elton John and James Taylor probably don't come up on your Amazon "also recommends" list.

In turn, Elvis interviews them about their inspirations. And you should hear the way Elton John talks about Laura Nyro, David Ackles and Leon Russell, and how Lou Reed goes on about Doc Pomus and how Pomus came to write "Save the Last Dance For Me." (Pomus got the idea at his wedding reception while watching, from his wheel chair, the happy guests dance with his new bride.) James Taylor is still in awe of George Jones, just as he was when starting out as a young picker in North Carolina––he played a few bars of one of Jones' songs, twang and all, and then played a section of one of his own songs that was clearly indebted to the master. And, without the glint of an agenda, Bill Clinton almost boyishly related the time he met the great Al Hirt.

Now this is cool.

In not being about Elvis, but rather Declan Patrick MacManus, and not being about his big headliners, a selflessness comes through. The title of the show, Spectacle, is ironic (Elvis apparently insisted on it, he being a true Brit and loving his irony.) It's about music that inspires. It's a twist on celebrity endorsements, only the guests come off as real people, humbled before the inspirers, and the people are not endorsing anything or anyone specifically, except the wonders of music. It's the gold standard for promoting, isn't it: to convey one's passion for what one does, give others a sample of greatness––no schmooze, no hype or kitsch––just a sense of a real, dare I say, authentic appreciation for a product.

I'd buy one of those any day. I believe there are 9 more episodes, all of which my Tivo is set to record.