The effort to go to the movies

The other night, my wife and I spent the evening out at the movies. We like the big screen and the surround sound. We like the occasion. Given how things for which we have to make some effort tend to be in jeopardy these days, I wondered if theaters would be around for long,

I scanned the backs of all the heads in front of me. Okay, I won’t miss the cel phones and the running comments by know-it-alls and the teenager that keeps kicking my chair.

But I remember seeing Something About Mary in a theater with some buddies and telling my wife how hysterical it was. She had to see it. So the moment it was available on video, we watched it at home and damn, if it didn’t feel like a different movie. Despite me trying to force a laugh and sell the jokes, my wife did little more than crack a grin. There’s something about an audience that has gone out of its way to sit in the dark that made the movie funnier.

I imagine that Something About Mary was made for that theater audience. The writer had his or her college professor echoing in his cortex about knowing who his audience is, instructing him to develop the tone, content and language of the script, tailor it to meet the expectations of that audience. Consequently, the writer wrote Something About Mary for the kind of person who would drive 10 miles to see Cameron Diaz comb man stuff through her hair. Put a crowd of them together and you have a laugh riot. The point is, that while the audience was made for that movie, that audience, to some degree, also made that movie.

So what if there were no theaters? The content would change, at least slightly. As long as the writer is considering different factors, a different outcome would have to be expected. And without theaters, the audience, at home or behind a computer, would tend to become more defined. And with a more defined audience, there would be more cultural filters, more assumptions, more inside jokes.

The films would tend to become less cultural. Think about it. Cultures are not monolithic, but are formed from all the factors that we see in that audience – variations in class, gender, generation, religion and education. Our cultural filter shapes how we view the world and can hinder understanding different backgrounds. Without theaters, the movies would, I think, exercise more of that. Writing for someone watching on a laptop, a writer may be more likely to assume that the audience believes what he or she believes.

 Leaving your home to see a movie makes us more inclined to leave our little worlds. And there is something liberating about joining the fray, hearing a joke amidst the madding crowd. We’re quicker to laugh and more likely to laugh aloud if we’ll only get lost in the din. That’s what happened to me the first time I saw Something About Mary.

And there is something about sitting in a theater knowing that the film wasn’t made for only you, that we are more likely to judge the film objectively. Being more likely to wonder how it affected every one else can be eye-opening.

And there is something about sitting in an audience knowing that an emotion or message actually transcended all differences between people. In making us more aware of each other, a movie in a theater is, to some degree, unifying. It may not be a kumbaya moment, but at least the presence of others is felt. And I think that’s something that should have a place in the world.

I also think that living in a world that assumes art is worth exerting ourselves for is not a bad thing––this from someone who likes to create an occasion for music by setting vinyl on a turntable.
               Oh, and the movie we saw? We saw American Hustle. It was pretty good. If you're a Facebook friend of mine, I think you’d like it. 

Insincerely yours

     After some eight years, it dawned on me that I really didn’t fire a particular art director for the reason I had given him. I realized that, way deep down, I had fired him because he used to say, “At the end of the day.” If you have ever been around someone who always said, “At the end of the day,” you know that it is more irritating than “Take it to the next level,” “Going forward” and “Having said that.” Should I lose sleep over it? Probably not.

     “At the end of the day” lacks substance. It also lacks something even more important to the business of advertising: sincerity. Roy S. Durstine wrote, “Advertisements are like people. If a man is sincere you can forgive him almost anything.” Come to think of it, that art director’s work didn't come off sincere, either – it always felt like "advertising".

     It’s like the Kenneth Cole community manager I recently read about. This writer wanted so desperately to be socially relevant that he posted, “Millions are in uproar in #Cairo. Rumor is they heard our new spring collection is now available online at …” I wonder if that guy still has a job. Because if someone is cynical about the product or the business, if someone has an agenda to be funny or post-modern, if someone panders with business-speak to sell an idea, you decrease your chances of finding that singular voice that resonates a little sincerity.

     I’m convinced that behind every great campaign there is at least one enthusiastic creative person. She finds it within herself to believe in the product to such a degree that she radiates enthusiasm and it rubs off on her work. Her ideas are like gasoline on the flame of enthusiasm. She insists on her vision; she fights for her belief; and it’s not simply because she came up with a creative solution. She has passion because she’s certain she’s captured a little bit of her original belief so a little bit of sincerity now squeaks out between the words.

     It’s definitely like people – all kinds can exude sincerity. If a timid person honestly believes he can do a job and you give him a chance, he will probably do just as well as the aggressive type who bounded into your office. Hal Riney had his sincerity; Cliff Freeman had his own. Sincerity can come through any style.

     I don’t have a formula for it. But it’s always amazing when really creative work ends up exuding sincerity; and so disappointing when incredibly clever work never quite gets there. I do, however, know that when something possesses it there is nothing in the work, no single element, that draws attention to itself. You may have been told a story but you didn’t realize that you were told one; there were techniques, but it felt technique-less. “At the end of the day” draws attention to itself because those are words, like all affectations, that are more natural coming out of someone else’s mouth. The disappointment is ironic – we're actually more interested in who is talking than the person who is being emulated, which is why we conclude that if the person (or brand) can betray himself like this, he (or it) will most certainly let us down.

Spots change.

“Advertising above all speaks to the unchanging core of what makes us human, and the work I see these days seems to assume that everyone has changed.” –Ian Mirlin, Fast Company, 10/29/12

     We've always heard that the leopard can't change its spots and, likewise, human beings can't change what makes them human, but while some things are unquestionably immutable, such as men feeling its okay to fart while watching contact sports, some human behavior has changed. It's as if the whirl of technology caught human evolution in its undercurrent, and, after thousands and thousands of years, we're seeing new behavior surfacing.

     At least that's what a friend of mind says. He's an ad guy, but when it comes to technology, much more of a whiz than me. One day I saw him reading Mashable and I swear I couldn't detect his lips moving.

     He says that during the Mesologic Age (that's what he calls the old days before the Y2K bust), consumers were most easily persuaded to buy something when they thought it had been demonstrated, when a simple deduction had taken place with the necessary facts or accepted opinions. In the Mesologic Age, if we thought, "If there is a God and if God knows everything, computer geeks can hardly do so," we concluded, "No way am I going to buy that Newton 2100." But now, people put their faith in technology and advertising has to change with the times. First, a different kind of argument moves people; secondly, a different kind of credibility impresses them; and thirdly, a different emotion compels them. 

     Concerning the argument, human beings are no longer impressed with proof that products work. Demonstrations that reveal advantages, he says, are old school and tedious. People are impressed by a product's potential to make a certain fulfillment and meaning to their lives imaginable.

     Take the Kia ads with hamsters. Here's a car that can't fully satisfy what most people are looking for, so what did they do? They worked on people's perspective. Life as a human being in the 21st century is tough, after all, but if you imagine you're a hamster driving a Kia, you'll be much happier, because it's much easier to be happy as a hamster than as a human being. Suddenly, you have a real opportunity for people.

     Awhile back there was an iPhone ad – remember the one that starred John Malkovich? Not since James Garner and Mariette Hartley for Kodak, have we seen such an adorable repartee. Except now, instead of being burdened with specific functionality and what can or can't be communicated through voice recognition, this ad showed Malkovich experiencing a meaningful moment with the charming Siri. Imagine: a life enriched by true companionship with the voice activation girl!

     And what about the ads for erectile dysfunction? The one that permits you to hit the home run is fine; but the one that makes you imagine a new level of virility, a new height of orgasmic bliss achieved by sitting in separate bathtubs on a hill, holding hands and watching the sunset – that's the real winner.

     Secondly, there's credibility. My friend says, human beings are indifferent to experts, unfazed by credibility and character. Now, social media testimonials are given less often by experts and more often by acquaintances called "friends", and if these friends possess the restricted or limited intellectual resources of a gnat, that's okay. By heeding the recommendation of almost anybody, we are no doubt less likely to be very disappointed by a product and less likely to blame anyone if it disappoints. He reminds us that our Mesological parents may have scolded us kids with, "If Johnny jumps off a cliff, would you follow?" but these days, "following" implies, "If Johnny buys a pair of Sketchers, then I, too, should buy a pair of Sketchers, because it's easier that way, Johnny seems like a nice guy and, heck, the higher the cliff, the more exciting the jump. 

     One more point about these so-called friends. Of all of them, we have to understand the role of a very special blogger, the mommy blogger, the blogger we trust more than any other. If a mommy blogger recommends, say, a Briggs & Stratton rider mower, then we'll be sure to want a Briggs & Stratton rider mower, because while only one person on the planet was believed to be infallible, mommy bloggers are today's equivalent of the pope.

     Finally, there's my friend's third point, about how emotional manipulation takes place. He claims that people no longer feel intensely about things, that while political ads once had to spark pride or outrage, soft drinks...relief, fashion...lust, and so on, humans desire nothing too phlegmatic. Of course, advertisements for video games have to put you in the mood for a violent, bloodthirsty rampage on the scale of a world war; but generally, people desire only the gentle warmth of liking. Liking makes us feel something is cool. Liking is the all-purpose compulsion. If the consumer feels this gentle "like", he or she will have the item rung up. He goes so far as to say that, as differences between friends and acquaintances become blurred, "like" and "love" become interchangeable; and this should be a relief for the human race, because most of the time, that 80's lyric was right on: "Love is a battlefield," anyway.

     Look, my friend says that people have changed and therefore persuasion has to change. I'm not so sure. I recently read a story about Aristotle, who was really the guy to set down these principles for persuasion in the first place. Apparently, Aristotle's wife was always trying to persuade him to stay home and help around the house. She tried all kinds of tactics but he'd always say something like, "I'll take a look at it later" or "It's supposed to make that squeaking sound" and then slip out the back door to meet his buddies from the Academy. It wasn't until she asked him, "Please? For me?" while making puppy eyes that he stayed home one afternoon and cleaned the tile grout. 2,400 years later, "Please? For me?" combined with the effect of puppy eyes is still powerful persuasion. Maybe only some things have changed.

Oar To Oar

I’ve been reading Boys In the Boat – about the University of Washington’s 1936 eight-oar crew comprised of the sons of loggers, shipyard workers and farmers and their pursuit of Olympic gold – and among other things, it’s got me thinking about how important it is to be in synch with the rest of the team, and conversely, what a hindrance it is when someone is, as they say, not in the same boat. The author gives the reader a complete understanding of what it takes to win, all the strength involved in every stroke, every leg drive and every release, and how this has to be rapidly and in precisely the same manner as everyone else. Or else you lose. I related to that. It’s how I feel about media not being aboard the agency.

                I never thought losing media was a good idea. We all know what it’s like to present a campaign that relies on thirty second commercials for emotional impact and other venues for various purposes, only to be informed that the media folks across the street didn’t recommend enough thirties to reach everyone. You’re sunk.

And you probably know what it’s like to lose an ad that you are certain will, in the right circumstances, strike a chord. It’s like you have this line for Charmin Ultra Soft Toilet Tissue that ends up only as an outdoor billboard, when, all along, you envisioned it running in public bathrooms, so a consumer could walk in, head to an available stall and read, “Make your trip as smooth and comfortable as possible.” You just know it will resonate. But, noooo, the media agency got a deal on highway space, where “Make your trip as smooth and comfortable as possible” sounds like an ad for Bridgestone tires.

Part of the difficulty is that when media agencies refer to the “idea” it’s an approach to placement, while ad agencies mean the communication itself and the combination of two elements. The only leader good enough to band together two groups that don’t speak the same language is, perhaps, Captain Kirk – and good luck with that. It’s a problem. And it’s only been compounded.

As the demographics in the country are changing and the minorities become the majority, we should be able to address the diversity of our target audience, and from the get-go, have everyone aligned about how this will be accomplished. Or what? Be like the republicans?

Currently, if we try reacting in real time to something that’s trending, we’ll most likely become mired in a Kafka-esque bureaucracy with the media folks (across the street) and miss the opportunity. Despite this being the age where everyone needs everything at their fingertips, we don’t always have everything at our fingertips. 

But here’s the direst effect of all: The people in the boat strain to compensate for the empty seat. Imagine if creative people and planners didn’t feel burdened to be technology experts, geeked up on every new function and app? Given that the web is media, what if we had media folks to pull some weight? Because when art direction or copywriting or planning is done right, it takes all of our attention and devotion; it takes one continuous and unbroken cycle that involves the head, heart and muscle to be mastered. To not be able to do that is tragic.

I suppose it’s one of the consequences of management, especially holding company management, not asking themselves the important questions like, How do creative people come up with ideas? And, What is needed for us to win the race? They’re playing with economies of scale and consolidation and how to get more boat for their money, not with how we can benefit from media and creative pulling together.

Fundamentally, the more time creative people spend crafting the work, the more real the audience becomes, and the more real the audience becomes, the more able creative people are to see that person, in a particular place, getting a kick out of their work – they can actually hear the laugh, see the raised eyebrow, feel the gasp. The imagined response is motivating; to the creative person, it’s what success looks like. And when people are motivated, they create a better product.

In rowing, there’s a time when all eight oarsmen are rowing in such perfect unison that it feels like the boat is a part of each of them, moving as if on its own. It’s called “swing.” It’s the rowing equivalent of being in the zone. Apparently,  “the closer a crew can come to that ideal – maintaining a good swing while rowing at a high rate – the closer they are to rowing on another plane, the plane on which champions row.” But here, the coxswain’s head is spinning and the rowers are handicapped; and with little evidence the administrators ashore even know what is lacking, there’s not much chance of something like that happening.

Hey, we weren't born yesterday.

     Typically, when guys turn fifty they start spewing kids-these-days statements.  You know, “Kids these days have it easy,” “Kids these days don’t listen to lyrics,” “Kids these days are going to the dogs.” Well, a friend of mine who falls into this category recently remarked, “Kids these days think advertising began with Crispin.” He’s got a point. Except I’d go one step further. I think a lot of older folks, as well as all the darn kids, go along as if advertising is suddenly new.

     Why would we want to ignore what happened before the world went digital? History is how we make sure we are better than we were yesterday – you can only be sure you have evolved unless you know where you’ve been, right? History gives us perspective.

     When you take the time to dust off those old ads and get beyond the old fonts and the illustrations, you see the thinking that went into them. If you look again, you extract the principles of that thinking. If you look harder, you learn the fundamentals for change. You also understand that the people claiming that ‘Advertising Is Dead’ must be short-sighted, because you’ve seen the thread that’s woven to the present.

    Who didn’t watch the movie Lincoln and draw parallels to today’s issues? When I saw it, I wished we could send Daniel Day Lewis in full Lincoln cragginess into the Capitol to knock some sense into those Congressional numb nuts. We’re still worried about the enormous political divisions that pit one American against another and we still look back to Lincoln for inspiration – not because we’ve got a thing for his long coat and the altitude of his hat but because we’re drawing principles from his actions.

     Way back in 1914, the John Wanamaker stores had been revolutionizing marketing. They had created educational, artistic and very specific newspaper ads, and by all indications, they were effective. Wanamaker had become the largest business in New York and Philadelphia. Of course, these ads would nowadays be considered impractical – these ads were really long, sometimes six columns long. They were often imposing, even for 1914. In fact, there’s this story about how Mr. Wanamaker was questioned about his advertising. According to Earnest Elmo Calkins in The Business of Advertising (1915), Mr. Wanamaker was frequently asked, “Does it pay?” Risk-averse advertisers wanted to know, “Does it pay?” And his nerdy bookkeepers demanded, “Does it pay?” But, as his marketing manager, Joseph H. Appel, wrote, ““Does it pay?” is never asked by Mr. Wanamaker. “Does it serve the public?” is his only query.”” And here’s the thing, if you read a couple of those ads, you can’t help but warm to their sincere charm and authority. You discover a wonderful skill for creating the excitement of possibility for commodities. Who knows what would happen if a little of that rubbed off. Maybe it would help us with those pop-up ads and pre-roll ads that offer us nothing and annoy the hell out of us, the public.

     Sometimes, you can go back to stuff that doesn’t even look like ads and learn something. Think about how, for centuries, folktales and fables were created to impart the lessons of life and were passed on in families and villages and royal courts. They were part of an intricate oral tradition long before they were ever put down on paper and made their way into our anthologies. If we want to know how to convey an important lesson or piece of information via word-of-mouth, if we want to know how to sell it so it will stick, if we want a little perspective about social media, why not learn from these stories, why not create better stories than the ones we are currently creating and imbue them with a flavor of magic and adventure?

     Without history, we roam about dazed, amnesiac, and blind to the world around us. Fortunately, there are tons of lessons out there. History is chock full of them. And we need the perspective, the larger trend, and we need the proof that at least some of our thinking has worked before, because we’re not getting enough answers from the here and now. I’m just saying: maybe we should spend less time looking to the technologists, the trend forecasters and the kids. Maybe we should be a little less forward thinking.