Commercial Break: Halls, Refreshingly Creepy

The answer to that age-old question, “What do you get when you combine the surreal, disturbing imagery of a Skittles commercial with the unsettling sexual tension of a Quiznos commercial?” Who knew that Halls was so concerned with cornering the 18-25 stoner-friendly demographic? Are we supposed to have notoriously bad breath or something?

Commercial Break / Eugoogly: Gidget, The Taco Bell Chihuahua

Back in the day, Taco Bell was a second-class citizen in the world of fast food. We knew they existed, sure, and occasionally we even patronized their establishment (albeit under duresss), but we never really thought of them as being in the same leagues with the McDonalds, Wendy’s, or even the Subways of the world.The franchise’s primary claim to fame was being the only restaurant available in the post-apoclayptic world of the 1993 Sylvester Stallone classic Demolition Man. Then in 1997, a tiny little chihuahua named Gidget entered the picture, and suddenly, everyone and their mother was running for the border. With a mere four words–”Yo quiero Taco Bell,” which took about an hour to join the ranks of “Where’s the Beef?,” “You Deserve a Break Today” and “Time to Make the Donuts” in the ranks of truly iconic fast food catchpharses–Gidget was a national sensation. Soon she was trapping Godzilla, appearing on late night talk shows and even cameoing in Legally Blonde 2. The campaign was ended in controversy over racial stereotyping in 2000, but in her three years at the top, Gidget was Hallie Eisenberg, Wendy Kaufman and Lil’ Penny rolled into one. And Taco Bell would never be the same.

Commercial Break: Hating on the Frosty Posse

What decade is this that’s coming to an end, again? Hey, Wendy’s execs–you can throw a little auto-tune in there to give the illusion of being contemporary, but if you throw out a bunch of (mostly) caucasian males wearing all white and have them sing in uninspiring harmonies over orchestral-stab-based backing tracks, what you’ve got is a decade-out-of-date boy band parody. (Plus, the name? C’mon). I mean, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t catchy, or that it wasn’t a gigantic step up from the maddening “Threeconomics” series, but even compared to the new Taco Bell “Rappers at the Drive-In Window” ad…not so good.

Commercial Break: LeBron & Kobe, Kobe & LeBron

Well, I guess it has been over a decade since Lil’ Penny was dominating the airwaves. Whether or not the lack of loud-mouthed, hyper-enthusiastic hype-spewing puppet representations of superstar NBA players really left a gap in the leaves of TV viewers since then is a matter for debate, but I guess Nike figures that a classic formula never really goes out of style. Hence this pair of ads, sure to become timeout staples for the rest of the NBA post-season. The premise, in case you’re too lazy to click above, is of puppet forms of the two most dominant players remaining in the playoffs and probably the two most famous ballers on the planet at the moment, LeBron James and Kobe Bryant, jawing at one another as they prepare for their respective championship runs. LeBron, having been there only once and yet to emerge victorious, plays the role of the excited young’n, while Kobe, having won three times already, sits back and lets his rings do the talking (and then talks about them a whole lot more just in case).

First off, these commercials are great. It’s been a relative dry spell for quality ads during these playoffs thusfar (minus the already classic Most Interesting Man in the World and the obligatory captivating failure of a Taco Bell ad campaign–I swear, EVERY year, without fail), but the actually NBA-related ads have been phenomenal–first those great slow-mo, B&W “Where Will Amazing Happen This Year?” playoff moments of years past, and now these Nike spots. They’re funny, they’re catchy, they’re technically impressive, and they’re going to be imminently quotable by the 75th time that I see ‘em. Most importantly, they follow my #1 rule for commercial campaigns–they take an inherently ridiculous concept much, much too far (although not without a sense of humor about it, as when after Kobe goes through his big to-do about his championship rings, LeBron semi-rhetorically asks “Why do we live together?“)

The most brilliant part of ‘em is probably that they make no effort whatsoever to capture the personalities–or even the voices–of the original athletes. I guess the Nike people figured that as long as they weren’t going to get LeBron and Kobe themselves (or that they wouldn’t be able to handle the acting assignment) for the ads, they might as well not even attempt the difficult (and potentially insulting) task of trying to replicate their mannerisms in puppet form. So instead we get these caricatures of Kobe as some sort of 60s-style jazz hipster (I venture to guess that real-life Kobe has never worn a hat like that before in his life) and of LeBron as a nine-year-old getting to go to Sea World for the first time. Hey, maybe this is what Kobe and LeBron are really like when they step off the court (although none of the reviews I’ve seen of Kobe Doin’ Work lead me to be leave as much), but I can’t help but picture the two of them watching these commercials from their mansions and nervously hailing their PR guys–”Hey…that’s not really what people think I’m like, is it?”

My one reservation about these commercials, however, is the assumed implication that LeBron vs. Kobe will end up being the story of the playoffs, as the two will invariably lead their respective teams to a showdown in the finals to once-and-for-all determine which of the two is the dominant player in the NBA at the moment. Personally, I’m rooting for it, especially on the highly outside chance that Kobe ended up winning the thing (I’m still fascinated by the dude, and have something of a great disdain for Mr. James), and obviously, so is the NBA. Bulls vs. Celtics in the first round showed that a classic match-up could still capture the public’s imagination, and now Crosby vs. Ovechkin over in the NHL showed how much a personal rivalry at the forefront of such a closely fought fight could galvanize the series, and the public watching it. Lakers/Celtics last year was great and all, but on a superstar level, it kind of had a three-on-one gang-up feel to it, given the C’s trio of marquee players. Kobe vs. LeBron..fans won’t have seen anything like it in decades.

But you know what? It might not happen. Lest we forget, the Lakers are still struggling through the semis, and for all we know they might not even get out of there, facing potential elimination in Game 7 at the Staples Center on Sunday. And even if they get through that, they’ve got the Nuggets–8-2 so far this post-season, with an equally potent star in Carmelo and an arguably superior supporting cast in Billups, K-Mart, JR, Birdman and company–to worry about. And hey, while we’re at it, the Cavs still gotta get through either the defending champs (Garnett-less yes, but still a team that has proven to be a tough out for anyone-) or the Magic (who don’t seem too intimidating, but for some reason seem to have Cleveland’s number in recent years). Kobe’s on thinner ice at the moment, but both still have a ways to go before they can start concerning themselves with personal vendettas. And this isn’t even the only ad campaign featuring the two’s rivalry to be circulating this post-season. If one of ‘em doesn’t make it, it’s gonna be the Dan & Dave debacle all over again, no?

Well, if you see Ron Artest get called for a flagrant two and ejected on Sunday for flashing Kobe “menacing glances”…you know what shoe company to blame, I guess.

Commercial Break: Twothingsism

If the GEICO dynasty has taught us one thing about the nature of TV commercials, it’s that any concept for an ad campaign–really, just about anything–will eventually become hilarious if you just take the concept way too far. My brother used to believe that if he heard any pop song often enough, he’d invariably come around to liking it, no matter how dreadful, and sometimes I think the same thing is true with ad campaigns. If a commercial conceit seems strange and alienating upon first arrival, give it a hundred viewings in its half-dozen different permutations, and soon enough you will actually pause in the middle of a commercial break to crack up watching it the 101st time. It’s scary, it’s a little bit pathetic, but it’s pretty undeniable.

Case in point: The Old Spice “Two Things in One” campaign. The first one was simple enough–a showering centaur talks about how he appreciates Old Spice making a product that’s two things in one (Body Wash + Moisturizer), because he’s also two things in one (“A man…and a pretty smart shopper.”) I always suspected that I sort of liked the commercial–it had a very strange vibe to it, vaguely satricial and mildly surreal (plus I always found that the interspecial nudity felt at least somewhat subversive). But amid the great Old Spice campaigns of recent years (Bruce Campbell, Neil Patrick Harris, “I have hair here…but not here…,” “That was me…before I started using Old Spice”) it sort of got buried, possibly an amusing curiosity but not really notable enough to make the year-end highlight reel.

Now this one. Building off of the first, the same centaur appears, now vaguely offended by the notion that Old Spice would automatically assume that he would like their LiveWire product. “Why, Old Spice?” he pleads. “Because it’s two things…and I’m two things? THAT’S TWOTHINGSISM!” End commercial.

I don’t know, everything about this ad–and there really isn’t all that much to this ad–just knocks me out. The little glance centaur guy does over his shoulder to the super listing the two things that Old Spice LiveWire is. The fanatical gleam in the guy’s eye as he decries the product’s numerical prejudice. The emphatic way he places the product down on his horse-ass. All great, though they are mere details when addressing the commercial’s real appeal–that Old Spice took a barely popular ad punchline, and not only assumed that it was worthy of a sequel, but that it needed to be taken that extra mile further into near-inaccessible absurdity. I mean, we all know what’s coming next, right? Twothingsism trials with centaur guy as the plaintiff and Old Spice as the defendant. News pundit debate shows on the root cause of twothingsism. Centaur guy dating a girl only to discover that she only digs him because of her two-things fetish. Before you know it, it’s got its own racially offfensive TV show. Soon, you’ll even know the actor who plays centaur guy’s name–and maybe even be able to relate a funny backstory about the horse. I’ve seen this movie before–and hey, I liked it pretty well the first time.

By the way, I used Right Guard out of necessity for like the first time ever this week and it kind of sucks. There’s really very few areas in which Old Spice is not dominant.

Commercial Break: The Happiest Insurance Salesperson in the Whole Wide World

No commercial ad campaign has straddled the line between cringeworthiness and compulsive watchability in recent years as the Progressive Auto Insurance series. On paper, they should be nothing but miserable–corny, ridiculous, and even kind of creepy (the super-anesthetized surroundings of the Progressive store suggest some sort of Auto Insurance limbo, where customers are doomed to spend their entire lives searching for the best rates). But thanks to spokesperson/lead singer Flo (nee Stephanie Courtney), the commercials are undeniably transfixing, with the bubbly, clown-makeuped Flo even entertaining a small cult following. Like many, at first, I was convinced that this was due to Flo fitting into some very unusual niche of hottness, but while I’m not entirely willing to drop that theory just yet, I can’t help but shake the feeling that if I saw this person in a bar or something I would feel a deep shiver in my soul (Courtney herself concedes that even the GEICO Gekko is a more sexualized advertising icon). Rather, I think the universal adulation of Flo is due to a far less traditional appeal she has–that of professional exuberance, and the pride of a job well done.

Simply put, no one in the history of mankind–fictional or non-fictional–has ever loved her job as much as Flo loves selling auto insurance. Her unbridled enthusiasm for her work spills out of every frame she’s in, visually accented by the ridiculous makeup, which makes her seem like even more of a cartoon character. Compared to Flo, even Kenneth from 30 Rock is basically Stanley from The Office, busying himself with a crossword puzzle while staring at the clock, wondering if the second hand always moved so slowly. And though supposedly Courtney is a real actress of sorts (Blades of Glory! Mad Men! CAVEMEN!), it seems utterly impossible that Flo would be the product of mere acting. So blissfully ecstatic is Flo in her line of work–getting customers better deals, dishing out discounts, negotiating awkward moments between couples, fantasizing about being able to afford nametags with greater flair–that you never even think to question the logic of anyone giving a shit about selling auto insurance. No one could pull that off with a straight face unless that was legitimately the way they felt about the vending and purchasing of quality Auto Insurance. It’s just not possible.

Naturally, all others in her orbit get caught up in her infectious giddiness–grown men shrieking with giddiness, hardened cynics re-inspired by the glittering glory or the free market. And that’s the power of Flo–she doesn’t get you excited about the idea of buying Auto Insurance necessarily, as much as she gets you excited about the idea of selling it–or getting excited about the idea of getting excited about it. Because that’s the dream, isn’t it? To love your job so passionately that all who touch you can’t help but feel the love as well, regardless of the mundaneness (mundanity?) of the actual profession? I mean, I’ve had some pretty good jobs, but I still suffered through the occasional duldrum in even the best of them, turning in desperation to self-indulgent internet browsing and far too many cups of coffee. Flo laughs at the prospect of needing caffeine to get through her day. Hell, she probably has to take a quaalude halfway through the day so she doesn’t overheat and short-circuit from too much joy. It’s like watching those deliriously happy couples from the E-Harmony commercials–you just see her and think “Why can’t I find a job that makes me feel like that?” (Of course, this all supports the idea of Flo being a largely asexual creation–how could any man in her life ever hope to give her half the satisfaction that Progressive Auto Insurance does?)

And yes, Flo does have her own Wikipedia entry. Take that, Gekko.

Commercial Break: The Tantalizing Enigma of the Snuggie

One of the best things about working nights is that you’re bound to interact with people that, largely speaking, share your nocturnal habits. For me, at least, this mostly extends to the fact that I can discuss the merits of various late-night infomercials with them without getting blank, pitying stares in return. It’s more than a little comforting to know that there are other, seemingly normal and socially functional people out there for whom these ads are a slightly relevant piece of their existence. And I’ve found that among these folks, two late-night-only products are guaranteed to raise eyebrows–the ShamWOW! and the Snuggie.

Now, we’ve spent a great deal of webspace on this blog delving into the psychology and transfixing appeal of the ShamWOW! (a product which I finally actually bought at a K-Mart, and have yet to use, though I am slightly disappointed to find that it is in fact merely a cloth and possesses no evident supernatural abilities). I find the Snuggie ads to be nearly as compelling, but for diametrically opposing reasons. The appeal of the ShamWOW! ad is largely in its sense of newness–not in terms of the graphics or formatting, necessarily, which like all other infomercials have yet to advance past 1986, but in the form of pitchman Vince Offer. Offer’s direct, in-your-face and downright insulting brand of professional shillery is shocking and somewhat provocative, an unexpected blast of late-night kineticism from a medium that packs very few surprises. It taps into a sense of urgency that few, if any, infomercials had ever quite reached before.

Rather than try to reach the rather high bar set by the ShamWOW!, though, the Snuggie went in the complete other direction–making an infomercial as old-fashioned, cheesy and blatantly pandering as would seem humanly possible. There’s the music, a synth-trumpet serenade so airy and light that would probably insult Go West’s credibility. There’s the rhyming bit at the beginning, complete with goofy sound effects. There’s even a four-way split screen segment showing the various uses of the Snuggie. Best of all, there’s an utterly ludicrous montage of suggested situational applications of the snuggie–two of which are in dorm rooms and at sporting events, a pair of locations where absolutely no one in their right mind (except for possibly me) would show up wearing a blanket with sleeves. As if that wasn’t enough, the girl in the “Dorm Room” shot has a 60s-looking poster advertising for “PEACE”–as clueless an approximation of what adorns a college room walls these days as you’d expect from an infomercial brain trust.

Yet, despite–or rather, because of–all this laughable corniness, the Snuggie ad makes for viewing nearly as essential as that of the ShamWOW! In fact, it reminds you of what made the ShamWOW! ad so unusual in the first place–because 99 times out of 100, infomercials are supposed to lull you into a sense of comfort and security, a universe where everything is as it should be and nothing or no one dares to disrupt the equilibrium. And that’s what the Snuggie ad presents–a world of totally un-self-conscious laziness, where one has no possible concerns except that of staying blissfully warm while still having your arms available to grab things. The effect is nothing short of hypnotic, and for the product that the Snuggie commercial is advertising, it’s an absolutely inarguable strategy to be using.

It’s all enough to make you forget that the Snuggie is, actually, a largely worthless product. I see the infomercial and I get so tantalized that I practically have ten digits of the phone number dialed (six if you don’t count the “1-800″) before I remind myself that if you remove the gloriously effective brand name (and indeed, I giggle to myself just thinking about it), the Snuggie is little more than, as the Wikipedia entry used to state bluntly before some wisenheimer toned down the language a little, a bathrobe turned backwards. A friend of mine has even threatened swift and decisive action against me should I ever purchase such a useless and derivative item (apparently the Snuggie is predated by the Slanket by many years within the seeimngly rather lucrative sleeved-blanket market), and will no doubt raise hell once she sees that I have devoted some 800 words of this blog to it.

Say what you will against it, there is no doubt that the Snuggie is catching on with those far out of IITS’s sphere of influence. It’s been handed out at the Today show, Jimmy Fallon and all of the Roots recently wore them on his Late Night show (as well as guest Tracy Morgan), and sure enough, I saw someone at my office with a recently-purchased one on their desk. Regardless of the product’s worth, it’s good to know that an infomercial’d product can still hold this sway over popular culture. All we need now is a third ad–perhaps a happy middle ground between the progressiveness of the ShamWOW! and the reactionism of the Snuggie–to complete the infomercial trinity for this era in late-night television.

Any suggestions?

Commercial Break/OMGWTFLOL: The Freak and His Freaky Doppleganger Ad

Does this commercial seem more like the trailer to an upcoming dystopian sci-fi flick than a spot for a new sports video game to anyone else? Everything about it I find unsettling, from the way Timmy uses “we” at the start of all of his sentences like a 1984 officer (or one of those weirdo twins from The Matrix Reloaded), to the way the CGI Lincecum sings along to the radio, to that odd bit with the showering at the very end (especially strange because both Tim and his doppleganger still look like they’re 14 years old). I do like The Freak, even if he looks like he should be auditioning for the Chris Marquette role in The Girl Next Door 2, and I generally support his jump to the TV commercial format, but this is just a little too out there for my tastes.

Besides, everyone knows that if you absolutely have to make fun of Wang Chung, you use “Everybody Have Fun Tonight.” Calling out a classic like “Dance Hall Days” is just unfair and lazy.

Standing Offer: Don’t You Want More Swiffer Commercials

In the words of Survivor, let me tell you about the commercial I saw last night. Few things (only 69 of them in fact) made me happier last year than the Swiffer commercial series withe the mops hatching romantic and occasionally creepy schemes to get back into the good graces of their one-time owners (set, of course, to the stirring strains of Player’s “Baby Come Back”), who had recently moved on to Swiffer’s loving arms. They were great, no doubt–among the most absurd and gleeful of the whole year, and treats whenever they popped up in a regular commercial rotation. I could have stood to have another dozen of them along similar lines without every getting upset with them phoning it in.

But the Swiffer ad I saw recently just took things to a whole new level. It featured the same basic conceit of a mop trying to wen back the owner who had spurned it–although now the rejected product is a broom instead–but not content to merely pop out of vegetable racks in grocery stores and peer out from behind trees, Broom has taken to the airwaves. As poor unsuspecting Mary listens to her favorite 80s radio station, the DJ begins his voice break:

“Now a song for Mary…”

Mary smiles, delighted someone out there someone cares enough to dedicate a song to her.

“…from a Mister…BROOM!”

Mary’s facial expression quickly drops to an unimpressed, “heard that one before” glance, as the Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me”–clearly the logical desperate progression from the now insufficient “Baby Come Back”–blares over the radio. Meanwhile, the back in the studio, the DJ (sporting a Flock of Seagulls haircut, of course) does a little breakdance move and points to his guest in the chair next to him–the very broom that Mary had recently discarded. Mary rolls her eyes and continues to go about her day’s business. The 80s DJ and Mr. Broom continue to get funky in the studio.

Now, why am I merely giving you the play-by-play of this wondrous little short, rather than merely posting it up top for all to bask in its glory? The answer is simple–I can find it nowhere on the internet. Admittedly, my tools are limited, but if it’s to be found on Google or YouTube, I’ve exhausted all my search options. In this day and age, for anything to be unavailable on the Internet–let alone a soon-to-be smash hit commercial–is quite unacceptable, and moreover, it’s rather unlikely. No doubt one among you out there in the ether could locate this commercial in a matter of seconds, whereas our brilliance here at IITS tends not to extend to the practical area of problem solving.

Thus, I am offering a $10 bounty for the first person who can provide me a satisfactory link to a clip of this video–or an upload of the clip itself, if you are so able and inclined. Not much, sure, but not bad for what could potentially be less than sixty seconds worth of effort all told (and if more, will at least keep your mind active on what is probably a slow work day). In these trying economic times, can you really afford to be cavalier about freebies such as this? Don’t delay too long, though–as soon as I see it inevitably pop up on YouTube, the offer will be closed.

Commercial Break: EAT THE HEAD

I thought maybe, maybe I could escape without writing a blog entry about this commercial–alas, it’s now so far under my skin that I have no way to exorcise it besides using this forum. I’ve long been obsessed with the Wade-Barkley MyFive series, which at their peak reached a scintillating, Mulder and Scully-like will-they-or-won’t they tension, but with those seeming to have run their course, it’s unsurprising that they looked for further support. What Yao Ming did to earn his place in this triad is unclear, but his good-guy charms, cultural displacement and awkward chemistry make him something of a natural fit for the gang. Now I am left with an even greater series of puzzles to unravel:

• OK, so we all know that this commercial is racist. But against who? Black people for being culturally ignorant? Chinese people for being barbaric, xenophobic assholes?  White people for watching it at home? All of the above? It’s just about impossible to say for certain.
• Are there Chinese restaurants that really serve live shrimp? OK, so maybe not, and probably we’re just supposed to believe that this is a prank meant to humiliate Chuck and D-Wade. But still–it looks like this is a pretty fancy restaurant. Wouldn’t its customers be a little upset to see a bowl full of live shrimp freaking out a table of celebrities? How much business are they costing themselves with this little piece of fun?
• Why is Yao in an airport for his parts? It may seem like an insignificant detail–a world-traveler and professional athlete like Yao might very well be in an airport for much of his life. But think about how annoying it is just to check into an airport–now picture getting an entire camera crew, makeup people, personal assistants, everyone in there (plus equipment) for an important commercial shoot. They probably had to shut down an entire wing of DFW for one day just for these, like, three seconds of footage. Couldn’t he just have been chilling at home or something?
• Yao asks for Chuck to put the waitress on the phone, then tells her to tell them to eat the head. Fair enough–further their subterfuge and get the two All-Stars even more wigged out. Then why does the waitress say “Yao says eat the head”? Shouldn’t the waitress act like the directive is coming from her? Otherwise, Yao could’ve just as easily told them himself, and saved T-Mobile valuable seconds of ad space. Also, does she have to sound so nervously excited about the whole thing?
• Yao’s “EAT! THE! HEAD!” commands over Chuck’s T-Mobile phone should be the commercial punchline–and in a way I guess they are–but why is his enunciation so flat? Likely, it’s supposed to be a “USE! HIS! LEG!”-type chant of social pressure, but Yao makes it sound like “EAT…the-head!” It sounds more like he’s trying to use his powers of Chinese mysticism to hypnotize them into doing his bidding, rather than exhorting them into spontaneous action.

I can’t help wondering who’s going to be the next NBA star to be thrown into the pot here. Can we get Dirk Nowitzki to get the guys to attempt the boot at a beerfest or something? Take mushrooms with Steve Nash at a Rush concert? Get in a bullfighting ring with Pau Gasol? Hopefully T-Mobile just keeps adding and adding, making an ever richer broth to warm my heart while I’m watching TNT on cold Thursday nights.