Proctor & Gamble's Best Job

Television commercials have come along way from this.  For today's sophisticated television viewing audience the pitchman standing statically next to a photo of the product while extolling its virtues just isn't going to get the job done.  Many, if not most, TV spots these days are mini-narratives, telling the story of how great your life will be when your teeth are the whitest of whites.  Frankly, this has been the case for decades, as any self-respecting Mad Men aficionado (like yours truly) could tell you.  Who could forget Glo-Coat?  And if you have forgotten Glo-Coat you are obviously not a Mad Men aficionado.

Showing the product and what it can do has long ago gone by the wayside, and the goal became for the consumer to make an emotional connection with the item in question.  To have the ad harken back to some childhood memory or show how the product will connect you with those you care about.  Who knew a disinfectant spray could do so much?

It's a big charade, really, tricking us into believing we have some connection to such-and-such a product because of some heartwarming or humorous vignette that flashes across our TV screens.  That's one of the things I love about Mad Men.  While a fictional depiction of the process in a bygone era, we still get a little peak at how the sausage is being made.  Not always pretty, but very compelling.  Though the general public, that's you and me, are the proverbial sheep being lead to slaughter, and I should hate that I'm being manipulated for corporate profit, I have to admire the work.  It's not easy to get folks emotionally invested in something that only lasts for half a minute.  But I'm not ashamed to say there have been television commercials that have made me feel something--other than irritation that is.  A couple of my fave's over the years, this Nike ad featuring Steven Jackson, Shawn Merriman, and The Last of the Mohican's soundtrack; the old Wells Fargo Christmas commercial from the '80's where the Christmas tree is delivered to the old west down on the stage.  That one is my White Whale.  Apparently it's the only video from the '80's not available on the Interwebs somewhere, as I've searched high and low for years with no success.

Ok, so what am I actually reviewing here.  This commercial from Proctor & Gamble, maker of detergents and diapers (among other things):

If that didn't leave you with a golf ball sized lump in your throat or at least give you a goosebump or two, you're either the World's Grumpiest Cynic or you should probably call an ambulance because you might actually be dead.  So, I guess even an ambulance wouldn't do you much good.  I'll send a hearse.

Ok, having said that, I have to admit that while I was unquestionably moved to tears (nearly) by this spot, in the back of my mind I was aware of a kind of uneasiness with being emotionally manipulated by the wizards of corporate promotion.  That's something I don't recall every really feeling before, at least not as overtly.  I wasn't angered by it, just a little uncomfortable.  Maybe it's a sign of our times, with a sputtering economy and a corporate scandal making headlines seemingly every week.  I'm not aware of any such incidents involving P&G and hold no specific ill-will against them, but there is such a distrust of corporations in the air these days that it seeps into the consciousness without you even really knowing.

On top of that, I couldn't help but be reminded of the doping scandals that accompany every athletic endeavor these days.  I'm sure this upcoming Olympics will be no different.

These two realizations make me sad.  I go out of my way not to be overly cynical.  I don't consider myself naive.  I know what goes on in the big scary world, behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes of the people it affects.  But I can't, or won't, spend may days letting it bring me down and souring me on all the positives there are to focus on.

Which is why, despite those twinges of unease in the back of my brain, I fully embrace the power and truth of this television commercial.  It hits on all the right notes that were true in my own young athletic career.  Hardly a protege' by any stretch of the imagination, I was involved in one or more sports from the age of five and every step of the way, my mom was there.  From taking over as the coach of my little league team in the 3rd grade, to driving me and my teammates to all remote corners of Northern California for games, to washing my grass stained, sweaty uniforms.  Now with kids of my own, I was thinking of my own wife, and how one day she'll take on that role.  As far as the actual products being shilled, they are so subtly placed, that it wasn't until after several repeated viewings that I started to notice them.  And actually, most of the time rather showing the actual product, all you see is the result of its use:  a sink of sudsy dishes, clean clothes on the line, etc.  Pretty clever...and maybe insidious.  I don't know.

So, congratulations to the Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce of Proctor & Gamble.  You struck the chord and manipulated me into feeling something after a mere two minutes and two seconds of what is essentially a laundry detergent commercial.  I hate you and love you for it, all at the same time.  But don't expect me to switch to Tide.

A Mighty Wind

Bloggers note:  this review first appeared on my personal blog, Life of Ando in 2007.  I liked it so much I thought it deserved a new audience.


I love mockumentaries and nobody does them better than Christopher Guest. I loved Spinal Tap and Best in Show was great. The characters are always so earnest in their absurdity and the actors playing them, always the same troupe, are pitch perfect, whether they’re a metal band, dog show contestants and judges or in the case of A Mighty Wind, 1960′s era folk singers. Satire is great fun.

In this case the skewerees are three folk music groups preparing for a reunion concert in honor of the recently departed folk band leader and promoter, Irving Steinbloom. There are the oh-so-sticky-sweet and obnoxiously perky ”neuftet” (which apparently means group of nine) the New Mainstreet Singers, with their sweater-vests and cheesy grins. The New Mainstreet Singers are a resuscitation of the original Mainstreet Singers who had there heyday in the decade between 1960 and 1970, in which they cranked out thirty albums worth of toe-tapping, sing-a-long, saccriny goodness. The new constitution of the singers consists of one original member and eight others, most who are way to young to even know what folk music is. They are lead by a husband and wife team of perma-grins (Jane Lynch and John Michael Higgins) who belong to a religious sect known as W.I.N.C., Witches In Natures Color, which they described thusly:

That last line slayed me.

Then there are The Folksmen, which reunites the old Spinal Tap trio of Harry Shearer, Michael McKean, and Christopher Guest, only this time as a Kingston Trio-esque threesome. They are hilarious (obviously). The scene of their reunion BBQ is a comedic inspiration.  Here's just a taste:

The brilliance of the script and the acting is they perfectly capture these corny little moments we’ve all seen on various documentaries or even in our own lives. The silly little greeting phrases and awkward hugs. Most of my favorite scenes involved these three discussing something about their act, such as what outfits they would wear (“To do then now would be retro. To do then then was very now-tro, if you will.”). Their big hit back in the day was a little ditty about a roadside diner called Joe’s. Great song.

The final group are sweetheart tandem Mitch (Eugene Levy) and Mickey (Catherine O’hara). They were the Sonny and Cher of their time, scoring a smash hit with the touching tune, Kiss at the End of the Rainbow. They were more than just onstage lovebirds, until a terrible breakup sent them on their separate ways, Mickey to marriage with the president of a bladder control industry president (the company is called Sure Flo, named after his mother Florence), and Mitch to a crippling depression leaving him a stuttering shell of his former self. Side splittingly played of course. These two actors are so good together. Their comedic timing is impeccable and they have a realish chemistry that compels you to like their characters. They’re so good in fact that you almost think Mitch and Mickey were an actual couple.

A Mighty Wind is not as biting as previous Christopher Guest movies. Part of that is that most of the characters are has-beens and they know it, so they have that underdog vibe going for them. There are exceptions of course. Fred Williard plays an irritatingly hilarious talent agent who had his fifteen minutes in front of the camera years ago and still laughs at his own tired jokes.  The movie may be softer-hearted than Guest's previous, but it hasn’t lost any of the funny.

All the songs were written by Guest and friends and are at once excellent and insufferable. They capture the sound and spirit of folk from that era perfectly. Or at least I think they do, judging by the Time-Life Treasury of Folk infomercials I’ve watched over the years.  Actually, though grunge and hip-hop were the musical stylings of choice in my youth, my car radio was more often than not tuned to the oldies station.  So, I've got a pretty discerning ear when it comes to music of the folk era and just about every song from A Mighty Wind could be slipped into the rotation and no one would probably notice they sound so authentic.

My only complaint would be that there is a moment near the end when it departs a little too much from the mockumentary storytelling and suddenly seems like a more conventional narrative.  It's a brief departure, but it doesn't jibe with the style of the rest of the movie and is sort of a cop out to get the emotional payoff they were looking for.  It's a minor complaint though, and certainly forgivable.

One of the coolest things on the DVD is in the special features they have clips of the all the groups playing as if they were on a 1960′s variety show like Ed Sullivan or American Bandstand, complete with lip syncs. Also, they added the final concert from the movie, as if you were watching it on PBS. They shot it with TV camera’s and with a real audience. I don’t know if they shot this simultaneously as the movie footage or if they did the concert twice. Either way, it was a clever idea.

Great performances, great--in its way--music, and one of my favorite comedies.

Caine's Arcade

This is something I literally just watched, thanks to my friend Peter Brown, proprietor of the wildly popular Kludge Spot blog (doing it's part to "keep the internet weird"), who posted it on Facebook.

Caine is a 9-year old boy who's father George own's an East LA auto parts store.  Caine is a cute kid with an ever present smile that betrays a set of delightfully crooked teeth.  He looks like the kind of kid you'd want your kid to be friends with.  During the summer Caine would go with George to work and to kill time started constructing his own arcade out of cardboard boxes and other odds and ends found around the shop.  The games are surprisingly sofisticated, complete with semi-automatic ticket dispensing and even an ingenious security system to verify the validity of the Fun Passes Caine sells (500 plays for $2!).

Caine's first customer was filmmaker Nirvan Mullick, who was so impressed by Caine's handiwork he asked George's permission to make a short film about it.  The film has a humble run time of 10 minutes and 58 seconds, and it is a pure joy to watch.  I love stuff like this and they always make a me a little jealous.  Not jealous to have my own cardboard arcade, but jealous of the filmmakers for taking these little personal stories of seemingly no real consequence, and turning them into moving and uplifting narratives.  The filmmakers shouldn't get all the credit of course, people are actually living these lives, but it takes someone to realize this is something people should be aware of.

Like I said, it's only about 11 minutes long so take the time to check it out right now!  It'll make your day better, I promise.

Also, check out the website.