It's a slow news day and I am feeling a bit curmudgeonly, so indulge me a bit while I rant about something that has absolutely no ill effect on my general wellbeing. It's the (relatively) new TV ad for Sandals. You know it as the reasonably-priced resort that even most of us still-employed middle-class worker bees can't afford any more. The copy itself isn't that bad. Okay, it is pretty schmaltzy, and obviously meant to trigger our "even in these tough economic times," emotional switch, but it's still not the worst part. It goes something like this:
"What could be more important than the ones we love? The ones who love us? So, if you're asking yourself if it's time to get away..." yadda yadda yadda...
Nope, the script isn't the offensive part. What has the bile half-rising in my throat is the voice talent they hired. The images are of a flawless, way-under-40 couple, nuzzling romantically as the ocean breeze blows their perfect hair and gauzy beach wraps in slo-mo.
Cue the voiceover: It's a smug-sounding twenty-something with a crackling, smartass voice that conjures up mental images of Eddie Haskell trying to sound earnest, and fighting the urge to dissolve in laughter at the copy he's recording. Listen closely. At any moment, you'll expect him to cover the mike and tell his producer, "You kiddin' me? Nobody goes to this place to rekindle a spark. They go there to rub suntan lotion on strangers and lay, blissfully blitzed, on the beach for a week." It's the voice of the fraternity pledgemaster who stole your never-mailed, drunkenly composed love letter to the girl who just dumped you, then read it aloud to the entire brotherhood during hell week. Maybe you still wake up in a cold sweat occasionally, having dreamt this guy (or his son) is your new boss. James Spader launched his career playing this character back in the '80s. You get the idea.
What I want to know is, which ad agency is responsible for this, and did they do any market research at all before settling on this particular voice talent? Granted, nobody wants Wilford Brimley doing a voiceover that's supposed to be both family-friendly and sexy, but neither do we want to envision our neighbor's teenager spying over the backyard fence as we cuddle in the hammock with our spouse.
Sandals, if you really want this ad to work, tell your agency to hire a grownup to re-do the voice bit. One that makes women think of a straight Marlboro Man, all weather-beaten and macho, holding a glass of good Scotch. And while you're at it, get a real couple, with just a few battle scars, too, for the visual. One that you can picture having a passle of rebellious kids at home, and having to choose between a week at Sandals, or replacing the roof.
Bet your sales go waaaay up.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Farewell to Michael Jackson
Michael, we hardly knew ye. The only facet of your complex personality you wanted us to know, the brilliant showman, conflicted with the other side we glimpsed occasionally -- the vulnerable but self-deluding, self-destructive man. Like many of your longtime fans, I held mixed feelings about you, especially when you seemed to court the attention of the same tabloid press that was often unfair to you.
It wasn't that you were strange, although you often seemed to intentionally bolster that perception. You posed for photographs sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber. You gave naive, careless answers to interview questions. Twice, you dashed out of the hospital with a newborn child -- seemingly more concerned with your privacy than their safety. Some of us perceived this kind of behavior as your rebellious answer (and a sometimes genius-like manipulation of) the press. After all, it did serve to get you talked up when your fan base was less than awestruck with your musical offerings.
It wasn't even that you continually changed your appearance. Other celebrities (and we lesser mortals) do that all the time, often without the valid reasons you had -- a devastating skin condition and a history of emotionally crippling criticism from an abusive father.
For me, the mixed feelings stem from your refusal to avoid even the appearance of wrongdoing, and your refusal to take care of yourself physically. Against the advice of family and friends who truly loved you, you continued to risk the loss of your livelihood, your freedom, and even your children. We knew of your philanthropic efforts -- of your genuine love for children and the rest of humanity. I, for one, don't believe you ever crossed the boundaries of propriety with any child, but why did you give anyone reason to doubt your motives? Why would'nt you keep the visits of sick children to Neverland Ranch completely above-board? You managed to avoid prison, but left yourself forever stained by the worst kind of accusations. As an entertainer, you must've been aware that perception almost always trumps the truth. So now, even the most loyal of your fans outwardly mourn the loss of your immense talent while inwardly questioning your judgment. Even the best of lawyers would struggle to defend you against the bizarre behavior we witnessed: You in Las Vegas, squandering your fortune on a spending spree, dangling your infant son out of a hotel window, taking your children to a public zoo yourself, knowing they'd be mobbed by the paparazzi.
The rotten childhood you survived always shadowed the entertainment genius that emerged, but we've now seen images of the loving, patient father you became in spite of it. Why couldn't you let us see this authentic side of you while you were alive? Like millions of others, I was riveted by the brief but heartrending tribute spoken by your daughter at your memorial service. You gave us so much, but your warped perceptions made you all too vulnerable to the minions willing to give you anything you asked for, even if it meant the destruction of your health. It's tragic that you were unable to give your children the gift of a healthy father. We all know they would've preferred that to the inheritance they'll receive now.
It wasn't that you were strange, although you often seemed to intentionally bolster that perception. You posed for photographs sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber. You gave naive, careless answers to interview questions. Twice, you dashed out of the hospital with a newborn child -- seemingly more concerned with your privacy than their safety. Some of us perceived this kind of behavior as your rebellious answer (and a sometimes genius-like manipulation of) the press. After all, it did serve to get you talked up when your fan base was less than awestruck with your musical offerings.
It wasn't even that you continually changed your appearance. Other celebrities (and we lesser mortals) do that all the time, often without the valid reasons you had -- a devastating skin condition and a history of emotionally crippling criticism from an abusive father.
For me, the mixed feelings stem from your refusal to avoid even the appearance of wrongdoing, and your refusal to take care of yourself physically. Against the advice of family and friends who truly loved you, you continued to risk the loss of your livelihood, your freedom, and even your children. We knew of your philanthropic efforts -- of your genuine love for children and the rest of humanity. I, for one, don't believe you ever crossed the boundaries of propriety with any child, but why did you give anyone reason to doubt your motives? Why would'nt you keep the visits of sick children to Neverland Ranch completely above-board? You managed to avoid prison, but left yourself forever stained by the worst kind of accusations. As an entertainer, you must've been aware that perception almost always trumps the truth. So now, even the most loyal of your fans outwardly mourn the loss of your immense talent while inwardly questioning your judgment. Even the best of lawyers would struggle to defend you against the bizarre behavior we witnessed: You in Las Vegas, squandering your fortune on a spending spree, dangling your infant son out of a hotel window, taking your children to a public zoo yourself, knowing they'd be mobbed by the paparazzi.
The rotten childhood you survived always shadowed the entertainment genius that emerged, but we've now seen images of the loving, patient father you became in spite of it. Why couldn't you let us see this authentic side of you while you were alive? Like millions of others, I was riveted by the brief but heartrending tribute spoken by your daughter at your memorial service. You gave us so much, but your warped perceptions made you all too vulnerable to the minions willing to give you anything you asked for, even if it meant the destruction of your health. It's tragic that you were unable to give your children the gift of a healthy father. We all know they would've preferred that to the inheritance they'll receive now.
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