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100 Best TV Commercials: And Why They Worked - Hardcover

Kanner, Bernice

 
9780812929959: 100 Best TV Commercials: And Why They Worked

Inhaltsangabe

A popular columnist takes a close-up look at the creation of classic TV ads and shows what has made them so effective, presenting an updated list of the one hundred best ads, along with product photos, stills, storyboards, and tips on how we communicate today. 20,000 first printing.

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Bernice Kanner has been a marketing correspondent for CBS News, a marketing commentator for Bloomberg News and a columnist for Working Woman magazine.

Bernice Kanner wrote the "On Madison Avenue" column for New York magazine for thirteen years. Her first-person adventures as a cabdriver, traffic cop, Tiffany's temp, Wendy's counterman, and census taker are among the magazine's most celebrated pieces. She has been a marketing correspondent for CBS News, a marketing commentator for Bloomberg News (print, radio, and television), and a columnist for Working Woman magazine. Her previous books include Are You Normal?, Lies My Parents Told Me, and three children's books endorsed by the National Center for Family Literacy. She lives in New York City and Bridgewater, Connecticut, with her husband, son, and daughter and a menagerie of animals.

Aus dem Klappentext

out commercials?<br><br>All of us, that's who. The television commercial has become a part of the American narrative, as important a signifier of our times as a great work of literature or<br>a blockbuster motion picture. Indeed, we often care more about the commercials than we do about the programming itself (ask any Super Bowl aficionado). The ad is art . . . and some of the art is brilliant.<br> The hundred commercials in this book are brilliant. They were selected by a team of experts at the Leo Burnett Company, creators of Tony the Tiger and the Maytag Repairman, in collaboration with dozens of advertising pros from around the globe and throughout the industry. Their choices represent the very best that the advertising world has to offer. Together, they portray a half century of human hopes, wishes, and dreams.<br> Bernice Kanner, whose "On Madison Avenue" column in New York maga

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

In May 1989, in the pale pink conference room at Saatchi & Saatchi's New York headquarters, I was a guinea pig in a psychological probe. While research types sprawled in swivel chairs behind a two-way mirror, a clinical psychologist quizzed me about how I felt when my hair looked great -- and when it didn't. At his suggestion, I conjured up hair-care fairy tales and cast parts like genie, savior, and Tinkerbell (sprinkling handfuls of gold dust) in a dream-play about shampoo and conditioner. In the course of this inquiry, my interlocutor scuttled down path after mental path to learn not just how I felt when my hair looked great and when it didn't, but about any vestigial feelings I had about those locks.

I did not feel repelled by this cultural anthropologist, as he later identified his profession, nor by the advertising for Helene Curtis shampoo that later incorporated his findings. But I've little doubt that Vance Packard (and those he influenced) would have been outraged. In his 1957 bestseller, "Hidden Persuaders," Packard compared this kind of motivational research to witchcraft that exploited consumers' frailties and fears, manipulated their minds, and demonically created a hunger for new products without regard to people's real needs and desires.

Rather than seeing commercials or the research that shapes them as insidious, I confess, I see them as artful -- a no-bones-about-it reflection of our times. And I see myself as an advertising anthropologist. I've never watched an episode of ER or Seinfeld all the way through, but I could probably describe all the ads that ran on them. My addiction is not that of an ad-world insider, nor that of a layman looking for laughs between program segments. Instead, I watch because I am mesmerized by the advertising's innards, the veins and sinew that give the work strength and body. How did that ad reach out and touch me? How did it  get me to buy?

I wasn't always eager to dissect advertising. When I began writing about the industry, first at Advertising Age and then the "On Madison Avenue" column at New York Magazine, it was a good job, but it blossomed into a passion, partly fueled by the enormous impact the industry I followed had on our culture. Nick at Nite has scored with its advertising favorites from old. People watch the Super Bowl as much for the ads as for the action. And, recognizing that the advertising is often every bit as vital as the programming, in 1998 the Emmys bestowed their first award on a prime time TV commercial.

The conundrum has always been whether advertising leads popular culture or reflects it. To my mind, however, the point is moot, like the chicken and the egg. Whichever comes first, the next follows so quickly and so inexorably that the two are incomprehensibly intertwined in an eternal pas de deux. More than movies or TV programming, advertising holds a mirror up to show us who and what we are -- or long to be. The language of advertising becomes our vernacular; their dress, our wardrobes, their mores, our customs, (albeit sometimes exaggerated).

So when representatives from Random House's Times Books and Leo Burnett asked me to chronicle the evolution and impact of this mother of all advertising reels, I considered it Christmas come early. Here was an opportunity to do vocationally what I'd been doing avocationally for years, and with a greatly expanded base -- the world, from the earliest days of TV to now. That this assortment was selected from the industry-wide Great Commercials Library and winnowed down by creative directors practically guarantee what I'd be slurping was cream.

Much of this cream I'd never seen before, and probably most Americans won't have either. Only forty-two winners on the list were made in the USA. (Dozens more made the semi-finals. I couldn't let some slip by unacknowledged, so I've tipped my hat to them in the final chapter.) The second largest group (twenty-eight) came from the U.K., followed by France (eight); Japan and Spain (each with four); Norway and the Netherlands (each with three); Sweden and Brazil (each with two), and one each from Singapore, New Zealand, Switzerland, and Germany. So this was for me both a walk down memory lane and an introduction to a whole new world of advertising.

Rather than serving them up chronologically, the ads are categorized by technique, proof positive there are many ways to tell a story and coax a smile. Legendary adman David Ogilvy once listed ten kinds advertising approaches that are uncommonly good in changing people's brand preference. Donald Gunn, now head of the International Advertising Festival, who as senior vice president and worldwide creative director of creative resources at the Leo Burnett Company in London was the architect of the list, came up with his own more contemporary categorizations.

This list honors aesthetics more than effectiveness in moving product, but this was no conventional beauty contest. Gunn said these ads expand our mind and deflate our ego and maybe change the way we think about advertising. They took a strong selling proposition and did more than just communicate it. They translated it, enhanced it, served it to customers in a fresh, engaging, surprising, and unusually persuasive way. They moved us. These commercials have been admired and envied as breakthroughs, not just in their category but in all advertising, worldwide. In short, they've commandeered a place in our psyche. And they've done it by being both artful and artistic.

Indeed, the ads contained in this book may be to coming centuries what Giotto's paintings were to the Renaissance, the glimmering of a bold new way of expression. For most of my life, I shrank from the prospect of selling. It was seemed debasing. Two decades of writing about advertising -- and of living life in the modern world -- has convinced me otherwise. Life today is about selling: selling products, selling ideas, selling ourselves. Selling is the language of our time and advertising is its boldest manifestation. Like it or not, it is a pure expression of the world we live in today.

If Michelangelo were alive today, he'd probably be working on Madison Avenue.

Bernice Kanner

March, 1999

Cokes' tear-jerker is a touchdown in cynical times
Coca-Cola, "Mean Joe Greene," McCann Erickson, USA, 1979

Just as Marlboro owned macho cowboys, Coca-Cola thought it could own "the world of smiling Americans," said Bill Van Loan, then vice president of marketing operations at the soft drink giant. Unlike Pepsi advertising, which invited people "to join some mythical group, Coke spots featured product as hero, causing the smile," he said.

America ranked "Mean Joe" as the most popular commercial of its time, just as it had "I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing" years earlier. Van Loan said the seemingly realistic, honest exchange between two people was saved from being melodramatic or overly sentimental because it didn't over promise. The advertising recognized that Coke is only a soft drink -- the pause that refreshes. It won't change the world or heal Mean Joe's injury, but it can -- and did -- restore his spirit and smile. And the transition from "Mean Joe" to "Nice Joe" also brought a smile to potential consumers. (The client originally wanted Dallas Cowboy quarterback Roger Staubach; Roger Mosconi, who art directed the spot, insisted on Greene as more dramatic and emotional.)

Director Lee Lacy shot "Mean Joe" at a high school in New Rochelle, New York, rather than a pro stadium, to emphasize Greene's 260-pound muscularity. The shoot took three days because the boy, ten-year-old Tommy Oken, was so awed by Greene that he kept missing his lines. On the last day, Greene had to gulp eighteen 16-ounce Cokes.

Penny Hawkey,...

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