Since cutting off my cable I’ve managed to avoid 99% of the crap advertising I used to be subject to. Now I just have to soak up the subliminal messages of subway ads, internet sidebars, and of course the ever-more-stupid junk that prefaces the movie previews at the theater. You would think this respite would make me a serene fellow but in a mere few minutes at the mercy of the latest car commercial on a 50 foot screen and I’m cringing in my seat like a whipped dog. One needs to bathe in this stuff every day to stay immune, apparently. But on the other hand, I feel it may lend me an outsider’s perspective those who regularly imbibe the commercial breaks of TV may lack. So for your edification, amusement or annoyance, I present you with the notes I took over the weekend before a screening of WHO’S YOUR CADDY.
Here’s what Americans are attracted to, based on the ads before the movie:
1. HDTV: The main selling point for HD TV seems to be that the flames from fireball explosions are more vividly rendered (see photo above). They can’t say “Stuff blows up prettier!” so they just show lots of explosions for their ads. If that’s reason enough to upgrade, then the war in Iraq suddenly makes sense.
2. Grilled burgers: Americans spend a good deal of time at theaters mulling over the value of “A hamburger that sits around in a warming tray” vs. straight off the grill.
3. Cars: The American public waits for each new car to be released to the market with the breathless trepidation of kids on Christmas eve. The unveiling of each new car is afforded a sanctity once reserved for the christening of royal offspring crossed with the uncouth aggression of a strong-arm extortionist.
4. The Discovery Channel: it’s so big now apparently that it owns the movies and the seat in which you sit. I love nature stuff, but the whole idea of going to the movies to learn about what’s on TV that will show you what you’re missing by not going outside to play seems beyond insipid. Everything is so tied-in with every other thing that there’s no time for things to be things, they’re too busy tying.
WHO’S YOUR CADDY was, of course, lame. Still, I couldn’t help but admire the over-the-wall gusto of Faizon Love as one of C-Note’s thug posse. He alone seemed to have an inkling of where laughs could be found in this vast expanse of wasteland, and man did he shovel for them. Alas, everyone else just sort of stood there.
