June 7, 2009
Television: The Emmys
Commercials You Can’t Zap
By ALESSANDRA STANLEY
THERE is an Emmy award for development, productization and commercialization of interactive video-on-demand (VOD) two-way infrastructure and signaling. (Last year the winner was ... Time Warner Cable.) So it seems odd, even negligent, of the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences not to recognize outstanding achievement in product placement.
(Your sponsor name here.)
The academy may wish to preserve a distinction, however blurry, between creative content and sponsorship, but that principle melted long ago. Television programming and advertising copy can hardly be considered enemies anymore. They are more like the Sabines and the Romans after the eighth century B.C. — deeply intertwined and mutually accommodating.
But some shows place advertisers’ products better than others, and it seems only natural that the television industry should pay homage to the more artful practitioners.
Subway, a sponsor of NBC’s “Chuck,” a spy spoof set largely in a mall, is unlikely to win any prizes for subliminal hints. It recently had Morgan, Chuck’s geeky sidekick and co-worker at the Buy More, offer his crabby boss Big Mike a “chicken teriyaki foot-long” sandwich, well wrapped in Subway logos. “Ah, the taste of the Orient and Burbank,” Big Mike says dreamily. To the show’s credit, the plug sends a mixed message: Big Mike is corpulent, an ambiguous spokesman for Subway, a company that positions itself as fast food for the weight-conscious.
Fans of the show might consider giving Subway a public service award: its sponsorship dollars are a major reason NBC didn’t cancel the show. Despite mediocre ratings, there will be at least 13 more episodes. The show’s viewership, while small, is apparently a good fit for the product.
This kind of synergy is quite retro, a revival of the corporate patronage that shaped the early days of television. “General Electric Theater” brought momentous things to light, including the conservative appeal of its host, Ronald Reagan; “Texaco Star Theater” featured a chorus line of gas-station attendants singing the company jingle to introduce its host, Milton Berle. Nowadays, of course, the dancing servicemen would more likely be worked into the show, filling up the tank of Molly’s new Mercedes on “The Unit.”
Product placement will only grow, as audiences continue to zap through the 30-second commercials that have sustained the TV industry for half a century or more. It is already so ubiquitous and varied that there probably should be several categories. NBC’s “30 Rock” would certainly win for best comic sendup of product placement. The show forged the technique of biting the ad that feeds it: in the first season the writers wove in jokes about having to do product placements for Snapple into its show within a show while doing product placement for Snapple on the show.
This season “30 Rock” went even further, breaking the fourth wall to address sponsors directly. In one scene the network honcho Jack Donaghy extols the many virtues of his Verizon wireless service. Liz Lemon brightly replies, “Well sure, that Verizon wireless service is just unbeatable.” Liz turns to the camera and says, more sourly, “Can we have our money now?”
Dramas like “24” on Fox cannot afford comical asides, so there should be an award for best dramatic integration of a product. “24” could qualify in the category of most dramatic dramatic integration. On the season finale it wasn’t Jack Bauer’s presence of mind that restored justice to the world. It was Cisco Systems’ three-way video conference that empowered the attorney general — and other justice officials — to question the acting chief of staff about her role in the murder of the traitor Jonas Hodges. And it was all on a secure network that could not be hacked by fiendish enemies of the state
Judges should keep in mind that sometimes a product is just a product, and that brand names are invoked as much for authenticity as salesmanship. Ours is a label-conscious culture, and not just with class signifiers like Veuve Clicquot or Mountain Dew. Americans ask for a Kleenex as readily as a tissue, a Coke as often as a soft drink. For many women Spanx has become the preferred short hand term for thigh-crushing, gut-flattening foundation garments. And many contemporary novelists use brand names to identify and place fictional characters: Bret Easton Ellis built a literary career on labels like Charivari and Concord quartz watches.
The Vitamin Water White Party that began this season of “Gossip Girl” on the CW network was a twofer, a plug for Vitamin Water that doubled as a satire of designer-obsessed Hamptons society.
Some viewers questioned the way the 13th season of “The Bachelor” on ABC worked the Goodyear Blimp into the action. Jason took Melissa for a swoony sunset blimp ride that looked mostly like a romantic ad for the tire manufacturer. Maybe, but then again, there aren’t many other names associated with a blimp except perhaps Hindenburg. (Jason and his bachelorettes’ visit to the set of ABC’s ailing daytime soap “General Hospital,” was a far more flagrant example of cross-promotion, the television equivalent of a blood transfusion.)
Reality competitions like “American Idol” have an easier time working products onto the show, even if it just means having the judges drink from Coca-Cola cups. A feel-good, tear-jerking series like “The Biggest Loser” on NBC doesn’t kid around: Jillian, tells her portly pupils to stay hydrated — and use a Brita water filter and pitcher. “The Amazing Race” on CBS is a self-serious competition with appropriate tie-ins like Travelocity. CBS’s extreme camping show, “Survivor,” can afford to be more playful. The sunburned, scrawny winners of a recent challenge in Tocantins, in the Brazilian highlands, were rewarded with a trip to the “Charmin Café.” That consisted of generic coffee, juice and a working toilet well stocked with Charmin toilet paper. The camera panned to linger lovingly on a stack of rolls.
The next big thing is likely to be TV in Context. This initiative, from Turner Entertainment Networks, connects scenes from series or movies with regular commercials, as General Motors did when it bought a spot on TNT during a break in “The Bourne Supremacy.” Right after a high-speed crash-filled car chase, an ad for OnStar, a service sold in G.M. cars, asked, “Are you counting on your cellphone to be your lifeline in a crash?”
Not all tie-ins are as smooth. On “My Boys,” on TBS, Mike and Kenny, who run a sports memorabilia shop, go to a bar after work and start arguing about business. When a friends asks why they can’t settle their argument at work, Kenny explains they have no time to talk because Mike spends all day singing the jingles stuck in his head. Mike immediately begins intoning, “Nationwide is on your side.” The show cuts to a commercial, and it is for Nationwide insurance.
A rockier plug — an all-time favorite, preserved on the Web site bestweekever.tv — is a snatch of dialogue on a recent episode of the ABC daytime soap “All My Children.”
On it the gallant, white-haired Adam Chandler is advising a young mother. “What I would like you to do is make a list of your favorite dishes and give it to Lucretia,” Adam says in the gingerly tones of a man walking barefoot on gravel. “Because Colby, he, uh, well, Colby convinced her to make all of my dishes with Prego Heart” — beat — “Smart” — beat — “sauces.” He pauses, and adds faintly, “That should be nutritious for you and the baby.”
Perhaps there should also be an award for out-of-context product placement.
