Rene Eller takes commercials seriously. "Some of the images that have been created in commercials can compete easily with the best art in the world," says the Dutch-born director. "I want to make something that sinks in a little bit deeper."
Eller believes that commercials, like people, should have their own unique, individual personalities. "When you walk down the street, or sit in a bar or café, the people that stand out are the people that have a range of things to offer," he says. "They’re not one-dimensional. They have depth. They’re original. The same holds true for commercials."
He cites a documentary that he saw recently, on horror films. It explained the notion that what the audience doesn’t see is what holds the most power. "The feeling you create [in a commercial], without actually showing it, is often much stronger," says Eller, who is represented for spots by bicoastal/international Propaganda Films for stateside and U.K. work. He works in France through Premiere Heure, Paris, and in Germany through Neue Sentimental Film, Frankfurt.
You can see—or rather feel—some of what Eller is talking about in Polaroid JoyCam’s "Spin the Camera" via Goodby, Silverstein, and Partners, San Francisco. (The account has since shifted to Leo Burnett Co., Chicago.) The setting is an airport. A group of young travelers kills time with a variation on spin the bottle. However, instead of using a bottle, the kids use their Polaroid JoyCam. Each spin results in a hot-and-heavy kiss, or grimaced resignation, depending on the combination of the kissers. Photos are snapped between spins. The final spin points to a nearby airport worker, who puckers up in a playful way for one of the male travelers. In "Shopping," another Polaroid JoyCam ad, a wacky looking guy goes food-shopping, but instead of buying dinner, he just takes pictures of various food items. He ends his trip by snapping a photo of a cute woman. He then goes home and places the photos of food on dishes, and the photo of the woman on a chair.
BUSINESSMAN
Eller has been directing commercials since 1991, and has been helming stateside for about four years. He’s from Utrecht, a city in the middle of Holland. At the age of 12, he began setting up his first businesses. "Silly things, like cleaning the car of the neighbors," he explains.
"I took over a newspaper delivery [route], and I restructured the whole [delivering] of papers," Eller recalls. "After that, I subcontracted it." The future businessman attended Deutsch Institute of Marketing, but turned to the film industry, working at various disciplines such as art direction and casting, before taking up directing, first doing music videos, then joining Czar Films, Amsterdam, for spotwork.
In addition to his work in film, Eller has also set up some real businesses, including a fashion label called Analik—the company headed up by his girlfriend, the mono-monikered Analik—and Stue, a furniture company. (Both ventures are based in Amsterdam.) "I’ve always been a mixture of creative and entrepreneur," he says.
His most recent venture is Baby, a club he founded that provides networking opportunities and workspace for the Dutch creative community. Baby is housed in an old church in Amsterdam, and currently has more than 6,000 members. "It basically provides creative [people] with a way to get work much easier, to get to know the market much better, and to be able to create faster," he reports. Members include agency personnel, graphic designers, architects, and interior designers.
Eller thinks Baby will work even better in the U.S., because people in Holland are not so network based. "Besides, all the mistakes we could make, we already made in Holland," he asserts. Baby could soon be coming to a city near you—Eller is looking at space in New York.
With all of his business interests, when does Eller find time to direct? "For me, directing is time off," he explains. "It’s like a little holiday. Whenever I have the script, I take two to three weeks off, concentrate on that. I’m in a luxurious position."
Eller says that there are differences between doing business in Europe and in the U.S. One of those differences is the amount of talking that people do. "People talk much more and do less in the U.S.," he observes. "In Holland, it’s the other way around. I think I had to get used to that. Sometimes I look at it and I’m a bit amused by it."
Eller believes the creation of a spot is sometimes an intuitive and mysterious process, and should remain that way. "The balance in the U.S. can sometimes go a little too much towards trying to make sense of everything," he notes. "Sometimes you just have to accept the intuition of the creatives and the director, and hope that the common bond between them will create something that’s good. … It’s like trying to reason why you’re in love with your girlfriend or your boyfriend. [You should] just accept it as it is. Talking too long and too hard about it doesn’t always help. That’s what sometimes destroys relationships, and sometimes destroys great concepts."
Eller’s straightforward attitude doesn’t always translate well, especially on conference calls. "I would love to find a way to communicate and bond with creatives other than through a phone call," he states. "You’re always on the phone, trying to connect with creatives. It’s very, very difficult. Especially because a lot of the real emotion sits very subtly in the faces and body language, and you don’t pick them up.
"A lot of the enthusiasm and sincerity that I have towards directing does not come through on a phone call," continues Eller, "specifically because the Dutch are a little bit more down to earth, I think. I’ve also heard directors make phone calls who were like, ‘Wow! I love this commercial! Best one I ever saw!’ Then they hang up and say, ‘Fucking idiots.’ I could never do that. If I don’t have anything to add [to a conversation], I don’t say anything."
Eller has high standards, and he intends to keep them that way. "The best filmmaking in the world is often created for commercials," he maintains.µ
