When Malcolm Venville set out to direct "Chief Executive"—a Merrill Lynch spot out of J. Walter Thompson, New York, that imagines a problematic presidential inauguration—an air of uncertainty hovered over the shoot. It wasn’t just because he had to make sweltering Cape Town, South Africa, look like Washington, D.C., in January, or because he needed to turn 150 extras—bundled up in winter coats and passing out from the heat—into a crowd of thousands.
The real worry? At the time the spot was being shot, America did not yet know who would triumph in the Florida recount battle. "The Gore-Bush crisis … was really affecting the job," says Venville, who is represented by bicoastal Anonymous, which he joined last year. "Everyone was concerned about how the election was going to go, and they didn’t want to offend anyone in Washington for a variety of reasons."
As the spot’s harried commander-in-chief rushes around the Oval Office to collect his papers and fix his tie, you can understand the concern of the politicians, first lady and spectators. All are waiting on the National Mall, and all are seemingly asking themselves not "Will he show up?" but "Who will show up?"
"Chief Executive" is one of three spots ("8500" and "Simplify with Henry" are the others) that Venville shot for a new Merrill Lynch campaign that suggests "a simple fee" leads to "a simpler life." In other words, you’ll pay a little more, but you won’t be stuck sorting out your finances—or running the country—all by yourself.
Not that Venville considers himself part of the stock-watching, Nasdaq-obsessed audience the spots are aimed at. Rather, he humbly admits, at 37 he’s "one of those famous international playboys." And anyway, he adds, "I don’t think the agencies care whether I’m a part of that. They just care about whether I’m able to manipulate the elements from the camera to get the right meaning."
He’s been getting it right for more than seven years now. From the frothing-waterfall pint of Guinness in "Senses" via Weiss, Whitten, Stagliano (now Weiss Stagliano Partners), New York, to the rain-drenched Cuban countryside in Bacardi’s "Cuba" for McCann-Erickson, London, Venville’s images fit together with the wonderful logic of a video jigsaw puzzle. ("Cuba" was actually shot in the Dominican Republic.)
Stills to Spots
That Venville has a brilliant eye should come as no surprise: Before taking over for a sick helmer on Audi’s ’93 "Boxer" for Saatchi & Saatchi, Amsterdam, Venville was primarily a still photographer—something he still does. And though he says it became clear to the agency that he had "no experience whatsoever" in directing commercials, "they were kind enough to let me try, and the film did well for me."
Indeed, he formed his own London-based production company, Therapy Films—which represents him for spotwork in the U.K. and Europe—and in 1997 signed with bicoastal/international Propaganda Films. There he continued to direct European spots, while at the same time venturing into the American market with campaigns for, among others, Volkswagen, out of Arnold Worldwide, Boston.
But by 2000, Venville says, Propaganda had become "unwieldy." With "ten too many directors," Venville recalls, he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted. "They were really good to me and helped me," he stresses, but when Steve Golin, founder/chairman at Propaganda, who is now CEO/chairman at Anonymous, left to start his new firm, Venville followed.
"Steve Golin is the guy to be in business with," states Venville. "I love Golin because of his ideas. He’s got a lot of great new media initiatives. He does great movies, obviously. [He produced] Being John Malkovich and Wild at Heart. … I just like his attitude."
Though the London-based Venville sees more chance to do "heavy, stronger, more emotional work" in Europe, he finds that market slowly becoming like the American one.
"You do a cut for London and you have to show it to the Greeks," he says. "If the Greeks don’t like it … It’s the same sort of thing in America: It’s all reaching the lowest common denominator."
Still, he continues, in Europe the business is "a little less paranoid," and agencies rely a little more on the director in postproduction. "If the director isn’t around for the very final sound mix, agencies are usually, you know, crying. Over there in America, [it’s] like being at a party you’re not invited to," he points out.
Sound is especially important to Venville’s work, which takes minor, everyday knocks and crunches and amps them up into surreal effects that reverberate in your brain afterwards. Music, too, tells the story in ads such as "Nose," for Samuel Adams out of McCann-Erickson, New York, in which the needle-scratch of a bumped record telegraphs the irritation of a beer drinker whose blissful indulgence has been interrupted by a clumsy patron.
Venville attributes this aural fixation to his parents, both of whom were born deaf. "Since I grew up in this kind of silent world, I’ve been really sensitive to sound," he explains. "That’s why I like editing and postproduction."
In addition to giving his spots an enveloping audiovisual atmosphere, his quiet childhood has inspired a short movie, the ’97 Silent Film, and the story for a feature film, temporarily titled The Deaf Road Movie
Based on the story of Venville’s uncle and three friends—all of them profoundly deaf—who took a road trip from London to Tangiers, the film is "completely in sign language," with English subtitles. "It’s a pretty amazing story," attests Venville. He hopes to shoot it later this year. "It’ll be my Apocalypse Now," he states. "I just know it."
