NOT so long ago now it seems looking back-that great ads were treated differently.
They were discussed, praised and rewarded. And for a while, their creators would sit on a slightly higher plateau until either one of two things happened. Their next offerings were workmanlike, expected and ill-conceived which signified the end of the convergence of mystical creative karma that surrounds most truly great work, or they produced a second stunning piece of insight into the human spirit that convinced all of us that they must have a direct link to Mr. Bernbach himself.
The point is that making great ads has always been a noteworthy achievement and remains the reason that most people I know stay in this business long after common sense suggests seeking alternative employment. It’s more likely for most of us, after all, than being responsible for this generation’s equivalent of Star Wars, which if Mr. Lucas has his way will in fact be Star Wars.
But if you listen carefully to the wheels of our industry turning, you’ll notice that the pitch with which we talk about our work has suddenly become a lot more shrill. "Have you seen that ad," is no longer just casual conversation. Today it’s the picture start in a series of flash frames on the path to, albeit temporary, advertising divinity.
Reels are called in, storyboards sent out and the wheels grind on, louder still with praise for the magnificence of their past work, then magnified again with the urgency to now get this guy to do your idea. Because if you’ve survived the process long enough to end up at the conference call with what your carefully trained instincts tell you is a great idea, then the last thing you want is some nobody screwing it up. You want a Director. A money guy. A guy with a reel. A guy with awards. A guy in demand. A guy with buzz.
And if you don’t have some, you’d better get some. Because if you’re not top of mind, if we watched the Oscars, the Grammys, the Super Bowl, the season finale of NYPD Blue, everything anyone told us to watch, and we still haven’t talked about your latest and greatest-because maybe nobody’s latest has been that great-then change companies, fire the rep, beg, steal or borrow some but get some buzz. Even if you have to pay for it yourself.
Which all makes sense I’m told because, after all, it’s never been so competitive out there. More directors, more agencies, fewer big ideas, and so much more pressure to deliver. On everyone.
But if you stop for a moment and listen, you’ll realize that the high-pitched whining you hear is actually the sound of an industry so busy turning the wheel that it’s forgotten to take care of the machine.
Yes, it’s still about ideas. Always has been, always will be. But lately we’ve become so obsessed with making them into ads that we’ve forgotten about the part that comes first. The part that almost always determines whether you are destined for temporary deification or sent back to the daily grind.
Is this a good idea? And even if it is, how do you make it great?
The fact is it’s become so important to make sure it gets on the reel that who’s got time to worry about if it should even be boarded up yet.
Which is a shame because it should be harder than this to get someone to put an idea on film. It should require more than half an idea and a national advertiser’s logo to convince 90% of the people that they want to do your spot. And it should take time and money to do it justice so that when you get what you pay for, you actually like what you get. You see, it’s not about work that makes the most noise. It’s about work that invokes the longest pause. The deepest breath. The widest smile. The brightest eyes. It’s about work which speaks more loudly about its makers than any buzz ever could. Let’s make that kind of work.
Then, maybe then, we’ll be able to hear ourselves think.
