Surprisingly, I'm not talking about bees. Okay, not quite true--I will talk about bees later, but this really is about Superbowl commercials.
But first, let's really confuse things by jumping back in time to Baroque (16th/17th century) Poland. One thing you need to understand about the Polish/Lithuanian aristocracy is that it couldn't wrap its head around the notion of long-term saving. Or even stinting on keeping up with the Joneses in favor of pragmatic improvements to its estates. Because the Joneses might--horror of horrors--out-bling them. If you remember the 80s and the whole "perception is reality" codswallop, you know what I'm talking about. Case in point: Pages 174 & 175 of Adam Zamoyski's The Polish Way describe Prince Zbaraski's 1622 embassy to Istanbul:
At the front marched two regiments of Hungarian infantry, followed by a hundred laden waggons [sic] decked in the arms of the Zbaraski, then a group of servants, and two troops of light cavalry. Behind these rode ten picked youths, dripping with gold and gems. Their mounts, harnessed with pearls, covered in embroidered cloths, with colored horse-tails at their chins, foamed at the mouth as they champed at their golden bits. Behind them came the sons, relatives and friends of the Zbaraski, all in velvet embroidery with silver and gold thread. The envoy himself wore a cloak of cloth of gold and a fur cap with a beautiful diamond jewel clasping a tall plume. Six handsome footmen in velvet jerkins led his bravely prancing steed. Behind him rode twenty page-boys in Circassian dress, with helmets, shields and quivers. These were followed by fifty young men in Roumelian costume, with curved bows hanging from gold sashes, a troop of Cossacks and a hundred servants of the Prince, all in silk. The rear was brought up by forty mounted musketeers of the Prince's bodyguard, their horses wearing rich ostrich plumes, silver breastplates, and silver rings which jangled on their harness.
Zamoyski mentions subsequent embassies that could number over a thousand retainers and include camels, as well as horses shod with shoes of solid gold, loosely nailed so as to deliberately "lose" them among the thronging crowds. It did bupkis to change the fact that Poland, economically, was sliding into decline...not to mention a backwards-looking, parochial mentality that should serve as a warning to those who don't take present day "know-nothingism" ethos in politics seriously.
So folks who decide to spend $3 million merely to air a 30-second spot have--with notable exceptions--come to strike me not as shrewd (in the brand management sense) so much as afraid of "losing" that slot to a one of their rivals in the household brand aristocracy. In other words, no different from the 16th and 17th century Polish princes and potentates.
A commercial that's merely amusing/titillating/shocking (when the product itself is hum-drum) is merely buying buzz. Buzz is overrated. I know. When my husband and I crack the inner cover of the hive, it's a very distinct sound--and if the ladykins are in a bad mood, it's a hackle-raising one as well. But the point is that it's over within a couple of seconds, and our golden girls generally get back to taking care of business--even in the midst of a full hive inspection. In this case, I'm heretical enough to think that two-legged critters aren't much different: Come Tuesday morning, the buzz will be largely (if not entirely) silent.
For companies that can afford to spend over $100,000 a second on advertising, how refreshing it would be to see them choose not to--and, instead, chronicle what they did with the money. Keep more customer services state-side? Offer scholarships to the most promising interns? Match contributions for employees' community service work? Fund the shoestring budget of a team dedicated to finding the technology that will put the company (in its present form) out of business before someone else does? Each, I believe, would make a profound story with more staying power than the chatter over a half-minute of amusement.
