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February 08, 2005
Yet another Super Bowl ad critique.
I went to my first Super Bowl party on Sunday in nine years. In this town, the big game is a non-event, so the notion of the SB as a cultural signifier just can't be grokked. My host for the party was an East Coast transplant whose family owned part of a NFL team, so this gathering had gravitas and tradition.
As ever, I paid as much, if not more attention to the commercials than the game. The usual parade of pitches (some clever, some not) for snacks, beer and boner pills.
One commercial in particular made the back of my neck itch: part of the ongoing "What happens here, stays here" ad campaign for the Las Vegas Convention and Visitors Authority.
Historically, I've enjoyed these ads. They're irreverent, memorable, and are elegant examples of how to tell a compelling story with economy. This latest one, though -- I just don't know.
The commercial opens in a dressing room after a boxing match. The contender slouches on the training table and his left eye looks like ground chuck. He's flanked by his corner men and a few dudes in flashy clothes who likely comprise his entourage.
The other men in the room: a middle-aged guy who appears to be the boxer's manager/promoter, and a silent suit who keeps his back to the camera.
Papparazzi buzz just outside the door, and the manager is trying to determine if his fighter is up facing the lights and cameras. He asks the boxer a few questions. "Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is?"
Listless and slumped in defeat, the fighter answers "no" to each question.
Manager: Do you remember what you did last night?
Fighter: No.
Manager (tense): Do you remember what I did last night?
(The corner men look at each other with some concern.)
Fighter: No.
The manager relaxes and rubs the fighter's head good-naturedly, saying something like, "that's my boy." Assured that no one will ever learn of his (assumably) embarassing behavior of the previous evening, the manager opens the door and admits a media swarm.
Then, the tagline: "What happens here, stays here." Good one, right?
My problem? The fighter, his corner men, and the shadowy dudes in the entourage are all black. The manager/promoter and his silent friend are white.
As described, I know this doesn't sound like that much of a much, but if you get the chance, watch the ad the next time it's on. The visuals are more striking.
My reading: the black man took a bad beating, leaving him with a brain injury that was obvious to his trainers. Rather than arrange for a doctor, the manager makes sure that the boxer can't recall the tranny hooker he sneaked out of his suite at the Belaggio at 5 a.m.
The corner men stand mute, complicit in the boxer's inevitable downward slide. The boxer is disposable, a means to an end.
This is the part where I say something like "no one enjoys a laugh more than I do, but..."
Well, no one enjoys a laugh more than I do, but I thought this ad was somewhat dehumanizing. I'm not sure it would have been better if it'd been a Don King-type talking to a white guy who'd just had the stuffing beat out of him. I guess I'm uncomfortable with the notion of a boxer's beat-down and attendant concussion being played for laughs. Using a black guy as the palooka/punch line just piles on the tsuris for me.
Posted by Your Protagonist at February 8, 2005 01:15 PM