John Weeks, staff writer
I am so upset the way sneaky product-placement advertising is turning up these days, disguised as entertainment, that awhile ago my hand was trembling as I held my morning cup of delicious mountain-roasted Folger's Coffee. We are seeing this pernicious stealth marketing everywhere, especially in reality TV programming. "The Apprentice," for example, has become a weekly primetime infomercial for various products that Donald Trump's minions are assigned to promote.
Originally, I thought Trump used valid, personal business contacts to set up these challenges. I thought he had friends and colleagues who helmed companies like Burger King and Pepsi and Proctor & Gamble, and that he was networking with these business associates in a respectable way.
Turns out, though, that these companies pay big bucks to get on Trump's show. Burger King, for example, shelled out a reported $2 million-plus for what turned out to be an hour-long puff piece on their new products.
The awful reality of what is happening on reality TV has hit me like a ton of bricks. I did a slow burn as I thought about it while showering this morning, and I almost knocked over the shampoo bottle. This would have been a shame, because it's the highly effective dandruff fighter with the pleasant scent, Selsun Blue.
It's not just reality TV that is being infected this stealth marketing virus. Scripted TV and the movies also are blending commercial tie-ins with plotlines. CBS chairman Les Moonves recently was quoted as saying that as many as three-fourths of scripted primetime network shows soon will feature such "product integration." The key to making this happen, he said, will be "breaking down the resistance of writers, directors and actors."
Yeah, that's what it will take. Most writers, directors and actors are interested in telling good stories, not selling breakfast cereal.
Of course, bottom-line thinking has invaded the art world, just as it has done in the business world. Artists have to survive, too, and the siren call of the Almighty Dollar can be irresistible.
Certainly, in the past, creative people have lent their talents to the marketing world. There was a fuss, for example, when J.W. Waterhouse, one of Victorian England's most famous painters, created an advertising poster for Pears Soap.
Many other respected artists have done commercial paintings, including Norman Rockwell, Dr. Seuss and Leroy Neiman.
TV funnyman Jerry Seinfeld has written whole ad campaigns for companies like American Express.
But there always has been a bold line between art products and marketing products, and now that bold line isn't even a fine line any more. Instead of separate entities, the story telling and the selling are being blended into a single product.
I continued to stew about this as I drove to work, in my roomy and affordable Honda CRV, and I determined I must write something in protest.
What if product placement had been rampant in days of old? Imagine how different,
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and less satisfying, our favorite stories might be.
Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth would have cried, "Out, damn spot!" as she vigorously applied new, improved Comet cleanser to her soiled linens. Then she would have beamed as she held up the finished product.
In Milton's "Paradise Lost," Lucifer would have been cast out of heaven, but he would have found a room at Motel 6, where they always leave a light on.
Dickens would have had Oliver Twist holding out his bowl and asking, "Please, sir, may I have some more delicious and nutritious Quaker oatmeal?"
Literary masterpieces might not have been the only things compromised crass commercialism. Famous paintings also could have fallen under the spell. The Mona Lisa could have been holding a box of Correctol, the gentle women's laxative for overnight relief. Certainly it would explain her serenely happy look.
The Blue Boy could have been selling canned peas, with his dad, the Jolly Green Giant, smiling in the background.
George Washington might have been standing in that boat holding an AFLAC banner, with ducks quacking all around.
It makes my head hurt, just thinking about it. I probably need to take an Exedrin, the headache medicine, for fast, fast relief.
What if famous statues had been tainted commercial greed? If the Venus de Milo had been holding a large economy-size bottle of Lysol brand toilet bowl cleaner, well, it would have been no surprise that someone knocked her arm off. Would we still hold the Discus Thrower in reverence and awe if he was holding a Frisbee in his hand?
What if Abraham Lincoln was sitting majestically in the Lincoln Memorial, in our Nation's Capital, holding a big sack of Alpo brand dry dog food on his lap?
I'm sure you'll agree with me that such things are deplorable to think about. And I offer you my promise that you never will see any kind of shameless hucksterism in this column, because this column is not for sale, at any price that is below the high six figures.
Otherwise, I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror. A very nice mirror, by the way, that I recently purchased at Lowe's, where they're "Improving Home Improvement."
John Weeks is a staff writer. Contact him by phone at (909) 386-3858 or by email at john.weeks
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