You can imagine how it happens.
Car client to agency: ‘We’ve got these great new models. They’re state
of the art. The Internet’s state of the art, too. Let’s use that.’
Account director: ‘Great. We’ll work up a concept. Ciao.’
Two months later, account director calls client: ‘We’ve cracked it. It’s
not an Internet site, it’s a telly ad with an Internet site and the
buyers interact with our Internet ad. That way we can make the Internet
ad the star of our ad. We can show the car and the ad. They’ll both be
the hero. But that’s not all. Let’s stick in a couple of teenagers - you
know, boy meets girl over her dad’s computer screen. Excellente or
Client: ‘Sensational. Avante!’
Thus surely was born the Fiat Bravo/Brava ad, leading contender for top
prize in the ‘Most Gratuitous use of the Internet in an International
ad’. Here, unexpurgated, is the script.
Posh Eurotottie jailbait: ‘Let’s have a look in dad’s study.’
Boy Euroscruff, probably with rich parents who leave him to his own
devices, agrees. They see computer - it’s switched on! - and guess what?
All they want to do is play with it. Boy: ‘Hey, I wonder what he’s
hooked up to?’
Girl, nervously: ‘Are you kidding? He’ll go berserk.’
Boy elbows girl aside, presses keys on keyboard without even looking and
up comes the Bravo/Brava site. Miracolo! Boy reads off the screen,
making curious rolling motion with his hands (perhaps some ancient
knitting stitch, or is it foreplay?): ‘The 1996 Car of the Year. Two
different cars built around the same vision.’
Girl, by now hot for it: ‘Let’s take a closer look.’
Boy: ‘No. I’ll do it. Wow! Imagine driving it.’
Girl: ‘You’re not old enough to drive.’ (Audience thinks: is that what’s
really on his mind?)
Cut to dad, sleek Euro exec with gold-rimmed glasses and trim stubble -
probably an international account exec with a multinational agency, or a
Lufthansa pilot - who is entering the house.
Girl, giving Internet site some further investigation: ‘Hey, a digital
Boy: ‘Wow. Multi-valve engines.’
Dad enters study. Sharp intakes of breath all around. Dad looks
appropriately stern - as though he has caught them in mid-bonk. Then he
realises they’ve only been surfing the Net. Smiles. Leans over computer
and says: ‘Where shall we go today?’ And we know the answer.
For this is as bad as you can get, so bad it makes Ferrero Rocher look
like British Airways. It piles cliche upon cliche, topped off with
appalling dialogue. Its creators are, as they say, suffering delusions
of mediocrity. Ciao!
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