John Cleese Stars in a Morbidly Funny Anti-Smoking Campaign (1992–1994)

In 1992, the Health Edu­ca­tion Author­i­ty (HEA) began run­ning a series of ads on British tele­vi­sion star­ring the Mon­ty Python come­di­an and ex-smok­er, John Cleese. Smok­ing remained the #1 cause of pre­ma­ture death in the UK, and the HEA want­ed to see if a media cam­paign could make a dent in the epi­dem­ic. As part of a con­trolled exper­i­ment (all detailed here), ads star­ring Cleese were shown in cer­tain parts of the UK (but not oth­ers), and they used mor­bid humor and macabre sce­nar­ios “first to engage the view­ers’ curios­i­ty,” and then to “high­light the dan­gers of smok­ing, show[ing] the ridicu­lous­ness of the smok­ing habit.” Final­ly, view­ers were giv­en a phone num­ber to call where they could get more infor­ma­tion on how to quit.

So what were the results? Dur­ing the cam­paign (which ran from 1992 to 1994), the “quit­line” received around 20,000 calls over­all. Data crunch­ers lat­er found that the con­trol groups exposed to the ads quit smok­ing at a high­er rate than groups that had­n’t seen the com­mer­cials. Plus the relapse rates of the con­trol group were low­er than the norm. All of this led the gov­ern­ment to con­clude that “anti-smok­ing TV adver­tis­ing should be under­tak­en rou­tine­ly as an essen­tial com­po­nent of any pop­u­la­tion smok­ing reduc­tion strat­e­gy.” In this post, we’ve high­light­ed three of the bet­ter pre­served ads in the cam­paign.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

An Anti, Anti-Smok­ing Announce­ment from John Waters

Bertrand Rus­sell: “I Owe My Life to Smok­ing”

John Cleese’s Phi­los­o­phy of Cre­ativ­i­ty: Cre­at­ing Oases for Child­like Play

John Cleese’s Eulo­gy for Gra­ham Chap­man: ‘Good Rid­dance, the Free-Load­ing Bas­tard, I Hope He Fries’

A Young Björk Deconstructs (Physically & Theoretically) a Television in a Delightful Retro Video

Björk’s first inter­na­tion­al hit, “Human Behav­iour” (1993) received scant radio play in North Amer­i­ca. Rather, the Ice­landic singer’s fame only grew as a result of MTV’s heavy rota­tion of the sur­re­al­ist music video that accom­pa­nied the song, direct­ed by Acad­e­my Award win­ner Michel Gondry. Despite the debt of celebri­ty she owed to tele­vi­sion, Björk was not always a fan.

In the undat­ed video above, Björk expounds on her Christ­mas­time TV-watch­ing habits.  Imme­di­ate­ly, the video takes an odd—or, I sup­pose, char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly Björk-esque—turn when the young singer decides to take her TV apart:

But now I’m curi­ous. I’ve switched the TV off and now I want to see how it oper­ates. How it can make, put me into all those weird sit­u­a­tions. So… It’s about time.

The var­i­ous com­po­nents prove fas­ci­nat­ing, and Björk pro­ceeds to describe the television’s hard­ware in her whim­si­cal, oth­er­world­ly man­ner:

This is what it looks like. Look at this. This looks like a city. Like a lit­tle mod­el of a city. The hous­es, which are here, and streets. This is maybe an ele­va­tor to go up there. And here are all the wires. These wires, they real­ly take care of all the elec­trons when they come through there. They take care that they are pow­er­ful enough to get all the way through to here. I read that in a Dan­ish book. This morn­ing.

The most puz­zling part of the video comes when Björk men­tions that her cav­a­lier approach to tele­vi­sion is rel­a­tive­ly new. Until recent­ly, she had been guard­ed about her view­ing habits:

I remem­ber being very scared because an Ice­landic poet told me that not like in cin­e­mas, where the thing that throws the pic­ture from it just sends light on the screen, but this is dif­fer­ent. This is mil­lions and mil­lions of lit­tle screens that send light, some sort of elec­tric light, I’m not real­ly sure… Your head is very busy all the time to cal­cu­late and put it all togeth­er into one pic­ture. And then because you’re so busy doing that, you don’t watch very care­ful­ly what the pro­gram you are watch­ing is real­ly about. So you become hyp­no­tized.

Thanks to the wis­dom con­tained with­in an unnamed Dan­ish book, how­ev­er, Björk has grown more at ease with the poten­tial of television’s being used for mind con­trol and hyp­no­sis. At the end of the clip, she offers a final pearl of wis­dom:

You should­n’t let poets lie to you.

via The Atlantic

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Björk and Sir David Atten­bor­ough Team Up in a New Doc­u­men­tary About Music and Tech­nol­o­gy

Ice­land in the Mid­night Sun

Ilia Blin­d­er­man is a Mon­tre­al-based cul­ture and sci­ence writer. Fol­low him at @iliablinderman.

Two Viral Videos Push Against Stereotypical Messages Girls Get From the Media (Mildly NSFW)

The first of two videos cir­cu­lat­ing on the inter­net, “Girls Who Read” by UK poet and “Rogue Teacher” Mark Grist (above) hits back at the lad cul­ture that objec­ti­fies women accord­ing to cer­tain “bits” named above in some mild­ly NSFW lan­guage. In his video per­for­mance piece above, Grist, asked which bits he prefers by a lad in a pub, and faced with a loom­ing cadre of both male and female peers putting on the pres­sure, answers halt­ing­ly, “I like a girl… who … reads.” Then, his con­fi­dence up, he elab­o­rates:

I like a girl who reads,
Who needs the writ­ten word
And who uses the added vocab­u­lary
She gleans from nov­els and poet­ry
To hold live­ly con­ver­sa­tion
In a range of social sit­u­a­tions

The ide­al girl close to Grist’s heart “ties back her hair as she’s read­ing Jane Eyre” and “feeds her addic­tion for fic­tion with unusu­al poems and plays.” In his infec­tious slam cadences, Grist’s impas­sioned paean to female read­ers offers a charm­ing alter­na­tive to the lad­mag gaze, though one might argue that he still does a lit­tle bit of pro­ject­ing his fan­tasies onto an unsus­pect­ing lone female at the bar (who turns out to be not so alone). Maybe “Girl Who Reads” is a trope, like “Man­ic Pix­ie Dream Girl,” an ide­al­iza­tion that says more about Grist’s desires than about any par­tic­u­lar, actu­al girl, but it’s still a refresh­ing chal­lenge to the leer­ing of his pub­mates, one that com­mu­ni­cates to girls that there are men out there, even in the pubs, who val­ue women for their minds.

The video above, for a new line of toys called GoldiBlox, designed by Stan­ford-edu­cat­ed engi­neer Deb­bie Ster­ling, upends anoth­er ado­les­cent male cul­tur­al touchstone—this time a by-now clas­sic Amer­i­can one—the Beast­ie Boys glee­ful­ly misog­y­nis­tic anthem “Girls.” While the orig­i­nal still like­ly scores many a frat par­ty, it now must com­pete with the rewrite per­formed by “Raven.” The re-appro­pri­at­ed “Girls” plays over video of a trio of young girls, bored to death with stereo­typ­i­cal pink tea sets and the like, who build a com­pli­cat­ed Rube Gold­berg machine from Goldiblox, which resem­ble plas­tic tin­ker toys. I fore­see snip­pets of the updat­ed lyrics (below) mak­ing their way onto play­grounds around the coun­try. Hear the orig­i­nal Beast­ie Boys song, with lyrics, below.

Girls.
You think you know what we want, girls.
Pink and pret­ty it’s girls.
Just like the 50’s it’s girls.

You like to buy us pink toys
and every­thing else is for boys
and you can always get us dolls
and we’ll grow up like them… false.

It’s time to change.
We deserve to see a range.
‘Cause all our toys look just the same
and we would like to use our brains.

We are all more than princess maids.

Girls to build the space­ship,
Girls to code the new app,
Girls to grow up know­ing
they can engi­neer that.



Girls.

That’s all we real­ly need is Girls.
To bring us up to speed it’s Girls.
Our oppor­tu­ni­ty is Girls.
Don’t under­es­ti­mate Girls.

As with all kids adver­tis­ing, this is aimed as much at parents—who remem­ber the Beast­ie Boys’ song—as their kids, who could­n’t pos­si­bly. And unlike Grist’s video, which only sells, per­haps, him­self, the Goldiblox video aims to get kids hooked on plas­tic toys as much as any of the ads for prod­ucts it dis­places. Nonethe­less, I’ll play it for my daugh­ter in a few years, because lines like “we are all more than princess maids” con­sti­tute the per­fect retort to the seem­ing­ly end­less cul­tur­al slot­ting of girls into ridicu­lous­ly sub­servient and fan­ta­sy roles.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

“Sci­ence: It’s a Girl Thing!” OMG, Seri­ous­ly?! The Botched Video by the EU

Christo­pher Hitchens Cre­ates a Read­ing List for Eight-Year-Old Girl

Radiohead’s Thom Yorke Gives Teenage Girls Endear­ing Advice About Boys (And Much More)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Bob Dylan’s Controversial 2004 Victoria’s Secret Ad: His First & Last Appearance in a Commercial

Bob Dylan’s been piss­ing off his fans since he went elec­tric at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val in 1965, leav­ing scores of bit­ter folkies with feel­ings of betray­al. But he’s also tak­en many a prin­ci­pled stand, walk­ing off The Ed Sul­li­van Show ear­ly in his career in 1963, for exam­ple, when he learned that CBS want­ed to cen­sor his “Talkin’ John Birch Para­noid Blues” for being poten­tial­ly libelous to the far-right group. Then there are those episodes that have sim­ply baf­fled his admir­ers, like his release of the almost uni­ver­sal­ly panned Self Por­trait and his con­ver­sion to evan­gel­i­cal Chris­tian­i­ty. What­ev­er pos­sessed him to appear in the 2004 Victoria’s Secret ad above, how­ev­er, is anyone’s guess. While it may not have the same geopo­lit­i­cal juice as his con­tro­ver­sial appear­ance in Chi­na in 2011, aside from the gen­er­al weird­ness of once coun­ter­cul­tur­al fig­ures sell­ing prod­ucts, it’s a move that espe­cial­ly trou­bled fans of Dylan, to say the least.

There were, of course, cries of “sell out.” Then there’s the trou­bling sta­tus of Victoria’s Secret, a com­pa­ny that has accu­mu­lat­ed no small share of con­tro­ver­sy since the ad aired, and which at the time was not espe­cial­ly known as a social­ly respon­si­ble enti­ty.

Though Dylan had already licensed the song “Love Sick” from 1997’s Time Out of Mind to the com­pa­ny (and in 2000 licensed “For­ev­er Young” to Apple), this is the first and only time he’s appeared on screen in a com­mer­cial, with the excep­tion of a 2010 Google ad that recy­cled clips from the ’65 “Sub­ter­ranean Home­sick Blues” film.

While ad agen­cies may have replaced A&R for hun­gry young indie bands, the phe­nom­e­non of wealthy, aging rock stars shilling for major cor­po­ra­tions seems to defy rea­son. Most peo­ple assume it’s always a cash grab. Dylan him­self joked in 1965 that the only thing he’d sell out for would be “ladies under­gar­ments.” In a per­haps unfor­tu­nate­ly titled arti­cle for Slate, Seth Steven­son sug­gest­ed that Dylan and those of his gen­er­a­tion took the cor­po­rate bait in attempts to remain rel­e­vant and “remind the world that they still exist.” In the case of the Victoria’s Secret ad (see a “behind the scenes” video here), this is a lit­tle hard to swal­low. Not even the bale­ful­ly timed release of his Love and Theft in Sep­tem­ber of 2001 could over­shad­ow the enor­mous suc­cess of that album, which, All­mu­sic writes, “stands proud­ly among his very best.” 2006’s plat­inum-sell­ing Mod­ern Times was not far behind. Unlike his online response to the Chi­na con­tro­ver­sy, Dylan him­self revealed noth­ing of his inten­tions, leav­ing fans with the unset­tling image of one of the 20th century’s most icon­o­clas­tic artists (and one nev­er espe­cial­ly known for his sex appeal) hawk­ing lin­gerie on nation­al tele­vi­sion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Bowie Appears in the “Director’s Cut” of a New Louis Vuit­ton Ad, Nods to Labyrinth

Ker­ouac Wore Khakis: Ghost of the Beat Writer Stars in 1993 Gap Adver­tis­ing Cam­paign

Nev­er Mind the Bol­locks, Here’s … John Lydon in a But­ter Com­mer­cial?

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

 

David Bowie Appears in the “Director’s Cut” of a New Louis Vuitton Ad, Nods to Labyrinth

Look­ing like a haute cou­ture treat­ment of “As the World Falls Down” from Labyrinth, by way of Peter Jackson’s Beau­ti­ful Crea­tures, the “Director’s Cut” of this Louis Vuit­ton ad above, titled “L’Invitation au Voy­age,” is pret­ty stun­ning. Bowie lip syncs “I’d Rather be High,” a stand out from his lat­est, The Next Day, and looks near­ly as mag­net­ic as his Gob­lin King did almost thir­ty years ago. He’s def­i­nite­ly still got it on screen, mak­ing me pine for anoth­er Bowie-led fea­ture-length fan­ta­sy (but not a Labyrinth remake).

The mak­ing-of reel above might also be of inter­est, although at under two min­utes, the tech­no mon­tage doesn’t offer much insight into the elab­o­rate design of the short. Of more inter­est for fans of fash­ion, design, and film may be this blog post (in Chi­nese), which fea­tures some gor­geous pro­duc­tion stills and sto­ry­boards, like the one below. The short’s direc­tor, Romain Gavras, pre­vi­ous­ly made the video for Kanye West and Jay Z’s “No Church in the Wild,” so he’s def­i­nite­ly got an eye for spec­ta­cle.

VuittonStoryB

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch David Bowie’s New Video for ‘The Stars (Are Out Tonight)’ With Til­da Swin­ton

David Bowie’s Fash­ion­able Mug Shot From His 1976 Mar­i­jua­na Bust

Lis­ten to Fred­die Mer­cury and David Bowie on the Iso­lat­ed Vocal Track for the Queen Hit ‘Under Pres­sure,’ 1981

David Bowie Releas­es Vin­tage Videos of His Great­est Hits from the 1970s and 1980s

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

American Filmmakers in Japanese Ads: Quentin Tarantino Sells Cell Phones, Orson Welles Hawks Whisky

Amer­i­can movie stars have long found work across the pacif­ic in Japan­ese tele­vi­sion com­mer­cials: Nico­las Cage, Paul New­man, Den­nis Hop­per, Har­ri­son Ford, Jodie Fos­ter — the list goes on. If their spots aired state­side, we’d prob­a­bly buy what they sell too, but celebri­ties in their image-pro­tec­tive league have thus far shown a reluc­tance to endorse prod­ucts in their own coun­try. Japan’s ad indus­try has­n’t only sought the par­tic­i­pa­tion of Amer­i­ca’s big-name actors, though; it’s also gone after the direc­tors. At the top, you’ll see one fea­tur­ing a film­mak­er nev­er afraid of expo­sure: Pulp Fic­tion auteur Quentin Taran­ti­no tak­ing a turn in local cos­tume (and along­side a talk­ing dog) in a com­mer­cial for Japan­ese cell phone ser­vice provider Soft­bank. Just below, we have Orson Welles, he of Cit­i­zen Kane and British frozen-peas nar­ra­tion alike, in a spot for G&G Whisky.

“I direct films and act in them,” Welles says by way of intro­duc­tion. “What we’re always try­ing for is per­fec­tion, but of course, that’s only a hope. But with G&G, you can rely on it.” It may put you in the mind of Sofia Cop­po­la’s Lost in Trans­la­tion, where­in Bill Mur­ray’s char­ac­ter famous­ly turns up in Japan to shoot a whisky com­mer­cial of his own. Mak­ers of that bev­er­age have shown quite an inter­est in the impri­matur of cin­e­ma’s lumi­nar­ies, East­ern as well as West­ern.

We’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured a Sun­to­ry com­mer­cial includ­ing not just The Gofa­ther and Apoc­a­lypse Now direc­tor Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la, but Aki­ra Kuro­sawa, the mak­er of Rashomon and Sev­en Samu­rai, known in his home­land as “the Emper­or.” It makes you won­der: do we in Amer­i­ca know our direc­tors well enough that they could sell us things? Then again, the Japan­ese did enjoy all those old Woody Allen Seibu spots when most of them still had­n’t a clue about the beloved film­mak­er’s iden­ti­ty.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Nico­las Cage, Paul New­man & Den­nis Hop­per Bring Their Amer­i­can Style to Japan­ese Com­mer­cials

Aki­ra Kuro­sawa & Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la Star in Japan­ese Whisky Com­mer­cials (1980)

Woody Allen Lives the “Deli­cious Life” in Ear­ly-80s Japan­ese Com­mer­cials

The Best Japan­ese Com­mer­cial Ever? James Brown Sells Miso Soup

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

Watch an Exuberant, Young Woody Allen Do Live Stand Up on British TV (1965)

In 1965, Woody Allen took time out from his first film What’s New Pussy­cat to tape a half-hour of stand up in front of a live tele­vi­sion audi­ence in the UK.

Exu­ber­ant and horny in an adorable, pup­py­ish way, the 30-year-old com­ic seemed to rel­ish this return to his night­club act. The com­e­dy is sit­u­a­tion­al, obser­va­tion­al, auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal — imag­ine Louis CK with a PG vocab­u­lary, no kids, a neck­tie and a twin­kle in his eye. Already ensconced on the Upper East Side, he paints a decid­ed­ly down­town vision of a New York pop­u­lat­ed by artists’ mod­els, swing­ing Ben­ning­ton girls, and women with pierced ears. Like Louis—or the young Brook­lyn hip­sters on Girls—he’s itch­ing to score.

It does a body good to see him at this “child­like” stage of his career.

As he told jour­nal­ist Eric Lax in Con­ver­sa­tions with Woody Allen:

“…comics are child­like and they are suing for the approval of the adults. Some­thing goes on in a the­ater when you’re four­teen years old and you want to get up onstage and make the audi­ence laugh. You’re always the sup­pli­cant, want­i­ng to please and to get warm laughs. Then what hap­pens to comics — they make it and they become a thou­sand times more wealthy than their audi­ence, more famous, more idol­ized, more trav­eled, more cul­ti­vat­ed, more expe­ri­enced, more sophis­ti­cat­ed, and they’re no longer the sup­pli­cant. They can buy and sell their audi­ence, they know so much more than their audi­ence, they have lived and trav­eled around the world a hun­dred times, they’ve dined at Buck­ing­ham Palace and the White House, they have chauf­feured cars and they’re rich and they’ve made love to the world’s most beau­ti­ful women — and sud­den­ly it becomes dif­fi­cult to play that los­er char­ac­ter, because they don’t feel it. Being a sup­pli­cant has become much hard­er to sell. If you’re not care­ful, you can eas­i­ly become less amus­ing, less fun­ny. Many become pompous… A strange thing occurs: You go from court jester to king.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Woody Allen Amus­es Him­self by Giv­ing Untruth­ful Answers in Unaired 1971 TV Inter­view

Woody Allen Lists the Great­est Films of All Time: Includes Clas­sics by Bergman, Truf­faut & Felli­ni

Woody Allen Box­es a Kan­ga­roo, 1966

Ayun Hal­l­i­day won­ders that she has yet to bump into this famous and cur­mud­geon­ly  New York­er.  Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

An Animation of Orson Welles’ Famous Frozen Peas Rant

If you get into a con­ver­sa­tion with an Orson Welles enthu­si­ast, try not to men­tion frozen peas. By now, even those who bare­ly know Welles’ work — those who’ve bare­ly seen Cit­i­zen Kane or heard War of the Worlds, let alone The Mag­nif­i­cent Amber­sons or F for Fake — chuck­le at the fact that, in the twi­light of his career, the actor-auteur took on such the­o­ret­i­cal­ly easy-mon­ey jobs as pre­sent­ing an “instruc­tion­al film” on gam­bling for Cae­sars Palace and nar­rat­ing a series of British tele­vi­sion com­mer­cials for Swedish frozen-food giant Find­us. But even in hum­ble con­texts like these, Welles, as his afore­men­tioned fans would sure­ly admit, could make headaches for his employ­ers. The Find­us peo­ple, with whose direc­tor and copy­writer Welles appar­ent­ly did­n’t see eye-to-eye, would soon find this out — as would every lis­ten­er to the uncut record­ings from that unhap­py day in the stu­dio.

At the top, you can hear that very audio and watch it ani­mat­ed by Neil Williams. He visu­al­izes Welles’ con­ster­na­tion in the face of the direc­tor’s request to empha­size the word “in” (“there’s no known way of say­ing an Eng­lish sen­tence in which you begin a sen­tence with ‘in’ and empha­size it”) while pitch­ing those frozen peas. And then there’s Welles’ objec­tion to the dif­fi­cult-to-enun­ci­ate “crumb crisp coat­ing” on Find­us fish sticks, and his blowup over how many times to say “beef” when describ­ing their ham­burg­ers as well. Vet­er­an voice actor Mau­rice LaMarche, who has no doubt labored even longer in record­ing booths than Welles did, won an ear­ly burst of fame with his uncan­ny impres­sion of Welles. When he used a ver­sion of that voice for The Brain, the Ani­ma­ni­acs’ dour, world-dom­i­na­tion-mind­ed car­toon mouse, the idea for a frozen peas par­o­dy sketch, which you can watch above, must have sug­gest­ed itself.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Orson Welles Teach­es Bac­carat, Craps, Black­jack, Roulette, and Keno at Cae­sars Palace (1978)

Orson Welles Nar­rates Plato’s Cave Alle­go­ry, Kafka’s Para­ble, and Free­dom Riv­er

The Hearts of Age: Orson Welles’ Sur­re­al­ist First Film (1934)

Orson Welles’ The Stranger: Watch The Full Movie Free Online

Col­in Mar­shall hosts and pro­duces Note­book on Cities and Cul­ture and writes essays on lit­er­a­ture, film, cities, Asia, and aes­thet­ics. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­lesA Los Ange­les Primer. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast