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| TELLYSELLYLAND Iain Griffiths on the commercial break |
September
2000
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The commercial break. Two minutes to put the kettle on. Yet, if you really look, adverts can provide interesting viewing throughout the day. From the early hours of Breakfast TV adverts are there to break up the monotony of bland chat, and regurgitated news. In the mornings staples such as supermarket soap-powders and coffee ads are there, reassuringly middle-class and safe. This pretty much carries on until the changeover to the incumbent ITV network proper, when the feminine hygiene and nappy products appear. Aimed, unimaginatively, at the perceived hordes of mothers watching This Morning, it's surprising there hasn't been any move to target that unsung student population who watch "ironically" from their beds. The weekend mornings, by comparison, crack into life with adverts aimed at younger viewers. Aside from providing a bit of colour and introducing the nausea of pester-power into parents' lives, who cannot really claim that the Honey Monster or the wind-up Evil Keneval toy did not provide us with a formative insight into lust? But back to the relative grey weekday, and afternoons are pretty sluggish ad-wise. Here we see some of the stalwarts of classic television advertising: John Stalker, late of the Greater Manchester Police, selling canopies; Bath Knight - an ingenious method for lowering oneself into a bath and, of course, that standard for comedians, the Stannah Stairlift. Most irritating of all are the proliferation of adverts for car insurance, which beam their message at the viewer with deadly invasiveness ("I suppose there's lots of forms to fill in?"/"Oh no, no, no.") It's easy to mock all of the above for their cheapness, and often for the absurdity of the actual product, but they represent something that is slowly being lost to commercial television: cheap and cheerful advertising. Cheap and cheerful advertising has a long tradition in British television, but one markedly different from - say - the American car salesman haranguing the camera to buy Corvettes. The British advert, until the last 15 years or so, was based on the simple principle of "tell them what you sell and where to get it and people will buy it". Advertising companies with concepts and strategies just didn't exist; or rather the money to employ such services wasn't there. Things have changed, but it's interesting to note that some of the home grown adverts of the past are still amongst people's favourites (the Smash robots, anyone?) Evening comes and here's where the money starts to tell; Cadbury's sponsorship of Coronation Street totting up hours of relatively cheap advertising in a primetime slot, cars manufacturers impress with speed and freedom (eschewing the reality of gridlocks), absurd shampoos blind us with "the science bit" and dot coms solicit our clicks. As viewers increase the adverts become more elaborate and grand, culminating in the latest 90-second Guinness epoch. As evening rolls into night the intensity of adverts diminish and we are left with the dregs: chat lines, money lenders and 19-piece fountain pen sets. On the whole their appeal seems limited, it's really only for the terminally over-sexed/lonely, financially disadvantaged or the inveterate correspondent. It's somewhat depressing. All in all advertising on television is becoming dominated, like the programmes themselves, by big names selling world famous brands. Yet, if you think that there is no longer room for the small minnows to break out and provide us with a commercial that hasn't seen a focus group - Raptou crushes that idea! Long may ill-advised managing directors talk dully into camera expounding on arcane products ("... it only weighs eight and a half pounds and is used in top hotels throughout the world!") and convoluted discount options. I'd buy that for a dollar. [This hymn to the commercial break is part one of a new series. Get part one, and receive part two, free - together with a handy binder. Collect them all and have a treasury that you and your family can enjoy for years to come!] |
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