THE HAZARDS OF CREATING TOURISM A AD CAMPAIGN
If you haven’t got something different to say, say it differently.
This may sound like a bad joke, but I can’t help pointing out that the South African tourism commercial featuring a blind tourist may have been appropriate for a country that was, for many years, a pariah in the world community for not being color blind.
But is it appropriate for Philippine tourism?
Even if the controversial “Sight” commercial, produced by McCann Worldwide for the Department of Tourism, had not been so suspiciously similar to the TV spot for the former center of apartheid, a weather-beaten advertising man like myself would, frankly, have serious doubts.
Many young creative geniuses may think that the South AfricancumDoT- McCann concept is brilliant. But it is, quite frankly, simply a unique way of pitching a generic tourism menu. Even the three- minute Quebec version, which also employs a blind tourist, is just that. Generic.
The blind tourist device would work just as well for any other tourist destination with the usual breathtaking views, beautiful beaches, friendly locals, great cuisine, etc., etc. But then, what else would be new except for the blind tourist device?
For instance, wouldn’t it be selling Thailand, India, and Japan short if their unique cultures were to be displaced by the same generic tourist attractions shown in the commercials for South Africa, Quebec and, yes, the Philippines?
If non-advertising folks ( like DoT Secretary Wanda Teo) still do not get my point, allow me to relate the example of the original Ginebra San Miguel campaign — “A hard day’s work deserves Ginebra San Miguel” — that featured a mandatory beach scene and mandatory beautiful young models cavorting in the mandatory sun and surf.
This was way back in 1966-1967 and I was working as a directorproducer with Scan, Inc., a commercial production house managed by the late Tony Mercado. When Tony asked me to submit a quotation on the Ginebra TV storyboard, I commented that the concept would have worked just as well for a soft drink like Coke or Pepsi. It was generic.
“Back in college and at LVN we called this stuff Cuatro Cantos and Marca Demonyo,” I said. “You had to be a real man to drink it.” And then I added, “I think that’s what they should call it. A real man’s drink.”
Tony reminded me that we were just being asked to submit a production quotation and not to play creative director. But I was still young and presumptuous then and so I went ahead and wrote two alternative storyboards based on what I felt was the correct “positioning” for the brand.
Tony finally relented, persuaded the agency’s head of production ( would you believe, the great fine artist Hernando Ocampo?) who, in turn, agreed to show the alternative boards to Mila Palanca Fuhrer. Tony and I did the song-and-dance before her. She approved the new concept and decided to replace the original one.
The agency AE, Ramon Diano (a former classmate at UST Philets) and I translated “The real man’s drink” to “Inumin ng tunay
na lalaki.” The late Joe “Jingle” Reyes whipped out a song, the agency created new layouts, and Scan produced a new commercial. The rest is history.
I believe it was the most successful campaign, ever, for the brand.
For sure, concocting a new, unique, and brilliant advertising campaign can drive a young creative director up the wall. It gets worse when one has to whip it up for a new client out to prove she deserves her job, and, worst of all, when over 100 million experts ( the population of the Philippines) are kibitzing — many of them posting critiques on social media.
When I was creative director at Advertising & Marketing Associates, doing work on the Nestlé account, we didn’t have to worry about dealing with Facebook experts. We only needed to worry about losing the account and our jobs.
But what do you do when the raw materials you are working with (meaning, copy points, product qualities, consumer profile, and competitive situation) are generic? And what if every copy writer in the world has used and reused them over the years?
That’s when you resort to a device like the blind tourist in the South African- Quebec-McCannDoT executions. In other words, if you haven’t got something different to say, say it differently.
I faced the same quandary when AMA’s hold on the Instant Nido Full Cream Powdered Milk account was in jeopardy unless I came up with a new concept, in the face of competitive pressures. But then what was new about Nido being the world’s number one full cream milk powder? Who cared? And what was new about loving one’s baby and caring for its health and happiness? It seemed to me that every brand of milk, cereal, talcum powder, and diaper had used that age-old pitch.
Then it hit me. Who cares if Nido is the world’s number milk? But if I tell you that your child is the world’s number one child, wouldn’t you care?
The result of that desperate mental calisthenics was the campaign, “For the world’s number one child, your child…the world’s number one full cream milk powder. Instant Nido.” Coupled with a beautiful jingle that Caloy Agawa composed, with my lyrics, the Nido campaign saved the brand and the account for AMA (and my job, too) and was used successfully for many, many years.
The Ginebra San Miguel and Instant Nido campaigns are just two of several products of creative desperation recounted in my book, How To Make A Benta — Anecdotes, Lectures and Articles from the Advertising Wars (available on Amazon.com).
The point I’m making is that I sympathize with McCann and DoT.
After over half a century in advertising, I can appreciate their travails. But like soldiers sent off to the battlefield with the prospect of being killed, that’s what the Marketing and Advertising Wars are all about. Being bludgeoned, tarred- and- feathered, and annihilated are among the hazards of the job (which, incidentally, pays very well).
It’s just too bad for McCannDoT that people have access to historical archives online. A copy writer can no longer copy concepts without it being found.
This leaves an advertising creative man with only two choices. Create a brilliant new way to say it. Or copy a brilliant one and make it even more brilliant. That, apparently, is what the ad agency that created the Quebec “Blind Love,” three-minuter did. They’ll never admit it, of course. But, frankly, they don’t need to be defensive. Building a better mouse trap is how progress is made in the world.
But to go back to Philippine tourism, is it really a harsh reality that the DoT and this country’s ad agencies can find nothing uniquely attractive in our country, so that they are constrained to resort to generic appeals and risk being dubbed copycats or, worse, plagiarists?
As an overseas Pinoy with an undying affection for the land of my birth, I beg to disagree. And as a long-time advertising practitioner, I frankly think that a menu of generic tourist attractions does not give the Philippines a competitive advantage — and, believe me, tourists literally have a world of options to choose from.
Maybe our young creative directors are too obsessed with conceiving “how to say it?” and are overlooking the essential starting point of the making of an ad: “What to say?”
Perhaps they should go back to basics. And maybe, a lesson can be learned from the Ginebra San Miguel anecdote.