I was sitting at a Chick-Fil-A enjoying a delicious chicken biscuit breakfast sandwich this morning when I made the terrible mistake of watching this Chevrolet commercial. Before long I was enjoying a delicious chicken biscuit breakfast sandwich with tears rolling down my cheeks.
I made a living in advertising for more decades than I care to count, and I accept that I am now a dinosaur who has outlived my geological era, and that I don’t understand social media and algorithms and all that shit, so there is absolutely no way for me to comprehend what passes as advertising these days. But it seems to me that the highlight, le moment clé, in about a third of current commercials is when someone breaks out into dance. Another third build to someone giving someone else a quizzicle look. The remaining third don’t even bother with that meager effort. It’s as if they simply regurgitate the client’s rough input, call it a day, and then take off for an early lunch. Story telling, my friend, is a lost art.
Don’t get me started. Jamie has to listen to me bitching about it every time there’s a commercial break on TV.
But putting all my old man bitching aside, this is one great commercial. In fact, it’s more than a commercial. It’s a short film.
WARNING: DO NOT ATTEMPT TO WATCH THIS COMMERCIAL WITHOUT A HANKY IN YOUR HAND.