MARKETING ENTERTAINMENT: Entertainment as Marketing, From Silicon Valley and Hollywood to Madison Avenue

NATURALIZING THE BRAND’S COMMERCIAL RELATIONSHIP WITH AUDIENCES?

Last Friday, I attended the “Transmedia 3: Rethinking Creative Relations” Conference at USC, a joint presentation of UCLA Theater, Film and Television Department AND USC’s Annenberg School of Communications, generously sponsored by the Andrew J. Kuehn, Jr. Foundation. Organized as a series of panel discussions between media, technology and content professionals and their academic counterparts, the day-long conference was accessible, informative and provocative.

Here’s how Professor Denise Mann (UCLA, The Producer’s Program) characterized the event in her overview:

“As transmedia models become more central to the ways that the entertainment industry operates, the result has been some dramatic shifts within production culture, shifts in the ways labor gets organized, in how productions get financed and distributed, in the relations between media industries, and in the locations from which creative decisions are being made. This year’s Transmedia, Hollywood examines the ways that transmedia approaches are forcing the media industry to reconsider old production logics and practices, paving the way for new kinds of creative output. Our hope is to capture these transitions by bringing together established players from mainstream media industries and independent producers trying new routes to the market. We also hope to bring a global perspective to the conversation, looking closely at the ways transmedia operates in a range of different creative economies and how these different imperatives result in different understandings of what transmedia can contribute to the storytelling process – for traditional Hollywood, the global media industries, and for all the independent media-makers who are taking up the challenge to reinvent traditional media-making for a “connected” audience of collaborators.”

What I wanted to talk about in today’s post was a topic of discussion during the opening panel on Hollywood, Silicon Valley and Madison Avenue that trailermakers and those who admire them, have long understood and embraced. Lee Hunter, Global Marketing Head for Youtube, described his company’s development of 100 Channels of content as well as their Youth Symphony, Life in a Day, and Space Lab initiatives as well as Google’s Parisian Love campaign as efforts to capture eyeballs and serve advertising. The new “now,” he boldly proclaimed, conflates entertainment and marketing, both serving the other symbiotically, describing YouTube’s endeavors as a “goodwill project to naturalize our brand’s commercial relationship to audiences.”

A collective gasp did not go up. Prof. Mann’s question was probably rhetorical, designed to elicit an answer the audience already acknowledged. Still, discernible in the composition of the panel and the place names serving as short hand for content, technology and advertising, the takeaway was that functional differences between content and advertising are no longer meaningful.

Sitting in the back, I jotted in my “old media” notebook, with my anti-diluvian Cross pen, “trailers have long recognized and exploited this commerce/content hybridization.” As early as 1912 and the first recognizable trailer, transmedia promotion was already part of the movie going experience, while narrative rhetoric (storytelling) was the key element of the promotional campaign. The whole point of trailers, if I can be so bold, is that selling is telling, promoting is showing, marketing is entertaining entertainment and entertainment is the most marketable marketing. (See my earlier post.)

The TA assigned to my course last year specialized in Transmedia, so I invited her to present to the class, cleverly concealing my shocking ignorance of the subject by pretending my questions were intended for the benefit of the students. Sitting in Eileen Norris Hall this past Friday, it occurred to me that I had long been a transmedia worker without even knowing it.

Other memorable insights from the panelists (Nick Childs of Fleishman Hilliard; Jordan Levin of Generate, formerly Ceo of the WB, and Jennifer Holt, a Media studies professor at UCSB) included the following:

“Marketing is in search of authenticity.”

“For products, it’s about integration and placement, and a responsiveness to audience skepticism.”

“In marketing, we no longer broadcast; we’re having a conversation.”

Sounds to me like there should have been a panel of trailer makers and movie marketers on the stage since A) a free sample of an advertised product is the very essence/definition of authenticity; B) trailers appear across platforms, are cut for specific audiences, and counter skepticism with audio-visual evidence of what the product (film) has to offer, in the very same form as the product itself; and C) user generated trailers, mash-ups, you-tube comments, trailer sites and blogs are having that conversation, while the mall-intercept encounter of the market research process is recording and measuring the content of it.

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movietrailers101 by Fred Greene is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

And the buzz word from the conference was definitely the word “silo,” as in “integrate the silos” or “struggle against the silo-fication” of an institution or company. (The conference was entitled “transmedia,” after all.)

Integrate the silos!

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American Reunion: Masturbation, Humiliation and the Easter Weekend Reboot of a Diluted Brand

As Box Office Mojo noted, “American Reunion’s $21.5 million is actually the best R-rated Easter debut since Panic Room a decade ago. In comparison, the first three American Pie movies were all released in the Summer, which is prime real estate for raunchy R-rated fare.”

Without seeing Universal‘s release schedule, it’s impossible to know if the red-band trailer from October of 2011 contemplated an Easter/Passover roll-out. Regardless, there were larger challenges to surmount than the Lenten piety and self-censoring impulses of the American Judeo-Christian ticket-buying public.

“[T]he bigger problem was probably with the brand itself,” continues the B.O. Mojo recap. “While the first three American Pie movies played a part in establishing the model for risqué sex comedies in the new century,” there is no dearth of competition in the raunch genre, and the subsequent direct-to video brand extensions were neither cinematically nor financially remarkable.

The challenge then is how to “resurrect” a once popular series for a fourth installment opening in a different cultural moment after a significant passage of time since the last film of the series.

Conventional wisdom posits, rather elementarily, that you need to activate the original fans with the promise of known and familiar pleasures, updated by the development of those previously appealing story lines and characters. New audiences, for their part, are appealed to on the basis of compelling and contemporary qualities in the new film. In other words, you’ve got to navigate similarity and difference (offering a little of both) for established audiences, while delivering something fresh and attractive to new audiences.

In a more scholarly and analytical exploration of the challenge faced by sequels conducted by UCLA Anderson Biz School Professor’s Sanjay Sood and Xavier Dreze’s,(“Brand Extensions of Experiential Goods: Movie Sequel Evaluations“) they describe how:
“Three studies examined movie sequels as a type of experiential brand extension. In contrast to traditional categorization models, our results revealed a reverse pattern for the effects of perceived similarity based on the degree of assimilation and the subsequent likelihood of satiation. Study 1 revealed that evaluations of numbered movie sequels improved when the sequels were dissimilar as opposed to similar, whereas named sequels did not depend on similarity. Study 2 showed that the likelihood of satiation is dependent upon activation of the original movie; numbered sequels were more likely to be assimilated with the original movie, leading to lower evaluations, faster response times, and reduced recall of the sequel’s plot. Study 3 found two of the experimental main effects actually extended to real?world sequel evaluations over a 48 yr. period. Dissimilar sequels were rated higher than similar sequels, and sequels with named titles were rated higher than sequels with numbered titles in the IMDb. In addition, named (vs. numbered) sequels were more likely to result in the launch of yet another sequel. Summing across these three studies, we conclude that for experiential attributes, the evaluations of brand extensions reverse the traditional pattern because consumers evidently value dissimilarity over similarity.”

[Nota bene: Satiety in their usage is not a good thing. It means, more or less, too much; surfeit, enough!]

So, let’s look at how the makers of American Reunion’s Red Band trailer handled the challenge.

First, they weren’t burdened with a numbered brand extension, but one with its own title, that both referenced the series while identifying the premise of the new addition: a reunion.

Second, they relied on the most memorable moment- indeed, the paradigmatic sequence– from the first film (a conceit developed in the others as well) as the focus of this 1:21 second trailer. American Pie portrayed inappropriate and interrupted masturbation and subsequent humiliation as its model of American adolescent sexual development.

The Red Band trailer for American Reunion explores this thematic, and gives it a clever twist: whereas in the first film, Eugene Levy (the dad, Mr. Levinstein) surprises his son Jim, (Jason Biggs) in flagrante indelicato with an apple pie, this trailer shows Jim, now a father himself, being interrupted in a moment of private pleasure by his toddler son, Evan. He then, interrupts his wife, during her moment of private pleasure in the bathtub, whereupon, startled, she releases the shower massage which sprays the interior of her bathroom and soaks her husband, who is figuratively and literally, “all wet” or perhaps, cooled down after having been hot and bothered.

For a trailer, this is remarkably focused: basically, we see an extended scene involving exhausted young parents who are not finding time for intimacy with each other frustrated in their clandestine efforts to gratify themselves. Jason Bigg’s character can never, presumably, catch a break, caught in the act, as it were, first by his father, then by his son, in a striking inversion of a truly seminal moment of male anxiety.

Of course, no American Pie franchise would be complete without the “gross-out” factor and in this film, it has to do with the presumed “uncleanliness” of Jason’s masturbatory sock (filled with lube and ejaculate) which he flings onto the head of his innocent (pure) toddler, in his distraction over being surprised. He then scrambles to remove the contaminating garment after having first slammed his member in his porn-streaming laptop.

The music cues for the trailers, R Kelly’sBump & Grind,” and James‘ 1993 “Laid” hit, are well chosen, albeit, expensive components of the messaging and the tone of this trailer. Two cues from R Kelly’s 1994 hit are used as well as two cues from “Laid.” “My mind’s telling me no, but my body, my body,” talk-sings Mr. Kelly as Bigg’s hesitates, then decides to look at online porn while his wife is sequestered in the tub.

James’ infectious lyrics, “this bed is on fire, with a passionate love” kick in just as Biggs has leapt from his bed to remove the offending sock from his boy’s head. A cast run follows, featuring the actors in what look like photobooth candids, a name tag identifying them in the roles they’re reprising 13 years after the original American Pie, during the course of a sloppy high school reunion.

We then return to the Levinstein household where Jim breaks into his wife’s Michele’s (Alyson Hannigan) bubble-bath and the cue picks up R Kelly’s song at the lyric, “I don’t see nothing wrong, with the bump and grind.” She seems to be doing more than just soaking and washing in rhythm to the music.

In the first cue, R Kelly sings of sexual confidence, competence and assertion, lyrics in ironic contrast to our protagonist’s haplessness in such affairs. The James cue is an anthem to the insanity and illogic of sexual passion, which does, I think, better describe the ethos and depictions within the American Pie movies.

Of course, there’s more to be said about this trailer, but I trust I’ve said enough about how and why it works. To recap: It reactivates core fans by connecting with familiar/anticipated pleasures, while interestingly re-vising them for a new film, in which the story is developed along with the original characters. The Reunion concept is ideal, if not entirely unpredictable, as a vehicle for just this resolution of the same/difference dynamic. As for new fans, they’ll quickly see that the franchise is not to be outdone in the raunchy/gross out category which has been so well-populated in the meantime. And they just might be curious to see what all the fuss was about in the original films, albeit updated for a 2012 sensibility and frame of reference.

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THE TITLE SEQUENCE AND THE TRAILER: Whether Peritext or Epitext, Almost Always More Interesting Than Their Feature!

[vimeo http://vimeo.com/31992143]

My friend and colleague, Dr. Enrica Picarelli, writing on her smart and rigorous media studies blog, Space of Attraction, recently steered me to the website ART OF THE TITLE, “a compendium and leading web resource of film and television title design from around the world,” as the editors it. Above, you’ll see a brief video put together by chief editor Ian Albinson (who runs a motion graphic design studio) of titles by legendary graphic designer and title-sequence director, Saul Bass.

After visiting the site and watching various title sequences, I was reminded of an essay by Georg Stanitzek, a professor of German Literature at the University of Siegen, Germany, entitled, “Reading the Title Sequence (Vorspann, Generique),” which I include on my seminar reading list, but never get time to discuss.

In today’s post, I wanted to quote liberally from Prof. Stanitzek’s essay, first to share his persuasive understanding of title sequences and later to address the similarities between trailers and title sequences, both of which are fascinating, formally dynamic, underexamined but indispensable film texts that mediate and comment on the feature-film they either herald or introduce.

Here’s Stanitzek opening salvo about the title sequence:

“The opening titles of a feature film are embedded in a complex intermediary
zone. The movie begins, but where and when exactly? Viewers find themselves in a
threshold situation that, to be sure, consists of far more than just the title
sequence. And yet the title sequence itself is part of it, and as such it takes
this intermediary zone into account. It is a zone of announcements, movie
reviews, trailers and posters, box offices and admission fees, good seats or bad
seats, commercials, conversation, and popcorn.” (For some of these insights, Stanitzek’s offers a shout out to Prof. Vinzenz Hediger, with whom readers of this blog should be well acquainted.)

Even for audiences enjoying the feature in their own home entertainment environment, where fees and tickets, box offices and advertisements are typically concealed or suppressed, but in which conversation, popcorn and trailers endure, title sequences separate “the inside from the outside….the play of the narrative from what is documenting the production, cinematic narrative from film commentary, intradiegetic from extradiegetic information.”

In “reading” the title sequence, Stanitzek moves methodically through the array of critical functions a title sequence has to perform: copyright law (establishing legal “title”), economics (the division of labor in the making of a film), certification of employment in the context of careers (credits for free-lance production professionals), movie title (the name of the feature), entertainment (compelling, engaging content to draw the audience from conversation to contemplation), commercials (marketing appeals for the feature being presented), fashion (in relation to or inspired by the design and look of the film itself), and art (the artistry of the graphic designer).

This list struck me, both for its indisputable truth, but also because so much of this vital work was sublimated, as it were, in our consumption of these often beautiful and dynamic visuals. It’s worth repeating that they’re called title sequences, not because of the “title of the film,” but because of the need to assert or claim “legal title” or ownership of this potentially valuable piece of art, craftsmanship and intellectual property.


THE TITLE SEQUENCE FOR THE PINK PANTHER 1963: THE MOST INTERESTING EVER?

Finally, jumping over many other significant, insightful and startling claims in Stanitzek essay, I wanted to focus on the comparison he offers to trailers, my own particular obsession:

“Its playful nature and the particular freedoms granted to the title sequence are what set it apart from the other short, semi-autonomous cinematic form, the film trailer [my emphasis]. However, there are things that the two have in common, as they are both, in principle, concentrated forms. That there is little formal similarity between them results from their different paratextual positions. It is not for nothing that one of the most important differentiators in a paratext analysis is the question of where a paratextual element appears and where it is placed. Peritexts are found close to the text to which they refer, are affixed to it to some degree and enter into view with it, whereas epitexts are located at a greater distance from the text to which they refer, so that they can—in a temporal dimension as well—provide commentary in the forefront or as follow-up. In the sense of the distinction named, the title sequence is a peritext; it is tied more or less securely to the film it introduces. On the other hand, the trailer—like movie posters, newspaper advertisements, stills, “Making of ” accounts, press conferences, and the like—constitutes an epitextual form. With these “sites” go very specific paratextual functions, which, in turn, have consequences for degrees of freedom with respect to representational form and design. This is especially true of the film trailer; here it differs from the bundle of heterogeneous functions that characterize the title sequence. For it is central to the trailer that it fulfill the function of announcing and advertising and this restricts it to a certain representational redundancy. With a certain regularity a promotional voice, usually off camera, transposes the heralded film to the future perfect: “This is the experience you will have had (and of which you will be able to tell your friends).” And since the eighties, trailers have used the recurring formula, “Now, in a world where.. .” to mark the exceptionally interesting prospective diegetic world as an incipient aesthetic experience. In a very general way, in this respect also, a parallel could be drawn to the title sequence announcing the film to come. But this aspect of announcement has—by virtue of its paratextual positioning and function—a very different quality.”

Did ya’ll get that? The title sequence is a peritext; the trailer an epitext. The title sequence, despite its proximity to the feature, has greater formal variation and experimental possibility. The trailer, given its function, is more constrained.

I’m thinking another post or two is in order to explore the eye-popping world of title sequences and the eye-opening things Stanitzek says about them. And perhaps, I should also develop further this comparison contrast between trailers and titles.

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movietrailers101 by Fred Greene is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

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