By Marc Jampole
Two commercials currently on TV are making me—and probably most other viewers—squirm with discomfort. Both are meant to be funny, but once explained, the logic behind the humor may turn stomachs.
Two commercials currently on TV are making me—and probably most other viewers—squirm with discomfort. Both are meant to be funny, but once explained, the logic behind the humor may turn stomachs.
The first is a spot for Lay’s potato chips that opens with
an animated version of the classic Mr. Potato toy getting home from work. He
can’t find his wife anywhere. He hear a strange crackle and then another. He
follows the sounds until he sees his wife hiding in a room with a bag of Lay’s
potato chips, munching away. She is suitably embarrassed at what amounts to an
act of cannibalism, but the commercial explains that the chips are so delicious
that they are irresistible. The last shot shows Mr. & Mrs. Potato Head
snacking on the chips, both with a look of mischievous glee on their face—they
know they are doing a naughty thing, but it just doesn’t matter.
The scene is reminiscent of Jean-Luc Godard’s masterpiece,
“Weekend,” at the end of which the main female character sucks on a bone from a
stew prepared by the revolutionary who has forcibly made her his concubine.
“What is it we’re eating?” she asks, to which the punky gangster answers, “Your
husband.” She has the last line of the movie: “Not bad…” and then keeps gnawing
on the bone.
Eating another being of your own species is generally considered
to be an abomination. Although the Potato Heads are not humans, they are
stand-ins for humans with human emotions and aspirations, just like the various
mice, ducks, rabbits, dogs, foxes, lions and other animals we have
anthropomorphized since the beginning of recorded history. From Aesop and Wu
Cheng’en to Orwell and Disney, authors have frequently used animals as
stand-ins for humans in fairy tales, satires and children’s literature.
So when Mrs. Potato Head eats a potato, it’s an overt
representation of cannibalism—humans eating other humans.
The advertiser is trying to make fun of transgression, to diminish the guilt that many on a diet or watching their weight might feel in eating potato chips, which after all, are nutritionally worthless. But behind the jokiness of a potato eating a potato chip stands more than the idea that it’s okay for humans to eat them. The implication in having a potato playing at human eating other potatoes is that we are allowed to do anything transgressive, even cannibalism—everything is okay, as long as it leads to our own pleasure. The end-game of such thinking is that our sole moral compass should be our own desires.
Thus the Lay’s Potato Head commercial expresses an extreme
form of the politics of selfishness, the Reaganistic dictate that everyone
should be allowed to pursue his or her own best interests without the
constraint of society. Like the image of the vampire living on the blood of
humans or of the “Purge” series of movies in which people are allowed any
violent action one night a year, the Potato Head family eating other potatoes
that have first been dried, processed, bathed in chemicals, extruded and baked
symbolizes and justifies what the 1% continues to do to the rest of the
population.
And it’s a happy message, too! We don’t get the sense that it’s a “dog-eat-dog
world in which you have to eat or be eaten.” No, Lay’s presents the gentle
Reagan version: you can do anything you like to fill your selfish desires (no
matter whom it hurts).
The kooky image of potatoes as cannibals may be funny, but I
can’t imagine anyone is laughing at the Direct TV series of commercials that
present human beings as string puppets who trip over furniture and get caught
in ceiling fans.
To sell the fact that Direct TV—a satellite television
service—can operate without wires, these commercials start by depicting a
normal-looking character complaining about wires in the entertainment system or
expressing delight that he has Direct TV and therefore can go wireless. At this
point in the several versions of the spot I have seen, we are introduced to
another member of the family who is a string puppet. As the normal character
stammers about how wireless is okay for people but not when it comes to TV, the
string puppet bounces around, hands and fingers flapping, shoulders hunching
together and legs and knees dangling, until it trips or gets hung up in the fan
or something that is supposed to be funny happens. But it’s only funny if one
enjoys the cruel humor of slapstick and if one forgets that the stringed puppet
is supposed to be part of the family—in other words a real human being with a
challenging disability.
Direct TV has a long history of commercials that make fun of
its audience, such as the idiot who fails to inherit a mansion, yacht and major
stock portfolio but cries for glee because his rich deceased relative has willed
him the Direct TV package. But the string people in these new Direct TV spots
are not buffoons, not stupid, not venial, not pompous or supercilious. No, the
trait that the spot exploits for humor is that they are disabled.
The commercial tries to extract humor out of mocking people with disabilities. No wonder everyone with whom I have watched this spot has turned away with a disgusted expression.
Nothing connects these two commercials except the bad taste
which led to their conception and broadcast.
The Direct TV commercial has no political or social subtext to it—it’s a
juvenile effort to make a joke at the expense of people with physical challenges.
The Mr. Potato Head cannibalism commercial, however, seems to offer a fable
about the relationship between the haves and the have-nots, or in this
case—those who eat and those who are eaten. The fabulist is interested in
selling products and making consumers feel good about the process of
consumption, even when it is transgressive.
Some may call it an overturning of traditional morality. I call it
business as usual in a post-industrial consumer society.
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