If you’re like me (and trust me, for your sake, I hope you’re not), you’ve been spending your nights over the past few months watching the steady stream of never-ending playoff matchups. The NBA Finals, anyone? Yes, like most of humanity outside of southern Florida, I would relish the sight of Dirk finally hoisting the O’Brien trophy, while LeBron and company take their talents and, well, shove them. And then there are the Stanley Cup playoffs, which, while they receive considerably less attention nationally, are the biggest thing going since the 2004 Red Sox here in Boston. If you’re not a hockey fan, just follow a team in the NHL playoffs, and unless you have no soul (guess that sucks for you, Voldemort, John Edwards, and Oprah), you’ll be hooked.
There’s nothing like sports on television, and the male 18-49 demographic on their couches in front of those televisions, to give the guys on Madison Avenue one big collective pants-tent. I’m watching as I type this, and the last 10 commercials I’ve seen (not including networks promoting their own shows) were trying to sell me: a new movie, a car, a faster smartphone, another movie, beer, ED medication, tires, more beer, more technology, and another car.
It’s as if they think we sit around watching the game, drinking beer while browsing on our laptops or smartphones for cool new cars and even cooler new technology, while our penises atrophy.
OK, so maybe they’re on to something.
But that’s not my point. The point is, if you’ve been watching like I have, there’s no possible way you’ve missed Corona’s new “Party Mashup” commercial. It’s on during every other timeout.
The new campaign comes from the advertising geniuses at La Comunidad, who “continue to build on the unique premium quality and casual nature of the brand.”
“Party Mashup…features two rooftop parties. One casual party, and another
party that’s more high-end, come together by means of music and Corona Light. When the casual party is interrupted by loud music coming from the more upscale party, a moment of tension is resolved as the DJ’s join their music together. The upbeat mashup makes the music at both parties even better and is met by cheers and toasts from the crowd.”
This is all well and good. I feel like the “let’s blend two songs together to symbolize cohesion” theme and the “young, hip, and beautiful people who party on rooftops” theme have been done before. But whatever. It’s a beer commercial. It’s fine.
What strikes me, however, is the campaign title that’s supposed to make me want to buy the beer: “It only gets better.”
Now, follow me here. What does “it only gets better” really mean? If I were to change the positive around to a double negative, wouldn’t the equivalent be: “it doesn’t get any worse”? Seriously, I’m sitting here trying to see how I could spin this slogan positively, and I’m having a difficult time. One of two things is going on: either these people are complete idiots, or they are simply being honest about the product.
This beer is the absolute worst. It only gets better.
or Man, after tasting a Corona Light, I’ve realized that it only gets better.
or Your girlfriend is cheating on you, you’ve developed a meth habit, you’re unemployed, and you just choked down a Corona Light. It’s alright, my friend. From here, it only gets better.
Am I wrong? Am I supposed to believe that these freaking Mensas sat in countless creative meetings, spent weeks brainstorming catchy slogans that would reflect well upon the brand and cater to their target demographic, and the best they could come up with was something that, when taken literally, actually suggests that the product they’re trying to promote tastes like sheep urine? And then they got the beautiful minds at Corona in a room, and were able to sell them on the idea?
I find this as fascinating as I do amusing. I welcome many more commercials from this campaign.
Corona Light. It Only Gets Better.
Yep, couldn’t agree more.