Branded Entertainment
Someone told me the other day that the new Transformers movie has 193 instances of product placement. You’re probably thinking the same thing I was: that’s a lot of ads. But why not–how many ads do you see during even fifteen minutes on the internet? There’s been discussion about bringing ads into e-books, so you might be thinking that good old-fashioned, tangible print books are your last safe bet for ad-free escapism. I was thinking the same thing until I picked up a copy of Tao Lin’s Shoplifting from American Apparel.
Shoplifting from American Apparel is a nice semi-autobiographical novela that if printed according to your college professor’s standards would probably be fifty or sixty pages long. The characters are lost between childhood and adulthood in that ever-shifting boundary of adolescence: they’re in their twenties and asking one another questions like “What do you want to be when you grow up?” and “Do you believe in String Theory?” And of course, they’re using products. To list a few from the top of my head, there’s Ebay, Gchat, Mac laptops, Odawalla drinks, Starbucks, Sony, and of course, American Apparel.
I’m so unaccustomed to reading specific brands mentioned in books (unless used in a negative manner, particularly in dystopian works like David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas or Aldous Huxley’s Island), I started to wonder whether it was product placement.
Typical in-print product placement is, of course, commissioned by the company, and may take the form of the following children’s books (most of which seem to promote childhood obesity and diabetes):
Skittles Riddles Math, by Barbara Barbieri McGrath, Roger Glass The Hershey’s Kisses Addition Book, by Jerry Pallotta, Rob Bolster (there’s also a subtraction book and multiplication one) The M&M’s Brand Counting Book, by Barbara Barbieri McGrath Twizzlers Percentages Book by Jerry Pallotta, Rob Bolster The Cheerios Christmas Play Book, by Lee Wade (Cheerios also has books in Spanish)
or may be more similar to branded entertainment where the product takes on an actual role in the plot, such as Fay Weldon’s book The Bulgari Connection or David Lynch’s Dior short film. The BMW shorts are also exemplary.
Lin’s hipster brands are sprinkled in, probably in a manner closer to the second Transformers movie. You can argue, of course, that these brands show the ideals that twenty-somethings supported through their purchasing power. That they add authenticity to the general ennui of the 2008/09 recession. That it fits perfectly with the inside flap’s description: “Shoplifting from American Apparel describes a youth culture attacking the mainstream…” (Because America’s nothing more than an in-fighting corporatocracy? I guess the book was sold at Urban Outfitters…)
Tao Lin probably isn’t get paid to drop names, even though he sold shares of one novel (which might have been Richard Yates or Shoplifting from American Apparel or some other work that has not yet been published?).
For such a short work, though the brands take up a lot of specific space.
What do you think about brands showing up in books? Do you mention brands in your writing?
I always feel strange using brand names in stories, or naming celebrities or anything pop cultural. I know I’ve done it. But I have to say, it kind of makes my skin crawl. I think it can be done very effectively. In the latest issue of Willow Springs, Jess Walter has a short piece called “Please” in which the character says they drank Pepsis. And in galleys, the issue of whether it should be Pepsi or Pepsis came up. But isn’t it really characterizing when someone says something like “Pepsis”?
I think it’s characterizing. I’ve always felt that brand names shouldn’t be included unless they are important somehow. Does it matter if your character is walking into a Safeway or an Albertsons or a Rosaeurs? It can, depending on why they are going in and what happens in there. But most of the time not. Right? And also there’s the sound of thing: saying “we drank colas” might not sound right. I haven’t read the story yet.
And people have mentioned the unintended characterization, too. Or that it dates your story. Product names may create a feeling of a certain slice of demographics. But this can be intentional and helpful, too.
Still, seems like brand names are just like every other aspect of writing: use them if they work, if you can justify them, if they’re important. Otherwise, why bother?
I used brand names sometimes–in particular I remember using Mountain Dew and Bud Dry. I think Marcus is right, it’s the old thing of “Make it work.” I used the brand names for different reasons in each instance. Mountain Dew because it characterized me in that particular essay as someone who has body issues and someone who exercises and also drinks two MDs a day. Bud Dry I used just for detail, and also precisely because it dates it.
I always feel weird about it, too, and usually strive for the general. But I also have significant regional problems, mentioning Speedway where the gas station does not exist, or Kroger where none are located. I understand the characterization argument, but I wonder about it. Do products get dated as absurdly as technology, like Geneva mentioned months and months ago (likewise is it absurd for me to mention a blog post that’s over a day or week old?)? Is it cheap characterization to rely on brands and products to paint a consumer portrait of the character while sacrificing an emotional or intellectual or regional portrait?
I guess John Truby would say go for it, but then again, even Tarantino mixed real product placement with fake products (I’m thinking about Pulp Fiction).
Amaris, I think you’d have to pay the $545 to know what John Truby would say. The question is, can you afford not to?
Could I declare it on my taxes under the American Opportunity credit and get it back next year? You know, just in case my memoir to script doesn’t bring in a million dollars, even with clever product placement
(potential excerpt: “She used small quantities of Raid to keep the cockroach population under control while she Skyped with Zeta aliens.” or “Her new Ipod Touch captured Big Foot in an HD quality video, which went viral on Twitter.”).
I think it sort of has to do with the audience you’re shooting for. So, Coco Chanel or Gucci. Those are brands from the ’20s that most of us are still at least passingly aware of, right? But I don’t know if we will be in 50 years. CompUSA disappeared five years ago, maybe, and I’m already forgetting that it existed. But ten years ago it was a reasonable landmark.
Kroger and Speedway, in Amaris’ comment, might not be recognizable in Spokane, but they’re pretty damn recognizable in Lawrenceburg or Louisville, and maybe marginally recognizable in, say, Minneapolis. So, if the population you’re shooting for is east of Minneapolis, then you might be set.
If you’re doing a local newspaper, for example, or a blog post (old blog posts disappear like chocolate cookies on a counter, right?), brand names might be useful, although for the wider view they may be prone to obsolescence, regionalism, and a quiet shameful descent into obscurity.
[...] Shoplifting from American Apparel. I’d just read the novella, and had posted about its sense of branded youth in the American corporatocracy. After viewing the trailer, my basic film knowledge led me to the conclusion that Pirooz was taking [...]