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Blazing-Cold Advertising Takes: Chevy’s holiday ad

Blazing-Cold Advertising Takes: Chevy’s holiday ad

A screenshot from Chevy’s holiday ad. A row of classic Chevys, and one shiny red Chevy SUV, sits in front of a body shop. The body shop is also old-looking, in chipped beige brick with green wood trim, and men who are nearly as old are on the street and sidewalk in front of it, admiring the old cars. Next to the shop is another building, also beige brick, but with pretty arched windows and small trees in front. Nothing’s going on over there, but it’s nice to look at.
“Oh, what, these? They’re just — holy shit, you’re right, they really are all Chevys. Who knew?”

What was hugely popular and widely celebrated over the 2021 holiday season? Chevy’s holiday ad. What did I legitimately love, from an artistic standpoint? Chevy’s holiday ad. What am I about to nonetheless poop all over?

That’s right.

So, I’m 100-percent sure you joined me in celebrating the 2021 Weepies back in December, and you probably noticed that the Gold Weepy was bestowed somewhat… grudgingly on Chevy’s holiday ad, “Holiday Ride.” And I really was of two minds about it. They’re hard to reconcile, because the ad was both undeniably gorgeous and undeniably commercial. (Yes, I just dinged a commercial for being commercial. Don’t @ me.) People talked about how emotional and moving and touching it was, and they weren’t wrong. And yet…

You know? Yeah. Right? Maybe? Here’s my blazing-cold take on the Chevy holiday ad, and why I loved and also did not love it.

It was gorgeous.

The ad was stunning. It was beautifully shot and emotionally effective. From the moment the dad replaced the crumbling old wreath on the door of the barn — with that one little action — the tone was set, and even without knowing what was going on yet, your heart was already with this guy. His performance was heartbreaking and earnest. The daughter’s performance was almost so. When he touches the dusty hood of the Chevy, still wearing his wedding ring after all this time? I’m already crying. Looking at the picture, his face crumbling, and I’m sobbing. His happy tears as he sits in the restored car and looks at the framed picture of his late wife? Sobbing again. Just thinking about it now, I’m crying all over again. The daughter noisily washing the dishes to hide the sound of the guys loading the car onto the trailer? A masterful detail.

And honestly, what else would you expect? The ad was led by Academy Award-winning director Tom Hooper, shot by Academy Award-winning cinematographer Claudio Miranda, set to a score by Academy Award-winning composer Rachel Portman. (They now, of course, can proudly boast a Weepy Award as well.) The agency says the ad was inspired by actual events, and that Hooper felt a personal connection to it and felt dedicated to give it every bit of the emotion and grace and beauty and heartbreak it deserved. Mission definitely accomplished. This was executed by a team of experts, not just creatives but genuine artists, and the result was genuine artistry. It was a beautiful, unashamedly emotional, moving story about love and loss and grief and healing and the joy we can still find in all of it, and it was gorgeous.

However.

It was also an ad.

For all that it didn’t have a CTA at the end, Chevy’s holiday offering was an ad. It didn’t instruct you to head to your Chevy dealer to buy a 2022 Malibu that your children will someday sentimentally restore in your memory, but the reason it existed was to promote the Chevy brand. 

There’s product placement. The dad’s Chevy truck noticeable in the background as he walks out to the barn, and the daughter’s own red Chevy parked next to it when she arrived. His hand running lovingly over the Chevy logo in the middle of the old car’s steering wheel. The line of old Chevys parked in front of the body shop. The beautiful old ’66 Chevy Impala, the star of the show. And why wouldn’t those placements all be there, every one of them, subtle yet unignorable? It’s a Chevy ad, after all.

It’s a Chevy ad.

And during a time of intense, ongoing loss and grief, an ad that plays on that feels maybe a little manipulative. Every day, across the country, thousands of people are dying and, I guess, leaving cars to someday be restored by their children. Slapping a logo on an expression of mutual grief and support just feels weird.

Yeah, I know.

I feel like a jerk for even bringing it up, because if Chevy hadn’t wanted to make a beautiful, touching holiday ad, we wouldn’t have this gorgeous short film. Response has been universally positive — including my own personal response. Comments on the YouTube video are full of nostalgia and commenters sharing their own grief and praising and thanking Chevy for a beautiful film. Except it’s not a film — films are works of art in and of themselves, for the purpose of sharing a story, and ads are targeted and strategic, for the purpose of compelling a specific reaction in their audience. And an emotionally gripping four-minute long ad by an acclaimed director is… still an ad.

Chevy isn’t going to get, like, cancelled for this, or anything, nor should they be. The ad was beautiful and moving and meaningful to basically every single person who watched it. And while obviously, I think Chevy did something a leetle off, or else I wouldn’t have written a whole long-ass blog post about it, I don’t think they did anything so very much off-er than advertisers generally do when they go the emotional route. I mean, they do it so often, I literally hand out awards for it. 

And this ad is, to be sure, Gold Weepy-worthy. Just grudgingly so. With reservations. And for all that I didn’t love-love it, I for real did love-love it. For a short film, it was beautiful. And for an ad, it was a beautiful short film.

So there you have it: another one of the definitely-not-hot takes that bring you back to this blog every week or so. Watch this space for future hedging, lukewarm opinions about the issues that are setting the advertising industry ablaze.

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