Focus on Editing: Jay Ankeney
Ads of Super Bowl XXXVI
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| Harnessed Clydesdales |
Super Bowl XXXVI was a bittersweet broadcast this
year, given the pallor of 9/11 looming over everything from the
coin toss to the halftime ceremonies. Interest in the anticipated
slew of Super Bowl ads, like its revenues for Fox, was diminished
compared to past gridiron epics. But at least two of those high
profile spots admirably communicated a sensitivity to that lingering
tragedy by invoking the most powerful aspects of the aesthetics
of editing.
With apologies to Britney, Cedric and those talking
cows, to this editor’s eye the best Super Bowl commercials
were the "Respect" ad (with the Clydesdale horses) sponsored
by Anheuser-Busch and the spot called "AK-47" (asking
"Where do terrorists get their money?"), commissioned
by the Office of National Drug Control Policy.
So let’s call upon the three premiere concepts
in an editor’s toolkit, our Holy Trinity of context, contrast
and rhythm, to analyze how the editing of these Super Bowl ads generated
their sensory effect when they appeared during the Feb. 3 broadcast.
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| Horses Crossing Brooklyn Bridge |
To make sure this doesn’t get too dry, let’s
start by defining some terms that will be familiar, I’m sure,
to longtime "Focus on Editing" readers. This column has
always interpreted "editing" as the creative process of
juxtaposing two disparate images to create a third, unique idea
that is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s a phenomenon
only relevant within the context of the whole production.
CONTEXT, CONTRAST AND RHYTHM
This can be expressed in the formula, B + C = A, where
the contrast of the shots being banged together, "B" and
"C," create the desired reaction, "A" in the
audience’s mind. On a larger scale, this can also be seen as
the context the audience brings to the experience ("B")
being brought into contrast with the artificial reality the editor
is trying to create ("C") to produce the viewer’s
overall impression ("A"). The temporal element governing
the pacing of this alchemy, of course, determines the rhythm.
A prime example of this came with 14:54 left in the
second quarter of Super Bowl XXXVI – right after the Patriot’s
Terrance Shaw had broken up a midfield pass to the Rams’ Az-Azir
Hakim. Anheuser-Busch’s 60-second "Respect" spot
comprised 22 shots whose ultimate impact depended on an image that
did not actually appear on the screen. Instead, those behind the
spot’s editing counted on it being subliminally added by everyone
affected by 9/11.
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| Clydesdales “Bow” |
The ad’s first seven cuts contrasted wide shots
of horses in a pastoral setting with close-ups of the majestic Clydesdales
being harnessed to draw the familiar keg wagon down picturesque
country roads. The sequence’s context played off our memories
of the Currier & Ives-inspired celebrations Budweiser had previously
wrapped around its beer during festive occasions. But the rhythm
was different – a deliberately slow two count on each shot
that seemed oddly pensive.
During the next six edits, the horses trotted down
small-town roads and into a city. The solemn pacing was consistent
(one … two-cut, one … two-cut), but once the horses crossed
the Brooklyn Bridge the context was beginning to become clear.
Three shots then brought the team to a stop upon a
snow-covered landscape before the urban skyline. A close-up of a
large, gentle brown eye juxtaposed with a medium angle of the team
standing with the Statue of Liberty behind them foretold the impending
climax. Their legs bent in tight detail, their heads bowed slowly
and in a wide panorama, we saw the whole team pay homage to the
skyline – a skyline whose gaping void was filled in by every
viewer who remembered where the World Trade Center once stood.
The magnificent editing of the piece had used the
dirgelike rhythm of the shot, pacing to contrast within the audience’s
mind the seen image of the horses with the unseen image of a national
icon forever gone, all achieved in the context of an indelibly shared
experience. Brilliant!
JUST SAY NO
Fast-forward to 6:03 remaining in the third quarter,
with the Rams down 14-3. In the middle of a block of ads for videos
and cars, a wobbly shot panned down from a winter tree to a white
duplex silhouetted against a lonely sky. Cut to the grainy image
of an international passport. Aha, we thought. We know this context.
We recognize this shaky-cam technique. It’s gotta be something
Gen-X. Nothing special.
Then a black intertitle card with white letters flashed
on, saying "fake ID: $3,000" and we think, "Oh, sure,
the context is probably satirizing one of those credit card ads
contrasting monetary expenditures against emotional gain."
But the next shot showing the moon peering through leafless branches
cut to another intertitle emblazoned "safe house: $7,200"
was then followed by a zoom in on a "House for Rent" sign.
Hmm, this is something strange.
Only after the 30-second spot faded to black did viewers
fully understand that they were watching a PSA funded by the Office
of National Drug Control Policy. It was called "AK-47"
and the editorial style it used to pound its message home was a
montage of images worthy of Sergei Eisenstein decrying the financial
underpinnings of international terrorism.
With accelerating speed we saw intertitles proclaiming
"box cutters: $2," "explosives: $1,200" and
"AK-47: $300" spliced between images of a man at a workbench
putting together something electronic. His gritty fingers tested
the toggle on a detonator and we saw some vague bundles stenciled
"Demolition Block C-4."
The pace accelerated against a jumbled audio clatter
of fragmented words, sound effects and phone beeps. Some shots were
intentionally so blurry they were indecipherable. Others, only frames
long, went by too quickly to fully register. But the feeling was
tense. Very tense.
The producers and editors had accomplished the very
essence of editing: the creation of "a unique idea that is
greater than the sum of its parts." What at first seemed to
be random snippets of imagery were really a carefully composed orchestration
of shots pulling the viewer inexorably forward.
The intertitles flashed on the screen in a crescendo
of hi-con text: "ski masks: $5," "wire transfers:
$200," "gas: $22." By the time unidentified hands
loaded weapons into open trunks and speeding cars careened through
bleak tunnels lit by cold fluorescent light, the rhythm of the cutting
had accelerated to a whirlwind.
The soundtrack slammed suddenly into silence. Intertitle:
"Where do terrorists get their money?" A car pulled up
to its destination. Intertitle: "If you buy drugs" (a
trunk lid snapped open to reveal a cache of weapons), "some
of it might come from you." Cut to end title, "theantidrug.com"
and sponsoring credits.
It was unquestionably a tour de force of editing technique,
contrasting words and images in the deceptive context with an in-your-face
rhythm pretending to defy convention. Unlike the bucolic beauty
of Anheuser-Busch’s paean to our lost innocence, the clarion
challenge from "theantidrug.com" invoked a cacophony of
editorial skill to alert us to future dangers.
At the end of the day, someone kicked a field goal
and we all went home. But perhaps, just as with so many things in
life, the real meaning of the experience was what happened between
the lines.
Jay Ankeney is a free-lance editor and post production
consultant based in Los Angeles. Write him at 220 39th St. (upper),
Manhattan Beach, CA 90266.
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