A movie that's full of drumming and utterly devoid of sex, and that's where the parallel with my high school years ends.

You know what’s cool about being in the DGA? Christmas. This time of year I get screeners for a ton of movies that are hoping to be considered for awards. 

I know, right?

A couple of nights ago I dropped Whiplash into the DVD player. It's a story about a young musical student (played by Miles Teller) and his relationship with an abusive teacher (played by JK Simmons, who must have had a blast with the role because he gets to be a completely glorious asshole).

The fact that I’m singling out this movie might lead you to believe that this is an attempt to influence the voting. Nope. A lot of good films came out this year and I’m going to leave it to the Academy to decide whether Whiplash happens to be the best of them.

The reason I’m bringing it up is because it does something I’ve never seen before. Both the protagonist and the antagonist are pursuing the exact same thing. 

Exact.

The two characters tell you (by way of actions and dialogue with other characters) exactly what they intend to accomplish and the lengths they’re willing to go to accomplish it, so the movie doesn’t even have to fall back on a “surprise” reveal to justify their actions.

From a story point of view, that’s an extraordinary thing to pull off. And I happen to think it does. Despite both characters’ single-minded determination (see my post from June 5, 2009 about that) to achieve said goal, the film is able to create and elevate the conflict all the way through to an ending that’s simultaneously surprising, satisfying, and totally, perfectly, completely inevitable.  

Okay, I lied. I would like to influence the voting. Members of the Academy, take a look at the dramatic structure of this story. And consider nominating Damien Chazelle for Best Screenplay.

My Christmas gift to you: Three secrets to making a great commercial

Good ad agencies, like good businesses of any ilk, have a point of view. And back in the 90s, BBDO was one of the best. Their point of view enabled them to do a particular kind of advertising and they did the shit out of it for Pepsi, Visa, Skippy, and Frito-Lay.

I know this well because from 1993 to 1995 I was Senior Vice President/Creative Director at BBDO.

I'm going to tell you a secret. The BBDO secret.

The quintessential BBDO commercial (the agency almost exclusively did TV commercials) relied on three things: 1) Intrigue, 2) Misdirection, and 3) Making the product the hero.

Intrigue means it's a story and the story sucks you in.

Cindy Crawford steps out of a sports car at a desolate gas station and walks over to a vending machine.

I wonder what's going to happen next, don't you? You do. We all do, especially since we establish that two boys are watching her. (Remind me to share John Cleese's brilliant observation about comedy in a post someday.)

Misdirection goes to the dramatic structure. If you know how your story is going to turn out, why would you continue watching? Well, yeah, there are reasons. Like, for instance, it's Cindy Crawford. 

Sure, we know Cindy is going to put money into the vending machine and push a button. Will a Pepsi come out? It does. Will she drink it? She will. But what of the two boys?

Here comes the misdirection: As Cindy slugs down the Pepsi, the two boys watch, slack jawed. One of them comments, "Is that a great new Pepsi can or what?"

Which brings me to making the product the hero. That's shorthand for "the product is not just integral to the story, it is the very thing that makes the punch line satisfying." When your product isn't the hero, you may have something funny –– like shooting gerbils out of a cannon as Outpost.com did in a Superbowl spot back in 1999 –– but you don't really have a commercial.

The hero of the spot with Cindy Crawford is the can. Pepsi had redesigned their can. Implicit in the commercial, whether believable or not, was that Pepsi's new can was even more beautiful than Cindy Crawford's... well... can.

It's twenty years later and the same approach still works magic. A magnificent example is Apple's "Misunderstood" holiday commercial.

We think we're watching a kid playing with his iPhone at the expense of engaging with his family during the holidays. Misdirection. Turns out he's shooting a movie of the family on his iPhone to share with them on Christmas morning. 

As for product as hero, yep. Apple made a big point about its improved video capabilities with the introduction of the new iPhone earlier this year. I'm pretty sure the brief the agency worked from directed them to create a spot that highlighted the feature.

Feature.

That's an important word and it brings me to Secret #4. (I know. Look at me being all generous.) There are features and there are benefits. Features are what a product has or does. Benefits are what you get from having a feature. The ability to make a movie on your phone is a feature. The ability to bring your family together and share memories almost as they're being created? That's a benefit.

This is an extraordinary spot. Beautifully conceived and well-crafted.

I'm grateful to both Apple and TBWA\Chiat\Day (the ad agency) for giving me a gift I so appreciate as this most difficult of all years finally comes to a close: Proof that it's still possible to create truly great advertising.

I'm entering 2014 inspired. I hope you are, too.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Already.

I just made a phone call and heard a Christmas carol while I was on hold. 

On November 1st. 

Remember when we used to complain because the Christmas music would start on Thanksgiving?

Back when I was your age, it was different. Sure, people got into the holiday spirit a month before Christmas. And it was annoying as all hell. But where it came from was giddy anticipatoin. 

But it’s not holiday spirit. Not anymore. Now it’s about sales. Our consumption-obsessed society is addicted to a certain level of commerce, and like a junkie who needs a fix, we’ll lie to ourselves if we think it’ll help us get it. 

That means for the next 55 days, expect to be bombarded by Christmas carols, Christmas sales, Christmas promotions, Christmas decorations, Christmas everything –– coming at us relentlessly from every direction in a desperate attempt to turn another shitty year around.

It's not going to work. I know, the recession officially ended in June of 2009, but I’m willing to go out on a limb here and predict that the holiday shopping season isn’t going to break any records. 

And you know what that means.

Starting December 26th, the Valentine’s Day frenzy begins. 

Yep, I'm actually going to use a Christmas carol to make a point about directing.

By this time every year, I'm totally, completely sick of holiday music. Call me a grinch, but the next tinny speaker that tries to get me in a holiday mood by spewing 'Little Drummer Boy' or 'Run, Run Rudolph' into the air anywhere near me is going to find itself decorated for the holidays with a dent that matches the size and shape of the heel of my shoe.

But there's one song I never seem to get tired of. 'Baby It's Cold Outside'.

Okay, it's not really a Christmas carol. But for a song that was written in 1944, it gets played a lot during the holidays –– and almost never during the rest of the year.

I know what you're thinking. You're wondering what 'Baby It's Cold Outside' has to do with directing. Well, let's start with the film 'Elf', which featured the song, sung by Zooey Deschanel –– whose voice has a syrupy, 1940s quality –– and Leon Redbone –– an inspired choice to dub for Will Ferrell.

Before that, it was actually used in the musical 'Neptune's Daughter'. Twice. Ricardo Montalban and Esther Williams sang it once. Red Skelton and Betty Garrett sang it the other time. And it won Frank Loesser the Oscar for Best Original Song.

Enough history. It's a great song. But the question is, why?

In a word, subtext.

And that, dear Aspiring Director, is relevant to making a quality film in a way that a little gold statue may or may not be.

Listen to the lyrics. 'Baby It's Cold Outside' is a seduction, set to music.

Here's a really fun exercise: Translate the words to the song into what you know they mean. What you end up with is something about seven seconds long and boring.

Here's my version:

"I want to have sex with you."

"I want to have sex with you, too, but I don't think I should."

"I want to have sex with you."

"Okay."

When you translate the song into plain English, it sounds like the dialogue from a typical Hollywood action film. It's the subtext that makes it interesting. Sure, we know it's cold outside. That much is obvious from the title. But as the song progresses, we get to know who these people are, what they've been doing, how they think, and what their circumstances are. Or, to put it into film talk, character, backstory, motivation, and conflict. We even know exactly what's about to happen next.

Subtext isn't easy. You have to write around something instead of saying it directly, and believe me, it's hard enough to say something directly. But when it works, you end up with something really interesting. Something people –– people like me, anyway –– want to hear over and over again, even when it happens to be 65 years old.

Happy holidays. Now get back to work.