Do you think you're fully conscious of the blurred line between the arts and advertising in your favorite TV shows and movies? If you're blissfully unaware that product placement in the childhood favorite "E.T.: The Extra−Terrestrial" (1982) is basically the reason that Reese's Pieces exist — and would like to remain unaware — then you should probably avoid Morgan Spurlock's latest film, "POM Wonderful Presents: The Greatest Movie Ever Sold." Also, you shouldn't have read that last sentence. Oops.
Spurlock's so−called "docbuster" is a spunky, hands−on examination of the many ways the advertising industry promotes and manipulates viewers' brand preferences through their favorite mediums of entertainment. "The Greatest Movie" provides a window into the behind−the−scenes relationships between filmmakers and advertisers, and — here's the cool part — it's entirely funded by advertising.
"Entirely funded" more or less translates to a wealth of ridiculously specific lifestyle limitations for Spurlock. While onscreen, he's obliged to drink only POM, pump all his gas at Sheetz and rock Merrells like they've never been rocked before. Our cheeky narrator embraces these corny tasks in such good humor that I'm actually not sure if he was faking his excessive love for Merrells. He practically snuggles with them at a few points.
The ad money also sponsors a smattering of 30−second commercials interspersed throughout the film, which are fortunately crafted with touches of clever irony, silliness or both. In what is probably the cutest commercial, Spurlock and his adorable son play with figurines inside a cardboard airplane, complimenting Jet Blue's extraordinary in−flight experience in silly and affected voices.
Though the film garners its sense of uniqueness from its transparent agenda, it is Spurlock's brazen, crackling sense of humor that makes it fun to watch. His conversational tone enables him to almost literally reach out and tickle the audience from the screen; the laughs he elicits are that reflexive. From cursing off Volkswagen for emphatically rejecting his pitch, to conceptualizing a hilarious commercial for Mane 'n Tail hair care products — think Shetland pony in a bathtub — Spurlock seems confident that you'll find his tirades as funny as he does. Odds are, you will.
Although wisecracks and the occasional erection joke (apparently, POM is the new Viagra) maintain "The Greatest Movie's" sunny energy, the tentative balance between creative work and the ad business puts a damper on the mood sometimes. It's disheartening to see POM shoot down each of Spurlock's witty commercial pitches, only to request one that not only features a dull premise but also obnoxiously denigrates its competitors. It's a solemn reminder that compromise doesn't always benefit both parties involved, especially when money comes into play.
Whether or not Spurlock does sell out in making "The Greatest Movie," part of what makes the film work so well is how Spurlock's extreme presentation of his subject mimics some of the appalling instances of product placement. Whether or not this parallel was forged consciously, there's a clear stylistic link between Spurlock's documentaries, in which he embraces extremes to convey a point to his audience (for example, his willingness to put his health at risk in 2004's "Super Size Me").
At its best, "The Greatest Movie" is plucky and wry. But at its worst, it's a bit of a bummer, and an unfinished bummer at that — rolling credits or not, there is something in this documentary that feels lingering and unresolved. Maybe it was just Spurlock's lightheartedness — or maybe the advertising industry's seamy underbelly isn't so seamy after all — but the film wasn't the muckraking expose of my expectations. Light was shed, but little was unearthed, which poses the troubling question: Was Spurlock more influenced by his sponsors than he wants us to believe?
Flaws aside, the film is still an intriguing peek into advertising's permeating tendencies and the behind−the−scenes wheeling and dealing that takes place between the advertising and creative industries.
Those brave and humble enough to accept that they're mere pawns in Coca−Cola's master plan should definitely check out this film. There's plenty to take away from "The Greatest Movie Ever Sold," even if a happy ending isn't on the list.
