Thursday, August 10, 2000

Homosexual panic sells!

I spent a fair amount of time early in my career writing pitches for radio and television commercials, so I tend to keep an eye on developments in the field. I await the annual doling out of awards for the best 30-second masterpieces each year with the same enthusiasm many people reserve for the Oscars. Those hour-long "racy commercials from other lands" television specials that the networks use as cheap-to-produce schedule filler are frequently more entertaining to me than most regular prime-time programming.

That's why it's surprising to me that a new trend in television advertising has, so far, gone unnoticed by the trade press and professional media analysts: the use of homosexual panic as a selling tool.

Perhaps you've seen the spot for the Kia economy car, where a goofy blond guy is seen rapturously zipping down the highway in a sporty red Kia. He hangs his head out the window, the wind whipping through his hair, and then gives the dash of the car a playful stroke with his fingers. Just moments later, the car comes to an abrupt stop and its hapless driver is hurled forward, his cheek pressed against the windshield like some sort of Nordic bug.

It is then that the camera dollies back and we see that the protagonist is, in fact, just riding in the car, perched atop a multi-tiered auto carrier. Enter a barrel-chested, long-haired rough trade type long-haul driver who commands the stowaway to "Get down from there!" There's some fine-print superimposed on the screen about mileage estimate and warranties and price while the announcer continues to extoll the virtues of Kia and then cut to the interior of the truck's cab, where the blond guy sits abashed and clearly dwarfed by the trucker. "So," the trucker says, leeringly glancing at the blond, "you're a Pisces too?"

The implication is clear: At the next truck stop, a horrifying anal rape is in the cards for the guy trying to enjoy the pleasures of Kia without benefit of purchase. Run, don't walk, to the nearest Kia dealership! If you merely covet but don't buy this car, we'll see to it that a predatory homosexual is dispatched forthwith to deal with you!

Why, that's just advertising gold.

Sprite is using homo anxiety to sell sugar water, too. Apparently, they're running some sort of contest where you collect bottle caps or coupons or something to trade for money and fabulous prizes. In this commercial, another blond nebbish is checking out the bulletin board in a high school hallway when a gorgeous female classmate approaches from behind, playfully gropes him and suggests that he and she simply must spend some time together.

The blond, Billy, barely has time to mumble his agreement when a second girl comes up and even more aggressively grabs him. As the camera pans down, it becomes apparent that she's not making a play for his lithe adolescent body but instead executing a methodical search of his pockets, questing for Sprite swag. Another sortie by yet another female cutie leaves Billy so flummoxed he drops his books and bends down to gather them.

Only then, from behind Billy -- dear, sweet, virginal Billy -- do we see another classmate approach, apparently intent on being the next to give him a rough and tumble shakedown for soft drink prize gold. It's a burly, goateed guy, a star offensive lineman for the school's football team, no doubt. "Hey Billy," he gruffly says. "What's shakin'?"

The panicked look on Billy's face easily communicates that he knows all too well what's shakin'. Although he wants only to collect his textbooks and beat a hot path to study hall, his rear flank is exposed and he's just moments away from being dragged into the boy's bathroom and introduced to the taboo world of sweaty mansex. That'll certainly leave you parched! Obey your thirst, Billy, and obey your swarthy high school daddy! More Sprite, please!

The most recent entity to exploit the commercial appeal of suggested sodomy is althletic shoe maker Reebok, which has caused a small sensation with its ad campaign sending up the CBS show Survivor. These spots feature Nate and Brian, a Mutt-and-Jeff duo of dubious intellect who have, it seems, embarked on a series of challenges similiar to those endured by the millionaire-wannabes on that damned island.

Here, we drop the pretense of any sort of daddy-boy dynamic; the Reebok company, we're meant to think, is far more egalitarian than that. No, we are meant to believe, I think, that these two stoner survivalists are dudes, buds, amigos. And so, in the recent commercial where the slighter of the two, Brian, is bitten in the wild by a poisonous snake, it's only natural that his compadre Nate gallantly offer to save his life by sucking the venom from the wound. And here, friends, we are treated to a staple of commercial comedy: the sight-gag. You see, the wound is situated so that, seen from the back, it appears that Nate is fellating his fratboy chum. Kissing the kielbasa. Adding a little Brian beef to his diet.

Brian, grateful to be averting death, becomes belatedly aware of this potential for confusion when a buxom female jogger happens by. Why she is doing laps in what we presume to be a deserted jungle is left unexplored, but little Brian, horrified at the implication he is being orally pleasured by his bro, roughly pushes Nate to the ground, willing to accept poisonous fate rather than be thought less than manly by the passing maiden. Oh, if only Brian had had the foresight to purchase Reebok cross-trainers before venturing into the bramble on his survivalist mission with Nate! Suitably shod, he could have reveled in the ministrations of his chum, savoring the warm, wet sensation of Nate's lips upon his skin while at the same time retaining his masculine birthright and remaining attractive to the fairer sex, even in the throes of man-on-man passion. "Reebok!", the commercial crows, "Footwear for the bisexual in all of us!"

I await other entrants to this advertising genre with a mixture of anticipation and dread. It is only a matter of time, I'm sure, before other companies recognize the opportunities for humor -- and consequently, increased profits -- by trading on homophobia and macho insecurity. Surely Proctor & Gamble can sell a lot of soap with some sort of wacky prison shower scene. And do I even have to point out the potential to the makers of Crisco?