More Taste, Less Overacting

As we are increasingly bombarded by hulking athletes trying to sell us everything from beer to various-sized trucks, we couldn't resist asking our premier film critics to assess the jocks' performances. We persuaded Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert to take a break from "At the Movies." Then we locked them in a darkened room in our Chicago headquarters and forced them to watch more commercials than humans should be allowed to view at one sitting. Miraculously, they agreed on the best and the worst of the bunch. They also pretty much agreed on which ones were worthy of praise and which were sins against mankind. We've highlighted those at right. But there's more than the very good and the very bad--there's also the very in-between. Here's their report:

Ebert: Why do we like having sports heroes sell us shaving cream and beer? One reason, I think, is that we're flattered to have our idols slide off their pedestals and take the bar stool next to us. Call it demystification. Twenty years ago, we deified our sports stars. Take Johnny Unitas. You would never have expected him to hang out in a bar with you. He might have owned the bar; he might have driven past it in his chauffeured limousine. But that's as close as he'd get to us. Today, the great athletes are being presented as just regular Joes. When they're not making $1,000,000 a year to play football on Sunday afternoons, they're rolling up their sleeves and quaffing a few Lite ones. It's all very reassuring.

Siskel: The appeal is intrinsic. I look at it this way: Who would you rather have endorse your product--a famous lawyer or a politician? Everybody knows he's for hire. But athletes are not for hire. I mean, I genuinely admire these people. They may not be curing cancer, but what they do they do exceedingly well and in the purest sense. On some level, these people are very smart, and I would want to know what they know. Think about it: Commercials tend to be filled with phony kitchens and phony showers, where plastic people have empty heads. Then you look at that bar in the Miller Lite commercials. Who wouldn't want to hang out in that world?

Larry Holmes and sugar Ray Leonard for Ford Trucks

Siskel: Larry Holmes is going to kill me, but Sugar Ray Leonard makes this commercial work. The two of them are pointing out the sizes of Ford trucks available and, because they are different sizes themselves, it's a perfect fit. But Holmes, who opens the spot alone, is very difficult to understand. Sugar Ray comes in with a lot of charm, and the two of them have a funny mock argument over whose truck is better. Holmes alone would not work as well--unless he tried to pick up the truck.

Ebert: I like it better before Sugar Ray comes in. With Holmes, you get the unadulterated feeling of an authentic guy speaking in his own tongue. Dat truck, dis truck. You feel an absolute authenticity in the endorsement. Sugar Ray, on the other hand, is a more polished performer. By the end of the commercial, you're merely getting shtick between two athletes--nothing more--whereas at the beginning, Holmes is telling you, in his own inimitable way, that this truck is a heavy motherfucker.

Dorothy Hamill for Ford Tempo

Ebert: Totally phony. There is virtually no connection between ice skating and cars. In the Holmes-Leonard ad, you have a big, heavy guy who is advertising a big, heavy truck. That connection is obvious. But making the point that the Ford Tempo handles well and so does Dorothy Hamill would make more sense if we had Hamill's boyfriend endorsing the car. I would enjoy it better if she jumped over several beer barrels and landed in the seat of the car.

Siskel: This is not a good product fit: We see a very successful athlete spinning around and endorsing a low-end, low-priced car. I do not believe that Hamill would drive a Ford Tempo, even though she may have gotten a free one for doing the commercial. Another problem is, you have this great athlete skating around but doing nothing an average skater couldn't do, which seems like a waste. It's a frivolous, giggly performance. She must be smarter than that giggle.

Wayne Gretzky for Canon Cameras

Ebert: The commercial does one thing I appreciate--it shows me something about the camera's special (continued on page 176)More Taste(continued from page 128) features. Gretzky's performance doesn't deserve to be called that. Whereas I can remember something about what Larry Bird says [see sidebar, page 128], I can't remember anything about Gretzky's one line--" It makes the great shots simple"--which is a sad commentary on his salesmanship, I suppose.

Siskel: Gretzky doesn't really have a bad line that makes him look foolish, but it's a lackluster line. Gretzky still seems a little young and unformed as a product spokesman. He's unsure of himself. It reminds me of that great line describing somebody who was very uncomfortable in front of a camera: "He looks like a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights."

Merlin Olsen for FTD pick-me-up bouquets

Ebert: Despite the bizarre fact that there's a guy hiding inside a locker, the commercial does make me remember the flowers--the Pick-Me-Up Bouquet. Apart from that, it's all too forced and contrived. Haven't I seen Merlin Olsen in The Wilderness Family Takes a Shit or something?

Siskel: I like the commercial a little more than you do. First of all, it makes me laugh out loud, which is pretty rare for a commercial. The idea of the unseen, sulking giant's being humiliated enough to hide inside a locker is cute. Olsen is a very convincing spokesman, even though he may seem an odd choice to sell flowers. But it works nicely to have him say, in effect, "Hey, guys, I know you think it's sissified to concern yourself with flowers, but look at me, a veritable Dick the Bruiser, a former Los Angeles Ram. I can send flowers--it's OK--and you can, too." My only problem is the very end. I would have had the guy come out of the locker, look at the flowers and say, "Gee, thanks." Something sweet and a little more memorable. They would have had a classic.

Evonne Goolagong (And Family) For Geritol

Siskel: Evonne Goolagong's accent is hard to understand. Additionally, in the long shot where she says her lines, her eyes seem to be darting and it looks as if she's reading. Of course, that's death. She's clearly uncomfortable and, as a result, it's not an easy commercial to watch. Moreover, because of her discomfort here, her real family looks like just another phony television family.

Ebert: At the end, she is asked a question, and her husband comes into the frame and answers it. I don't know why he felt he had to speak for her. She can answer her own question--especially when it's her commercial. The entire setup is phony. This might have worked if it had been presented in a more confessional way: "I'm Evonne Goolagong and I've got a secret--iron-poor blood."

Dick Butkus and Bubba Smith (As Polo Players) for Lite Beer from Miller

Ebert: I like the whinny and the splash at the end. I'm a little confused by the burst of laughter from the background at the punch line, "I sure hope those horses can swim." It seems badly timed and hard to believe. But then, when Butkus looks over his shoulder with a forced grin and a little shrug, he's almost telling us, Yes, the laughter is supposed to be badly timed and the extras who are paid to laugh on cue aren't doing a good job. So there is a satirical edge. The laughter is either bad or good, depending on how you look at it.

Siskel: The tag line or, if you will, tag splash makes this commercial. The laughter is a beat late, but I think it's actually a mistake. I'm impressed with Smith and Butkus as performers. They're using their natural awkwardness very well. It melds beautifully. They lean back and are just fine. This is a terrific casting situation.

Jimmy Connors for Paine Webber

Siskel: I have mixed feelings. Being both a tennis player and an investor, I'm riveted by the situation: Jimmy Connors, a hero of mine, is playing on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange--and getting beaten by a guy coached by a Paine Webber broker. It's absolutely beguiling to watch. If the commercial were two minutes long, I would keep watching. I like seeing balls bouncing off the stock monitors. At the same time, I know it's a fraud, because money investments are really serious and this commercial is extremely absurd. The strongest sell is the close-up of Connors at the end, where he says, "What do I have to do? Open up a Paine Webber account?" That's very good, because we all know he's making a ton and, therefore, if he's thinking about Paine Webber, maybe we should, too. But this is preposterous. With Connors, you don't need to create theater.

Ebert: Apart from the fact that it's a bad commercial, the situation gives me too much to think about that has nothing to do with investing. I wonder how they made the commercial. It was obviously made at night, when the Stock Exchange is closed, and all of the people along the side lines are extras, and while they're cheering for Connors, somebody is neglecting my account, and I'm losing untold millions, because instead of placing my trades, they're watching this jack-off jump around. By the end of it, the last thing I want to do is entrust my money to any company that's going to spend it to produce a commercial like this. As for Connors, he delivers only that one line, which, though he does it in a very natural way, comes too late to be effective.

Bob Uecker (in the Baseball Stadium) for Lite beer from Miller

Siskel: It's another cute spot in Uecker's continuing series as Mr. Baseball, the failed athlete. He developed the character through his appearances on The Tonight Show. Now, flying on his own here, he handles center stage very well. It's a nice acting job. For people who know this guy's routine, you feel you're in on the joke from the start. As with the early comedy movies, you watch as the braggart gets his hat knocked off in the end. In terms of analyzing the acting, think about it: If Uecker fails any step of the way, the commercial doesn't work. But he's flawless.

Ebert: I'd give it about two and a half stars. I'm just not moved. I don't know why he's sitting all by himself in the upper stands. He could have gotten a better seat than that. I know I'm not supposed to think of it on a literal level, but I do.

Sugar Ray Leonard and Sugar Ray, Jr., for Carnation Sugar-Free Hot Cocoa Mix

Siskel: They make a beguiling pair. We can question how good they are as actors--the boy, for instance, has a little trouble with his lines--but they are two charismatic people, and seeing a legitimate father and son is very refreshing. The commercial world is populated by too many phony fathers and sons--kids who are so genetically dissimilar to their parents that you suspect there was a lightning storm when the conception took place. So we grasp for anything that smacks of reality. The Sugar Rays are a good endorsing team.

Ebert: I agree; this commercial sells me Carnation Sugar-Free Hot Cocoa Mix in a very efficient and memorable way. I think the acting is just fine. Sugar Ray Leonard seems to be relaxed and to be a very effective presenter in terms of speaking through a camera to the folks at home. As for his kid, he seems very kidlike to me, and that's the quality that you want.

Julius "Dr. J" Erving withBill "Dr. C" Cosby for Coca-cola

Ebert: I like this a whole lot. It's charming, it has a funny idea and some wit behind it. Erving and Cosby are effective salesmen here: They're having fun and enjoying themselves on behalf of a silly product. I mean, despite what Coca-Cola believes, when it produces commercials showing a Coke bottle with all of America behind it, the stuff doesn't make for profound subject matter. But this ad makes me feel good about Coke and about the two doctors.

Siskel: You obviously have two very appealing guys up there. Dr. J seems a little uncomfortable--he forgets to look at Cosby when he's speaking--but I realize that this isn't a natural setting for him. I have a hunch that if they tried it a couple more times, the spot could have kicked into higher gear. As it stands, it's a great B commercial; but I know that within these two guys, an A commercial exists. I suggest that Coke use them again.

Bodybuilder Lori Bowen with Rodney Dangerfield for Lite beer from Miller

Siskel: First of all, any commercial with Rodney Dangerfield is going to work. At the same time, I must tell you that I really enjoy hearing Lori Bowen's Southern voice. Commercials are--as are the national media--dominated by Midwestern and Eastern Seaboard voices. What's refreshing about this commercial is her accent, which makes me think of Sissy Spacek's or Debra Winger's. I have good feelings toward that voice of hers, even though I had never heard of her before seeing this spot.

Ebert: It's funny and effective. But if you're going to have a woman bodybuilder as an endorser, you're going to have a lot of curiosity among the folks at home as to what her body looks like. The commercial doesn't go far enough in using her raw materials. It should have been shot in a tropical-resort setting, where it would be natural for her to wear a top that allowed us to see her arms. In this commercial, putting a long-sleeved blouse on Bowen is the equivalent of putting a mask on Dangerfield's face. Unlike you, Gene, I do know who Bowen is. I have seen pictures of her without her shirt on, and she has a fabulous body that looks not at all freakish. Therefore, the spot would have worked better if we'd been able to see her muscles.

I think that we can safely say that this Playboy round table is now concluded on a typical note--a discussion of whether or not the girl should take off her shirt.

Best

First all-star camping trip for Lite beer from miller

Ebert: This is fun. It's kind of an all-star commercial based on our familiarity with everybody who's appeared in the Miller Lite series. Frankly, it doesn't make me think about beer as much as it makes me recall that great line of commercials and how much I've admired them. It's a funny spot, loaded with wit and imagination. It makes me laugh out loud.

Siskel: You couldn't improve this commercial if you tried. I wish the person who made this were working in the movies with the same kind of ensemble cast. The director has not given these amateurs any rope to hang themselves. And the commercial creates such a wonderful environment. It seemingly obliterates any competing light beer with its good fellowship.

Thumbs Up

John McEnroe for BIC disposable shavers

Ebert: Who was that guy? This is a cute commercial, except I'm always sure there isn't a real blade in the razor. The fun thing here is that I liked this commercial--to be absolutely honest--without realizing that was John McEnroe up there. I assumed he was a tennis player, because he was talking about matches, which was quick thinking on my part.

Siskel: I'm glad that you didn't think he was an arsonist. John McEnroe, one of the best-known celebrities in the world of sports, ahem, is simply a terrific actor. He's fully aware of how he is coming across: impish and rascally. There is sheer joy here.

Alex Karras for La-Z-Boy Chairs

Ebert: This is terrific. It has an almost voluptuous sensuality--the way he's snoring while stretched out, full-length, in his chair, crossing his Argyle socks in front of the flickering fire. When his wife calls him her very own La-Z-Boy and he says, "That's cute, Susan," that's all terrific.

Siskel: Here you have the perfect fit. Alex Karras is a guy who has the balls to have a La-Z-Boy Chair, which looks--in this high-tech world--like hell but is the most comfortable thing in the world. I wish I were secure enough to have a La-Z-Boy right in the middle of my living room. He looks like he's in heaven.

Worst

Billy Martin (with Lois Chiles) for Enkalon Nylon Carpets

Siskel: Horrendous--from beginning to end. Lois Chiles is a very classy actress. Why would she want to be anywhere near Billy Martin? Nothing is said about carpets. Everyone remembers the elbow in the soup. Maybe his elbow could magically get cleaned.

Ebert: It would be a much better commercial for a dry cleaner: Billy Martin for One-Hour Martinizing. Lois could play his wife and tell him she's going to have to send him to the cleaners again. He could say, "But you've already taken me to the cleaners!" I don't know why they don't hire me to make these commercials. This is just awful. Martin's should say, "Look, I wake up on the floor every morning of my life. I like to have a good rug!"

Thumbs Down

Larry Bird for Canon Cameras

Siskel: "Watch the bird" is a dumb line that I wouldn't wish on any athlete. So, Larry, don't get discouraged--you were set up. Outside the world of basketball, Bird doesn't have a lot of pizzazz. Ironically, the spot is a bad shot.

Ebert: A great commercial would be Bird's telling us, "It always amazes me when I see my picture in the papers. I think, Boy, I wish I could take pictures like that!" But Bird isn't going to make me want to buy a camera. I would rather know how this camera could be used in my life. I don't think I'm going to put in a lot of time on the side lines at pro basketball games.

Arnold Palmer and O.J. Simpson (with Butkus and Smith) for Hertz

Ebert: Trying to generate phony hostility between the two primary spokesmen seems contrived and unconvincing. I don't but it. Not even Bubba Smith and Dick Butkus can pull this out of the fire.

Siskel: Roger is right. The argument is phony. Arnold Palmer is pure class: He has done nothing to bring anything less than honor to his life. Similarly, O.J. has been used by Hertz in a much more respectable, albeit physical, way. You remember--he was running through the airport terminal to beat the rush to the car-rental counter. Now he's matured. He deserves a classier format.