Super Bowl D Metanalysis (Part II: Half-Mast)
I’ve run the numbers and tallied the ads. And the theme of this Super Bowl, and thus, the state of the American consumer republic? Impotence.
Actually, it didn’t deserve the uppercase Roman numeral. ‘Super Bowl d’ was far more accurate. In order, let’s look to the game, the ads, and what, if any, meaning it may have revealed.
The Denver Broncos defeated the Carolina Panthers 24–10, but in many ways it feels like I’m still waiting for the game to start. We’ll all have to wait another seven months for that — hopefully the economy warms up quicker. Carolina’s 2nd half field goal bonking off the uprights had the twinge of erectile dysfunction— that is, if the game brought any cause for arousal. It was a defensive struggle, with the Carolina quarterback Cam Newton making key miscues at both ends of the field. As veteran Peyton Manning made fewer mistakes, his defense handed him the Lombardi trophy. The inertia of his crushing defense allowed the quarterback of the past to triumph over the force of football’s future.
Americans generally prefer offense to defense, and high scoring affairs to defensive struggles. Perhaps that is why our football is a high-scoring affair centered on aerial assaults and scores like 30–27, while the rest of the world enjoys tactical chess matches with finals of 2–1. We love offense because we love accumulation, an ever-increasing net of yards, of points. As a culture, we love the accumulation of capital, of ever increasing market returns, defining success most commonly by bank accounts and balance sheets. Both the markets and this game disappointed.
This was reflected in the ads, which like Peyton’s cautions play-calling and safe, creaky coronation, were neither ambitious nor explicitly desperate in their staid calls to consumer action.
The movies which were pushed were all sequels: Bourne 5 is back in action, turning America against itself once more. Where are the good old days, you might ask, of easy villains like the Nazis and Soviets, armed with blatant archetypes and atrocious accents? China would be a simple target, yet insult the Chinese you lose half your market share, which is why you see Chinese cameos in Micheel bay films, while he’s not shooting the next Turtles franchise. Another obvious choice for his career, and Megan Fox’s, as the love interest for a CGI reptile. We’ll see which of the two is more lifelike or cold-blooded. Preposterously, inevitably, we have Independence Day II. Seeing Jeff Goldblum’s patriot/scientist, staring up at a giant CGI spacecraft and saying, in a somber tone and a straight face, ‘what goes up…must come down’ was the highlight of my night. Pokemon is celebrating its 20th anniversary with a live action…something. People actually write these things, and the redundant carousel of culture spins ever on. I remembered, in a flash of brilliance, why I don’t own a TV.
There were a surprising amount of health-commercials, including three relatively straightforward ads for constipation, diarrhea, and athlete’s foot. Do you have a ‘going problem?’ Does the sight of prunes or fungal blooms nauseate you? Could the first two have been inspired by our modern diets — brought to you by Doritos, which should probably start producing its own commercials again. There’s only so much fun we can have with dogs trying to eat people food.
The car commercials were most blatantly insecure. The push was led by an amusing Toyota Prius car-chase commercial, in an attempt to remasculinize the vehicle. An uninspiring-looking Kia was branded as a wacky alternative to beige living by Christopher Walken and a metaphoric sock puppet. And a mini-cooper tried and failed to escape its various stereotypes, in a $3m bid to restore its flagging confidence. While there was a fairly sexy Acura accompanied by a nondescript Van Halen Guitar riff, most of the cars on display were desperately trying to overcome their inferiority complexes. Only Jeep and the Superbowl seemed to have confidence in themselves, and unabashed pride in being an American tradition.
Understandably, no company would touch politics with a ten foot pole, given that doing so would lose it 50% brand share. Bud Light tried to bridge the divide with the populist mantra, Americans for Beer in 2016. Weather Tech made a very big deal about its american manufacture. In a particularly galling note to the poet in the room, a microlender claimed that ‘the power of America itself’ was in giving people more jobs so that they could buy more stuff, build more houses, et cetera. At least they have some understanding of the economy, though far less about the American animus. Sun Bank talked up income inequality, and put themselves on the side of the American People, which makes sense. They’re a bank. They’ll pay $3mn of your interest to sell what they’re not, so that you’ll buy what they are.
CBS, of course, trotted out its show ponies. The nth season of the Big Bang Theory and Survivor, the Seventh season of the Good Wife, and god knows how many forensics dramas. CBS’s call to power was that it had the #1 shows, comedy, action, and network, all summonses to populist definitions of quality. There were a number of tech teams trying to fix things that had gone wrong: NCIS, </Scoprion>, Limitless, about a Smart Pill, entertainment for the masses as the sea levels and income inequality slowly rise.
The Superbowl itself, at least, was able to show its procreative power, twice baring the phenomenon of ‘superbowl babies,’ where the birthrate in cities with winning teams goes up exactly nine months after a superbowl win. Semi-disaffected children sung along to a parody of ‘Kissed by a Rose’ alongside Seal — some of them actually, unironically, clad in gospel robes, celebrating their parents’ spontaneous urge to merge after their home team emerged victorious. Our resident poet mentioned that the domestic abuse rate increased markedly in cities with the losing team, striking an unfortuate cosmic balance. There were ads for domestic violence, however, and Helen Mirren giving an impassioned, expensive plea to stop drunk driving, before imbibing a dignified swig of Budweiser.
Drake was selling out for cell phones, and Anthony Hopkins for Turbotax, consummating the calculus of brand equity for product placement which drives the ancillary income of the stars. Yet, the whole fandango seemed a little tame. This Superbowl, exisiting in a year when America is questioning its own identity, priming for an historic election, dancing on the edge of its own ascent, knew not whether to embrace the gallows humor of a nation in decline or the jubilant thrust of a country on the rise. And so, the evening flagged at a perpetual half-mast.
The highlight and chief metaphor for the evening and the American republic itself was the Pepsi halftime show, advertised as an homage to Super Bowls past, present, and future. The act was exactly that. It started, auspiciously enough, with a giant Pepsi logo, and followed with Coldplay lead singer, freed from his keyboards, galloping awkwardly across a stage, singing songs from a long time ago in a key that was far, far away from the rest of the band. This is why lip-synching was invented. Though the song ‘I used to rule the world’ could have been written about the American empire, the singing itself was atrocious. You would think that they’d pay the selection committee to go to a live concert, to at least check for a pulse before proceding.
Bruno Mars — as the voice of the present -fared far better, becasue he A, had energy, B, could dance, and C, could sing. Coldplay, take note: all three are useful for a performer at the Super Bowl halftime show. As a Filipino-American, Bruno was very much the face of America’s current mixed heritage. He was followed by Beyoncee, in full Michael Jackson military gear, and backed by a squadron of female performers, every bit the contrast to the male power-games of the gridiron, and never a mere cheerleader. She danced with Bruno Mars a bit, overpowering him with thighs alone, and acted every bit the avatar of the coming age with its resurgence of feminine will.
Just when I thought the show would continue to be enjoyable, Coldplay ruined it by continuing to exist. They sung ‘Fix You,’ whcih sadly could not be applied to the performance itself. Coldplay is a band that is seems built for montages, and over their once-haunting strains (CA: 2004) we were treated to far more dynamic shows of super bowls past. Bruno and Beyoncee came back for an obligitory trio at the end, but I can’t help but think they were thinking about the flacidity of the performance before the finale. If Coldplay represented America’s soppy British past Bruno its melting-pot present, and Beyoncee its girl-power, sacred feminine future, we at least have a lot of raw talent in our future, so long as we can outlast the cold, cold Coldplay of Super Bowls past.
Cultures from the ancient Egyptians to the Aztecs, used sport to predict the forces which govern the present, so now to read the tea leaves. If the game and advertisements were a harbinger of american capitalism in 2016, expect a conservative, defensive front, with retrenchment of both assets and jobs to American soil, and populist posturing from financial institutions as they put on a front to preserve their hegemony. Interest rates will likely remain low in the face of global uncertainty. Asset inflation will continue to plague US stocks, as capital flight to America renders our continued success an unsatisfying defensive victory with a new normal of lower returns for all players. Global quantitive easing coupled by slowdown in the Chinese market, commodities declines, and negative interest rates in the EU, means that the fancy strategies may cost far more than they net — and financial, multitalented gunslingers — like daredevil Cam Newton — may end up with a mouth full of turf. Like the Broncos’ plodding game plan, invest in proven businesses which you could forget about for a few years and have faith in their solvency and rather than speculating in exotic markets, and let your defense do the work.
If that’s not the case, expect the powers that be to be cautious, to rely on the defensive inertia of the entrenched majority to defend against radical change, and for them to hope and pray for mistakes from the dynamic upstarts. The game will be close until the final moments, but if the newcomers are not careful, it could be one of missed opportunities, played out more by miscues than heroic completions.
However the winds of the present blow, we’ll always have Beyoncee to look forward to. Thank the gods for that.
