Posts tagged ‘commercial’
According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, there were 70,000 actors in the country in May 2006. By 2016, that number is expected to jump to 7,800.
At any given time, there are about 40 plays on Broadway and each year, industry experts say about 600 movies are released each year. There are five TV networks that can squeeze about 80 prime time shows, not including the spike in reality shows that takes away jobs from real actors.
So quandry? You are an unemployed actor desperate for work. Your agent has four job offers, which do you take?
They can’t all be Geico Cavemen who get their 30-seconds of glory turned into a TV series.
Or Matt LeBlanc, – Joey Tribbiani from Friends – who got his start on a Cherry 7-Up commercial.
So here are the worst-of-the-worst career killing ads:
The Herpes commercial: Without a doubt, if you get this gig, you are the most attractive actor/actress to appear in any of the social pariah TV ads.
The good: Because a fat-ass cow with Herpes has as much chance as getting laid as Gilligan had getting off the island, this would be affirmation that you are VERY ATTRACTIVE. Not slutty attractive, but girl-next-door attractive. The one who got Herpes from the toilet seat, right? Curse your luck! The drug company is looking for a man or chick that’s very doable – certainly hot enough that the potential of catching Herpes doesn’t factor into the equation of whether to boink them.
The bad: Hearing, “Haven’t I seen you on TV?”
The diarrhea commercial: Ever seen an attractive person do a diarrhea commercial? In Hollywood, the only people with intestinal meltdowns are fat, middle-aged, balding accountant types. The classic is the Donnagel commerical in the 1980s when the overweight balding man sits in his chair and says, “Ooooof.” His wife says, “What’s the matter honey?” And he says, “I don’t want to talk about it.” He says that FOUR TIMES.
Then he proceeds to be lectured on why he didn’t take Donnagel by his loving wife.
“Well, no diarrhea and no cramps,” he beams at the end.
Then he apologizes to his wife. who shoots back, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
In the 90s, apparently fighting for market share from Tums, drug companies decided they would be taken more seriously if they took the diarrhea victim OUT of his comfortable home environment.
So you don’t want to take our medicine? Fine, jackass. Now you’re on a tour bus in England and it hits. Whatcha gonna do?
The answer, as the theatrically trained diarrhea actor now knows, is called, “The Penguin.” It’s that uncomfortable movement where waddle meets a cheek-squeezing half jog while keeping that pained “I’m gonna shit my pants” expression on your face. Only the experts get that down in he first take. It’s not Shakespeare, but of the social stigma ads, this is the gig that requires the most acting.
The toe fungus commercial: Only for the desperate, if only because, tops, your face time is two seconds. The camera is focused on your feet and the pea soup green-nail polish that’s been painted on your toes. And then, you have to bury your feet in the sand. If you get the domestic shot, you don’t get ANY lines and you can tell your friends you are the one wearing socks lounging at the pool.
Bladder control: They don’t cast senior citizens for this commercial because everyone that age has this issue and they aren’t buying medicine for THAT. It’s No. 89 on the senior’s list of “What the hell is wrong with me today?” Drug companies know their market and it’s not the “I’m 79 and have been strapped to a nursing-home bed for the last 12 hours, slightly wetting myself is the least of my concerns” demographic.
A lot of aging, out of work “Sunny Delight” moms find this gig pays the bills once they are too old to pitch kids’ beverages. The 40s something moms, who unlike seniors, still care if they piss themselves in public.
In this commercial, you frequently leave in the middle of business meetings or have to get up out of a window seat of the airplane. The key here is to make it look like you got an important cell phone call and not let on you are going to piss yourself like a caged monkey if I don’t get to a bathroom. Many a bladder control commercial has been ruined by the overacting hams that get cast as your co-workers. You know, those eye-rolling, shoulder-shrugging idiots at your desk going over blueprints who act as if your three-minute mission is going to put the company in red.