Massive thanks to the peoples of the internet for voting The Aviators the winner in Video & Film Scripted (Branded) at the The Webby Awards. And huge congrats to these amazing people below (including, first and foremost, our featured veterans) for coming together to bring this idea to life so beautifully:
Veterans: Jack "Razor" Gillett, Jim "Zeke" Lloyd, Bill "Offender" Moir, and Elester "Hollywood" Latham. Goodby Silverstein & Partners Xfinity Jon Wolanske Felipe Lima James Horner Caroline Cappelli Ryan Tovani Chad Bettor Kirsten Tsitsos Michelle Kates Andrew Betoff Nikki Hendriks (Dietrich) Dong Thai Kelly Evans-Pfeifer Adam Arola PhD MBA Lyniece Hill Maren Severtson Shneur Silverstein Jim Haight Nick Miller Jackie Nelms Judy Ybarra Brittany Paredes Benny Gold Dustin Hayes Rose Holden SMUGGLER preymaker EXILE Edit Lime Studios
An Open Letter to the Marin Sanitary Service (Regarding Your Artisanal Cardboard Bundling Guidelines — Which Are Either Official Recycling Policy or a Cry for Help)
Dear Esteemed Curators of the Golden Gate’s Garbage,
First, let me extend my deepest gratitude for your tireless commitment to ensuring that discarded Amazon and Blue Apron meal kit boxes are not just thrown away—but presented with the ceremonial reverence typically reserved for royal decrees, origami competitions, or Martha Stewart’s Christmas morning.
You see, I recently attempted to recycle some cardboard. Foolishly, I thought breaking it down and placing it on top of the bin would suffice. But no. According to your guidelines—which read less like municipal sanitation policy and more like an excerpt from an Ikea cabinet disassembly manual—what you actually require is that I:
• Bundle my cardboard if I have “more than fits in the recycling cart,” because of course the onus is on me to possess a master’s degree in the Physics of Volume.
• Form each bundle into a 2’ x 2’ x 2’ cube—as if I own a laser cutter, a square ruler, and an additional master’s degree in Three-Dimensional Spatial Engineering.
• Tie each bundle with twine or string (but absolutely no plastic tape, lest you summon the wrath of the refuse gods).
• Place said bundle beside the cart, where it shall await judgment.
• And finally, if any cardboard is greasy, it must be placed in a different cart, because even our trash must be segregated by moral purity.
Frankly, I wasn’t sure if I was recycling or prepping for a Williams Sonoma Holiday Catalog photo shoot.
I spent the better part of my morning transforming a stack of delivery boxes into what looked like a rustic, twine-bound bale of ancient papyrus fit for Queen Nefertiti’s altar.
And still, your collector drove by without picking it up. Why? Because I used jute instead of cotton string? Because one of the boxes had the faint odor of Withersbrook Blue cheese from a Jasper Hill Farm cheese club order purchased in a moment of gastronomic weakness?
I respect rules. I compost. I rinse my cans. I once wiped the peanut butter off a recyclable lid with a paper towel I later composted like some eco-guilt-ridden suburban monk. But your cardboard bundling policy has left me a broken man, weeping beside a perfectly cubed and ribboned package that would make even Tiffany & Co. jealous. While the wind whispers, “You missed a corner.”
So please—tell me what you really want. A hand-calligraphed tag on each bundle? A note of gratitude taped to the twine? A sprig of eucalyptus? Should I bring out a goatskin drum and perform a binding ritual under the full moon to ensure compliance?
Or maybe—just maybe—we could all agree that cardboard, no matter how it’s bundled, is still cardboard. And that our shared environmental mission might survive if a slightly asymmetrical bundle is tossed into the truck without triggering a countywide Code Orange.
Until then, I remain,
Respectfully yours in twine and despair,
Wimpily Anonymous
Larkspur, CA
P.S. Our unkempt mutt Groucho concurs with the tenor of this missive.
Honestly Honored to be an Honoree (and Nominee) at The Webby Awards
In Best Social Impact Campaign and Branded Entertainment categorories, respectively.
https://showcasestuff.com/webbys-aviators-social-impact
An ostensibly fictitious letter to Walt Disney World management based on events that may or may not be semi-true.
SUBJECT: To the Walt Disney World Front Desk: A Formal Incident Report Regarding Your Feral Animatronic Squirrel
Dear Walt Disney World Front Desk,
I am writing to report a technical malfunction with one of your animatronic animals. Specifically, the squirrel stationed by the pool at your Polynesian Village Resort.
While enjoying a relaxing afternoon with my family, I noticed the squirrel perched on a lounge chair, seemingly unresponsive. Recognizing that all animals at Walt Disney World are, in fact, animatronic (as any reasonable person knows), I approached to confirm its status.
At first, the unit appeared to be nonoperational. It did not move, blink, or sing a charming yet legally distinct parody of a traditional Hawaiian folk song. However, when I extended my hand to verify its condition, the squirrel:
1. Bit off the top third of my index finger.
2. Held my severed finger in its mouth like a prized walnut oozing raspberry compote.
3. Leapt into the pool, swam to the far side, and vanished beneath a palm frond.
4. Released my digit en route, which sank to the bottom of the deep end like the leg of that poor rowboat guy in Jaws.
At this point, I lost consciousness. When I awoke, I found myself in an ER bay, where my severed finger was floating in a glass of piña colada slush, presumably awaiting surgical reintegration.
Further concerns:
- My wife has suggested that I may have ingested multiple cannabis gummies prior to this event. This is a baseless accusation. (Mostly.)
- There is a possibility the squirrel was not animatronic. I mean, what is an Eastern Gray Squirrel doing on the shore of a faux-remote Tongan lagoon? On the other hand, this would be a major violation of park policy, as ALL animals on Disney property should be thematically accurate, programmed and/or licensed performers.
- My children have lost faith in my authority as a father.
- The reattachment was, at best, a partial success. My fingertip now has the grip strength of a boiled noodle.
I would appreciate a full investigation into this matter — preferably one that results in Fast Passes.
Sincerely,
Jim Elliott
(Room 328, Samoa Longhouse, Reservation# 334-727-8519-22101)
Our new work for Comcast Business plants an assertive flag, declaring it the engine of modern business (and the PGA Tour).
If technology is the backbone of modern business, then Comcast Business — with its Internet, Voice, Wi-Fi, SD-WAN, cybersecurity and then some — is the leading-edge spinal cord. But hey, if anatomical analogies aren’t your thing, here’s the deal in mechanical engineering terms: CB keeps modern business humming like a well-oiled machine. Big props to the team for bringing this notion to life with such amazing dedication and craft: Chad Lietz, Felipe Lima, Chris Ford, Jon Wyville, Michael Crain, Nicole Smith, Christine Gomez and a bunch of other consummate pros. And a special shout out to Mike Tuton for planting the primordial seed.
That time we helped Jeep take the piss out of the car category at the Super Bowl.
Automakers have always had a big presence during the Super Bowl, but this year most of the usual suspects are taking the bench, apparently leaving just Ram and Jeep to represent the lot.
Historically, big cultural moments like this become an opportunity for car brands (especially those in the luxury category) to stuff the airwaves with high-minded soliloquies packed with familiar platitudes like “a car that disrupts the status quo.”
Which is why Super Bowl LII (shout out to the Eagles for their first win) seemed like the perfect venue for Jeep to tweak the nose of those brands. And so, with a spot we called “Anti-Manifesto,” Greg Farley, Wade Devers, Marc Sobier, Spring Clinton and I found a way to do just that. In a simple, uniquely Jeep kind of way. With more of a commentary than a script. More proof than prattle. Directed by Jeff Zwart @ RadicalMedia.
Folks seemed to appreciate the poke. CBS news, for example, voted it among the Bowl's best with this nice little blurb: "...there's something to be said for commercial verite – devoid of artifice and hucksterism. So, a straightforward shot of a Jeep Wrangler plowing through rugged terrain is all we need."
I, for one, am looking forward to seeing what Jeep and Ram bring to the party this Sunday. Hopefully it’s in a way that makes the spectating car category proud.
Gotta love when the work that wins the pitch becomes the work that gets made.
That time we collaborated with David Lynch.
Yeah, pinch me.
With the recent passing of legendary filmmaker David Lynch, I was reminded of the time many moons ago and early in my career when I had the unforgettable experience of working with him on a series of commercials for the Sci-Fi Channel (now called Syfy).
My art director partner and I had shot several weird, enigmatic little spec films with my Canon 310XL Super 8 movie camera for the new business pitch.
The series explored the ostensibly innocent yet somehow creepy nature of everyday suburbia where things aren’t always what they seem (especially when a Sci-Fi Channel logo appears from out of the blue. Which then begs for a reappraisal of what you’d just witnessed).
We won the pitch and approached David to help us explore the potential of the campaign and to apply his own dark, unsettling lens to it all.
Here is one of our original Super 8 spec films, followed by David’s far slicker 35mm remake. At the time, even David himself acknowledged that, in terms of creep factor, it’s hard to beat the grainy, oddly voyeuristic nature of Super 8. (I’m also including a few of the other final spots in the series.)
At any rate, he was incredibly charming and polite. On set, his attention to detail was nothing short of mesmerizing. He’d carefully consider every frame, every shadow, every whisper of sound, and yet there was always this sense of curiosity and playfulness beneath it all. Watching him work was a reminder that true creativity comes from embracing both light and darkness.
RIP David Lynch: You were a true one of kind artist and visionary who could surprise, disturb, and inspire all at once and in equal measure.
Some light chitchat with Rupert Maconick, founder of Saville Productions, as part of his podcast series.
Discussed: Super 8 filmmaking, earnings reports and brand purpose.
The world premiere of Wicked (the movie) gets a backstory trailer like no other.
Featuring Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo.
Proud to have led this pitch with Jeff.
A fab campaign is in the works!
https://www.adweek.com/agencies/financial-brand-empower-goodby-silverstein-partners-agency-of-record/
Panel Discussion on the "Aviators" Project.
And assorted other topics.
Bring on the good stuff.
We helped four real Vietnam War Naval Aviators fly together again.
Plus one granddaughter.
Things Can Go South Fast When The Game You're streaming Starts Buffering.
We made a ton of these :15s (with Director Harold Einstein) to run throughout the first streaming-only NFL playoff game on NBC’s Peacock platform. There were 23 million average streaming viewers during the game, making it "the most streamed event ever in US history" and "a milestone moment in media and sports history." Which made it the perfect moment to demonstrate what a gameday party might look like if you had to deal with internet buffering. Thus…this series of awkward time-filler moments during that buffering.
https://lbbonline.com/news/nfl-partygoers-fill-buffering-silences-in-humorous-xfinity-campaign
A movie trailer for a movie that never happened.
Every once in a while when the weather is bad and we’re bored, my boys and I make movies (just like my dad and I would do). Or in this case…a movie trailer. Clearly this trailer is for the kind of movie I’d never in a million years let the boys watch. Not until they’re of age. And maybe not even then.
It all starts here.
The space race gets even faster with the right internet.
Ed Helms gets tough for once.
In an Ed Helms kind of way.
Steve Carell makes a damn fine Jolly Ole Saint Nick.
Minus the jolly part.
