In between work, school obligations and an internship, I find myself watching television at strange hours. Whether I’m falling asleep at 2 a.m. or lounging on the couch eating Fruity Pebbles at 2 p.m., the off-prime-time ad rates assure that when my rerun of “RuPaul’s Drag Race” inevitably takes a commercial break, the awesomely bad acting of Direct Response Television, or “as seen on TV” commercials, will reign supreme.
Basically, a direct response commercial is any commercial that ends with a phone number and asks the viewer to “act now!” Generally, the acting is abysmal. I’ve never seen anyone fail as miserably at cracking an egg as the actor in the EZ-Cracker commercial. The woman misses the pan entirely and smashes a raw egg on the burner. However, as I’ve continued to watch these commercials over and over again, I’ve started to see these characters not as products of low budgets and bad acting, but as highly refined expressions of emotion.
Let’s be clear. These actors aren’t the flashy showmen of the direct response circuit. They don’t have the name recognition of the Vinces or the Billy Mays. Frankly, if one of these nameless actors allegedly punches a hooker, I’ll never know. But, their obscurity in real life doesn’t diminish the impact of their message.
As much as the actors overact their situations, I recognize those problems. I have them, too! I’ve totally screwed up cracking eggs, and it was annoying. It would be kind of nice to have a way to make it easier. There is a simple kind of pleasure in overcoming a seemingly insignificant problem. Although, that pleasure is often fleeting; I’ve never had an awesome day because my soda stayed fizzy, but with Bottle Top, a product that seals a soda can and turns it into a screw-top bottle, flat soda won’t add to all the other little nit-picky things that cause stress during the day. Because direct response commercials don’t really sell a product, they sell the feeling associated with the product: they sell joy.
But wait, there’s more!
Possibly the purest example of joy from an actor comes from the Snuggie commercials. For those unfamiliar with the product, the Snuggie is a fleece blanket with armholes, so that one can do things like read a book or change the channel, while still staying nice and toasty, wrapped up in a blanket. The moment I love comes from an older gentleman lounging on the couch who decides that the best way to show his appreciation for the freedom of the Snuggie is to throw his hands in the air and “raise the roof.” He raises that roof as hard as he can because he is so excited about changing the channel without sacrificing the warmth of his blanket!
Sure it’s cheesy, and most people would just suck it up and be cold for a second, but this guy doesn’t have to. By using his Snuggie, he solved a problem, as simple as it may be, and he relishes in the achievement. The older Caucasian fellow’s attempt to “raise the roof” may be fundamentally flawed, because, let’s face it, he’s very white, but at heart, it’s an expression of joy.
It is the extreme pain and euphoric success of the human condition that these actors convey so succinctly within their few seconds of screen time. And like the fleeting feelings of elation that their products bring, the actors fade back into the bustling noise of everyday activities.