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What TV commercials can teach us about storytelling

Katherine Marzinsky
Between the Lines

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So, I think it’s pretty fair to say that commercials can frustrate even the most patient of us. They drag viewers out of an interesting television program to bombard them with products and services they probably don’t want. And who can forget those moments when the same commercial is played back-to-back with itself? It’s awful. But what if I were to say there was something that could be learned from commercials? Something more than where to save fifteen percent or more on car insurance. Some commercials, when viewed the right way, can actually be very useful to a writer of short fiction. Because advertisers want to spend the least amount of time (and money) possible to get their point across in a commercial, there are important parallels to the short story medium. Most notably, commercials can teach writers about a quick setup and progression of plot.

As an example, I’m presenting this very short Clorox bleach commercial.

Now, let’s break this commercial down. The very first thing the viewer sees is a shot of a hallway in a house. Okay. At this point that could be anyone’s house, right? Wrong. Immediately, the viewer knows that a child probably lives in the house because of the toys on the floor, and the open door at the end of the hall, which leads to a bedroom full of child-sized furniture. The same shot also shows a shelf of books, and a large dresser with trophies on it. Although the viewer doesn’t know to whom those objects belong, they suggest an adult member of the household. Right away, before the commercial even shows its characters, the viewer can guess what sort of people they are. That is effective use of setting. Also, notice that the camera doesn’t pan around all the rooms; it doesn’t zoom in on the fine details of the trophies or the titles of the books. That information is not necessary. The viewer is given only a quick image of the necessary details, not a drawn-out description of everything.

The next thing the viewer sees is a young boy, who seems to be happy and excited. What is he so excited about? His dialogue, “Mommy, mommy! I went poo-poo!” tells us a lot. Firstly, the viewer now knows that the other member of the household, and the second character, is the boy’s mother. Secondly, the age of the boy, and his extreme excitement about going “poo-poo” show the viewer that he is probably in potty training. The mother’s proud and enthusiastic reaction in the next shot seem to confirm this assumption, as does the image of the bathroom, which has a training potty next to the toilet. Do you see the pattern the commercial has set up by this point? The viewer is given information that suggests a certain conclusion, and then the conclusion is verified by the following information. It looks like a child and an adult live here, oh, there they are; he seems to be potty training, oh, yep, I was right, there’s the potty. This is important, because it is the breaking of this pattern that will provide the simple conflict for the commercial, as well as the humor.

When the mother looks into the toilet and falls silent, there is a building of tension. The viewer wonders what’s wrong. Why isn’t the mother continuing her enthusiastic behavior; why isn’t she praising her son’s first “poo-poo”? The tension continues to build as she, still turned away, looks from the training potty to the real potty. When the mother turns around, confusion and worry are visible on her face. She gives us the reason with her next line of dialogue: “Where?” The poo is missing! This is the climax of the mini-narrative. Poos don’t just disappear! The contrast between the mother’s anxiety and the son’s joyful, innocent face reflect a kind of irony. The son isn’t confused; he knows exactly where that poo is. So he points to it. He points to the bathtub. The pattern has been upended; this time things weren’t as they seemed. Because the viewer, and the mother, were expecting to find the poo in the toilet (where poos belong), but instead find it in the bathtub (where poos do NOT belong), there is humor. The mini-narrative concludes with the mother looking into the bathtub with disgust, and then cuts to an image of a bottle of bleach.

Even though this commercial is only sixteen seconds long, it provides all the necessary information that a viewer needs to experience the story. And, although it’s short and simple, the commercial is telling a full story. It’s visual flash fiction. Hopefully, by breaking down this commercial, the storytelling elements it employs have become more apparent. It is a credit to the creator of the commercial that most viewers never notice the complexities at play beneath the surface. Without quite knowing why, the viewer just thinks, “Oh, that was really cute and funny; that wasn’t annoying like other commercials.” By including telling objects in the setting, setting up a pattern, and then breaking it, and doing all these things with tight brevity, the commercial teaches its viewers the finer points of short storytelling.

So, readers, the next time you find yourself frustrated during a commercial break, try to analyze the advertisements you’re seeing. You may learn more than you ever bargained for.

Cheers!

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