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Lovable Tummy. One of the first breakthroughs in uncommercial making came in 1964 in a new Alka-Seltzer series. For years, "Speedy Alka-Seltzer," the cartoon imp with a tablet for a hat, insulted audiences by pushing the fizz as though he were conducting a Romper Room class. Then the Jack Tinker agency took over the account and decided to try for a touch of wit and realism: a film showing nothing more than a quick succession of people's midriffs being prodded and pushed, or just merrily jouncing along. The message was: "No matter what shape your stomach's in, when it gets out of shape, take Alka-Seltzer." Along Madison Avenue, the film became an instant classic. Among Alka-Seltzer's latest, and best, is the cartoon of a man and his disgruntled but lovable-looking tummy seated in separate chairs, hashing out their troubles before an unseen marriage counselor. It ought to be revolting, but it isn't. The drawing style has some of the wonderful, way-out whimsy of Thurber and the deceptive, squiggly-line bite of Jules Feiffer, while the dialogue is reminiscent of an Elaine May-Mike Nichols routine.
Along with Alka-Seltzer, Volkswagen, Avis, and Chun King chow mein pointed the way. If critics were to categorize commercials in the manner of plays or films (and why not?), they would find a variety of styles and sub-styles. For a start, one can discern:
∙THEATER OF THE ABSURD. A beautiful girl gets into the back seat of a Rolls-Royce,takes off her clothes and climbs into a bathtub brimming with Calgon bath oil. The Dash soap man butts into conversations and flings laundry at innocent people. "Louise Hexter," he commands, "start wearing cleaner blouses!" The shaming, the touch of half-suppressed hysteria, is unsettling. Another instance of the absurd involves the flamenco dancer who stomps the living daylights out of a Bic ballpoint pen that has been attached to his heel. Here the effect is different. One remembers all the other similar nonsense the pen that writes under water, the watch that survives a trip on the rudder of an ocean liner and one inevitably begins to speculate in grudging fascination about what they might try next.
∙THEATER OF CRUELTY. To demonstrate a new type of insulating foil, Union Carbide places a baby chicken in a small foil-lined metal box and then lowers it into a beaker of boiling water. Several long moments later, out pops the chick, frisky and unfried. The initial plunge is not exactly Grand Guignol, but it does provide a bit of a shock. A recent spot for American Motors shows a gang of men demolishing a competitor's car with sledge hammers. Who would admit to hating autos? Still, there is a certain undeniable thrill in seeing all that shiny metal crumple.
∙SURREALISM. This is usually mixed with metaphors come to life: the real dove that turns into a bottle of Dove liquid soap, the Ultra Brite girl who brands strangers with long-distance kisses. There is also an element of "I can do anything you can do" worse. Thus when Aerowax ricochets machine-gun bullets off its "jet-age plastic," another brand looses a stampede of elephants to trample over its "protective shield." The surrealistic approach often has a certain childish charm at first, but with repetition it quickly palls.