This week I have seen two advertisements that caught my attention. Both were accompanied by music that stirred me in very unusual ways. The first was an ad for pharmeseuticals that was played to the tune of Boston's More Than A Feeling. Somehow I'm not sure that was Boston's original intention for that particular tune. Now I am willing to let this slide, yes, this actually doesn't piss me off all that much. Advertising companies will rape pretty much anything for a buck, and I think that most of us can easily accept this fact. While I like More Than A Feeling, it doesn't hold enough meaning to me to really get me upset. That was until the next ad I saw.
While I'm not expert on music, I am a bit of an amatuer film buff, and so the second song went beyond the usual irritation. This time it was an insurance company, and it was accompanied by an odd little tune that took me a moment to recognize. The music was a tribal choir that was getting used for the purpose of making it seem that the insurance would add some level of serenity to your life. While I suppose I can trick myself into seeing what the advertisers where trying to achieve, I also couldn't help but recognize the music. The song was from Terrence Malick's The Thin Red Line. The music was used in combination with footage of the Melanesian Islanders to juxtupose the horrific violence of the Pacific theatre of World War 2 and its modern combatants. Now I'm not going to act all elitist and say that films like this are sacred and above criticism, or emulation, but I can't help but find myself genuinely angry when music that so perfectly illustrated the futility of war would now be turned to such a pathetic, and meaningless cause.
I don't need to tell anybody of the parasitic, and ravenous nature of advertising, but sometimes I can't ignore it when it vandalizes something that changed my view on the nature of life, death, and violence. I won't get sanctimonious and ramble about imaginary communities that live in some sort of perfect harmony with nature (damned if I'm living without a toilet), point out the problems of modern societies, or try to convince you of the excellence of Malick's film. But what this film, and these voices represented was hope surrounded in monstrousness. My frustration exists because hope can only grow into reality with time and patience, while it can be hurt in an instant by greed. Had the advertisers stopped and considered the context of this music for a moment, then perhaps they would have realized the futility of their role in this world. My frustration is starting to thin now. Not from apathy, but from the irony that I am getting angry on behalf of a cause whose goal is to condemn hatred. Now I do feel silly.
"I have seen another world. Sometimes I think it was just my imagination."
