old friends, new fun, and the limts of nostalgia
It’s a classic Super Bowl ad, combining the pathos of the discarded-toy trope with the wistfulness of the American underdog narrative. We follow the dog from humiliating stints as a minigolf prop and karaoke prompter (where he has to endure a woman mangling the same song he used to sing) to the roof of a truck to the side of the road to the jaws of a trash compactor. Just before he’s crushed to pieces, a woman rescues him and installs him as a greeter at a Space Museum. This is no better than the previous gigs—until a kid puts a VR headset on him before the museum closes for the night. The dog opens his eyes to find himself in a virtual world full of neon colors and legless avatars. There, he finds digital versions of his old bandmates, all of whom are in similar dead-end jobs but have also somehow procured $299 headsets of their own. Elated, they all jam together to “Don’t You” at a virtual reproduction of Questy’s. The bold text overlay says OLD FRIENDS. NEW FUN. The small text at the bottom says Screen images simulated and not representative of current product.
In an evening of bloated commercials, in which old franchises got crappy-looking expansions, iconic TV shows were awkwardly restaged to sell electric cars, and celebrities shilled for crypto, this ad was somehow the most demoralizing. In its attempt to present VR as a fun and friendly cure to loneliness and the passage of time, it unwittingly revealed a vision of the Metaverse as a (yet-unbuilt) prison of nostalgia, where hope for change or resolution in the future is abandoned for the endless replayability of the past. It’s worth noting that “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” was originally written for the 1985 hit film The Breakfast Club.
One problem with the conception of nostalgia as a business proposition—reboots, reunions, origin stories—is that it overestimates our capacity for it. Anyone who has returned to a familiar place only to feel alienated and alone, or stared blankly at some childhood toy in back of their closet, or been awkwardly united with an old friend knows that nostalgia often turns to melancholy when acted upon. To yearn for the past is not the same as wanting to replicate it. The more you invoke the letter of the past, the more its spirit degrades.
In a Crypto.com spot on Sunday, LeBron James sits in his high school bedroom in 2003, talking to a de-aged CGI version of himself. His younger self marvels at what the future will be like: “Cordless headphones, you can watch movies on your phone, and you’ve got electric cars?” “Yeah.” “The future is crunk!” Right after the game, another commercial gave a slightly different glimpse of our high-tech present. A cross-branded ad with Samuel Adams and Boston Dynamics advertised, respectively, a Wicked IPA Party Pack and a $75,000 robot dog that’s being beta-tested by police departments. Crunk!
The fun is new, the friends are old, the past is open for business. The screen images are simulated but the robots are real. The only thing CLOSING FOREVER is the future.
ben tapeworm