On nostalgia: No country for old meh!

I didn’t follow the instructions. shots asked me how nostalgia might impact advertising in the year to come.

Instead of responding thoughtfully and at length, I hot-wired this essay and drove it in a new, if peripherally related, direction. Not because I’m difficult, which I may be. Or because I believe the answer is obvious, which I do (nostalgia will be everywhere, inescapably so). But because there’s a more important question to grapple with before we turn back the clocks and mine the past for messaging potential.

Is delivering nostalgia-first creative an act of comfort or cowardice?

With so many people feeling unmoored about what we stand for, who we stand with, and what we can or can’t say, is delivering nostalgia-first creative an act of comfort or cowardice? Put differently: as we confront global chaos, domestic grudge matches and ethical WTFs, there’s the temptation to do what’s been done — but should we?

Above: Giant Spoon's recent spot for Lucid Motors "borrows from the pulpy drive-in plots of Roger Corman".

Let me begin by saying… I get it.

I am constantly scouring the couch cushions of film, TV and music history for story structures, useful tropes and - yes - references. Just this month, Giant Spoon released a short film for Lucid Motors that stars Timothée Chalamet; it borrows from the pulpy drive-in plots of Roger Corman, takes character inspiration from Sugarland Express, and makes cinematic eyes at Close Encounters. 

What worries me is the use of nostalgia as an alternative to narrative invention.

As a writer, I’ve built more than I should on the back of Alfred Hitchcock, selling scripts I pitched as Psycho in a lighthouse, Suspicion in a hospital, and (gulp) Lifeboat in space. Hell, few joys rival re-experiencing E.T., The Goonies or Wayne’s World with my kids. Which I don’t see as a balm after watching the news, but I enjoy because good is good is good. And, as Freud famously said, “sometimes a rerun is just a rerun.”

What worries me is not the study of standout entertainment. Nor is it the purposeful application of IP to tell a story (we pitched a pretty solid example last week). No, what worries me is the use of nostalgia as an alternative to narrative invention and new conversations because we know the output’s already been culturally co-signed. Read: it’s a hedged bet motivated by fear

Above: Grody enjoys nostalgia-driven films such as E.T. or The Goonies, "because good is good is good". 

Still with me?

If not, that’s cool. You’re probably thinking; we live in a time when every campaign, tagline and visual asset is an invitation for critics to sharpen their blades, whether Sydney Sweeney is involved or not. The first question we’re often asked by brands when we pitch is, “what will the haters say?”. 

If you err on the side of duplication rather than inspiration, that strategy has a shelf life.

Compound that with the panic that’s been stoked by Cracker Barrel’s logo-gate and Colbert losing his job for speaking his mind… yeah, of course, companies have 99 reasons to consult the rearview mirror.

But branders beware.

If you err on the side of duplication rather than inspiration, that strategy has a shelf life. If you believe nostalgia is Leo Bloom’s blue blanket for global audiences, you underestimate their backbone. And if you assume the past is immutable, that the popular appraisal of IP, personalities or period-specific behaviours is frozen in amber, think again.

It’s a short-term play that may have long-term consequences.