If you have a television set and turn it on occasionally, you probably know that singer/actress/American Idol judge Jennifer Lopez is the new spokeswoman for Fiat. She’s been part of several commercials for the Italian car company, but the one I’ve seen the most takes place in the Bronx, where Lopez was born.
“This is my world,” she says. “This place inspires me to be tougher, to stay sharper, to think faster.”
After watching the commercial, my daughter, the cynic, turned to me and said, “I bet the only time she goes to the Bronx is to do commercials.”
We laughed, but it turns out she might’ve been overly generous. As we reported in Culture Clips this Monday, J.Lo. allegedly skipped the on-locale shoot altogether. According to The Smoking Gun, a body double was used during the in-the-borough shoots. Close-ups of J.Lo behind the wheel were filmed in Los Angeles.
Fiat’s not exactly denying the charges. “The commercial tells the story of how the simple elements of our upbringing can help explain who we are, where we’re going and serve as a source of inspiration to achieve our goals in life,” a statement from the car company reads. “One does not need to be in a specific location to be inspired or continue to be inspired.”
Now, the point of this isn’t to hammer on J.Lo, who I’m sure is a wonderful human being. For all I know, she goes to the Bronx every other weekend, and the only reason she didn’t film on location for Fiat was she was on a mission trip or something. But still, I find the alleged subterfuge a little bothersome.
Each commercial we see is, in a way, a company asking not just for your business, but for your trust. We consumers, after all, are far more likely to buy a product or brand that we know makes good, reliable stuff. “Look at how trustworthy our cranberry farmers are!” a juice commercial subliminally tells us. “You can trust our juice to be tasty, too!” Corporations choose celebrity spokesfolks based on their likability and trustworthiness. It’s why we see so much of Peyton Manning pitching products and not so much of one-time felon Michael Vick.
We’ve all been conditioned to take what we see in our commercials with a grain of suspicion. We know that our cranberry juice isn’t solely made by likable, funny farmers working on a 1940s-esque farm. We know that insurance companies don’t really employ talking geckos. We know that girly, animé-style ninjas don’t necessarily favor one brand of subcompact car above all others.
But still, there was something about this particular bit of chicanery that rubbed me the wrong way: It’s OK to lie to me, but tell me that you’re lying to me. If I know what you’re doing, than the lie becomes a storytelling device. If I don’t, then it’s just a lie.
Are there certain commercial techniques that rub you the wrong way, too? Would you be offended if, say, you learned that Jennifer Lopez doesn’t even like Fiats?
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