That was directed by Orson Welles. No, really. Or so the world keeps on insisting, anyway.
Last time, I touched on how the original "Swamp Gang" Budweiser commercial could be read as a metaphor for man's ruination of the natural kingdom and for the subliminal seductions of advertising, whereby a trio of frogs are obliged to stare for so long at a garish neon Budweiser sign erected atop their swamp that they are ultimately compelled to adopt the brand as their deity. Hofmeister's "Follow The Bear" campaign of the early 1980s was built around a very similar scenario, wherein an animal is seduced into abandoning their wild roots after a chance encounter with a man-made concoction and goes in search of a more exhilarating lifestyle revolving around the veneration of a brand. George puts his trust in Hofmeister, having used the brand to affirm his own identity (George identifies the bear in the logo as a direct ancestor of his), and apparently ends up living the high life as a result - even if in this case "the high life" involves being trailed by three adoring Cockney fanboys around a rather undistinguished-looking bar.
George's story is effectively an inversion on that of Gautama, in which our hero trades in his life of quiet meditation underneath a tree for one of indulgence and worldly luxury (to what extent a low-strength lager like Hofmeister could be considered a luxury). George's awakening comes when he experiences the "cool cut on the back of throat" of a pilfered Hofmeister, prompting him to ditch the woods forever and to "discover himself" amid the pool tables and grimy carpets of a tavern. George finds that this is actually the perfect environment for honing his animalistic instincts, as illustrated in his distinctly predatory seduction of a human woman (no one said that this campaign had aged well).
The introductory ad closes by indirectly prompting the viewer to choose which path they would sooner follow - that of the passive, poetry-seeking Ronnie Rabbit, who's quite content to remain in the deep, dark forest watching leaves fall from the trees for eternity, or George, who chose to dedicate his life to the pursuit of an inferior British larger and to the celebration of loutish bar culture - with the slogan "Follow The Bear" making it crystal clear which path we're intended to interpret as the desirable one. The thing is, though, the ad does inadvertently end up validating Ronnie; I assume we're supposed to see his life of passive tree-grazing as one of perpetual boredom but that's completely negated by the sheer elation with which he cries, "A leaf! I saw a leaf!" I don't think I've ever heard anything more purely happy-sounding than that animatronic coney's reaction to seeing the forces of gravity work their magic on a single leaf. The ad starts out with a display of euphoria from Ronnie that George frankly never matches on his journey into larger-swilling hedonism. Clearly, Ronnie is a rabbit who lives in the moment and can appreciate the joy and beauty in something as ordinary as a falling leaf. As such, it's hard not to come away with the impression that Ronnie was the enlightened one all along and that George has simply lost himself in a wilderness of a whole different nature. (The alternate take is that Ronnie's supposed elation actually constitutes the cries of desperation of a creature driven insane by boredom, but I choose not to see it that way).
George may be the anti-Gautama, although his model was clearly the Fonz, and despite being a bloke in a rather frugal-looking bear suit, he had a certain slickness about him. The character inevitably caused some controversy when he was accused of making the loutish lifestyle look hip and appealing, particularly to children (a common charge leveled at alcoholic products that use anthropomorphic animals as their mascots), which ultimately led to the campaign's retirement. The Hofmeister brand itself folded in 2003, but was relaunched in 2016, with the slogan "Follow The Bear" still intact. My sources tell me that as lagers go, Hofmeister never had the strongest of reputations, although to be honest, I couldn't tell you much about the product itself, for I am a teetotaler. I have no tongue for beer or lagers of any kind, I just get weirded out by their freaky advertising.
Orson Welles, though? I'd probably be a lot more skeptical if I wasn't aware of just how dogged the latter stages of his career were with degrading advertising gigs. A far cry from The Trial, maybe, but you've got to bring home the Paul Masson somehow.
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