Stop me if you've heard this one. A man named Vinnie (also known as Mr Punctuality) walks into a building to meet his girlfriend Elaine. She's in a tetchy mood because she's expecting him to gift her with a splashy present, and resents being made to wait for it. Is it her birthday? Probably not - one gets the impression, after spending fewer than 20 seconds with Elaine, that she's well-accustomed to the rhythms of incessant demanding and getting her every fastidious whim catered to. Vinnie assures her that he has a "surprise" for her, whereupon he blindfolds her and leads her the vehicle he has waiting outside - a Volkswagen Polo. Elaine assumes that her surprise is a new car, and is delighted with the performance she's getting from this particular set of wheels, but is vaguely perturbed by Vinnie's insistence that she keep the blindfold on, and the entire foreboding matter that she doesn't actually know where she's being driven to. Still, the ride itself is a swell experience. Finally, they arrive at a secluded beach; Elaine removes her blindfold and is bitterly disappointed to discover that the "quality purchase" she's been praising to high heaven all this time is a dinky little Volkswagen (although it does meet one of her requisites, in being European). "What kind of a surprise is this?!" she demands to know, whereupon Vinnie gives her the good, or possibly bad news: "The car is not the surprise..." A sudden look of panic flashes across Elaine's eyes.
The above scenario was the premise of a 60-second TV promotion for the Volkswagen Polo, one that never failed to make me shudder when it made the rounds back in 1996. It's yet another ad that I could see forming the basis of a unique personality test, the results of which would be determined by exactly what kind of "surprise" you assumed Mr Punctuality had in store for the unsuspecting Elaine. After all these years, the punchline remains an enigma to me, because the ad doesn't make it especially clear what conclusion we're expected to draw from Vinnie's loaded statement, but studying the finer details of that ending, my sense of personal unease has frankly only burgeoned since I was a child. All we know for sure is that Vinnie has purposely driven Elaine to a locale where they'll be safely removed from the rest of civilisation, and the implications of that (coupled with that final ominous musical refrain) are still enough to send shivers down my spine. As I see it, there are three possible outcomes for us to choose from:
- The "Benign" Surprise: Vinnie has driven Elaine out to a secluded beach so they can enjoy an uninterrupted make-out session on the backseat of that tiny, cheap Polo. This seems to be a fairly common interpretation, but the one that I personally am least persuaded by. It doesn't quite fit with the rest of the pieces; I don't detect a solitary note of genuine affection from either Vinnie or Elaine throughout, and when you factor in that Elaine doesn't seem particularly heartened by Vinnie's promise of an altogether different "surprise", something tells me that this isn't headed for a romantic outcome.
- The "Humane" Surprise: Vinnie has driven Elaine out to a secluded beach with the intention of terminating their relationship. And to prove that he means business, he's going to leave her stranded out in the middle of nowhere, whilst making a quick getaway back to the city in that reliable Volkswagen. This is actually what my mother assured me was happening when I asked for her opinion in 1996; still, given my age at the time, it's plausible that she might have withheld it from me if she seriously thought the above or below to be more probable.
- The Sicko Surprise: Vinnie has driven Elaine out to a secluded beach with the intention of terminating their relationship AND Elaine's life. For all we know he's planning to stash her body into the boot of that reliable Volkswagen and then dump it into the ocean. The harsh irony of the ad is that Elaine has just spent its duration giving the unwitting thumbs up/thumbs down to her own tomb. Macabre, or what?
In weighing up which of these conclusions has the greater thud of credibility, it's important to consider that, clearly, we're not supposed to like Elaine; as a character, she has "spoiled, obnoxious gold-digger" good as branded across her forehead. So presumably we're not being primed to anticipate an optimistic outcome for her. All the same, it would strike me as extremely odd if Volkswagen had seriously intended for us to sympathise with a prospective girlfriend killer. And, insufferable company though she may be, I can't see that Elaine has done anything quite so bad that it would have viewers baying for her blood. All of which would appear to indicate the middle path of the "Humane" surprise. But I suppose that begs the question as to whether we're actually supposed to like Vinnie either? Being the driver of the featured vehicle, he's the character with whom we would, ordinarily, feel encouraged to identify. Yet he does have rather a sinister presence, starting with the very beginning of the ad when he strolls into what is presumed to be the couple's apartment as a silhouetted figure, and with only his feet initially visible (compared to Elaine, who is first seen in full view, albeit from a reserved distance). Already there is an aura of mistrust about Vinnie, a subliminal hint that whatever he has in store for Elaine will probably not be agreeable, although its exact nature remains unclear to us. We might feel that, for much of the duration, we are in on the joke - unlike Elaine, know exactly what kind of vehicle she's praising - but Elaine's isolated reference to that most uncomfortable of questions - "Where are we going?" - is a troubling reminder that we are, ultimately, as in the dark as she. Adding to our discomfort is that the journey itself is not a particularly pleasant one, in a way that seems to reflect negatively on the state of their relationship (the overbearing infrastructure of the iron bridge is mirrored on the roof of the Polo like the bars of a cage, suggesting entrapment, they swerve past dumpsters and the blaring horn an imposing tanker, etc) but to which Elaine is entirely oblivious. This much is designed to show off the merits of the Polo, in shielding its occupants from the turbulence of the outside world, but it also conveys naivety on Elaine's part regarding the resentment bubbling away beneath the surface of the gentleman seated next to her. By contrast, their final stopping point is more open and picturesque, but it too has a sense of subliminal danger - it takes place against an orange sky, indicating a setting sun and, implicitly, the end to the couple's relationship and and the symbolic darkness that lurches not far off on the horizon. Whilst, intellectually, I still believe that "Humane" was indeed what the ad's creators were going for, on a gut level, everything about this ending has my amygdala squirming. The Sicko outcome is, perhaps unintentionally, suggested, and as the ad closes it still seems every bit as viable.
Of course, the real punchline of the ad lies not in Vinnie's vague assurances of the surprise still to come, but in the marketing slogan, "If only everything in life was as reliable as a Volkswagen" - the implication being that either Elaine or Vinnie's greatest fault has been in failing to measure up to that modest but dependable Polo, although it is not clear which if them this is condemning. Has Elaine failed in being an acceptable girlfriend to Vinnie, hence why he's dumping her but (possibly) keeping the car? Or has Elaine just enjoyed a perfectly smooth ride on a quality set of wheels, but with a dangerous companion who's potentially intending to do away with her at the end of their journey? Once again, either interpretation seems equally credible. But given that neither participant comes off as particularly desirable company (although I would sooner take my chances with Elaine than Vinnie), I'm inclined to see it as a condemnation of them both. One way or another, their relationship is doomed; just how desperately doomed is left queasily suspended for our own imaginations to have their way with, but it seems fair to say that they are a sorry reflection of the general messiness of human affairs, in contrast with the steadfast fluency of the vehicle in which they've been travelling this entire time. And perhaps, for the purposes of this ad, that's the only conclusion that matters - if your baggage is rotten, don't be faulting the carrier.
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