Chrysler’s Deplorable “Detroit” Super Bowl Ad

Screenshot courtesy of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0HLIvtJRAI">YouTube</a>

Fight disinformation: Sign up for the free Mother Jones Daily newsletter and follow the news that matters.

[UPDATE: The AP reports that Chrysler’s allegedly heartfelt ode to Detroit was the brainchild of a Portland, Oregon, ad agency whose other major client is Nike. The automaker shifted its ad accounts to the Portland shop after its previous PR firm, the storied BBDO, ended its Detroit operations. Which probably had something to do with the car manufacturer’s stiffing BBDO to the tune of $58 million.]

In case you missed it, Chrysler—a car corporation that’s better known for bailouts, buyouts, and management shuffles than reliable cars—somehow succeeded in winning hearts and minds last night with its two-minute Super Bowl ad buy, the longest and most expensive in the Big Game’s marketing history. “Imported From Detroit,” the $9 million ad, starred not a car but the beleaguered Michigan burg, its troubles, and its market-anointed favorite son, rapper Eminem, declaring: “This is Motor City, and this is what we do.” The attempt to jumble Detroit’s urban problems and its big-name corporate overseers into one orgasmic pulse of hip-hop-infused Americanism apparently succeeded. “Did you see it? Or, if you’re a Detroiter, did you feel it?” genuflected one columnist for the city’s dead-tree media. That made Ad Age‘s gushing sound downright subtle: “What starts out as a down-on-our-luck tribute to a broken city morphs into a defiant, we’re-back rallying cry.”

But there’s a lot to dislike here: the fact that a major bailout recipient is dishing beaucoup bucks for a one-off ad to boost its image; the cynical racism (or at least colonialism) of positioning Chrysler as a tough, gritty, 8 Mile-style brand that’s perfect for what marketers call the “urban core” demographic; and using Detroit poverty porn to hawk your product while simultaneously trying to deride the media’s recent Detroit poverty porn. (To be fair, maybe Chrysler ended up with a crappy commercial because the word’s out on Madison Avenue that Chrysler also counts its advertising firms among the many parties it screws over. One of its previous ad execs complained that Chrysler “makes cars which no one wants and continues to throw money at them…and now, they want us to bail them out.)

But most appalling is the idea that Chrysler is one of the great things about gritty Detroit and America, when in fact it’s one of the corporate locusts that choked the city and nation purple with its credit-backed gobbling of skilled labor and its excretion of abandoned worker plants. It’s as if some Wall Street marketer hired by Chrysler was stuck at his social-worker sister’s apartment in West Harlem and skimmed her copy of the November/December Mother Jones while she was preparing two cups of kombucha in the kitchen. Because, clearly, the creators of this ad read Charlie LeDuff’s amazing elegy for his hometown…and, clearly, they didn’t get it at all.

If you weren’t already weary of a corporation that’s switched hands from one European parent (Daimler) to a Dan Quayle-connected private capital firm (Cerberus) to another European parent (Fiat) in the last 13 years, shedding jobs and factories along the way; if you weren’t already pissed about the $15 billion Chrysler’s gotten in bailout funds, which were necessitated by Chrysler’s desire to squeeze more profit out of lending credit than selling cars; then consider this: Here’s a list of plants and complexes closed or downsized just in the Detroit area by Chrysler since 1980. Note that this doesn’t include the many more plants it’s opened and shuttered before 1980 (like the Dodge main plant in Hamtramck, a Detroit suburb that’s been begging the state to let it declare bankruptcy), or plants closed in recent years in Missouri, Delaware, Indiana, Ohio, Alabama, New York, Canada, Mexico, Brazil, Venezuela, and presumably elsewhere:

  • Conner Avenue
  • Detroit Axle
  • Jefferson Avenue
  • Lynch Road
  • McGraw Avenue
  • M.E. Elliott Tool & Die
  • Mound Road
  • Plymouth Road Office Complex
  • Sterling Heights
  • Trenton
  • Wyoming Avenue

Seriously, if KBR made cars, they’d be Dodges and Chryslers and Jeeps.

Not that we should be surprised at all. For a long time, Chrysler has been a failing business, reliant for survival not on new ideas or better cars but government largesse. As a result, its advertising has always tried to sell the company’s cars as indispensable pieces of America. Remember this commercial from last year, for example?

Oh, sure, you say: All US car manufacturers do that. OK, but there’s a difference. Ford and GM want to manipulate you into displaying your patriotism by buying their cars. With Chrysler, one gets the sense that they don’t care one whit whether you buy the car, only that you recognize it as your patriotic duty to keep the company alive with whatever it needs from the taxpayers’ kitty. In fact, maybe they could have saved the $9 million and used a new marketing slogan: “CHRYSLER: Just lie back and think of Detroit.”

WE'LL BE BLUNT.

We have a considerable $390,000 gap in our online fundraising budget that we have to close by June 30. There is no wiggle room, we've already cut everything we can, and we urgently need more readers to pitch in—especially from this specific blurb you're reading right now.

We'll also be quite transparent and level-headed with you about this.

In "News Never Pays," our fearless CEO, Monika Bauerlein, connects the dots on several concerning media trends that, taken together, expose the fallacy behind the tragic state of journalism right now: That the marketplace will take care of providing the free and independent press citizens in a democracy need, and the Next New Thing to invest millions in will fix the problem. Bottom line: Journalism that serves the people needs the support of the people. That's the Next New Thing.

And it's what MoJo and our community of readers have been doing for 47 years now.

But staying afloat is harder than ever.

In "This Is Not a Crisis. It's The New Normal," we explain, as matter-of-factly as we can, what exactly our finances look like, why this moment is particularly urgent, and how we can best communicate that without screaming OMG PLEASE HELP over and over. We also touch on our history and how our nonprofit model makes Mother Jones different than most of the news out there: Letting us go deep, focus on underreported beats, and bring unique perspectives to the day's news.

You're here for reporting like that, not fundraising, but one cannot exist without the other, and it's vitally important that we hit our intimidating $390,000 number in online donations by June 30.

And we hope you might consider pitching in before moving on to whatever it is you're about to do next. It's going to be a nail-biter, and we really need to see donations from this specific ask coming in strong if we're going to get there.

payment methods

WE'LL BE BLUNT.

We have a considerable $390,000 gap in our online fundraising budget that we have to close by June 30. There is no wiggle room, we've already cut everything we can, and we urgently need more readers to pitch in—especially from this specific blurb you're reading right now.

We'll also be quite transparent and level-headed with you about this.

In "News Never Pays," our fearless CEO, Monika Bauerlein, connects the dots on several concerning media trends that, taken together, expose the fallacy behind the tragic state of journalism right now: That the marketplace will take care of providing the free and independent press citizens in a democracy need, and the Next New Thing to invest millions in will fix the problem. Bottom line: Journalism that serves the people needs the support of the people. That's the Next New Thing.

And it's what MoJo and our community of readers have been doing for 47 years now.

But staying afloat is harder than ever.

In "This Is Not a Crisis. It's The New Normal," we explain, as matter-of-factly as we can, what exactly our finances look like, why this moment is particularly urgent, and how we can best communicate that without screaming OMG PLEASE HELP over and over. We also touch on our history and how our nonprofit model makes Mother Jones different than most of the news out there: Letting us go deep, focus on underreported beats, and bring unique perspectives to the day's news.

You're here for reporting like that, not fundraising, but one cannot exist without the other, and it's vitally important that we hit our intimidating $390,000 number in online donations by June 30.

And we hope you might consider pitching in before moving on to whatever it is you're about to do next. It's going to be a nail-biter, and we really need to see donations from this specific ask coming in strong if we're going to get there.

payment methods

We Recommend

Latest

Sign up for our free newsletter

Subscribe to the Mother Jones Daily to have our top stories delivered directly to your inbox.

Get our award-winning magazine

Save big on a full year of investigations, ideas, and insights.

Subscribe

Support our journalism

Help Mother Jones' reporters dig deep with a tax-deductible donation.

Donate