Freedom at last. Judging over and done with, the press conference survived, the award ceremony ducked — and I am on my last day here. The weather continues to be wonderful, the sea remains an impossible shade of blue, the air continues to nip and bite, and the Indian contingent is finally up to strength. As expected, we are down almost 50 percent —– 65 this year, in the place of 130-plus last year. A long and beery lunch to celebrate the metals trickling in saw the mood surprisingly muted – expected or not, our performance was, after last year’s high, somewhat underwhelming.
Sour Marbels , Cupid Condoms and Air India got us three silvers in Outdoors, and with some luck, will win more metal in Press. Bajaj exhaust fans, Fosters and Garnier added to the tally with a Bronze each. But India’s heroes this year have undoubtedly been our men and women from the media agencies – eight metals in all, including a Gold for a Gillette innovation nobody seems to have seen. But who cares, we will take it and smile, thank you very much.
The Opening Gala was humdrum, as always, with a lacklustre band, an emasculated bar and bored delegates desperately looking for friends they could escape to a real party with.
Now to the Outdoor winners – and some thoughts on the importance of having Indian jurors to speak up for our work in international panels.
The Grand Prix, after some heated arguments, was finally awarded to The Zimbabwean for its Trillion Dollar Billboard. Smirk,smirk. But full credit to the jurors who supported its closest rival, the Oasis Street Musicians’ effort ( if you don’t know what I am talking about, it’s your own fault) Once the die was cast, everyone came together to explain why the winner deserved to win, all earlier reservations forgotten. My other favourite, the Memories Board from McDonald’s, sank without a trace. No issues, mate, as our Aussie juror would say — it lives on, cherished for a lifetime, on the walls and in the hearts of hundreds of thousands of annual visitors to Piccadilly Circus.
Now on to why having Indian jurors helps. Don’t get me wrong — I am not suggesting blind partisanship. But very often, work has to be put into the real cultural context it is designed for. The Air India campaign showing multi-racial families to dramatise Bangalore-New York direct flights, for example, would be simple, albeit charming, slice-of-life pictures in most Western countries. In India, on the other hand, it is bold and edgy to the point of being scandalous. Or the tongue-firmly-in-the-cheek poster for Cupid Condoms, highlighting the lifetime of savings you would get by not having a kid. Someone has to point out to our AIDS-obsessed friends from the Americas that in India, condoms are still primarily used by married couples for spacing (I don’t know if that is true today, but sounds convincing, doesn’t it?).
Sometimes it is even simpler – an outstanding piece of work slips by unnoticed, simply because of juror fatigue. Having someone who has seen and admired the work in its market ( as I had in the case of Sour Marbels) just helps in bringing back the work for reconsideration. As people, we cannot — and should not — ever be as pushy or shamelessly self-serving as our friends with the charming accents. But giving ourselves a fair chance is the least we should do.
That is it from me, I am off to finally walk around the Palais and admire some great work on exhibit there, so over to you, Aggie.
(The author, popularly known as Chax, is the national creative director at Draft FCB Ulka)
