a view from the couch

Even if you don't read Russian, the pulsating white on blue letters spelling out "bol" have almost universal recognition as the start of a television painkiller ad.Advertising is a painful subject for most television viewers -- whether they are in Russia, America or anywhere else. While Russians have not yet had to face the sheer horror of 10 commercials back to back every five minutes during their favorite social-realist flick, some are already complaining about the barrage of pitches that follow each program.Russian television advertising has come a long way since Gosteleradio put Olivetti's logo on the face of the clock counting down to the old 9 P.M. Vremya news show five years ago.Three years ago Russian firms were already crowding onto the air to offer their wares and services. In 1992, for months immediately after the first ad following the 9 P.M. news, a silly looking man would sit and grin for 30 seconds without saying a word. One day, quite unexpectedly, he uttered: "Someday I will tell you everything I think about this subject." After another month, he eventually did; it turned out he was part of the preceding commercial for a Russian trading firm.Most of today's home-grown, Russian ads are low-budget and low-art, and fit in well with Russian television programming. They are often clever and as Russian ads for Russian consumers, they work.But as a Russian-American who grew up during U2 overflights and Dr. Strangelove, as well as American television advertising, I can appreciate the weirdness of seeing Western ads on Russian TV; they are the same old formulas to pitch soap, deodorants, and spaghetti, and are somewhat comical.Why? Because they stick out like sore thumbs. Foreign-created advertising clashes stylistically and culturally with what Russians produce. But it is not just a question of big budgets and slick production -- it's the approach.We are in a country where you do not know who is going to be in power tomorrow, and the first thing you do in the morning is check the ruble-dollar exchange rate. A significant portion of the workforce is earning below the subsistence level at their official jobs, and people line up on the street to sell a pair of shoes. Ads showing the fishmonger's wife, all prettied up and waiting for her husband to come home to their quaint and tidy suburban dacha, and who finds her smelly spouse's shirt is just the test for the new Western detergent she has bought, are about as far from reality as you can get without leaving the planet.There is the dentist selling toothpaste. Behind him you see vertical blinds, beautiful new walls adorned with art, and the latest dental equipment. I find it hard to believe there is anything remotely resembling that in the former Soviet Union -- unless it is in the Kremlin or operated by foreigners for foreigners.Perhaps the most bizarre ad to grace Russian television so far is for Uncle Ben's. Now, there is nothing strange about Uncle Ben's or any of its products -- it is just that this particular ad was apparently shot someplace in rural Georgia (and I don't mean outside Tbilisi). It portrays a family reunion, but the thing is, all the people are African-Americans. Nothing wrong with that; advertising discovered several years ago that there is a black community, they have money, they buy things, and it is a good idea to portray ethnic groups using your product. But in Russia, who are they targeting? -- the Somali refugees and students at Patrice Lumumba University? Then there is the Knorr chef who speaks native Russian and bears a striking resemblance to Yegor Gaidar, cooking up God knows what in his Western kitchen. Is this a coincidence, or is some neo-communist casting director trying to convey a subliminal message about reformers and Western products to the Russian masses?It is all comical and entertaining. But its also rather disturbing. Rather than show a real Russian family in their cramped apartment (as Russian advertisers often do), Western advertisers are rubbing Russian faces in images of what they do not have. In today's political climate, with nationalists preaching ethnic pride, such images could be dangerous -- both for business and for peace.