Sony Bravia: Color Like No Other

One of the most expensive, innovative, and ambitious advertising campaigns of the last few years is for Sony’s Bravia televisions. Characterized by the slogan “color like no other,” the commercials have garnered numerous awards and inspired many parodies, not to mention millions of views on YouTube. Why are they so popular? The advertisements (there are six of them) all feature some sort of whimsical event created with no computer-generated imagery. In Paint (2006), a series of fireworks filled with paint are exploded to form a spectacular rainbow on the face of an old apartment building. In Play Doh (2007), a horde of claymation bunnies overtakes New York. The ad that started the campaign, however, is the most famous. It’s called Balls, and it features over 250,000 rubber bouncy balls set loose on a San Francisco street. The balls cascade in and out of alleys, buildings and gutters, overwhelming the environment:



With its idyllic pacing, fantastic situations, and child-like imagery, this advertisement asks the viewer to suspend belief for a moment and ignore reality, creating a feeling of escapism and freedom.

The commercial opens by establishing the setting with three shots: an aerial view of San Francisco, a quiet city street, and an abandoned bicycle.



Shadows are long, and the dry grass of the second shot implies that it is a hot summer afternoon – lazy, muggy, and uneventful. Then, we see three bouncy balls slowly bouncing down the sidewalk, and curiosity is aroused. The tension is reinforced with a shot of the giant hill followed by a shot of a small boy hiding behind a staircase, looking up the street. What is he looking at? Finally, we see it: just over the horizon, the spheres of color make their debut. The screen is suddenly beset by thousands upon thousands of balls, creating a giant wave that rushes down the street. The tension and buildup last only about twelve seconds, but they serve to make the appearance of the balls all the more fantastical. With shots of the boring street, the viewer is oriented in a city neighborhood, but doesn’t expect what is coming.

The remainder of the commercial is concerned with the movement of these bouncy balls down the steep road. Everything from this point in the video is in slow motion, giving the whole ordeal a dream-like feel. Instead of thinking, “Who let these bouncy balls go?” the pedestrian in the commercial can look at the dance of color in a trance, saying: “Look at those beautiful shapes.” We see images of people stopping their daily lives to watch the spectacle: a woman in her home, a child on the street, and a man on his porch. All are dumbfounded, yet completely mesmerized by the swarm of color. The slow pacing continues in the camera work: we see no zooms, no shakiness, and no quick pans. Everything is slow and deliberate. Even the music - “Heartbeats,” performed by Jose Gonzalez - is down-tempo and melodic, with no drums, just simple guitar. The cuts correspond roughly with the down beats of the music, creating a relationship that is rhythmic and idyllically paced. The camera also makes extensive use of shallow focus, so that only one or two balls are completely sharp at any one time. This heightens the dream-state even more, creating a feeling of ease.


The commercial suspends disbelief by its content alone – how many of us have seen a quarter million bouncy balls tumbling down the street? Obviously a lot of logistical concerns are involved: what if they break a window? What if someone slips? Worst of all, who is going to clean up this mess? Questions such as these are abandoned in the fantastical world of the commercial. The viewer accepts the situation as it is, without wondering why or how. The fantasy takes hold, and eventually, the balls seem to take on a life of their own. They invade this quiet afternoon by upsetting everything in their path. Like thousands of butterflies, they permeate everything they touch – from the garage to the sewers to garbage cans. These balls seem intent on reaching some sort of destination. In fact, the viewer wants to come along.

The third feeling this ad appeals to is nostalgia, or sentimentality. Everything about this commercial is child-like: colorful balls, cute dogs, bicycles, “lost kitty” signs, big oak trees, and jumping frogs. The carefree attitude portrayed in this ad is something that many adults secretly wish would return to their lives. When watching the video, the viewer is asked to relate that side of themselves to the journey of the balls: deep inside, we all just want to let loose and careen down a hill, wind in our hair, going nowhere in particular. We want that childhood fantasy of flight, of complete freedom – and this commercial caters very specifically to that. In the beginning and end shots, we are flying - the opening shot because of the aerial photography, and the closing shot because the balls are headed straight up. In fact, to further support the theme of flight, each of those shots has birds in it. The need to escape everyday life is addressed in this commercial, which is perfect, because it is selling the number one thing American use to escape: TV.

The viewer is even asked to become one with the balls, in what I think is the most important shot. At about 1:09 into the video, the camera is tracking the balls at street level, and it is positioned right in the midst of them. The lyrics in the background say “we were in love,” evoking a sentimental, past love (childhood). The shot lingers for about 7 seconds, allowing the viewer to get swallowed up in the beauty of the shot. After this, we have joined the bouncy balls in the wild dance toward freedom, beauty, and – quite possibly – a nice new Sony TV.

Another advertisement that evokes these carefree feelings comes from the same ad campaign. Domino City (2008) is the latest from the Bravia collection. It follows a snaking line of giant dominoes as they topple their way through India:



Once again, the same themes shine through: dream-like filming, fantastic situations, and childhood memories. The camera once again moves in a very steady, yet adventurous pattern: sometimes we feel as if we are in the midst of the dominoes, and sometimes it feels as if we’re simply spectators. Either way, there is no zooming or shakiness. The situation is fantastic, of course, because one doesn’t usually see giant dominoes perusing their way through rural India. The dominoes serve as a vessel for the playfulness of youth, echoing the theme from Balls: the commercials invite their viewers to come away on a magical journey.

The Bravia ads never espouse the technical aspects of the product they are endorsing. They don’t mention inputs, screen type, or accessories. The ads want you to forget about everything but the feeling of idle, peaceful escape. Because of this ad campaign, consumers will associate Sony LCD TVs with color, yes, but they will mostly remember the quirky, vibrant, fun commercials that drew them out of this boring world and into a fantastical world of giant dominoes, play-doh bunnies, and liberated bouncy balls. The commercials are selling the idea of freedom. Freedom from responsibility. Freedom to just sit back and enjoy a nice television. Freedom, as Sony knows, to watch even more commercials.

Kurt Raether