[lit-ideas] Re: Fieldnotes: Why marketers need anthropologists

From Hard Day's Night (1964)

INTERIOR  THE INNER OFFICE

        A large room, part production office with models and sets, drawing
        board with ground plans, the other part of the room a mixture of Pop
        and Queen's magazine decor.

        Behind a large desk sits SIMON MARSHAL, a bland but slightly irritable
        young man of about thirty-five. He is wearing the ultimate in the
        current smart set fashion. He is attended by a couple of underlings
        ADRIAN and TONY and behind him on the wall is a poster of a girl.
        Across the poster is printed, "Way Out, your own T.V. Special
        with Susan Campey. Director, Simon Marshal."

                                SECRETARY
                        (proudly)
                Will this do, Simon?

                                SIMON
                        (looking at George)
                Not bad, dolly, not really bad.
                        (he motions to George)
                Turn around, chicky baby.

        GEORGE does so.

                                SIMON
                Oh yes, a definite poss. He'll look good
                alongside Susan.
                        (he indicates the girl on the poster)
                All right, Sunny Jim, this is all going to be
                quite painless. Don't breathe on me, Adrian.

        ADRIAN has recognised GEORGE and is trying to stop SIMON.

                                GEORGE
                Look, I'm terribly sorry but I'm afraid there's
                been some sort of a misunderstanding.

                                SIMON
                        (sharply)
                Oh, you can come off it with us. You don't have
                to do the old adenoidal glottal stop and carry
                on for our benefit.

                                GEORGE
                I'm afraid I don't understand.

                                SIMON
                Oh, my God, he's a natural.

                                SECRETARY (anxiously)
                Well, I did tell them not to send us any more
                real ones.

                                SIMON
                They ought to know by now the phonies are much
                easier to handle. Still he's a good type.

        He now speaks to GEORGE in the loud voice that the English reserve for
        foreigners and village idiots.

                                SIMON
                We want you to give us your opinion on some
                clothes for teenagers.

                                GEORGE
                Oh, by all means, I'd be quite prepared for
                that eventuality.

                                SIMON
                Well, not your real opinion, naturally. It'll
                be written out and you'll learn it.
                        (to secretary)
                Can he read?

                                GEORGE
                Of course I can.

                                SIMON
                I mean lines, ducky, can you handle lines?

                                GEORGE
                I'll have a bash.

                                SIMON
                Good. Hart, get him whatever it is they drink,
                a cokearama?

                                GEORGE
                Ta.

                                SIMON
                Well, at least he's polite. Tony Show him the
                shirts, Adrian.

        A collection of shirts are produced and GEORGE looks at them. While he
        is doing this SIMON briefs him.

                                SIMON
                Now, you'll like these. You really "dig" them.
                They're "fab" and all the other pimply
                hyperboles.

                                GEORGE
                I wouldn't be seen dead in them. They're dead
                grotty.

                                SIMON
                Grotty?

                                GEORGE
                Yeah, grotesque.

                                SIMON
                        (to secretary)
                Make a note of that word and give it to Susan.
                I think it's rather touching really. Here's
                this kid trying to give me his utterly
                valueless opinion when I know for a fact within
                four weeks he'll be suffering from a violent
                inferiority complex and loss of status if he
                isn't wearing one of these nasty things. Of
                course they're grotty, you wretched nit, that's
                why they were designed, but that's what you'll
                want.

                                GEORGE
                But I won't.

                                SIMON
                You can be replaced you know, chicky baby.

                                GEORGE
                I don't care.

                                SIMON
                And that pose is out too, Sunny Jim. The new
                thing is to care passionately, and be right
                wing. Anyway, you won't meet Susan if you don't
                cooperate.

                                GEORGE
                And who's this Susan when she's at home?

                                SIMON
                        (playing his ace)
                Only Susan Campey, our resident teenager.
                You'll have to love her. She's your symbol.

                                GEORGE
                Oh, you mean that posh bird who gets
                everything wrong?

                                SIMON
                I beg your pardon?

                                GEORGE
                Oh, yes, the lads frequently gather round the
                T.V. set to watch her for a giggle. Once we
                even all sat down and wrote these letters
                saying how gear she was and all that rubbish.

                                SIMON
                She's a trend setter. It's her profession!

                                GEORGE
                She's a drag. A well-known drag. We turn the
                sound down on her and say rude things.

                                SIMON
                Get him out of here!!

                                GEORGE
                        (genuinely surprised)
                Have I said something amiss?

                                SIMON
                Get him out of here. He's knocking the
                programme's image!!

        The underlings hustle GEORGE to the door.

                                GEORGE
                        (smiling)
                Sorry about the shirts.

        He is ejected through the door.

                                SIMON
                Get him out.
                        (he stops in mid-shout)
                You don't think he's a new phenomenon, do you?

                                SECRETARY
                You mean an early clue to the new direction?

                                SIMON
                        (rummaging in his desk)
                Where's the calendar?
                        (he finds it)
                No, he's just a trouble maker. The change isn't
                due for three weeks. All the same, make a note
                not to extend Susan's contract. Let's not take
                any unnecessary chances!

-----------------------

Robert Paul
reed.edu



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