Here's what I think of the Dove commercial and its responses

The latest viral advertisement has me thinking a lot. I'm sure you've seen it. If not, I'll wait six minutes. Off you go. If you’d rather not click the link, or you've seen the video but need a refresher—Dove has been at it again.

Dove's "Real Beauty Sketches" commercial features a scant warehouse-type building where a number of women describe their appearance through soft camera lenses while violin music plays in the background. A forensic artist draws these women as they describe themselves, then he draws the same women the way a stranger describes them after a brief introduction. The resulting images are, obviously, quite different. The message? Women don't see their own beauty. Women need to triumph their natural beauty. Women are more beautiful than they give themselves credit for.

The day after I saw that video a blog post began popping up on Facebook, generating as much of a reaction as the commercial. I really enjoyed that blog post, and I'm now following the author on Tumblr. If you haven't yet read jazzylittledrops' response to the Dove "Real Beauty Sketches" commercial, I strongly encourage you to do so. Again, I'll wait. Clicky clicky.

I admit, when I first saw the commercial I had the emotional reaction Dove probably spent tens of thousands to squeeze from me. I'm not ashamed to say I'm a little sentimental. I like to see people change. I like to see people brought to smile. I cue the tears when the music swells.

Perhaps I'm a product of culture, but I'm not totally gullible. There was something about that commercial that didn't sit well with me. It was too fabricated, too one-sided, too obvious. The forensic artist initially drew wider chins, baggier eyes, broader noses. He also drew shadows over their portrait souls. Many faces with broad noses and wide chins have eyes that burn with spirited fire, but not the faces in those portraits.

This commercial uses a classic "before and after" display. The first images were heavy with doubt, exhaustion, negativity. There was nowhere to go but up after that. The forensic artist drew the second picture with airs of cheer and energy. True, the faces were all thinner, with more slender or angled features, but what stood out to me was the second pictures and not the first, were drawn with smiles. That was a stylistic choice of the forensic artist, not the describer.

And where were the women who described themselves according to the features they love? I refuse to believe that those women were not part of this "experiment." Unless, of course, this was a fabrication and not an experiment. And that's where I see the problem. This was not a social experiment recorded and reported, it was advertising—a spare-no-expenses demonstration of modes of persuasion.

After I finished watching that video I dried my eyes, blew my nose, and reposted. I liked the message I easily interpreted—don't be so hard on yourself—but as with so many things, I took it with a grain of salt. So my repost came with some pithy commentary. "Oh Dove, if anyone is going to get me with carefully constructed rhetoric, I'm glad it's you."

The next day a brilliant friend of mine, whose opinion I highly respect, shared jazzylittledrops' blog, accompanied by a resounding "YES!" I read the blog post and immediately thought, oh shit, was I duped by the establishment?

I agree with much of that post's argument. I'm grateful that the author took the time to really deconstruct the commercial and expose those perpetuated stereotypes. Dove's advertising targets an important but sadly capitalized appeal, and if they are going to trumpet the cause then they should be held to a high standard of accountability and transparency. But something about that blog post troubled me as well. It took me longer to figure out what it was compared to what bothered me about the original commercial, but I think I finally have it.

I don't think criticisms of presentations like the Dove "Sketches of Beauty" commercial should breed dissonance. In fact, I'd like to be clear that I think the author, Jazz, does a very good job of presenting both the positive and negative sides of this commercial. Her subsequent responses to supporters and critics reveal that she is mindful that on some level the Dove commercial aims for a good message, but misses its mark.

I worry about the real-world efficacy of the way we write criticism. The structure of her argument is very familiar. We all do it. "This is interesting, but..." I believe this preface creates that polarity I worry about. Friends of mine who have reposted this blog do so with pointedly averse opinions of the Dove commercial. I'm concerned that the "but" approach to criticism draws a line in the sand. Instead, I think we should criticize this content with good old-fashioned positive reinforcement. This commercial was interesting AND…

This commercial was interesting, and I think Dove can go further. This commercial was thought provoking, and I think if Dove were to authentically conduct this experiment it would generate even more constructive discussion. This commercial made some good points, and I think that Dove could do better at making those points accurately represent the problems that women face with identity and perception. This commercial was a good idea on paper, and I think if Dove focused more on truth and less on commercial manipulation they could be a real leader in change and consequently sell more shampoo.

While there are problems with this commercial—I saw some, the author of jazzylittledrops saw others—it was a good conversation starter. I worry that we might all slip into deconstructive brain stomping (that is a theoretical term, by the way), if we automatically put on our skeptic hats and dismiss the ad as a failure altogether. Instead, I would love for this brief moment while we've all come down with the Dove Real Beauty Sketch virus, before our online immunity kicks in and we forget all about this, we focus on how this might facilitate positive change, AND what should happen next.

Psst...Want to Know a Best-Kept Secret?

There is a narrow road off highway 21, about two kilometers north of the sleepy country town where I live. Drive down that road another fifteen kilometers and then look to the right—keep looking; don’t blink. Without warning, through the dust of the road that casually turned from paved to gravel somewhere along the way, beyond the sporadic trees and tall grass, you will witness the earth drop away from farmers’ fields and the weight of time slide down steep plateau hills into a deep roaming valley. Welcome to Dry Island Buffalo Jump, one of my favourite places in the world.

Dry Island is named for the flat-topped butte that stands above the Red Deer River. This unusual landmass was eroded by wind and the soft, crumbling layers of bentonite clay buried beneath untouched native prairie grasses. It has never been surrounded by water, but stands prepared like Noah’s Ark. This is also the site of an historic Cree hunting ground, where herds of bison were driven off the steep cliffs, fashioning enough meat and natural resources to see a tribe through the winter.

There are two ways to take in Dry Island. First, the viewpoint at the top of the valley, where you look out over the expansive landscape with its raw edges and rolling turns. Stroll along the cliff; read the points of interest signs that briefly describe the land, fauna, and history; feel the flutter in your stomach as you picture yourself as a bison chased by ancient hunters before tumbling over the edge onto the rocky bed below. Once you have pictured this place a thousand, a million, a billion years ago (and you will) then drive down the steep, barely passable, hair-pin road into the depths of the valley.

Park the car near a cluster of picnic sites arranged in no conceivable order, head toward the river and look out for the dozens of species of birds and insects that make this place their home.
Skip some rocks along the river surface. If you have a canoe, use it—there is no place better for a casual paddle. Life slows down here, and it is a different kind of adventure. Once you have finished at the river, do what I love to do the most. Pick a direction, and start walking, because this is the best part of Dry Island. There are real paths. No manicured trails shepherd visitors to the best viewpoints. There are no fences and rails to keep you out or in. Climb through the hills, wander between the trees, experience this place.


People like to talk about the mountains and how they make a person feel small, but there are more ways to be big than simply by being tall. To me, the badlands are the best at making me feel little, both in size and in age. You can almost see dinosaurs wandering around these hills. This is a place of permanence. This is a place I come to remember that I am part of something so much bigger than myself. This is the prairies, and this is my Alberta.

Just Some Reading

Have you ever considered the post colonial complexities of Othello, or The Tempest? Or pondered the Marxist message in Heart of Darkness? Have you ever stopped to explore the neoclassical nuances in Lolita? What about the post-structural possibilities of the Chronicles of Narnia? Do you think that the role of literature is to both represent and influence the reading collective? Death of the author, birth of the reader; is there a text, is the text more than words printed on the page; will any of us ever truly read the same book twice? Or are you, like me, totally engaged by the scene in Beowulf where the hero rips off Grendel’s arm and bludgeons the monster to death with it?

At what point did literature become more about political and social commentary and less about beautiful words? Think of your favourite book. Do you enjoy it because it illuminates the struggles of working-class society, or do you read it every summer because it makes you laugh, cry, and in the back of your mind you have a steamy crush on that main character? A book resonates with us because it speaks to our soul, not because it is a response to the socio-economic changes in the twentieth century. And, sure, you can argue that maybe a book is your favourite because it accomplishes both, but beautiful language is what makes us truly enjoy a piece of literature. If that wasn’t the case, then we’d all be reviewing dissertations and carrying essays in our beach bags.

I hate that there’s dichotomy in literature. Why can’t you read Dean Koontz one week and Dante the next? I think it is a real shame that authors like Clive Barker – the master of grotesque beauty and the modern sublime, aren't yet found on course lists. Why does credible literature need to do more than disgust and intrigue? Why does it need to be something else? Hemmingway said, sometimes a fish is just a fish. Of course he was probably just messing with the critics, but if it’s a beautifully described fish, does it really need to represent the oppression weighed down on us by “the man”? I don’t know if I’m a New Critic theorist who thinks only the words on the page matter, or a Russian Formalist who considers authorial intent. I hope I’m not a theorist at all. What I know in my heart is that I am a fan of literature. I love to read books. I let my imagination carry me into the Victorian meadows of nineteenth century England. I love to create the faces of villains and the boudoirs of lusty couplings. I eat beautiful words until they sweat from my pores and belch from my lungs onto the pages of my own cheaply bought and often abandoned notebooks. Criticize ideas, sure, but don’t be jaded against words.

So I have a challenge to all you intellectual readers out there. Read some smut! Find a trade paperback and let yourself dog-ear the pages. You can’t quote Kant all the time. Read a thriller, a whodunit, a sweet little read. I promise you, if you refrain from dissecting everything you read you won’t suddenly find yourself dimmer, duller, or a downright dolt. Introduce yourself to Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, Lee Child, Kate Mosse, Jeffery Deaver, and James Rollins. Rediscover Douglas Adams, Evelyn Waugh, Joseph Boyden, Beatrice Culleton Mosionier and J.K. Rowling. Step out of academe and enjoy José Saramago, and Clive Barker. In short, stop taking your canon from course lists and suggested readings. Don’t hide your “easy summer read” behind a leather book jacket.

Tom Robbins wrote in Villa Incognito, “It has been reported that Tanuki fell from the sky using his scrotum as a parachute.” What’s your favourite hilarious or beautiful literary line or scene? Let’s talk about books for a while and leave the theory out of it. Let out your dirty little secrets, readers! I promise you that we’ll have great conversations free from theoretical jargon, and beauty will find its way back to brilliance.