Why do advertisements feel so surreal?
By CALEB SILVER —chsilver@ucdavis.edu
Ryan Reynolds, actor and billionaire, has appeared on my screen a lot lately — and it isn’t because I’ve been watching any of the films he takes part in. Reynolds owns a large chunk of Aviation American Gin, which runs ads featuring him mixing drinks using, in part, Aviation Gin, behind a minimally decorated, nicely lit bar counter. He also owns a quarter of Mint Mobile, a network service provider, which runs advertisements showing him walking into frame — most of the time in front of a television or into some sort of liminal space — and delivering a self-deprecating or hyper-self-aware quip.
Reynolds’ movies in recent years have included “Ghosted” (2023), “Spirited” (2022), “Red Notice” (2021), “The Hitman’s Bodyguard” (2017), “The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard” (2021), “6 Underground” (2019) and many others that sound and look just like these. Most of these movies are some sort of action-comedy, in which Reynolds is the one-dimensional protagonist whose only flaw seems to be his self-deprecating wit — which doesn’t seem to get in the way of him winning (within the film’s context) by the end.
Reynolds (the actor) does not differ at all from the Reynolds we see in ads or on social media. In fact, in a good amount of these movies, Reynolds will pour himself (or his character) a glass of Aviation Gin. These projects are blank slates for Reynolds to extend the “Ryan Reynolds” brand; They are not in service of trying to be an interesting movie (in fact, they are hardly in service of entertainment).
His self-deprecation and dry humor give this billionaire a strange relatability to a lot of people. He continues to posture as a guy who just can’t seem to figure things out, all the while growing his businesses he bought into — with his trademark brand and face — and then selling them like he did when he sold Aviation Gin for $610 million and netted $122 million from his stake.
This isn’t so much a major American problem as it is something that bothers me intensely. But it is representative of the new style of hyper-self-aware advertising, in hopes to beat the viewer or consumer to the realization that the only purpose of this production is to sell you some product or process. Reynolds is not an actor or a celebrity or an individual who cares seemingly at all about attempting to increase in ability and range in acting or writing. He is a walking advertisement that’s deceiving you with his affinity for money.
Every advertisement now feels like a strange fever dream. The “technical” term for it is enshittification (a general decay in online products or platforms on the side of the consumer), wherein these celebrities and companies realize they have to try less and less to appease the consumer and really only need to appease shareholders and maximize net profits: this means spending as little money and creative energy as possible for an ad that profits. For Reynolds — since his movies are extensions of his brand — his celebrity image is a product of this yearn for money, resulting ultimately in enshittification.
Written by: Caleb Silver — chsilver@ucdavis.edu
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