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Super Bowl ads played it safe, but there were still some winners

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Super Bowl ads played it safe, but there were still some winners

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When I spoke with Shayne Millington about the cheeky Super Bowl ad she was planning with Cardi B., the advertising executive was excited about the prospect of tweaking male sports fans in a way Big Game ads often don’t do.

But the NFL threw some cold water on her plans Sunday, preventing makeup brand NYX from airing part of their ad suggesting that men may have mistook the name of their Duck Plump lip gloss and used it in a certain private area. Instead, they aired 30 seconds featuring Cardi B and displayed a QR code viewers could use to access the full ad.

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Millington, the Chief Creative Officer at McCann New York, told me before the game that the ad was an attempt to turn the tables on traditional Super Bowl advertising.

“You have to really look at how women have been portrayed in Super Bowl ads and in the past, and it’s not great,” she added. “So, on a platform as big as the Super Bowl where men have [traditionally] had the upper hand with humor…[this time] women will have the last laugh with Cardi B.”

Turns out, Millington’s ad was among the sauciest in a Super Bowl where brands played it safe even more than usual, perhaps due to the mammoth, $7-milion-per-30-seconds fee for airtime.

Political messages were subtle and shaded, including a retro-looking ad for independent presidential candidate Robert Kennedy Jr. that didn’t get near his controversial stands on vaccines and other issues (with a jingle that sounded like it could have been an ad for his dad; talk about a nepo baby). An ad for the website hegetsus.com aimed at boosting Jesus Christ focused on how his teachings might bring people together, not the controversial stands of one funder, the family which owns notably religious craft store chain Hobby Lobby.

Blame the intensely crazy pace of real-life news or the back-breaking price for ads, but this year’s crop of commercials seemed to lean away from controversy and into nostalgia, celebrity and cross promotion — with Super Bowl halftime performer Usher appearing in more spots than the Budweiser Clydesdales.

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Here’s a breakdown of what worked and didn’t in the biggest – and most expensive – advertising showcase on American television.

Best use of a celebrity poking fun at something he knows we’re all laughing at anyway: State Farm’s ‘Like a Good Neighbaa’

We all know Arnold Schwarzenegger has somehow won over America’s hearts despite delivering lines in films so drenched with his Austrian accent that it sounds like English put through a Cuisinart. That’s why it’s so delightful to see him willing to send up both his action hero past and his dicey diction, playing a swashbuckling State Farm agent who somehow can’t say “labor,” “concealer” or “neighbor.” Even Jake From State Farm couldn’t help coach him through a speech pattern that, somehow, still makes all those words sound cooler when they come out of Ahnuld’s mouth. (Though his former Twins co-star Danny DeVito untimately had to help him out.)

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Worst use of a celebrity tolerating something we’re all laughing at anyway: BMW’s ‘Talkin’ Like Walken’

How do you come up with a concept so promising – much-mimicked Hollywood eccentric Christopher Walken walks through a day where everyone is doing their own Walken impressions – and wind up with a spot so, well, odd? Where are the celebrities who do amazing Walken impressions, like Kevin Pollak, Jay Mohr or even Tom Hiddleston? Where’s the moment Walken has fun with people trying to cop his off-kilter patios, (instead of looking like he can’t wait to get off the screen)? And why is the Super Bowl’s halftime headliner Usher showing up at the end and NOT doing a Walken impersonation? Small wonder this over-hyped ad is also in the running for Best Missed Opportunity. Sigh.

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Best way to get someone else to publicize your new music: Verizon’s ‘Can’t B Broken’

The ad itself is a fun affair, with Beyoncé trying to “break” Verizon’s 5G network through a series of outlandish stunts (assisted by Veep co-star Tony Hale), including creating Beyonc-A.I., the pink-themed Bar-Bey, and a musical performance in space. When none of that succeeds in bringing down Verizon, she says “Okay. They ready. Bring the new music.”

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Of course, Beyoncé meant business, dropping two new tunes on her website and announcing the debut of a country-inspired album, Act II, for March 29. Forget about announcing a new album during the Grammys; Bey dropped her announcement on TV’s biggest platform, paid for by Verizon. Respect.

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Best celebrity save: Uber Eats’s ‘Don’t Forget Uber Eats’

Actually, I want to forget much of this spot, which features wooden moments like David and Victoria Beckham pretending to forget she was in the Spice Girls (will anyone catch that they’re spoofing a scene from his Netflix docuseries?) and another, um, forgettable cameo from Usher (did you know he’s playing the Super Bowl halftime? Feels like he’s popping up in half of the Super Bowl ads to remind you!)

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But the conceit – that you have to forget something to make room in your memory for Uber Eats’ awesome services – hit home when Jennifer Aniston appeared, ignoring David Schwimmer even as he reminds her they worked together for 10 years on one of the most popular sitcoms in TV history.

Perhaps it’s because I disliked his character Ross’ romance with Aniston’s character on Friends so much, but when she walked away, convinced she didn’t know him, and he muttered “I hate this town,” I felt like TV justice had somehow been served.

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Best hope for Marvel fans: The Deadpool movie

That sound you heard at the game’s start wasn’t sports fans settling in for the Big Game. It was Marvel fans screaming in anticipation after realizing that Ryan Reynolds’ new Deadpool movie won’t just feature Hugh Jackman returning as Wolverine, but Reynolds’ disfigured, wisecracking mercenary superhero getting kidnapped by the TVA — an organization from the Loki series. And the TVA’s representative here is none other than Succession’s Tom Wambsgans, or the actor Matthew Macfadyen. If any film can rescue the world from superhero fatigue, this might be the one.

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Best use of a cat/worst use of a McKinnon: Hellmann’s ‘Mayo Cat’

Fans know Saturday Night Live alum Kate McKinnon has a special bond with cats — she’s even come up with some sidesplitting sketches on the subject — so it was cute to see her alongside a feline who captivates the world by simply saying “mayo.” The ad also has a cool button at the end, where the cat dates and breaks up with fellow SNL alum Pete Davidson (“You lasted longer than most,” McKinnon quips.) But how do you spend millions on a commercial starring the funniest woman on TV and give all the action to her cat? Purrfectly frustrating. (Yes, I went there.)

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Second best use of a celebrity poking fun at themselves: Skechers ‘Mr. T in Skechers’

I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice there was no “T” in the footwear company’s name until Tony Romo upsets the famous A Team star by pointing it out. Watching a 71-year-old Mr. T walk on hot coals and do CGI-assisted pull ups while insisting “I pity the fool who has to touch his shoes” as he cavorts in Skechers slip on shoes, I saw a mix of nostalgia, absurdity and good-hearted self-parody that I didn’t even knew I needed until it happened. Once again, Mr. T. for the win.

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Best tribute to a departed legend: FanDuel’s Super Bowl Kick of Destiny Part 2

Reprising the stunt from last year, where the four-time Super Bowl champion tight end tried – and failed – to make a 25-yard field goal, this year’s commercial featured Gronk failing again. In a teaser for the series of ads released early, Rocky co-star Carl Weathers was shown riding up on a motorcycle to encourage Gronkowski. After Weathers died earlier this month at age 76, producers reworked one of those ads to show the actor saying ruefully, “You gave it your all, Gronk.” Then the spot flashed to an image of Weathers with the message “Thank you Carl. 1948 – 2024.” Glad to see the company kept him in the spot; there’s no better, classier tribute to a towering talent than tipping the hat to him on the biggest platform in the world.

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Best ‘I’m not crying, you’re crying’ ad: Google Pixel’s ‘Javier in Frame’

I first gave this award last year for the dog food ad that made everyone emotional. This time, its Google Pixel showcasing its guided frame technology, in which the phone tells users when faces are fully in the picture frame. We see this work from the perspective of Javier, who utilizes the phone despite his problems with blurred vision to capture important moments in his life, including the birth of his child. The spot’s director, Adam Morse, is blind and it’s narrated at the end by Stevie Wonder. Poignant doesn’t begin to describe it.

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Most confusing movie ad: ‘Twisters’

It’s not apparent from watching the Super Bowl ad whether this film is a reboot or a sequel to the 1996 film that featured Helen Hunt, Bill Paxton and Philip Seymour Hoffman (according to Variety, it’s indeed a sequel). But after watching Glenn Powell and Daisy Edgar-Jones jostling around in a 2-minute spot spouting dialogue that referenced the original, I only had one question that really needed answering: Why?

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Best contest with the worst ad: DoorDash’s ‘All the Ads’

It’s an inspired giveaway: DoorDash will provide all of the items in every Super Bowl commercial to one lucky winner, including a 2024 BMW All-Electric i5, chicken wings from Popeyes for 150-plus people, a $50,000 check for their dream home and much more (you had to watch the commercial during the game and add a promotional code at this URL to enter). But hearing Laurence Fishburne majestically narrate a preview ad that uses DoorDash as a verb while products are bursting from the ground makes me want to DoorDash as far away from it all as possible.

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Worst use of a celebrity: ‘Sir Patrick Stewart Throws a Hail Arnold’ on Paramount+

Yes, you read the title right. Patrick Stewart, star of Star Trek: Picard on Paramount+, appears in a spot where he argues with Drew Barrymore, then orders Miami Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa to throw an animated fourth grader from Hey Arnold! up a mountain, before doing it himself. (The band Creed also shows up to play a song for some reason).

All I want is a sample of whatever the scriptwriters were smoking when they came up with this nonsense – or when they got Stewart to agree to appear in it.

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Second-worst use of a celebrity: Squarespace’s ‘Hello Down There’

The concept’s not so bad: We’re so distracted by our phones and social media that no one on earth notices a fleet of flying saucers overhead until the aliens build a website with Squarespace.

But it’s a drag seeing Oscar-winner Martin Scorsese direct this bit of fluff without much humor and a punchline that goes over like, well, a badly formatted website: Scorsese in traffic, looks at a sky filled with spaceships and tells his driver, “I told you to take Broadway. This always happens.”

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Feels a little like hiring Frank Lloyd Wright to design your kid’s backyard playhouse.

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'Wait Wait' for July 27, 2024: With Not My Job guest Kathleen Hanna

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'Wait Wait' for July 27, 2024: With Not My Job guest Kathleen Hanna

Kathleen Hanna of The Julie Ruin performs onstage at the 2016 Panorama NYC Festival – Day 2 at Randall’s Island on July 23, 2016 in New York City. (Photo by Nicholas Hunt/Getty Images)

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This week’s show was recorded in Chicago with host Peter Sagal, judge and scorekeeper Bill Kurtis, Not My Job guest Kathleen Hanna and panelists Meredith Scardino, Peter Grosz, and Mo Rocca Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.

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Punk icon Kathleen Hanna plays our game called, “Kathleen Hanna Meet Hannah-Barbera.” Three questions about the animation studio.

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L.A. Affairs: At 77, I had a crush on my best friend’s widower. Did he feel the same way?

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L.A. Affairs: At 77, I had a crush on my best friend’s widower. Did he feel the same way?

At 77, I had given up. After two failed marriages and years of unsuccessful dating, I accepted what seemed to be my fate: single for almost 40 years and single for however many remained. You don’t get it all, I told myself. I was grateful for family, friends and work. Life settled into what felt like order.

Until Ty.

As the husband of my best friend, he was no stranger, but he was usually peripheral. Then 10 years ago, my friend got lung cancer. I watched during visits, stunned at how nurturing Ty could be, taking care of her even though they had separated years before at her request.

After she died, Ty and I stayed in touch sporadically: a surprise sharing of his second granddaughter a year after we scattered my friend’s ashes, an invitation to the launch of my book a year later. Ty attended, hovering in the back, emerging after everyone left to attentively help load my car.

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Two more years passed. During quiet moments, I remembered his sweetness. I also remembered his handsome face and long, tall body. Confused about what I wanted, I texted Ty, who’s an architect, under the guise of purchasing a tree for my backyard.

We spent an afternoon at the nursery, laughing, comparing options and agreeing on a final selection. When the tree arrived, I emailed a photo. He emailed a thank you.

Another three years passed, broken only by news of his third granddaughter and my memories of how good it felt to be with him. Alert to his attentiveness, but unsettled by both his remove and my growing interest, I risked reaching out again, this time about remodeling my garage.

Ty spent several hours at my house making measurements, checking the foundation and sharing pictures of his home in Topanga. His sketches for the garage arrived two weeks later via email.

I was grateful for his help but unsure over what sort of friendship we were developing, at least from his point of view. I, however, was clear. I wanted him to wrap his long arms around me, tell me sweet things and make me his.

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Instead, I sent a gift card to a Topanga restaurant to thank him for his drawings.

“Maybe we should spend it together,” he texted.

We dined in the dusk of late summer. Our talk was easy. Discomfort lay in the unspoken. Anxious for clarity, I repeatedly let my hand linger near the candle flickering in the middle of our table. It remained untouched.

And that was as far as I was willing to go. I refused to be any more forward, having already compromised myself beyond my comfort level with what seemed, at least to me, embarrassingly transparent efforts to indicate my interest. Not making the first move was very important. If a man could not reach out, if he didn’t have the self-confidence to take the first step, he would not, I adamantly felt, be a good partner for me.

Two weeks later, Ty did email, suggesting an early evening hike in Tuna Canyon in Malibu. The setting was perfect. Sun sparkled off the ocean. A gentle breeze blew. We climbed uphill for sweeping coastal vistas and circled down to the shade of live oaks, touching only when he took my hand to steady me where the path was slippery. At the end of the trail, overlooking the juncture between the mountains and the sea, we stood opposite each other and talked animatedly for almost an hour, both of us reluctant to part.

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Our conversation was engaging, but my inner dialogue was louder. When, I kept thinking, is this man going to suggest we continue the evening over dinner? We didn’t have to go out. We could eat at his house. It was 7 p.m., for God’s sake. Passing hikers even stopped to remark on our matching white hair and how well they thought we looked together. It was like a movie scene where the audience is yelling, “Kiss her, kiss her,” rooting for what they know is going to happen while the tension becomes almost unbearable. But bear it I did.

Each of us ate alone.

A few weeks later, at his suggestion, we were back at Tuna Canyon. This time Ty did invite me to end the evening at his house. Sitting close on his couch, but not too close, we drifted toward each other in the darkening room. His shoulder brushed mine reaching for his cup of coffee. My hip pressed his as I leaned in for my tea. Slowly, sharing wishes and hopes for our remaining years, we became shadows in the light of the moon. And in that darkness, in that illuminated space, he reached out.

This reticent man, this man who was so slow to move toward me, this sensitive man who hid himself behind layers so opaque I was unsure of his interest, released all that he had inside him.

“I wanted you,” Ty repeated again and again. “I was afraid of ruining things. You were her best friend. I didn’t want to lose your friendship.”

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Our pent-up tension exploded.

Stunned and thrilled, I leaned into the space he opened.

Three years later, it is a space we continue to share: a place where neither of us has given up, a place where he wraps me in his long arms, a place we hold carefully against our diminishing days.

The author is the owner of a preschool in Venice as well as a psychotherapist, photographer and writer. Her first book, “Naked in the Woods: My Unexpected Years in a Hippie Commune,” was published in 2015. Her newest manuscript, “Bargains: A Coming of Aging Memoir Told in Tales,” is seeking a publisher. She lives in Mar Vista and can be found at margaretgrundstein.com, Instagram @margwla, Medium @margaretgrundstein and Substack @mgrundstein.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your true story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. You can find submission guidelines here. You can find past columns here.

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'Deadpool & Wolverine' is a self-cannibalizing slog

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'Deadpool & Wolverine' is a self-cannibalizing slog

Ryan Reynolds stars as Deadpool and Hugh Jackman as Wolverine in an odd-couple action hero pairing.

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When Fox Studios released the first Deadpool movie back in 2016, it played like an irreverently funny antidote to our collective comic-book-movie fatigue. Wade Wilson, or Deadpool, was a foul-mouthed mercenary who obliterated his enemies and the fourth wall with the same gonzo energy.

Again and again, Deadpool turned to the camera and mocked the clichés of the superhero movie with such deadpan wit, you almost forgot you were watching a superhero movie. And Ryan Reynolds, Hollywood’s snarkiest leading man, might have been engineered in a lab to play this vulgar vigilante. I liked the movie well enough, though one was plenty; by the time Deadpool 2 rolled around in 2018, all that self-aware humor had started to seem awfully self-satisfied.

Now we have a third movie, Deadpool & Wolverine, which came about through some recent movie-industry machinations. When Disney bought Fox a few years ago, Deadpool, along with other mutant characters from the X-Men series, officially joined the franchise juggernaut known as the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

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That puts the new movie in an almost interesting bind. It tries to poke fun at its tortured corporate parentage; one of the first things Deadpool says is “Marvel’s so stupid.” But now the movie also has to fit into the narrative parameters of the MCU. It tries to have it both ways: brand extension disguised as a satire of brand extension.

It’s also an odd-couple comedy, pairing Deadpool with the most famous of the X-Men: Logan, or Wolverine, the mutant with the unbreakable bones and the retractable metal claws, played as ever by a bulked-up Hugh Jackman.

The combo makes sense, and not just because both characters are Canadian. In earlier movies, Deadpool often made Wolverine the off-screen butt of his jokes. Both Deadpool and Wolverine are essentially immortal, their bodies capable of self-regenerating after being wounded. Both are tormented by past failures and are trying to redeem themselves. Onscreen, the two have a good, thorny chemistry, with Jackman’s brooding silences contrasting nicely with Reynolds’ mile-a-minute delivery.

I could tell you more about the story, but only at the risk of incurring the wrath of studio publicists who have asked critics not to discuss the plot or the movie’s many, many cameos. Let’s just say that the director Shawn Levy and his army of screenwriters bring the two leads together through various rifts in the multiverse. Yes, the multiverse, that ever-elastic comic-book conceit, with numerous Deadpools and Wolverines from various alternate realities popping up along the way.

I suppose it’s safe to mention that Matthew Macfadyen, lately of Succession, plays some kind of sinister multiverse bureaucrat, while Emma Corrin, of The Crown, plays a nasty villain in exile. It’s all thin, derivative stuff, and the script’s various wink-wink nods to other shows and movies, from Back to the Future to Furiosa to The Great British Bake Off, don’t make it feel much fresher. And Levy, who previously directed Reynolds in the sci-fi comedies Free Guy and The Adam Project, doesn’t have much feel for the splattery violence that is a staple of the Deadpool movies. There’s more tedium than excitement in the characters’ bone-crunching, crotch-stabbing killing sprees, complete with corn-syrupy geysers of blood.

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For all its carnage, its strenuous meta-humor and an R-rated sensibility that tests the generally PG-13 confines of the MCU, Deadpool & Wolverine does strive for sincerity at times. Some of its cameos and plot turns are clearly designed to pay tribute to Fox’s X-Men films from the early 2000s.

As a longtime X-Men fan myself, I’m not entirely immune to the charms of this approach; there’s one casting choice, in particular, that made me smile, almost in spite of myself. It’s not enough to make the movie feel like less of a self-cannibalizing slog, though I suspect that many in the audience, who live for this kind of glib fan service, won’t mind. Say what you will about Marvel — I certainly have — but it isn’t nearly as stupid as Deadpool says it is.

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