In the realm of all things quintessentially American, there are a few that stand out: Coca-Cola, Levi’s, and Harley-Davidson. In a society where faith in various American institutions is dwindling, brands have become one of the few things that people still believe in. It’s no surprise, then, that many recent movies delve into the stories behind these beloved brands. The rise of corporate biopics like “The Beanie Bubble,” “Tetris,” “Air,” “BlackBerry,” and “Flamin’ Hot” (yes, the Cheetos) attests to this trend. And let’s not forget about “Barbie,” a movie that shamelessly serves as an advertisement, developed in collaboration with Mattel. It’s the first of a planned series of 13 product-centric films. Whereas previous movies about businesses often focused on flawed and fraudulent founders (think Theranos, WeWork, Apple, and Facebook), this new wave seems to celebrate the success of brands.
So why this sudden interest in behind-the-brand stories, and what exactly are these movies celebrating? One reason is the appeal of the 1980s and ’90s, which, in these films, appear as a sort of golden era. During that time, there was less media fragmentation, and Americans shared common cultural touchstones. It was before the rise of pessimistic doomsday politics, when there was still a glimmer of optimism in the social landscape. It was a time before the gig economy threatened jobs and when corporate success seemed more attainable. These movies depict an era where the right combination of charm, chutzpah, and ingenuity could make dreams come true and inspire others to believe. All it took, or so we’d like to believe, was the right story to sell.
The stories depicted in these films are either true, partly true, or fictionalized accounts inspired by real people and events. “BlackBerry,” for instance, is admittedly Canadian but presents a version of its story that’s rooted in some degree of reality. “The Beanie Bubble” acknowledges that there are aspects of the story that are too good to be true, but nevertheless, they were included. And in the case of “Flamin’ Hot,” although it’s not entirely accurate, the filmmakers didn’t let the truth get in the way of a good narrative. Richard Montañez, the film’s lead character, transitioned from being a former drug dealer to a marketing executive at PepsiCo. It’s a quintessentially American touch to infuse a little myth alongside the facts. As Montañez says in a voiceover, “We all write our own stories. We create our own destinies. In this world, there’s no such thing as just a janitor.”
This self-made, bootstrapping narrative is at the heart of how American culture likes to perceive itself. As a voiceover in “The Beanie Bubble” puts it, “That’s the whole point of America, right? Work hard, build something good, get yourself in the right place at the right time, and boom!” The ending of “Tetris” reinforces this idea as the Russian inventor of the game immigrates to the United States, with the Pet Shop Boys singing, “Let’s make lots of money.”
Ultimately, these movies are about the American dream, set in a time before the bubble around that myth burst. To make this dream work, nostalgia and stagecraft play a significant role. A defining element is the montage of ’80s and ’90s cultural and commercial history, featuring brand names and generational touchstones. For example, the opening sequence of “Air” showcases Cabbage Patch Kids, Kodak, the iconic 1984 Apple commercial, Rubik’s Cube, Mr. T, Wham!, and Wendy’s “Where’s the beef?” In “The Beanie Bubble,” we’re treated to a full suite of ’90s references, including Nelson Mandela’s release, Rollerblading, O.J. Simpson, brick phones, Tonya Harding, AOL, the Spice Girls, and Anita Hill. The soundtracks feature hits like INXS’ “New Sensation,” Night Ranger’s “Sister Christian,” and Europe’s “The Final Countdown.”
Success in these movies is akin to playing a video game, usually an individual endeavor, with its risks, rewards, bonuses, and adversaries. Play your cards right, and investors will be interested in your pitch. You’ll enjoy consumer success, increasing market share, rising stock prices, and personal wealth. Play is paramount because these stories fulfill a childhood fantasy of acquiring all the toys and adult gadgets, whether it’s a plastic doll, binge-worthy snack, video game, or trendy sneakers. The celebrated brands are accessible, desirable things that most people can obtain and accumulate, considered non-essential but highly coveted.
Technology in these films represents a future of promise. “BlackBerry” begins with a clip of Arthur C. Clarke envisioning a future where one can conduct business from exotic locales like Tahiti or Bali just as effectively as from London. “Air” and “Tetris” embrace analog nostalgia with pixelated screens, VCRs, car phones, payphones, and references to tape decks in cars. Expect to spot a Game Boy at least once. These movies evoke a sense of joy by allowing us to relive the days when technology felt undeniably good.
Those days were also synonymous with making substantial profits. By the end of “Air,” Michael Jordan becomes a billionaire, and Nike’s revenue surpassed $46.7 billion in the 2022 fiscal year. In “Flamin’ Hot,” the film proudly declares that Flamin’ Hot Cheetos is a billion-dollar brand. And as for the “Barbie” movie, which is itself a product of Mattel, its box office success is likely just a fraction of the brand’s revitalization earnings.
At first glance, these movies may appear to celebrate banality, the natural progression beyond the fading Marvel Cinematic Universe. Undoubtedly, there’s a shrewd business strategy at play, with a built-in audience eager to engage with recognizable and beloved intellectual properties. However, if we set aside our cynicism regarding the films’ intentions, their appeal lies in something deeper. In a time characterized by a profound absence of hope and a yearning for shared values, these stories offer a feel-good, reaffirming vision of what the best of America can provide. Ironically, the brands of yesteryear are perceived as the place to find exactly that.
In a poignant scene from “Air,” Nike’s marketing guru Sonny Vaccaro tells Jordan, “We need you in these shoes not so you have meaning in your life but so that we have meaning in ours.” It’s disheartening to consider if that statement holds entirely true.
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