Last Sunday SA’s advertising fraternity held its annual back-patting orgy. We report on the 1997 Loerie Awards
Irwin Manoim
NO one danced naked on the tables at the Loerie awards banquet at Sun City. The tables were so over-full with over- decorated food, over-decorated flowers, over-decorated decorations, that no space was available for the pitter patter of nude feet.
No one got shamefully drunk either. With 2000 people crammed into a single hall, only the very intrepid could squeeze their way to the distant bar, and only the very patient returned with a drink. And coke- snorting? Not even the most experienced ad agency executive could snort coke with elbows pinioned to his sides by his neighbours’ ribs.
Besides, it was planned that way. Every moment was synchronised with such care that even the witty asides from the podium were pre-drilled and auto-cued. Chance was allowed no room to run amok: neither was its close companion, spontaneity.
The winners, most aged 23 and potentially unstable, were marched firmly across the stage, a silver bird planted in one palm, a bottle of bubbly in the other. Turn around please and smile for the camera, then down you go. No off-the-cuff speeches, thank you: we can’t risk someone saying something lacking in wit.
Three minutes of music and dancing silver birds. Three minutes of light show. Three minutes of Cinemascope soundbites from the judges. You may now eat a morsel. Three minutes of music. Three minutes of dancing …
Down in the pit, squeezed pelvis to pelvis, the overriding atmosphere is sweaty tension. Here are the masters of illusion, assembled in black tie for the annual tribal ritual that determines who is great and who is just so-so.
First, the names of the so-sos, flash on the screen. Polite clapping. They need not bother to come up on stage. And now, the names of the Loerie winners …
The agencies are massed in blocks, all eyes on the screen. This is no time for bonhomie. When the agency name comes up, a cheer goes up from every throat at the table. At the Red Nail table, everyone waves red scarves on cue. At Net#work, boss Mike Schalit stands at the table head to oversee the cheerleading.
Next door at O&M, which has gained unfair advantage with the only aisle, juniors use the extra room to leap about and hug one another. Could the O&M winners please proceed to the podium. They are holding up proceedings …
The lights come on at exactly midnight. Ordinary speech begins once again. The majority view is that it’s a waste of time; awards for pals; gross insensitivity to real talent.
But the minority view, expressed by 60 people clutching little tin birds, is that once more, the Loeries have been a triumph for the South African advertising industry.