Tom Lynas Remove RDAL
How effective is Honda’s
‘The Impossible Dream’
‘The Impossible Dream’ advert commissioned by Honda in 2005 is a two-minute long epitome of how to use a catchy theme tune. The advert depicts a man, Simon Day, making a journey. He sings, rides and drives a variety of vehicles, backed by the song ‘The Impossible Dream’, which serves as the non-diegetic soundtrack, and was one of the last recordings by Andy Williams dubbed ‘The King Of Easy-Listening’. As the music builds in pace and volume, so the man graduates to new vehicles - each one bigger and better than the previous one - starting with a small scooter, and culminating in a Honda-branded hot air balloon. This balloon suggests fulfillment of dreams and ambitions, because it floats away from the trials below it. The advert focuses on the founder of Honda’s core belief that great things start from humble beginnings and that by aiming for the impossible, impossible dreams can be achieved. This advert exemplifies this, and went on to anchor the "Power of Dreams" campaign. But just how impossible is their dream? And how effective is it, in attracting potential buyers to a Honda dealer near them?
The opening of the advert is well-planned and eye catching, and the viewer is presented with a long shot of a dull white, run-down caravan made all the odder by its racing stripes. In contrast to this rather depressing and mundane foreground, it is perched alone on a rugged, unforgiving stretch of New Zealand coastline. Diegetic ocean noises and seagull cries can be heard, and there is little but a small dirt track and a few raucous seagulls intruding on the caravan’s isolation. The lonely image of the caravan is grim, but the ambience suggests that something special is about to take place. A tabby cat can be seen guarding the front porch. Inside, two brief close-ups of a gloved hand reaching up to a tarnished wooden shelf for a racing helmet and leathers, further convey a feeling of loneliness and a down-at-heel air. The camera cuts to a long shot of a man, balding and slightly careworn, now outside the caravan dressed in a shiny white boiler- suit, revving the engine of a diminutive scooter. He has the air of an average man, on a typical work-day, on which nothing out of the ordinary could possibly happen; this appeals to the viewer, who empathizes with the wretchedness of his situation. The non-diegetic soundtrack slowly fades in at this point and the actor begins to sing:
