This week presented a unique opportunity to test consumer and voter engagement around the marketing of a major movie, "The Force Awakens", and the race for President. We commissioned a national survey to research the intersection between pop culture and politics. This survey was not only fun, but insightful. Below are the findings:
With this new episode coming out, the stakes are high. I'm not just talking about the franchise here. When the first three episodes came out, there wasn't as much at stake. It was backstory. My childhood characters were safe back in the 70s and I could line up with the rest of the world and criticize the prequels as not being real. Not part of the "real" movies.
We've already established that Harrison Ford is the biggest movie star of all time, mostly because of the two main roles that have defined his illustriously grumpy career. Han Solo and Indiana Jones are the perfect heroic extensions of Ford's personality, each wrestling with the roguish persona of what charming manhood is supposed to look like on-screen. They go on adventures, save or get saved by the damsel in distress, help defeat the bad guys, and look awesome in the process. They're the men that boys want to grow up to be. Whether you're the type to prefer your star role with a fedora and a whip or a black vest and a blaster, Han and Indy are the Platonic ideal of male pop culture virility. But there's one eternal struggle that fans of each icon wrestle with: Which one would win in a fight?
Dobler was charming, romantic, good with kids and drove a cool car just like Solo, and just like Solo, Dobler was a rebel. He was in love with a princess, Diane, whose father did not approve of him. Dobler, for lack of a better term, comes across as a scruffy lookin' nerf herder, but he doesn't give up when the chips are down.
A clarion call to uncounted legions of dreamers, young and old alike, waiting in what often seemed merely vain hope for thirty-two long years. We'd seen the Falcon fly in the first teaser, but this was different. This was an affirmation of something that we'd long been told was never going to happen.