Magazine article Behavioral Healthcare Executive

Viewing Consumers Differently: A TV Producer Reflects on Developing Antistigma PSAs

Magazine article Behavioral Healthcare Executive

Viewing Consumers Differently: A TV Producer Reflects on Developing Antistigma PSAs

Article excerpt

In the world of commercials, here's the easiest way a job can go down: A huge client gives you a pile of money to cast beautiful actors to sell a product everyone already wants. Cha-ching! Oh, and it helps if you're already in the business of making commercials. This is the story of one of the best gigs I've ever had, which met absolutely none of those criteria.

Instead, the client had a tight budget. We had to do "real people" casting. The "product" was to ask people to look inward to assess their own prejudices. And our company, Nice Work Productions, had been in the business of doing long-form storytelling, not 30-second commercials.

First some backstory: My partner at Nice Work, Jay Nelson, and I produced a one-hour TV special promoting volunteerism called Hands On Michigan: The Governor's Service Awards, which was simulcast on the state's seven PBS affiliates. The volunteer of the year was Mike McCartan, so we spent a day in Port Huron following Mike around as he did his usual, remarkable community service work.

We discovered that Mike has one heck of a day job: CEO of St. Clair County Community Mental Health Authority (CMH). Mike enjoyed working with us, so when CMH got a grant from a national antistigma program to produce a local campaign, they asked us to submit a bid.

We were thrilled to get the job. Now we had to figure out how to pull it off.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

The first step in creating this sort of campaign is defining the concept, and it helped that the national program had done a good job defining what they wanted to accomplish, namely to combat the tendency to collapse people who use mental health services into their diagnoses. You hear it all too often, words along the lines of, "So-and-so's bipolar [or some other diagnosis]," end of sentence, which, of course, means we know just one aspect of this person. We don't know if she has kids or likes cats, or how she takes her coffee.

That problem suggested a fairly straightforward approach. In a series of 30-second public service announcements (PSAs), we'd open with arresting visuals--lots of action, lots of color--to cause viewers to frame the "hero" of the spot by what they see him/her doing. Then, in casual, confessional-style interviews, the hero would rattle off a list of other ways he/she is defined: relationships, hobbies, jobs, and so on. At the end of the list of descriptors, almost as an afterthought, the hero would reveal his/her diagnosis and end with the appropriate tagline: "I am not my mental illness [or addiction, developmental disability, etc.]."

Everyone signed off on the concept, and next it was on to casting.

Remember the cake commercial job I described earlier? In that dream gig, the real cakewalk is casting day. If you're in a big market, you call a casting director, give her a breakdown of what you're looking for, and she in turn passes the breakdown to all the talent agencies in the area. The talent agencies send the casting director headshots and resumes of all the actors who seem appropriate and, if the casting director is any good, she pares down the invitation list to only those actors who really fit the breakdown's parameters. (Agents like to throw a lot of pasta at the wall.)

Then, in one casting session, a bunch of people who spend inordinate amounts of time grooming themselves, whitening their teeth, and doing Pilates show up--prefiltered to meet your parameters, script memorized, and hell-bent on charming your socks off. …

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