So I should buy a Lincoln because Matthew McConaughey wants to fuck himself in the back seat?

The True Detective star (like I have to specify shit he’s done) has already been fitfully ridiculed for his past Lincoln ads. Thanks, Grinch. But his latest spot? Mythological. It’s one thing to be narcissistic, but this is straight up Narcissus. You’ve got your reflecting pool (it’s an eerie setting which looks like what the Lincoln contributes to: climate change that’s melting the arctic), but if that wasn’t hitting the nail on the head enough, you’ve got MatMcCon leering through his rearview mirror at his sleeping beauty backseat self. And I…don’t feel comfortable watching it. At the same time, I feel way too comfortable watching it.

Who is the target audience here? I mean, as consumers, we’re basically always buying the ideal image of ourselves, so in this case, I’m expected to project me onto McCon and get rock hard. Oh yeah, I love me some me. I’m expected to believe that a Lincoln will solve all my problems. Every commercial is, if not a promise of immortality, a promise that everything is okay. That you’re okay. That you’re good enough (as long as you have this thing to make it so). It’s wish fulfillment. Mostly wishes you didn’t know you had because you didn’t have them and still don’t really have them except that you experience them long enough for them to stick and oh shit now you have them and so why don’t I have a Lincoln yet? I want to leer at myself in the back seat! God…I look so good. Such luxurious curly hair. Such a sultry – is it Southern? – accent. Such a dearth of neurons firing. In other words: paradise. Away from everything, just me, myself, and I. And a Lincoln.


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