If you wanna be my photographer, you gotta get me a ‘Roid
Remember 1997? Remember how bananas that year was? Tony Blair became Prime Minister, Mike Tyson had a quick nibble of Evander Holyfield’s ear, Titanic was released and the Spice Girls reached full marination, career-wise.
Riding high at the peak of their popularity, the Spice Girls did what any pop culture titans were doing back then. They lent their collective efforts to endorsements, flogging Pepsi, Walkers Crisps, Asda, Cadbury, Chupa Chups and Polaroid cameras.
With these sponsorship deals came a flurry of retrospectively-cringe TV adverts, all of which merit 5,000-word deep dive articles, and well they will, but all in good time.
Today, let’s focus on the time the Spice Girls tried to sell us Polaroid Cameras.
The advert begins with a moody nun ushering what appears to be a Barbershop quintet up some stairs. It’s raining, lightning flashes intermittently and the sound of church bells ring out. They’re all hurrying up the stairs, eager to get out of the rain. Their heads are bowed in apparent shame and the nun looks determined to bring them to justice. This is an unlikely introduction to an instant camera advertisement. This feels like the beginning of a movie where some young rebellious girls are taught how to become nuns. This is Sister Act 3.
Now indoors, we see an orchestra’s practice being interrupted by the nun leading the barbershop quintet past them. Was the orchestra practicing in a hallway? Or does the only way to get to where they’re going involve bursting through the room, distracting the musicians and potentially tarnishing their memories of Clair de Lune forever? Thunder strikes and the lightning continues. This is far from a Polaroid moment. Heavens, the lightning flashes would almost remind you of a camera. But no, we mustn’t look that deeply into it. This is not an M. Night Shyamalan production.
A creepy man appears. He looks like a cross between Voldemort and Victor Meldrew if he just tried a Sour Patch Kid for the first time. His hat defies both logic and gravity. This man does not respect girl power. Not one single bit. He definitely pulls the exact face pictured above when he climaxes and also when posing for photographs. His breath smells like coffee, stale ham and Banana Boat suncream. This is where the barbershop quintet are being led to. This is their judge. Things are looking bad. Also, where the hell are the Spice Girls?
Upon reaching the creepy man’s office, the nun takes a deep breath and looks at nothing in particular. She’s lamenting the simplicity of days gone by. It’s 1997, she’s yet to learn about iPhones, USBs, electric cars, Charlie Sheen’s fondness for tiger blood, Facebook, Mars Delights, Wii Sports Resort, basically everything wholesome and good in the world. Whatever is troubling her, this nun is feeling the weight of it. Adverts for Polaroid cameras should be fun, but this feels like a nightmare. What we’re in need of right now is some girl power.
Voldemeldrew is perusing some Polaroid photographs. Finally the much-needed product relevance arrives. The guy appears to be haunted by what he is seeing. It’s very likely that he booked this acting job based on his ability to spontaneously produce such a convincingly-horrified facial expression. He’s seeing something truly perturbing, and I believe him. Perhaps these images are showing a young child sitting in the backseat of a car without a seatbelt securely fastened, or some complimentary chocolates lying untouched beside the bill at a restaurant.
Now he makes eye contact with the barbershop quintet. It’s clear that the Polaroid photographs belong to them. Whatever he’s looking at, it’s making him both distressed, angry and maybe a small bit aroused. These girls are about land themselves straight into a world of trouble. The thunder and lightning was acting as a pathetic fallacy all along. Chaotic times lie ahead. The bags under Voldemeldrew’s eyes have doubled since when we first saw him mere moments ago. This is a man who is about to dole out some harsh truths.
Eager to validate his feelings, the man with the world’s worst hat shows one of the Polaroids to the nun. She’s already marched the barbershop quintet to his office, so it’s unlikely she was kept in the dark as to why was she was doing that in the first place. But whatever, we’ll play your game, Polaroid. Her response could go either way at this point. The nun is definitely surprised by what she’s seeing, but that could be in a good way. Perhaps the man has bought them tickets to a Spice Girls concert. It’s worth noting that 43 seconds into the advert, we’re yet to actually see the Spice Girls.
In the ultimate act of performative dramatics, the nun turns away from the Polaroids to have a very quick puke into a bucket. This is exactly the kind of nonsense that Polaroid photographs should be capturing, not creating. Whatever is on this vomit-inducing photograph, it’s having a profound effect on all those who witness it. Perhaps it shows a child that has turned orange from drinking too much Sunny D, or how Friends ends, or Leonardo DiCaprio being snubbed for an Oscar for Titanic. We simply must know, and soon.
Finally, some comedy. While his nun colleague silently pukes into a bucket, Voldemeldrew is employing the use of a magnifying glass to get a closer look at the offensive Polaroid photograph. Perhaps he needed to see more clearly what was making her sick, or he is a sadist who gets off on repulsion. At this point, the viewer just wants to know what’s on the damn Polaroid. Is it an image of Girls Aloud, a band that would emerge some five years later in a bid to fill the gap that the Spice Girls would leave in the market but with underwhelming musical output?
Satisfied with his thorough examination of the Polaroid, Voldemeldrew rises from his seat to reveal a very chic distressed black belt. It literally ties his whole outfit together, something the Spice Girls are sure to appreciate whenever they appear. The nun has recovered from vomiting but looks pale as a ghost, right as a flash of lightning illuminates her gaunt little horrified face. We then see two very tall doors slam shut and are left outside to work out what the hell is going on.
OH MY GOD IT’S FIVE SPICE! THE BARBERSHOP QUINTET WAS THE SPICE GIRLS ALL ALONG! Hang on now, we must piece the puzzle together. They have just been thrown out of whatever fictional commune they were part of, for taking Polaroid photographs that made a nun vomit and a man who looks like a raw piece of bread dough get very surprised, then inquisitive, then near-sighted, then horny, then angry. What was on the damn Polaroid, Spice Girls? Tell us and we will purchase your products.
“What are we gonna do now?”, asks Scary Spice over the suspicious rumbles of thunder. Geri and Mel C shrug in that trademark over-acting way that only celebrities doing a product endorsement advertisement can do. Posh Spice looks towards Mel B, then to the ground. Baby Spice does a half-assed shrug and stares deeply into Mel B’s eyes. Not only are they selling the Polaroid Spice Cam, they’re also selling their roles as mischievous pupils at the school that probably inspired St. Trinian’s, the movie. It’s important to note that we still don’t know what was on the damn Polaroid.
In the final scene, the nun returns. Finally, we are about to gain some clarity on the situation. She opens the doors and throws something out. Surely this is the collection of Polaroid photographs that saw the Spice Girls being thrown out of the Barbershop Quintet Academy. At last, we will get to see what made a nun vomit, aside from the incredibly poor production that was Sister Act 2. This isn’t just an advertisement, this is a crash course in movie making. We’ve got plot, character development, conflict and now, hopefully, resolution.
Oh for fuck sake, it’s the fucking camera. The nun threw the Spice Cam out the door, it landed scratch-free perfectly upright on the dry ground despite it lashing rain at the time. We will never find out what was on those photographs. Not unless…. Not…. Unless we all go out there and buy a Polaroid Spice Cam. Yes, that is how marketing works. We must all travel back in time to 1997 and beg our parents to purchase the camera so that we may recreate such images as the ones that caused a nun to vomit and the Spice Girls to get thrown out of barbershop quintet school. It’s the only way.
Release the damn images, Spice Girls. 22 years is too long to leave us guessing. Were they nudes. Yes or no.
Images via YouTube
