From this viewpoint, coverage of the Australian Open has been very well done and highly entertaining. But frankly, I will be grateful if I never again hear that poem from the Melbourne tourism commercial.
I can’t particularly comment on the quality of the poem, as I’m not much of a poet myself–though it doesn’t strike me as anything particularly special–but I’m being driven nuts by the voice of the woman reading the damn thing.
It’s odd, because generally I’m somewhat fond of folks talking in an Australian (or New Zealand, which is close but not quite the same) accent. But I find that woman’s delivery to be really grating. It’s just too precious and cloying, how she reads that poem; I just want to get as far away from her as possible. And considering that the whole point of the commerical is to draw people to Melbourne, I’m going to declare that effort a failure.
This is highly ironic, because when I was watching the first few days of the tournament, I found myself resolving to make it to Melbourne some day to attend the Open in person. Then the bombardment of that commercial started, and I find myself substantially less inclined to make that journey.
Considering other failures of the medium, I’m thinking it’s time that all advertisers declare a moratorium on including poetry in their commercials. You’re annoying enough as it is, folks; don’t try to pretend that you’re artistic as well.