Oscar-worthy self-promotion

Advertising has given birth to entire industries. It has saved countless lives and it has spawned revolutions. Last week, advertising won an Academy Award.

It’s true, our industry’s bucket list is officially one line shorter. But let’s not stand aside and watch this latest strikethrough go gentle into that good after-party just yet. This landmark campaign deserves a closer look.

The “brand” being advertised? None other than Melissa Leo. The former Melissa Leo that is, since she will henceforth be referred to as “Academy-Award winning actress Melissa Leo.” Winning an Oscar is the Hollywood equivalent of knighthood: its indelible effect eradicates questionable behavior as efficiently as a whiteboard eraser.

So what happens when the behavior in question may have led to her winning the award in the first place?

In 2010 Ms. Leo—known endearingly to 1980s-era stay-at-home moms as Ms. Linda Warner from All My Children—delivered the performance of an acting lifetime. Her true-to-the-letter portrayal of Alice Ward, chain-smokin’, white-trashin’ maternal manager of “Irish” Micky Ward in The Fighter, was a triumph in itself. The 50-year-old Manhattan-born actress proved to have some fight of her own, clawing her way through a congested marquis bearing the large-type names of Mark Wahlberg, fellow Oscar-winner Christian Bale (Best Supporting Actor) and Amy Adams, a former Supporting Actress nominee for 2005’s indy hit, Junebug, who also happened to be competing with Leo this year.

But what set the feisty redhead apart from past Academy Award winners—including that other Leo from The Titanic—was set in much smaller type. Unwilling to let her performance speak for itself, she set out to send a self-promotional message to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.

At first Leo intoned that she felt slighted by the overall lack of attention “women of a certain age” were getting from the media. In particular, the fact that she couldn’t find her way onto a single magazine cover despite recent Golden Globe, Critics’ Choice and Screen Actors Guild wins. FYC (For Your Consideration) campaigns are typically handled by the motion picture studios; hardly third party to be sure, but distant enough to keep the pimp perception away from award-hungry candidates. However, Paramount decided not to promote their movie’s stars prior to this year’s Academy Awards. So the actress sought the help of three of her friends to get the word out about Melissa Leo.

The four created and placed a series of full-color ads and posters that blanketed southern California, each bearing the full-bleed image of Ms. Leo with the single-word headline, “Consider.” On the surface the campaign spoke for aging actresses everywhere, whose careers Hollywood has figuratively dragged to the curb. The portraits contrasted Leo’s frumpy, bitter on-screen character in a manner that all but called out the role as “typical” for those of her demographic. Yet upon closer inspection, a strategy emerged as seemingly unconventional as Leo’s decision to lobby for the hardware. Unconventional in its choice of art direction—in one execution she appeared poolside in full-length white faux fur, Cruella de Vil sans cigarette holder—as well as its underlying satirical message of denial. The ads seemed to mock all self-promotional Oscar campaigns, as if she weren’t blazing the trail herself.

Many felt the move was detrimental to her chances. But Leo, knowing full well the glacial dues-paying process involved with winning an Academy Award, saw this opportunity for the unchartered territory it would occupy. She bet the house on a prize-fighter movie role, and chose an aggressive approach worthy of Mohammed Ali, who used to tell the world before, during and after each fight that he was “the greatest of all time.”

Forget whether she was actually the best candidate for the award. Personally I thought the statuette would leave in the adolescent arms of Hayley Steinfeld, based on her gritty performance as Mattie Ross that all but carried the Coen Brothers’ remake of “True Grit” (even with the presence of Jeff Bridges and Brad Pitt). Forget too the acceptance speech where Leo launched the Oscars' first-ever F-bomb into the living rooms of 10,000,000 homes, most of which were in countries without five-second delay. Fueling speculation that her role in The Fighter may not have been that much of a stretch after all.

Instead let’s remember, for a moment at least, the heavyweight gamble of a middle-aged character actress who took her best shot at what may have been her only title shot. Tactics fade, but the tall golden award will never tarnish.