The first decade of the XXI century has brought us face to face with a steep learning curve. We have been introduced to arcane concepts such as “the jobless recovery” and have learned to live in a “zombie economy” financed by “zombie banks”. We have even got used to US-coined neologisms such as “kleptocracy”, reminiscent of the “papal pornocracy” that ruled Rome a thousand yeas ago or so.

So it’s no wonder, amid this global socio-economic turmoil, that Italian coffee aficionados enjoy the new Nespresso campaign portraying George Clooney and John Malkovich in heaven – almost as much as they relish Nespresso rival Lavazza’s subsequent appeal to the relevant body, the “Gran Giurì” (the Grand Jury), in an attempt to stop Italian TV stations from broadcasting this new campaign.

On one hand the quality of the Nespresso ads was beyond doubt. The director, Robert Rodriguez, is known in Hollywood as the guy who kick-started his career by shooting the exhilarating movie “El Mariachi” on a 7.000 dollars budget, roughly the equivalent of what Hollywood usually shells out to – say – the star’s chauffeur. The flawless Clooney-Malkovich team (with a helping hand from Miss Spain 2000 – Helen Lindes - in the role of the Nespresso clerk), together with Rodriguez, turned out a top-notch demonstration of how cinematic art, entertainment, and commerce can sometimes be one-in-three, as devout Catholics might say

For the campaign, Nespresso and Rodriguez used the escamotage of alternate endings, a well known device among quality movie directors. So in the first ending we see Clooney as he hands over his Nespresso machine to Malkovich/Saint Peter, thereby getting himself out of heaven to make his way straight back to a Nespresso boutique. In the second ending Clooney refuses any compromises and holds on to his most coveted earthly possession (a capsule machine!). This turns out to be a bad choice, as he finds himself endlessly bored in heaven, even though he’s sipping a good N/espresso. Lastly, in the third and possibly the funniest ending of this series, Clooney finally gets back to earth only after an intense effort to bribe Malkovich, which involves first offering him his black Porsche and then his famous Villa Oleandra on the shores of Lake Como (“…and people can also come with it too…”). Needless to say, Nespresso coffee machines are the only negotiable item in this heaven.

On the other hand, many have noticed similarities between the Nespresso ads and the ads Lavazza have been running for well over a decade in Italy: everyone is dressed in white in a white environment, and both of these coffee-heavens are – so to speak - pretty down to earth. This somewhat surprised the Italian coffee community because we all know how much Lavazza liked being the only roaster to serve coffee in heaven, at least on Italian TV screens. We had learned this a few years ago: back then, Lavazza claimed to the Giurì against a series of Segafredo-Zanetti coffee-commercials centered in a Hellzapoppin’-styled hell. Lavazza’s claim was not endorsed but – as, regardless to the claim, Segafredo Zanetti ceased soon to air the hell-centered commercials – to some it seemed as a success for Lavazza: it almost seemed officially stated the concept that nobody (at least in TV ads) could tell his potential customers to “go to hell”, because somebody else already had a sort of exclusive right to tell them to “go to heaven”.

Now the Giurì has rejected Lavazza’s claim and we can only surmise that if it made this ruling it must have accepted Nespresso’s opinion that (and I’m quoting from the Advertising Age website) they “used the after-life notion in a metaphorical sense”, so that heaven becomes “a cultural reference, not particularly linked to just one brand”. I am not a lawyer, so I shall abstain from any further comment.

Incidentally, it is more interesting to note that Nespresso’s mother company is Nestlè and that the latter, as one of the true oligopsonists of the global coffee market, has – in its own way - agreed to put itself on Lavazza’s heavenly level. But in doing so Nestlè appears to belong to a  different world, using a different language and perhaps (and this is my guess) communicating on a number of different levels.

On the surface, apart from the aroma of luxury that these ads transpire, they state some pretty bold themes: 1. Porsches, villas on Lake Como and life itself are not really worth the “Nespresso experience”; 2. heaven can wait, as long as here on earth we’re close to a Nespresso boutique; 3. if we really have to go to heaven (what a bore!) and although espresso coffee up there may well be good, we would do better to stick to our good old materialist ways, including the social habit of sporting trophy blondes (who seemingly say as little as the ones in the Lavazza ads: next to nothing).

But let me delve a few feet beneath this surface. Nespresso (whose sales by now have exceeded Lavazza’s) and these TV-ads prove that Nestlè is not on top of the coffee world by virtue of some fortuitous astrological coincidence. And it would almost appear that Nestlè took this opportunity to remind the world of this, including the biggest Italian roaster (in € sales: Segafredo-Zanetti would instead be leader by volume, according to some statistics).

To some critics Lavazza, despite their quality inroads in coffee’s latest frontier (proprietary single-portion systems: the same segment that has paved the way for Nestlé’s high-profile and highly profitable growth in the world of R&G coffee), is the main culprit for the fact that French-Swiss and Seattle-based managers (not Italians) are introducing the  global masses to espresso coffee. Even Indians are mostly enjoying their espresso “baptism” through their very own Coffee Day company, and not through Lavazza (or their subsidiary Barista). All in all, espresso leaders are coming from countries other than the one where espresso was invented.

Maybe all of this delving is just a fantasy of mine. Either way, let us remain carefree while we sit on our earthly sofas and observe titanic conversations taking place in heaven and broadcast right on our TV screens. They tell us that George Clooney is willing to give up most of his material possessions to live in a Nespresso-branded world, but the message might be different. I must have literally dreamed this one, but I could swear I heard someone saying, in a slow French accent: “You want to play, mon ami? OK zen: let’s play”.

Do they Swiss Post capsules in heaven?

Translation from Italian by Alastair McEwen

(Originally published on Comunicaffè, Jan. 19th 2010)