If you go to a traditional Greek coffee house in the summer and ask for a submarine, they are not going to serve you a 40.000-ton titanium made watercraft. Most probably, you’ll end up with a tall glass of ice-cold water with a spoon inside full of a white sugary paste tasting of vanilla or mastic.
In our tasteless, faceless, graceless Starbucks age, sweets with such history aim at a very specific target group: Memories. All Greeks remember growing up with a spoon of sweet submarine vanilla. Somewhere between caring for acne and getting a real job, we forgot all about it, except in the summer, when our granny goes out of her way to remind us. Have we got a husband? Have we got an ice-cold glass of water with a submarine inside?
When Saradis, the well-known manufacturer of food and beverages from the beautiful island of Chios, famous for its mastic production, trusted Pink Noiz with a TV commercial, we were opposed with a dilemma. An ad for grannies or their grandkids? Feature a wheelchair or a hoverboard? Is the product going to break a hip or live a second life?
But as I said before, the real target group here were memories. Targeting it to people between their twenties and thirties, who would not include submarine in their shopping list, because they had simply forgotten about it, seemed like the logical choice. Because there was a chance they would remember.
The trigger of memory. That’s what we did. The trigger of the memory of innocence. In a world that’s losing it, in an environment that gets toxic by the day, there is one thing that still stands undamaged. Pure. The memory of us as children.
That was the strategy we went for, in a film that was shot in Cyprus for the Greek TV, by The Coffee Films. With a low budget, but with great enthusiasm and love.
Needless to say, my cupboard is full of jars of submarines now which don’t do my waist line a lot of good. But hey, it’s food for the soul. Every time I close the big bad world outside, I open a jar of submarine and remember how nice it was. My granny’s voice, louder than the cicadas, a big voice coming from the skies, coming through the open balcony doors, asking if I wanted a glass of sweet submarine as if I could ever deny an offer of the summer itself.