Chapter 89\ The man who sold Lebanese air in Canada

Raji El Hoss had an affinity towards Canada since he had emigrated there with his family before returning to the Middle East and settling in Dubai. Raji knew that the reputation of the Dubai agency could not be sustained by musical jingles composed and orchestrated by third parties, so he looked for a creative director to hire from Canada. While contacting friends and headhunters he was reminded of a young Lebanese who had sold aerosols he claimed to be containing Lebanese air to homesick emigrants in Montreal. People were amazed by this young man’s creativity, so Raji went looking for him and persuaded him to join Intermarkets UAE. Philippe Skaff flew to Dubai accompanied by his Filipino wife and Intermarkets helped him rent a small flat at the newly constructed Al Mulla Plaza, halfway between Dubai and Sharjah.

At Intermarkets UAE, Aujan was an important client, as they had established a very successful beverages business in Dammam, Saudi Arabia, where they bottled Vimto (a cordial drink), Rani (orange juice rich in pulp) and Barbican as well as Moussy (two non-alcoholic beer brands). Adel Aujan, the main client lead, had been complaining about the lack of Arab creative talent at the agency, so Raji introduced Philippe to this client the same week he arrived in Dubai. The client was in desperate need of a TV commercial to promote its Vimto drink, which was under great demand during the month of Ramadan. I expressed my concern to Raji since Philippe had never produced a TV commercial before. However, Philippe was young, bright, and resourceful and succeeded in impressing Adel Aujan during their first meeting.

Not long after he arrived in Dubai, Philippe and his wife broke up and this seemed to have quite a painful effect on our new executive creative director, to the extent that he stayed at home and, as the days passed quickly, Raji became more and more concerned about the wisdom of his recruitment. Finally, the broken-hearted Canadian came back to work and Raji instantly called him into his office and kept the door closed for almost an hour. After a couple of days, Philippe came to the agency with a nicely rendered storyboard for Vimto, based on a campaign idea that celebrated “The deep-rooted hospitality” amongst Saudis. Adel Aujan came to Dubai and after a full morning of brainstorming, the storyboard was amended and approved.

Philippe left for Spain since he had secured a treatment and a quote from a production house there that had been approved by the client. Twice he sent messages that he was extending his stay and Raji began showing the same signs of anxiety that he had shown when his executive creative director had not shown up at the agency for days. Finally, Philippe returned with a big smile on his face, which turned out to be his incentive to get us into the conference room quickly, where the Vimto commercial was to be screened. When the 16mm projector stopped, Raji looked at me with a quizzical expression on his face. The commercial was very well shot, the lighting was perfect, the color grading was excellent, and the cast (although all Spaniards) looked very much like Saudis. However, the film was not the storyboard we had all seen and that Adel Aujan had approved. Raji and I remained anxious until Adel Aujan arrived in Dubai, listened to Philippe’s introduction of his first creative job for Vimto, and approved it with a hearty pat on Philippe’s back. The release film copies were shipped from Spain to Riyadh and were swiftly cleared thanks to Aujan’s contacts. However, the commercial did not air on Saudi TV, neither on the first, second or third day, which led Adel Aujan to become furious with anger. I asked Issa Antar, our media manager in Jeddah, to fly to Riyadh, rush to the TV station and investigate. Saudi TV’s advertising department staff told Issa that the new Vimto commercial was being held by government censorship officers. So, Issa met with these people, who kept giggling every time he asked why the commercial had been stopped. The senior officer finally told Issa: “Do not tell me that you do not know the reason why this film had been stopped.” After another burst of giggles from all the other officers in the room, the chief censor said that a young Lebanese male living in the Kingdom should have known that the hero of the film was the best-known lead actor in all pornographic films smuggled into the Kingdom. The censorship officers were very familiar with this actor’s face and body, and they did not want the Vimto commercial to cause Saudi television viewers to remember the many times they had seen this man totally naked.

The commercial’s storyline was extremely respectful and wholesome. A young Saudi studying at a university overseas returns home to celebrate Ramadan with his family. After saluting his crowd of relatives, he steps out into the garden, remembering his childhood memories. His white bearded grandfather goes over to him with a glass of Vimto, which crowns this walk down memory lane. Adel Aujan called and debated matters with the censorship team, who after their stubborn hesitation, agreed to lift the ban, and Philippe’s first commercial began airing.