Posted by Henry Chinaski at 3:47 AM
Listen, I’ve seen some weird shit in my time. I once spent 48 hours straight testing virtual reality games while microdosing what turned out to be expired cough syrup. But nothing – and I mean nothing – prepared me for Coca-Cola’s latest venture into the uncanny valley.
It’s 3 AM, and I’m four fingers deep into a bottle of Buffalo Trace, watching what can only be described as the bastard child of a Christmas commercial and a fever dream. Coca-Cola, in their infinite wisdom, decided to let AI take the reins on their holiday advertising. The result? Well, pour yourself a drink. You’re gonna need it.
Here’s the setup: three AI studios (Secret Level, Silverside AI, and Wild Card) collaborated using four different AI models to recreate the magic of Coca-Cola’s iconic 1995 Christmas ad. That’s right – it took four AI systems to make one ad that looks like it was rendered on a toaster. It’s like watching four drunk programmers try to describe Christmas to an alien using only emojis and MATLAB.
The best part? They needed “hundreds” of attempts to get one goddamn squirrel right. Let that sink in. Hundreds. Of. Attempts. For a squirrel. I’ve seen better wildlife footage shot by my neighbor Ted after his annual eggnog bender, and that was with a flip phone from 2007.
takes long drag from cigarette
The human elements in this digital disaster are where things really go off the rails. The ad features people who look like they were designed by someone who’s only ever seen humans through a kaleidoscope. They’re either giants who couldn’t fit in the trucks or speed-walking mannequins with smiles that scream “I’ve seen the void, and it sells soft drinks.”
And Santa? Oh boy. The jolly old man himself is reduced to a single, rubbery hand clutching a Coke bottle like it’s the last life preserver on the Titanic. I’ve seen more convincing appendages on dollar store action figures. The fact that they didn’t show his face tells you everything you need to know about what unholy horrors the AI probably generated.
pours another drink
But here’s where it gets really interesting – and by interesting, I mean depressing. This whole circus required not just one, but FOUR different AI models: Leonardo, Luma, Runway, and something called Kling, which sounds like a rejected Star Trek villain. Each one probably consuming enough electricity to power my favorite dive bar for a decade.
The kicker? The original ‘95 ad still looks better. It’s like comparing a hand-rolled cigar to whatever the hell your cousin’s vape pen is supposed to be. The old ad had soul, craftsmanship, and actual human beings who understood things like “physics” and “how wheels work.” The new one? It’s got trucks that glide across the ground like they’re in a PowerPoint presentation.
Alex Hirsch, creator of Gravity Falls, said Coca-Cola was red because it’s made “from the blood of out-of-work artists.” Dark? Yes. Accurate? Also yes. While real artists are getting pink slips, we’re watching AI struggle to create something that doesn’t look like it was rendered in a microwave.
lights another cigarette
Look, I get it. Progress marches on, usually stepping on someone’s toes along the way. But there’s something deeply ironic about using soulless technology to sell holiday cheer. Christmas is supposed to be about warmth, humanity, and maybe a slight hangover from too much eggnog. This ad has all the warmth of a blockchain conference in Antarctica.
And you want to know the real tragedy? Some executive probably got a fat bonus for this cost-cutting “innovation,” while somewhere, a team of actual artists is updating their LinkedIn profiles. The same artists who could have made something genuinely memorable, instead of this digital equivalent of a drunk photocopying his face at the office Christmas party.
finishes drink
Bottom line? If this is the future of advertising, we’re all screwed. But hey, at least we can drink about it.
Stay authentic, you beautiful disasters, Henry
P.S. It’s now 4 AM, and I’ve watched this ad seventeen times. It doesn’t get better. The whiskey helps though.
Written from The Last Stop Bar & Grill, where the Christmas lights might be crooked, but at least they’re hung by human hands.