Traditionally, many advertisements released by cigarette brands under the Philip Morris label have depicted happy people joined together in friendship (supposedly due to their common habit). Other advertisements attempted to associate cigarettes with sleek mystical figures, sometimes even sexually desirable ones. All this has changed, however, due to recent legal developments in which the cigarette giant was pressured to offer anti-smoking ads, in addition to the usual fictional ones depicting happy mannequins. In no way were they to advertise cigarettes, and they were mandated to help stop youth smoking. These requirements placed Philip Morris in a difficult situation. They needed to satisfy the courts, but at the same time also make their advertisements as unsuccessful as possible. To the joy of Philip Morris, Ogilvy explains that "the consumer perceives that the product is inferior and never buys it again" (103). The product is of course not a cigarette, in this case, but rather the message of the advertisement, "don't smoke". Through the use of dull visual features and two reversed advertising tactics, Philip Morris has successfully designed a campaign certain to reach no one. The side benefit of positive PR for the company, of course, was guaranteed regardless of the ad content.

The first goal of this article is to attract as little attention as possible. At first glance, the eye finds no special focus point. We see two silhouettes seated at the far opposite ends of a small fishing boat out on a motionless river. It looks more like a mournful life insurance advertisement than anything else. The reader almost expects it to ask "Who will take care of your children?". There are no bright colors, it contains a very mellow atmosphere, and there is no movement. Above the horizon is an uninteresting sky smeared with hazy white clouds. The two tree-covered banks of the river converge in the distance far beyond the dingy as if to immortalize the moment. This moment, as the reader discovers, is one which should be anything but immortalized. Hidden up in the clouds is a well-camouflaged light yellow box reading "HELP ME UNDERSTAND WHY SOME KIDS YOUR AGE SMOKE CIGARETTES". As the eye continues to wander down towards the darkened water between the dingy and the camera, one arrives at some text at the bottom of the page just beyond the edge of the picture. At the right is another yellow box similar to the one up in the clouds. This one contains the text, "TALK TO YOUR KIDS ABOUT NOT SMOKING. THEY'LL LISTEN.". On the left are two small paragraphs in plain font, containing the quote "How to start the conversation [about smoking] is up to you". The attention of the reader returns to the image, and once again sees nothing but a bleak emotionless picture. Just to make sure the advertisement does not attract any potential vacationers, the river is dotted with algae, and there is not a single artificial structure in sight. In comparison to the dozens of other ads found in magazines such as this one, nearly any reader would simply pass over it without a second thought. For those who *do* play closer attention, however, Philip Morris has carefully chosen visual queues to quickly send them on to the next page.

The ad plays on the need to escape, but instead of showing a luxurious vacation destination, it shows only an awkward social situation. "If dream and desire can be exploited in the quest for sales, so can nightmare and fear" (Solomon, 56). Fowles describes the need to escape as being "the freedom that every individual yearns for when life becomes too oppressive" (72). To most people, a fishing trip is synonymous with rest, relaxation, and enjoyment. For some, there is no better way to spend some time away from the hustle and bustle of life than to break free and head out to the lake for some fishing. Anticipating this crowd, Philip Morris made sure to eliminate the yearning for a tranquil day on the lake. Rather than a beautiful fishing day, the parental character in the advertisement is having a conversation with his daughter about smoking. This is not exactly what a fishing trip is supposed to entail. The father is stuck out in the middle of a river in a small boat, with nowhere to run and no foreseeable end to a hair-raising conversation with his defiant daughter. These conversations are of course notorious for being outstandingly uncomfortable for both the nervous parent and the frustrated child. The parent must select just the right time, tone, and topic, while the child tends to fidget throughout the whole conversation. One question about a friends' drug use, and the child feels alienated. One misused word, and the conversation may come to a dead stop. If the time is not right, the discussion may be doomed to start with. The only escape is distraction or retreat. Oh wait, we're on a lake. So how about those 'Niners?'.* By exploiting our need to escape, the ad leaves the reader feeling trapped and anxiousm, eager to divert attention elsewhere.

In addition to the fear of lack of escape, the ad also reminds the reader of his/her responsibilities as a parent. Of all the tasks in the world, this is not one which will draw crowds. Parenting is said to entail a list of extra-unpleasant tasks. Among them are diaper changing, discipline, and "THE TALK". In no way, shape, or form could this reminder possibly encourage parents to discuss nicotine use with their children. Philip Morris has severely infringed on our need to escape. "Nobody in their right mind wants to be intimidated, menaced, battered, poisoned... We want to feel safe and secure; buy these products, advertisers are saying, and you'll be safer than you are without them" (Fowles 72/73). Fowles' description, of course, is crafted for an advertisement which is attempting to attract customers rather than repel them. Nevertheless, the concept is identical. In normal ads, the viewer might be shown that without product 'x', he/she will be caught in a socially awkward situation. Fowles lists a few examples:

As well as presenting positive images, advertisers can play to the need for affiliation in negative ways, by invoking the fear of rejection. If we don't use Scope, we'll have the "Ugh! Morning Breath" that causes male and female models to avert their faces. (Fowles 67)

In the anti-smoking advertisement, the same tactic is used in order to repel readers from the concept of a serious discussion with their children about smoking.

While most advertisements have traditionally been designed with Murray's fifteen appeals in mind, the Philip Morris corporation has turned them around in order to minimize the effectiveness of their "good faith" anti-smoking campaign. As we have seen, two of Fowles' needs were directly violated: the "Need to escape" (72), and the "Need to feel safe" (72). Firstly, the viewers' desires for freedom and socio-economic relief were shot down by fear of being isolated on a boat, faced with the task of talking to one's offspring about the effects of nicotine. Next, the reader was even more turned off when he/she received the reminder that this awkward conversation was in fact their responsibility. The viewer is left feeling frustrated, overwhelmed, and unhappy. What better solution than to turn the page and gaze instead at a graceful Dorothy Hamill figure skater telling them to purchase a wonderful mysterious product named Vioxx?