Die Hard. It’s a great name for a film, but it’s a seduction job. It works by being so right for the movie it describes that no one bothers to think too hard about the meaning. At first sight it could be a reference to the lengths Alan ‘Give me back my detonators!’ Rickman has to go to in his pursuit of Bruce ‘Yippee Ki-Ay’ Willis. Except that then the film should have been called Hard to Kill.
OK, so the title’s a reference to John McClane’s uncompromising defence of his rather untenable position. Well, no because then the film should have been called Diehard. A small difference perhaps, but an important one.
A moment of, not entirely alcohol-related, clarity brought me to the shocking realisation a few nights ago, that “Die Hard” is in fact a command to pass away in a state of arousal. That’s it. Die. Hard.
Now, it’s not just directors who love to use a well chosen name to trigger the desired purchasing instincts. Car manufacturers do the same thing, cheerfully papering over the woefulness of their product (step forward Hillman Avenger), hamming-up the sense of drama (that means you Ford Mustang Mach I) and generally giving us a helping hand towards the sales office. So, below follows a tribute to the top five marketing smokescreens.
At number five, the Mitsubishi Evo VIII MR FQ-340. There’s no need for a car to have such an impenetrable name. It’s no more useful than understanding that my Apple is currently running Mac OS X Version 10.5.8. However, knowing that it does provides a reliably warm sense of techno-geekery. I don’t really know or care what all the letters and numbers means, but that fact that there are lots of them and they increase in relation to the amount of money I spend, lends the happy illusion that something important and quite powerful is happening to me.
At number four, the Lamborghini Gallardo Superleggera. This one is syllabular seduction. It says ‘fast light car’ in twelve syllables. Yes, a cafe correto is a great sounding way to say coffee with booze. Yes, an insalata verde is a wonderful way to say green salad. Do either of them convey greater, useful meaning? No. Would I cheerfully pay more for them? Yes.
At number three, the Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow. It rhymes with “High Net Worth Individual”. It suggests connections with spirits from beyond the grave (and ones who may be plated in precious metal, such is your celebrity). It hardly matters that the car in question looks like a dented brick because all people want to hear is the name. In fact this is a trick often pulled off by Rolls-Royce, with the notable exception of the Carmargue, which sounds more like a sort of ripe blue cheese.
At number two, the KTM X-Bow. This sounds like something that Tom Hanks may have been purchasing, using Senate funds, for the Afghan mujahadeen in their struggle against the Soviet Mi-24 gunships. It is also not clear exactly how your should pronounce it (is that “X Bow” or perhaps a clever “Cross-Bow”?) Nothing lends cache like the potential for embarrassing error, as Versace and Bvlgari know only too well. Not quite as good as a Caterham on the road though is it..?
And at number one, the De Tomaso Vallelunga. Just calling a car a De Tomaso is unnecessarily good. Following that with Pantera is quite good but sounds a little like it may be a piece of American trouser-drying equipment. On the other hand De Tomaso Deauville is clearly the villain of the piece in a Disney production. But calling a car a De Tomaso Vallelunga suggests that a Norse lightning goddess of some kind actually endorses your car on the basis that it is named after her Brazilian boyfriend. There are no adequate responses to being informed that someone drives a De Tomaso Vallelunga other than complete, blank ignorance or starry-eyed wonder. And this is despite the fact that the car itself, is really not all that great.
No.7
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