The Directors: Mike Bernstein
Mike Bernstein got his start directing ads on spec for crowdsourcing competitions, then cut his teeth at SNL directing filmed sketches like “Hillary’s Campaign Ad” with Kate McKinnon, “Screen Guild Awards” and “Voters for Trump” which Rolling Stone magazine voted as the top filmed sketch of the season.
Commercially, Mike has directed for companies like Amazon, MTV, Samsung, Walgreens, and Procter & Gamble. His work for HotelTonight and Philadelphia Cream Cheese both garnered recognition as Ad Age Editor’s Picks and his spot for Roman received Adweek’s Editor’s Pick of the Day distinction.
Mike enjoys bouncing back and forth between Los Angeles and New York.
Name: Mike Bernstein
Location: Los Angeles
Repped by/in: Superprime Films - US
LBB> What elements of a script sets one apart from the other and what sort of scripts get you excited to shoot them?
Mike> I get excited by three things— the first is, “Is this visual? Are you trying to be funny in a cinematic way, or are we filming people talking in rooms?" Most comedy scripts are primarily dialogue-driven. As a comedy director, I’ve witnessed every iteration of people sitting and talking—sitting and talking on couches, sitting and talking in boardrooms, dinner tables, patio tables— you name it. Sometimes, characters even talk while they walk(!!) But seriously, I love working with actors, especially improvisers. That being said, dialogue can quickly crowd out opportunities to incorporate visual comedy, which is the be-all and end-all of what makes a commercial stick in the collective consciousness.
The other two things are clarity and confidence. Sometimes, what’s supposed to be funny isn’t actually that clear. The confidence part is simple. If you want a script to be funny— if you truly want the public to remember your brand, you must be bold and willing to go for hard laughs. I’m drawn to scripts where characters are making questionable decisions or responding unhealthily to the reality of their circumstances. Comedy is all about stakes, which usually means something unpleasant, painful, or sad happens to someone. It just does. There needs to be a personal or social cost in the story. That’s exceptionally tricky in advertising because brands want to be perceived in a positive light, and while they’re eager to embrace humour as a means of connecting with their audience, they’re usually much less willing to portray anyone getting hurt. It takes a certain level of risk tolerance. My spot for Angi achieved all this and was an absolute dream project.
LBB> How do you approach creating a treatment for a spot?
Mike> It starts the moment I read a script. I jot down my first reactions in detail and bottle that excitement before it’s gone. No matter how fun or funny a concept is or how much I love my job, filmmaking is an incredibly technical and time-consuming process, and as the hours pile up, it’s easy to lose touch with that excitement. That dictates the tone, and tone dictates absolutely everything else.
LBB> If the script is for a brand that you're not familiar with/don’t have a big affinity with or a market you're new to, how important is it for you to do research and understand that strategic and contextual side of the ad? If it’s important to you, how do you do it?
Mike> It’s important until it isn’t. Some degree of context is always helpful, but “more” doesn’t always equal better. It’s beneficial to understand the market and empathise with those we’re trying to reach, but let’s be honest— we’re so susceptible to information overload. The biggest mistake we can make is overthinking our way out of something great. We’re telling stories in 30 seconds. Our script needs to communicate a simple message that people relate to in a funny way. Being able to distil that down to its simplest form is what I need to tell a great story quickly. The last thing a clear concept needs is for us to gum it up.
LBB> For you, what is the most important working relationship for a director to have with another person in making an ad? And why?
Mike> It all starts with the EP, full stop. It’s the first conversation I have. Our conversations throughout the bidding process are where we begin to shape our big-picture plan of attack and set ourselves up for success. Where do we want to focus the budget, and where can we save? What are the conditions we need to execute a job at the level we’re all envisioning? Expectations are everything; the creative, resources, money, talent, and schedule must line up to meet them.
LBB> What type of work are you most passionate about - is there a particular genre or subject matter or style you are most drawn to?
Mike> I’m always looking for work that mixes comedy with other genres, whether it’s big and broad or something more earnest. Sometimes, it’s an absurd idea we approach in the most severe and dramatic way possible. I’ve carved out a niche directing ads for products that exist primarily as a joke— like a kit for baking your own PlayStation 5-shaped cheesecake made out of Philadelphia Cream Cheese or a food processor specifically designed for grinding Flamin’ Hot Cheetos into dust to sprinkle on whatever food you can think of.
LBB> What misconception about you or your work do you most often encounter and why is it wrong?
Mike> That comedy has to look a certain way. I’ve noticed over the years that less experienced creatives unknowingly approach comedic spots with a set of boilerplate assumptions. It has to have a sort of stock, bright, evenly soft look. Sometimes, a script calls for this, but more often than not, I find that this notion that comedy has this sort of prescribed aesthetic undercuts what we’re striving for, which is to catch people off guard in a funny way and defy expectations. Audiences, especially gen-Z, are super perceptive. When your spot opens with a “generic comedy” look, people are already wondering, “OK. Where’s the joke?” before you’ve even told it. They’re already ahead of you. I’m not saying everything necessarily has to be dark or gritty. It’s simply a place we can take more risks where we often don’t.
LBB> What’s the craziest problem you’ve come across in the course of a production – and how did you solve it?
Mike> In June of 2020, my first job back from the pandemic was a Cheez-It spot, conceived in a way that would adhere to the logistical constraints of social distancing. The idea: An entire football team of puppets— sorry, ahem, “talking cheese wheels,” to be specific, listening to their coach deliver an invigorating Friday Night Lights-style locker room pregame speech. The first challenge was building a large set that could facilitate a significant number of puppeteers off-camera, so my production designer, Brielle Hubert, and I devised a plan to construct the locker room on trusses elevated five feet off the ground, allowing us to drill holes in the floor for them to work from below. The more complicated challenge was our “Hero Cheese” voice actor, Matt Griesser, a legendary character and improviser, could not travel from his home in Ohio to Los Angeles for the shoot. In our prior collaborations, our approach was largely shaped by the improv we’d discover recording live on set together. We didn’t want to take the easy way out and record his lines separately, so my VTR technician, Bob Mills, and I worked together to create a live Zoom session. From a makeshift home audio recording booth in Ohio, Matt watched a live feed of our Coach actor, who wore an earpiece, feeding him Matt’s improv with him in real-time. That combined feed of both performers was mirrored to our puppeteers beneath the set’s floorboards, allowing them to drive the puppets’ body movement to Matt’s voice with zero lag. It was absurdly complicated to set up, but once we were up and running, we captured some of the funniest runs of improv I’ve ever heard.
LBB> How do you strike the balance between being open/collaborative with the agency and brand client while also protecting the idea?
Mike> If I look back at my favourite spots, one thing is always true: I presented a clear vision for how to best execute the script, and they bought in right from the jump. In those instances, we’re aligned and see the same thing. We’re all protecting the same core idea. Of course, there’s a certain amount of push and pull in any collaboration, but at the end of the day, the creative director and the brand have the final word. I am being invited into an ongoing process that began well before my first call and continues after I wrap. For my chapter, I find the entire production more fun when everyone participates, especially when it’s comedy. That said, having directed comedy for my whole adult life, I’ve learned that every choice, from casting to wardrobe to location, can be the difference between a joke working or falling flat. If everyone buys in early on, then that typically means the agency and brand trust me to help them avoid making those choices.
LBB> What are your thoughts on opening up the production world to a more diverse pool of talent? Are you open to mentoring and apprenticeships on set?
Mike> I started mentoring directors last year, and it was one of my most rewarding experiences on set. In front of the camera, diversity is always top of mind, and we’ve made great strides there. Where I find I can help, and where people often forget to look, is behind the camera. I’ve worked with a diverse group of department heads my entire career, some of whom have been by my side since film school. Comedy-wise, the way I know a joke works on set is simply whether it gets a laugh from the crew. When we have a diverse crew, and everyone’s laughing, you know it’s resonating universally.
LBB> How do you feel the pandemic is going to influence the way you work into the longer term? Have you picked up new habits that you feel will stick around for a long time?
Mike> Pre-pandemic, talking through a script or treatment over the phone instead of Zoom often felt opaque. Seeing the entire agency team and what they respond to in a conversation is enormously helpful.
LBB> Your work is now presented in so many different formats - to what extent do you keep each in mind while you're working (and, equally, to what degree is it possible to do so)?
Mike> I always have vertical frame guides up on the client monitor. If I’m shooting a dialogue-driven script, it’s not usually an issue. We reframe as needed. Visual comedy is a whole different ball game. It depends on what information we’re putting in the frame and what we’re withholding outside of it. If I cut wide for some reveal, our blocking will naturally suit one format or aspect ratio over another. It’s my job to identify where those moments exist and, if necessary, capture the action on an appropriate lens to accommodate it so it plays in an additional format.
LBB> What’s your relationship with new technology and, if at all, how do you incorporate future-facing tech into your work (e.g. virtual production, interactive storytelling, AI/data-driven visuals etc)?
Mike> I love technology. I built my desktop PC when I was 11. I taught myself After Effects in high school. I’m the first to jump at the chance to incorporate new tech. But, and it’s a big one— while virtual production and PreVis can be helpful, I have to say I’ve had mixed experiences. We lock in too early. So much of what’s funny is in performance. In a facial expression. In reaction shots. These moments are spontaneous. Unreal Engine, the primary virtual production application, still struggles tremendously to give me that. I feel like I’m watching cut scenes from a video game. It can have an inverse effect. Agencies and brands pay for PreVis often before they even hire a director. They test it, do market research, and then get married to it. I’ve had agencies ask me to do another take where I ask the actor to “make an expression more like it was in our animatic.” I’ve heard brands on PrePro calls one day before a shoot be confused that a location we scouted and dressed doesn’t look exactly like the Previs from months ago. It can open up new worlds, but it can also handcuff people creatively. Filmmaking is an organic, evolving process that can develop into something better in each phase of production. But when you have that data in your hand that shows something works too early, you cling to it.
LBB> Which pieces of work do you feel really show off what you do best – and why?
Mike> The Oscars 'Bottom Gun' - It’s one thing to get a big celebrity talent on board a project. It’s another to get the most out of them in the shrinking window of time you have them. I believe in getting the funniest actors, only to direct them into playing a scene as seriously as possible. This one is an incredibly cinematic, ambitious piece imbued with dry comedy, and what you don’t see is how incredibly quickly we shot all of it in the limited time we had with Kimmel, Hamm, and Crystal.
SNL 'Voters for Trump' - Before directing commercials, I directed short films at SNL. This one is simply wild. Written by Rob Klein, Tim Robinson, and Zach Kanin, it is my all-time favourite. All the performances are incredibly earnest, and visual jokes reveal themselves in such an underhanded way. It’s subtle and loud all at the same time.
Angi 'Lost the List' - I had so much fun shooting this. This was part of Angi’s big rebrand from 'Angi’s List' to simply 'Angi.' In short, they were losing the 'list.' This idea differed quite a bit from the original scripts. It was something I pitched in the treatment phase. My idea was to sell how essential Angi’s 'List' was to its customers by showing the fallout of its disappearance in the funniest way possible. How can I convey the immense value of this 'List' by showing how quickly homeowners spiral into total and utter chaos without it? The result is an onslaught of physical comedy, a company in crisis, and customers descending into chaos. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Affirm 'Little Director' - I wanted the comedy in this film to hit in the most brutally honest way possible. It’s not just that someone’s feelings got hurt. It’s about making sure there’s emotion underneath it, like humiliation, so we feel the consequence. The further south it spirals, the more satisfying the save-the-day ending is when Affirm springs into action at the end. The tone is borderline dramatic, so the humour almost shocks you.
