The Work That Made Me: 'Let Go My Ego'

I’m a sucker for a memorable spokes-character with an iconic catchphrase. Gen X invented binge-watching with our Saturday morning cartoon ritual. Devouring the very sugar-laden cereals that sponsored our favourite shows made Tony the Tiger and Toucan Sam cult leaders.

The Jolly Green Giant set the bar in the '60s. In the '70s, the destructive Kool-Aid Man debuted, as did the anal-retentive Mr. Whipple demanding shoppers “Don’t squeeze the Charmin.” And then came an Eggo Waffle spot where a father and son each held a firm grasp on a waffle. As the dad pleaded for the child to surrender the breakfast toaster treat, the boy just stared. From that spot, “Let go my Eggo” was instantly seared into pop culture. No costumed character, just a memorable catchphrase. Bravo Leo Burnett.

Flash-forward to 2004, I’d been directing a steady stream of faux documentary style comedy spots, having done a feature film that way. Mockumentaries offer inexpensive production and provide a narrative shortcut. But for some reason, I was sent a demented storyboard for new Eggo Waffle campaign that had been airing. The Waffleman character - an actor in a 5 foot waffle costume, red tights and Chuck Taylor’s - is always tortured, often disfigured, into new Eggo products. Waffleman had no face, just expressive red flailing arms and legs. I call this opportunity a “mutation” in a director’s career. Where the universe drops a project in your lap that logically shouldn’t.

“Drop” was coincidentally the name of this spot for the new Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Mini Waffles. As Waffleman salivates over giant balls of uncooked, chocolate chip cookie dough, a giant box of Eggo Chocolate Chip Mini Waffles falls from the sky, crushing him. When said box settles, the side open and out run four miniature waffle-people, all infused with chocolate chip cookie dough. These waffle people were portrayed by little people in proportionate foam waffle costumes and red tights.

Treatments were not a thing in those olden times; you did a conference call with the creative team and found out within a day if you had the gig. Being a student of forced-perspective, I shot a test before the call with my son, a box of Eggo’s and a mini DVcam. Dropping the box in the foreground while my boy reacted far enough away to make it look like a giant box fell on him. Worked beautifully and solidified me to pitch the approach. I shoot tests to this day.

LESSON ONE: Always shoot a test, just for yourself. 

But something felt wrong. It felt too easy. We did the technique with toy dinosaurs at the beach. This was an ad for Kellogg’s Eggo Waffles! A childhood staple. My test was missing the majestic merriment of Saturday morning cartoons. This had to be big. I ditched the idea and pitched, almost demanding we build a giant product-accurate, colour-correct 20 foot by 12 foot box of Eggo frozen waffles. 

“Precisely,” said Peter Lohmeier, sr. art director/creative director. “The fun is in these giant props.” Peter wasn’t as much agreeing with me, as he was letting me know I passed the quiz.

“The physical props define the world of the Waffleman.” chimed in T.S. Elliott, sr. copywriter/creative director.

LESSON TWO: Trust your instincts.

These two seasoned creatives had already shot a few spots with the Waffleman, wearing a waffle suit designed with the legendary Stan Winston (now called Legacy Effects.) Hollywood royalty, and humbling to just visit the shop and walk by the Terminator, Alien and that T-Rex. My task was figuring out the logistics of dropping a giant steel box without hurting the human or the costume, and to direct the human inside the costume, (expertly brought to life by the sprightly Christopher Swift, who helped build the suit.)

“Fix it in prep” is tattooed on my lower back. Prepping and directing my feature films had been pretty straightforward. Comedy dialogue, locations, the usual. But this gig involved mathematics and physics. Ultimately,  the back of the steel frame was left open, a camera shake upon impact hid the jumpcut and a stage hand opened the tabbed door for the little people to run out. Cookie dough was shot forced perspective.

Capturing the physical comedy was easy and only took a few takes. What I wasn’t prepared for was how much time a hero breakfast shot takes. Not to mention the tug of war with the Eggo Box. Luckily Peter had shot more breakfasts than I can count. He patiently gave me a masterclass on how to light syrup and arrange a completely balanced breakfast.

LESSON THREE: Respect the masters of their craft.

As we wrapped, I remarked how the operational hurdles of the food shoot were a lot for just a few shots. I stepped out of my lane as a director and blurted out a thought. “It’s always gonna take a full day to do one spot. What if we spent a day knocking out table top shots, then on day two we shoot three comedy gags? One day is one spot. Two days is three spots.” The next three years were filled with multi-day shoots and wonderfully subversive ways to torture the Waffleman while introducing new brand extensions.

LESSON FOUR: Understand the economies of scale. 

Peter and T.S. concocted a demented spot, “Butter” where Waffleman is hunted by a gigantic breakfast plate, tripped from behind onto the plate, then is assaulted with butter, syrup and a giant strawberry. Okay, easy enough. For comedic purposes, I suggested the butter, syrup and strawberry all happen as if in one wide shot, to display the fun. The challenge was how would to pour syrup on Waffleman and have it stick and drip off him like it would a real waffle.

The giant pat of butter is shaving cream and yellow food colouring, dropped from a ladder. The strawberry is a soft foam. The syrup is actual syrup. In 2005, CG syrup was cost-prohibitive. How to we get multiple takes dumping gallons of anything on the expensive waffle costume? The answer: think small. So we made a waffle-sized miniature replica of the giant Waffleman, complete with little arms and legs. We poured the syrup on the model, wiggling his little arms. 

To make the syrup appear to be sticking and dripping down the sides of Waffleman, I took inspiration from my kids’ Colorforms, those simple shapes and forms cut from coloured vinyl sheeting that cling without adhesives. My team made a gelatinous gel “syrup skirt” that we placed it around the Waffleman in stages. Our talented editor Deb Schimmel magically weaved all these elements onto the 9 foot plate in the edit, blending mini Waffleman puppet and real syrup into one magical take. 

“Butter” cemented the idea breaking a script into shots, then breaking down each shot into elements. 

LESSON FIVE: Look outside of filmmaking craft for inspiration.

“Tree” for Eggo Flip Flop waffles remains a favorite spot to this day. Waffleman runs to hide behind a theatrical tree. By this point in the campaign, his paranoia is well-known and warranted. Using 1960’s split-screen technology, we hide Waffleman behind the skinny tree and when he peeked out the other side, he becomes chocolate brown. So Stan Winston’s team made a chocolate Waffleman suit. He steps out to examine his new skin, and is bombarded with giant chocolate chip morsels, many of which adhere to his body. Running back behind the tree for safety, only to have the tree flat fall over, exposing he is now half vanilla, half chocolate with chocolate chips. Feeling naked in his new appearance, he covers himself and shuffles off stage. His embarrassment makes no sense, but then again, who cares?

The real challenge was how to make the over-sized chocolate chips fly through the air and stick to the costume. CG chips were discussed, but where is the fun in that? CG chips would betray the sensibility of the campaign!

LESSON SIX: Tone is everything.

Peter and T.S. shared that they’d tried a similar gag with chocolate chips sliding on thin airplane wire attached to the costume. The plan had failed as the flight of the chips sagged mid journey. We needed a new attack.

My solution was given to me by the filmmaking gods at Party City: mylar balloons. I may or may not have been a little high on weed. If we planted giant, self-inflating mylar chocolate chips into the suit, we can fire hard plastic morsels from air cannons at Waffleman. During the melee, we trigger the mylar chips to fill with air and remain a part of him as he walks away. 

After a few head scratches the team embraced the idea. Chris Swift, the Waffleman himself, suggested air hoses run up the bottom of the suit so we could quickly inflate the chips on demand. On set, the air cannons were sufficient, but we had a grip that had played AAA baseball, so we enlisted his talents for accuracy and fun. He nailed Waffleman right in the private parts area, which makes me laugh to this day.

LESSON SEVEN: Teamwork makes the dream work.

Soon Leo Burnett and Kellogg’s started adding spots to our uber-efficient shooting schedules. I got to shoot Keebler Elves, French Toaster Stick Quadruplets, and even a bit with Toucan Sam! Those three plus years and four dozen spots taught me the value of serving the creative first and appreciate being part of a team of wonderfully experienced professionals, each at the top of their game.

Commercial directing requires tremendous self-confidence balanced with humbleness. You need a healthy ego to lead, to believe that your way will make this a great spot. Humility allows you to foster the talents around you and remain open to ideas you may not have thought of, or they already have done it better.

LESSON EIGHT: Let go of your ego.