ZUZU F.C.

(I wrote this post a week before Zlatan announced his retirement, so this POV becomes also a shoutout to one of the greatest. #GODBYE lion.)

How would you feel if, before futebol practice, work, or, I don’t know, mowing your lawn, you heard the thunderous voice of the Viking center-forward Zlatan Ibrahimovic giving you a pep talk? That grass would have wished it’d never grown, I’ll tell you that much. 

This is the concept behind the anthem spot “The Inner Voice” that launched the Swede footballer sportswear clothing line, A—Z. 

Because it wasn’t his Nike boots or whatever Gatorade he drinks that made him confident enough to believe that hitting the net with a Tae Kwon Do air volley 35 meters away from the goal is actually pretty doable—It was his relentless mindset. That little voice inside of us all. 

My little voice tells me things like, “It’s ok to eat a whole bar of Snickers before bed. No way it’ll give you nightmares.” But Zlatan’s little voice tells you to rip out the tongues of your critics and use them as your meat. Metaphorically speaking, of course! It’s clever because it found a universal truth that hits us personally. 

An ad with a killer concept it’s hard to come by these days. Most of today is pretty much 😩. And when there’s one, it lacks proper execution. Not “Inner Voice,” amigos and amigas. This is a cinematic jewel. Now, let’s understand why. 

The opening scene is such a great piece of storytelling. A close-up shot of a kid, a young boxer, game face on, staring at himself in the mirror. We hear Zlatan’s voice in beast mode “Alright…” The mirror cracks! Did you notice that? Such a subtle-not-so-subtle way to connect his voice with the action. There’s no setup, making the scene demand our attention. Who’s this kid? Is this voice his own? From the first frame, we’re trying to piece elements together, and that keeps us engaged.

Then, we’re off. Tension builds with every cut. And every frame, by the way, feels mega dramatic. You can close your eyes and pause it at any point, print it, frame it, and hang it on your wall. Regardless, it will look dope af. 

The imagery reaches surreal levels, like, my favorite scene, a beat-up futebol ball floating in a bedroom as it would in space, a planet futebol, with a baseball orbiting around it. Does it mean futebol is the center of the whole goddamn universe?? 

Notice how that WTF moment is balanced with scenes that ground you again with the story. Remember the line about using your critic’s tongue (meaning words) as your meat (meaning fuel)? The line ending is punctuated by the female tennis player hitting the crap out of the ball on a serve. That’s just 👌.

Shooting in black & white was a choice to amp up the dramatics of his voice against the picture. The aesthetic reminds me of the terrific “Iron” by the maybe-a-little-too-hipster Woodkid. It suspends reality. The story being told is not happening in real life. So, buckle up cuz’ we’re entering the Zlatan-verse. 

Music & SFX. Two crucial storytelling elements that, more often than not, are overlooked. Always first when budget cuts happen. Quite the opposite here. The sense of unease comes from the sounds creeping up on us, rattling our cages. They feed off each other making an elastic band effect that stretches and stretches, creating a sensation it could snap at any moment. 

To top it off, we have the Nordic legend himself voicing his carefully crafted words of encouragement. It’s the needle that threads this masterpiece together. He recites every word like poetry. A badass one. The diversity of people and sports and the contrast of his voice spoken by a teenage girl and a roughed boxer gives an omnipresent feel to his speech. 

Every word of every sentence was thought out to sound like it was coming from Zlatan. No excesses or elaborations. His energy level grows in sync with the scenes and sounds until his last word, “YOU!” hits you like a Zlatan blow would probably feel—an equine kick to the teeth that knocks you cold.  And kudos to the big man. He’s a natural. I bet he nailed the voiceover in one take and rode back home through the snow on a black horse. Without a saddle. 

The ending brings all the elements together but with a twist, throwing a sophisticated element of surprise. When everything pushes us to feel an eruption, an atomic explosion at the end, there’s a hard cut into a graceful and anti-climatic montage. Damn. What a way to zag it. 

There you have it, amigos and amigas. A rare piece of storytelling that does more than promote a brand. It leaves us with the rare feeling we can do anything we set our minds to. So, next time you need a metaphorical slap in the face before that corporate league playoff game or just to tackle a mountain of laundry (so many loose socks), I recommend it on repeat. Golaço.