The Jeremy Allen White phenomenon is a testament to the strategic alignment of smart marketers jumping on a pivotal moment in the career of a hard-working actor. White’s current prominence is not just a stroke of luck. It’s a carefully orchestrated manipulation of the zeitgeist. In the world of celebrity, seizing these moments and embracing them is an art form in itself. 

The Calvin Klein ads have no “idea” because none is needed. Yet, they’re more than just a showcase of clothing; they represent a profound transition of the actor’s journey. The absence of a specific “idea” is intentional, as it allows the visuals to speak for themselves.

The advertisements exquisitely capture White’s transformation from a seasoned actor to a full-blown celebrity. The work serves as a visual narrative of White’s journey, beautifully shot to convey the essence of this significant transition.

The strategic endorsement relies on the trust associated with the Calvin Klein brand, the impeccable quality of the productions and, most importantly, the years of dedication and hard work put in by Jeremy.

The association with Calvin Klein goes beyond mere aesthetics; it signifies a commitment to authenticity and a celebration of individuality. The ads leverage this dynamic, creating a powerful connection with the audience.

As viewers, we can delve deeper into White’s body of work, appreciating the nuances and evolution in his performances. The ads serve as a bridge between his accomplishments and the anticipation of what this artist will bring to the table in the future.

It’s a celebration not just of the actor’s body, but of the artistic prowess that brought him to this point. And, by extension, a sultry salute to the glories (and excesses) of popular culture, filtered through the lens of consumer goods and the allure of fame.

The Calvin Klein team deserves commendation for delivering content that transcends the superficial. The timing is impeccable, and the leap they took to produce such work at the right instant is a testament to their insight and understanding of the industry.

Jeremy Allen White’s body of work is now as much a topic of excitement as his physical presence. This synergy is a testament to the power of strategic marketing and the art of embracing transformative moments in the world of celebrity.

“Things come and they go. On and on and on,” Nas says. “They come, they test us. Sometimes they bring out our best. Sometimes they don’t.”

Something in the imagery, and the nature of the camera shots, brings us back to 1990s Calvin Klein—those long shadows and inquisitive stares, a voyeurism into the intimate moments of others. But it’s more relaxed into our current world, and less posed. It reinforces CK’s contemporary identity, which pairs the sense of being you au naturel with an almost revolutionary call to personal and spiritual authenticity.

Today’s Calvin Klein is more interested in the truth behind appearances, not just with delivering a constructed vibe. The days of stripping down Kate Moss are over. Hello, Savion Glover and God’s Son.

“It’s the struggle that makes us stronger. Look around. There’s something stirring,” Nas recites. “Hope isn’t an empty vessel. Hope is a notion. Hope is a verb. It’s an act of rebellion.”

Black artists are at the forefront—designing, dancing, setting the narrative tone. People of color confront the camera with their eyes. It is slow-moving but also intense, a biding of time in wait for something. The groundedness feels purposeful, heightened by magical surrealism.

The brand hopes this work will help young people “channel hope and optimism” while designing for the realities they like.

“Hope is power. And we got it,” Nas concludes. “Heron Preston for Calvin Klein.”

CREDITS

Director: Ricky Saiz
Creative Direction: Ricky Saiz, Antony Goldstein
Production Company: SMUGGLER
Executive Producer: Patrick Milling-Smith, Brian Carmody, Sue Yeon Ahn
Producer: Luigi Rossi
Production Supervisor: Gianfranco Svagelj

DOP: Ryan Helfant
Production Designer: Brittany Porter
Stylist: Heidi Bivens
Make Up: Jennifer Hanching
Hair: Jayson Medina

Editor: Adam Robinson
Colorist: Tom Poole
Score: James William Blades
Casting: Rachel Chandler, Midland Agency

Directed by Jonas Linstroem with Iconoclast, “I Speak My Truth” builds on the long-standing #MyCalvins platform. It’s still moody, and there’s still lots of underwear and wet hair, but it also feels punchy, modern and a smidge more diverse. 

The anthem ad, above, features musicians Chika, Shawn Mendes and Billie Eilish, as well as Netflix star Noah Centineo of The Perfect Date and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.

They all want to speak their truth. What is that truth?

For Eilish, framed by clouds that match her hair, the truth is that “you can’t fake authenticity.” Fair enough.

Eilish is a nice match for the brand, given CK’s history and where she is in the pop scene right now. She’s subversive, confusing, a little grungy and a compelling musical darling.

Like the brand, she also resists much specificity, which is maddening. But it would also be unfair to judge the overall campaign—or Eilish, or Calvin—by this annoyingly short video, more a photoshoot than an ad. 

Iconoclast also created longer pieces that feel more like a documentary, and that actually express something that feels true. 

Set to her song “When the Party’s Over,” in a separate :30 spot, Eilish talks about why she wears baggy clothes.

Mendes, stark and tidy-whitied à la Wahlberg, also appears in his own videos below, one after the other, in versions varnished and not. 

In her first video, Chika, reclined across a couch in an industrial space, makes a statement: “I am not a moment. I am a force to be reckoned with. I … am Chika.” 

Well, good on you, snowflake. But in the second video, which is one minute long, she freestyles, and the words are gorgeous and full of feeling.

Lastly we’ve got Netflix darling Centineo, mostly submerged in water in the first video. “Sexy as fuck, they say? Nah,” he smirks. “I’ll take wacky as fuck.” 

If you saw that video on its own, you’d probably hate that guy. We did. The one below’s a lot more relatable, closer to the guy we like in his movies, scarred and vaguely broken. 

In sum, the campaign is positioned as featuring “today’s most influential voices telling their own stories, in their own words,” with an invitation for others to do the same. As demonstrated, it features each influencer in a :15 variant and a longer one. 

These variants are strange when paired. Each first video feels tightly produced, a study in what casting directors call “good sides”—more brand masturbation than anything remotely approaching truthfulness. 

If we had to judge the campaign on these pieces alone (and indeed, they were the only ones sent to us), we’d accuse Calvin Klein of failing to grow up, to understand the difference between the world we left and the one we’re in now. They’re just too polished, uncommitted to anything concrete; their hair is still wet. 

But in the longer variants, CK steps out of those acid-washed trousers and into something approaching imperfect, touching reality. The glimpses are small, but feel honest, at least. 

Seen side by side, we understand, better, what we’re looking at. Marketing today is mostly video, thus mostly social, and mostly glimpses of “real” but “influential” people, cut into snackable variants to accommodate a variety of different media specifications. In the first videos we see Calvin being Calvin, giving everybody a nice, slick photoshoot; and then we see the truths themselves, blissfully undressed, and that’s a lot nicer than more underwear shots. 

But why have both, so starkly different?

The world’s changed, a lot, in 20 years. When last we left Calvin and its Kates and its Marks, Kurt Cobain died and his published journals felt like a precious glimpse into a famous, broken soul, back before social hosed all that at us on a daily basis. 

Then we were saturated by “influence”—gorgeous images, lives we can barely approach from a stylistic perspective, even when they’re people we know: food porn, gorgeous vacations, #blessed with those insufferable praying hands. 

Now we’re reckoning with the end of the influencer, and influencers themselves are abandoning the tightly terraced Instagram aesthetic that made them famous in the first place. We’re running out of trust in institutions, trust in social media, and are angling for something that matters more than looking cool and being skinny; the biggest descriptor of burgeoning Gen Z right now is activism.

The end result of all this is that we’ve all become marketers of ourselves and also of our respective missions and passions. We are all actively, mercilessly policed by one another, even as we all struggle to be something better and more meaningful than a cog or a selfie. 

The contrast of both video styles together says something about that truth—that where we are has become a complex negotiation of our curated, social media-ready selves and how we actually move in the world. It remains unclear which of those truths will win.

CREDITS

Production Company: Iconoclast
Director: Jonas Lindstroem
Managing Director: Charles-Marie Anthonioz
Executive Producer: Jean Mougin
Producer: Grace Bodie
DP: Chayse Irvin
Editorial: Rock Paper Scissors
Editor: Jamie Foord
VFX: The Mill