Confidence. With it, the homeliest bugger on the bus can win the beauty queen. Without it, even the studliest hunk in creation will one day find his underwear yanked high and looped around his ears. Like it or not, confidence is a huge part of what makes a guy, a man.

Recognizing this little truism has been exploited time immemorial by advertisers desperate to goad dudes of all stripes into buying their various wares. They hector us incessantly about their product being “the one” that will finally supply whatever confidence we have been subconsciously convinced that we lack (see Rogaine and its entire brand existence for proof of this axiom).

So when your bailiwick is male grooming it’s only natural that Gillette would hone in on the confidence bug big time. Besides, it sort of goes without saying that one of the first physical confidence boosts a guy gets in his life is that inaugural sprouting of hair where it did not previously exist. Truly, confidence lurks in the strangest of places. Lucky for Gillette.

Enter the homage. Now, homages are always big in advertising. For a comparatively small investment they can piggyback on the cultural weight or emotional recognition certain memorably famous properties offer. For example, Guitar Hero has worked their own Risky Business homage to the point where even they had to blow it up (with Metallica’s help). Anyway, the homage in question used by Gillette is Saturday Night Fever in general, and specifically the career-making, opening walk that made John Travolta something of a man-god when it came to the embodiment of self-confidence.

The commercial starts off with an almost shot for shot recreation of the movie’s original opening sequence. We focus in on what quickly turns out to be Derek Jeter’s feet as he strides down the sidewalk. The camera pans up to show Jeter acting all foxy fab in his faux seventies get-up. Cut to, another pair of shoes. This time it’s some saddle-styled golf spikes belonging to guess who. As Tiger Woods strides into frame, also checking himself out, he spies his own shoes in the window all Tony Manero-like and nods. The pair fist bump and keep on truckin’ together until they come across Roger Federer, who is sporting some massive- soled, disco man-pumps. He gives them both a smile and a smirk along with a fairly competent point and side-slide (aka The Sprinkler) as the Bee Gees unmistakable sound envelops the whole commercial in late seventies funk. Finally, text crosses the screen - “Here’s to confidence.” You see, the whole idea is that these dudes are so freakin’ confident that they can dress up all funny and act silly without looking foolish. At least that’s what I think the plan was. How it came off? Well……

I swear. Jeter’s opening stroll looked like he was walking back to the dugout with a full diaper. He came across so ill at ease with himself and the whole commercial that it was embarrassing. Tiger is even worse. He seems to have resorted to focusing on some inner monologue where he chants over and over to himself “must fulfill contractual obligations, must fulfill contractual obligations.” I’ll give Federer some credit in that he looks like he’s at least trying to have fun but its strained fun at best. And as a group they all look like they’ve been duped into doing something they know they’ll live to regret. How this is the best way to show confidence is beyond me. Gillette has somehow managed to make their three alpha male icons into one solid doof trifecta.

Now I know Gillette went and signed endorsement deals with these guys that should be in effect well after the sun cooks us all (or about 6 years and 8 months or so according to the Gore-acle) and I’m sure they’re starting to run out of ideas for commercials that don’t require these stiffs to act or memorize anything. Gillette is not inspiring confidence in anyone with this spot.

Still, if someone is so insecure that they really do figure they need a certain razor or a Tag watch or a BMW to properly face some skirt in a bar then they’re already screwed worse than they were hoping to be. What happens when you lose the required flow and you’re forced to drive a Hyundai? You either figure out that confidence comes from within or you resign yourself to weekends at home watching re-runs of Wipeout - forever.