It’s a warm, emotional campaign that tugs at the heartstrings. But, my ‘positioning’ concerns for the car remain
I quite like the earthiness and joie de vivre of the Tata Nano commercial. In fact, this treatment one expected for the brand, so that's cool.
But before I discuss the creative, a strategic point on Nano: It's NOT a one-lakh rupee car as we all know, for even the most basic model is priced much more than that for on-road. But by repeatedly announcing that it costs just a lakh, the Tatas have positioned it as the broke bugger's car, so there's zero status associated with the brand. And status is paramount in this category, across all segments. I mean, what's the point in buying a car if the peers perceive you as a poor man? May as well invest in a jazzy bike, and not worry about parking blues. This perhaps explains Nano's sluggish sales. In short, the Nano is stuck in the price/image conundrum, and it's difficult to see how they will work their way out of this self-created chakravyuh.
However, the ad itself is nicely done. It features a little, small-town girl excitedly awaiting delivery of the family's first car, the Nano. And she goes ballistic when she spots it arriving. The Nano is a big hit in her mohalla, as all the other residents eye it curiously, jealously. Along the way we notice the car negotiating a rough terrain. A passerby admires the size. So the functional cues are also taken care of. Finally, the little girl, worried about the neighbour's 'buri nazar', applies a black tikka on the Nano-warm, emotional treatment that tugs at the heartstrings. The setting and target audiences are bang on too. So, no issues on the creative. But it's wishful thinking, really.
Because like I said, my 'positioning' concerns for the car remain. To be honest, I actually want to buy the Nano because I adore small cars. Not just for the mileage, but because of Mumbai's pathetic driving conditions where your car takes a hit now and then. And it makes sense to invest in a cheap car as repairs don't make a serious dent in your pocket. I live close to a Tata showroom, and I often stop by to stare longingly at the little car, but just don't have the heart to make a booking. Because I am paranoid that my pals/peers will snigger, 'Saala Thakraney ekdum bhikhari ho gayaa!' And mind you, this would be the case even if I lived in Ajmer's Babu Mohalla.
Yes, the Tatas will find a way to stop the odd Nano from catching fire. But I have no idea how they will deal with the marketing inferno. — Anil Thakraney