The consolations of candy

I’ll always remember a commercial for a brand of nothing-special wrapped candy from the years I lived in Italy. The production values were modest, as was the marketing claim, but the take-away has enduring resonance in real life (IRL).

We open on a fixed camera mid-shot of a teenage girl on a couch. In front of her is a coffee table and on the table is a bowl of wrapped candy. You wouldn’t call her bella, but she’s carina (cute/pretty) in an appealing, wholesome way. She’s maybe 16. Definitely very sad. Given the mysteries of teenage misery it’s impossible to determine the cause. Didn’t get a party invitation? Boyfriend problem? Botched exam? Fatal diagnosis? An earthquake in Abruzzo took her home and family? Sad melodic music plays in the background.

With the measured lethargy of a Warhol movie, her sad (lightly mascared) eyes lift to the candy bowl as the camera slowly pushes in and slowly, slowly she leans forward, picks a candy, unwraps it and slips it in her mouth. The slightest wisp of a smile lifts her pretty face, noticeable only because we’ve been so fixed on her sadness.

The background music shifts oh so slowly and a comforting male voice intones: “Non è tutto, ma aiuta” (It’s not everything, but it helps). Dissolve to candy and logo and out.

I think of the modest message at least weekly in gardening, housekeeping, writing sympathy cards, ironing, exercising, all the activities of living. Non è tutto, ma aiuta.

About Pamela Schoenewaldt

Pamela Schoenewaldt, historical novels of immigration and the search for self in new worlds: WHEN WE WERE STRANGERS, SWIMMING IN THE MOON, and UNDER THE SAME BLUE SKY (all HarperCollins).