Oh dear me, how heartily amusing.
I ineptly managed to not-quite-center it, but don't worry, you're not missing anything. (High standards: I got 'em.)
(Edited to add: videos fixed - hurrah, etc. - with this clever chap's handy trick for easy video resizing. Thanks Kel!)
Holy sweet-smelling hilarity Batman, who would expect Dior to swallow this presumably very expensive lame Alfie Goes to Paris creation? Anyway, I assume that's where they were - I saw the Eiffel Tower, but then I had a brief choking fit and needed to leave for a moment to get a tissue and a glass of water. I expect at some stage Jude Law was powering down the Seine in a speedboat wielding a pistol in one hand and a bottle of Kronenbourg in the other.
(I'll bet as we speak Guy Ritchie is in talks to do the next James Bond film, entitled The Spy Who Sent Me Home in a Fucking Ambulance, starring Jude Law, with Danny Dyer as the villain.)
At least Mr Law gets to actually do some stuff. In her ad, poor Keira Knightly is required to rapidly flash a variety of facial expressions intended to concisely convey such diverse and complex emotions that it resembles a kind of facial voguing. Pensive, jolly, seductive, perky, stabby and goingsomewhereinahurry - they're all there.
All these faces are admittedly kind of similar, except for the one of extreme merriment excited by dabbing a little perfume on a man. And who wouldn't chortle at such a whimsical frolic? Someone made of stone, that's who.
Chanel have previous; I think they more or less invented this new oevre of perfume advertising where there are characters, conflicts, plots and subplots, an antihero, resolution and denouement lovingly teased out on the screen in, well, seconds. Just for fun, let's relive this one. All together now: "I'm a dahncer..."
I'm pretty sure this is just one more thing we can blame on Christmas.
You can blame this new post on Thanksgiving. Instead of chopping/baking/marinating/sautéeing/peeling/scrubbing/
I'm here, giving back to the people. I'm good that way.