Is John Lewis' Gifting Hour the perfect Christmas gift for Adland?

I don’t usually write about ads on LinkedIn.

Partly because I’m a nobody in advertising, and mostly because work-related discussions often descend into derision and chaos—folks bickering over whether something’s brilliant or terrible, with neither side convincing the other of its case.

In short, pointless.

However, this year, I’ve seen an ad I feel is genuinely worth writing about/getting into a scrap over. For the first time in a long time, my cold heart has been warmed by an absolute cracker of a Crimbo ad: Saatchi & Saatchi's The Gifting Hour for John Lewis.

It’s no surprise everyone’s banging on about the ad because it’s marvellous. First off, it’s got proper storytelling. We all talk a good fight when it comes to storytelling in advertising—yes, it’s in my CV intro too—but let’s be honest, we rarely come close. Disney and Dickens tell stories. A "Two for Tuesdays" social post not so much. But this ad? This one delivers storytelling. Beautifully.

It evokes all the emotion and drama of a Richard Curtis movie (I’m digging the About Time vibes) and reminds me of the turbulent-yet-authentic relationship Fleabag has with her sister. Driven by feeling, it's ultimately human and, recognising that, taps into one of the most powerful and poignant ways to connect with people: nostalgia.

Now, I imagine I’m part of the target audience—someone 40 or older, bemused by how mid-life has crept up unnoticed. Whose kids have seemingly gone from toddlers to teens overnight. Whose older siblings are suddenly looking older. And whose once-invincible parents have become frail or, heartbreakingly, are no longer here. An audience who, every so often, finds itself yearning for simpler, safer times. Longing for the people and relationships of the past. Dwelling on what was once wonderful but will never be again.

That’s why this ad is a two-footer right in the feels.

The scene where the protagonist wells up, unable to spend time with her (presumably deceased) mother, followed by her hugging her young sister on the sofa—an embrace that’s both a thank you and a goodbye—is incredibly bittersweet. Then squeezing all that emotion into two fleeting minutes is a masterstroke that mirrors the brevity of life itself.

Its true dexterity lies in delivering these melancholic moments delicately and subtly. Most ads that attempt emotional storytelling have their hearts in the right place but end up being too cumbersome, obvious or overt, missing the mark and becoming saccharine or cynical. This ad is spot on (and knows the importance of finishing with a genuinely heartfelt happy ending).

It looks gorgeous too. The cinematography is sublime, the production value oozes the brand and showing our hero in an actual John Lewis store, shopping, last minute, was a fitting and important touch.

Last year, I wasn’t impressed with the Flytrap ad. It left me rather flat. I’m a simple bloke—I want Christmas ads to make me feel warm and fuzzy (or at least feel something). That said, while I didn’t love Snapper, I admired it was doing something different after leaping from the Adam&EveDDB nest (not to mention Saatchis hadn’t long taken over the account).

This year, though, they’ve absolutely nailed it. They’ve taken the Christmas ad to a contemporary, mature and authentic place. That’s not to knock the incredible work done over the past decade or so—you don’t get ads like this without The Long Wait. But this feels like a turning point. Just as Adam&EveDDB essentially invented the modern Christmas ad in the UK, Saatchis seem to be ushering in a new era of storytelling (their Waitrose Whodunnit? nods to a similar shift too). So, when people have criticised Saatchis’ previous efforts, it’s only fair to celebrate its current triumph. Particularly in a time when the value of creativity is being questioned, people are paying to block ads and AI is rubbing its grubby little algorithms together.

Yes, folks will grumble that anyone working with a brand like John Lewis, with their cashmere budgets and a whopping 120 seconds to play with, could come up with this. But I’m not convinced. Making very good stuff is very hard.

Is it perfect? No. Will some folks come for me in the comments with torches and pitchforks? Probably. But as a customer more so than a Creative Director, this ad flies pretty close to flawless. And when you factor in the countless people, processes, and immense pressure behind it—in the industry and the real world (funny we call it that)—creating something this close to pitch-perfect is true testament to the team and is deserving of all its plaudits. This feels like a big win for Saatchis—and Adland—and I hope John Lewis' tills ring as loudly as this season's Christmas bells.

Even the print ads got me. One, in particular, tells the story of a parent's purpose waning when their kids have left home, symbolised by the redundancy of a teapot. A bloody teapot! Subtext. Metaphor. Product shot. I doff my Santa's hat.

Finally, I’ve watched the ad a handful of times and have kept wondering: What is it about this ad that’s making me tell the missus I’ve got something in both my eyes? While there are a myriad of things working together to elicit an emotional response, there is one thing that hits hardest: the song. Oofff. The story is emotional, the execution stunning, and the time-travel device potent—but it’s the song that does the heavy lifting. It's raw and untouched and absolutely floors me. I think I heard Orlando Wood and Jon Evans mention on their podcast Never Mind the Adverts that if you want to connect deeply with your audience during a TV spot, use a song that was popular when they were 19. I was 15 when Sonnet came out. Close enough.

(Side note: #Disney also use this trick in their latest spot, featuring an instrumental of Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid—one of my 38-year-old wife’s favourite childhood songs).

There are other Christmas ads this year that have restored my faith in advertising. Disney's The Boy & The Octopus and Sainsbury’s BFG-inspired Big Christmas spring to mind. But, for me, this masterclass in storytelling is undoubtedly the shining star atop Adland’s tree this year.