It has been almost a month since HBO Max repositioned as Max and: Lo! The sky has not fallen.
Indeed, according to Warner Bros Discovery, about 70 percent of its HBO Max customers have transitioned to the new Max platform, and the remaining 30 percent are soon to be targeted in the company’s “no sub left behind” campaign.
Of course, it is still early days. There are technical gremlins yet to be nixed, and the company must ensure that its content has the quality and depth to compete in a contested space. No platform can be Switzerland in the relentless streaming wars, and no brand is stronger than the quality of its product. Even so, it is hard to reconcile the present state of consumer acquiescence with the frothing outrage (and gleeful taunting) that greeted Max’s rebrand, slamming everything from the business concept to the specific hue of “start-up blue.”
Rebranding in the age of crowdsourced snark is a blood sport. Before social media, identity innovations might inspire trade-journal analysis or, if truly egregious, provoke wonk-ish newspaper comment.
However, brand vigilantes and Monday-morning typographers (including, on occasion, your present correspondent) seize upon even the tiniest tweak to a logo, tagline, sonic chirp or Pantone chip.
So, how seriously should companies take us knee-jerk jerks who instantly vivisect their (usually well-intentioned and sometimes deeply researched) rebrands? Recent history offers some clues.
In 2009, when the Sci Fi Channel became Syfy (both to de-geek the brand and establish trademarkable intellectual property), NPR derided it as “The goofiest rebranding in quite some time,” and the Colbert Report mocked: “Good for you, nerd network, for spelling your name as it sounds ... the tide is turning in my long-fought battle against the insidious ‘soft C.’”
In 2010, when Apple had the temerity to delete the compact disc from its iTunes 10 logo (because digital music was outselling physical), WIRED magazine published this e-mail exchange between a random designer, Joshua Kopac, and Apple chief executive officer Steve Jobs:
Kopac: “Steve, enjoyed the presentation today. But ... this new iTunes logo really sucks. You’re taking 10+ years of instant product recognition and replacing it with an unknown. Let’s both cross our fingers on this.”
Jobs: “We disagree.”
In 2011, when Starbucks dropped its name from its logo (thereby becoming a brandsperanto pioneer), Nigel Hollis wrote in the Harvard Business Review: “If the name ‘Starbucks’ is so strongly associated with coffee that you have to remove the name in order to launch another product, does that not suggest that the corporate strategy is out of synch with customer understanding?”
(Starbucks’ stock price in January 2011 was US$16.35; it is now about US$101.)
In 2016, when Instagram abandoned its skeuomorphic camera for flatland gradients, the New York Times ran a story headlined “The great Instagram logo freakout of 2016,” which quoted Farhad Manjoo: “All is lost. Instagram will never be the same again.”
In 2019, when Zara unveiled a new tightly kerned wordmark, publications as diverse as Buzzfeed, Bustle, Teen Vogue and the Daily Mail ran gleeful roundups of withering Tweets.
Similar indignation followed the rebrands of Slack, The Met, Dunkin’ Donuts, British Telecom, Pringles and eBay — to name but a few. Yet, by holding its nerve, each of these identities survived the test of Twitter and, in some cases, set a new trajectory. See, famously, the cascading impact of Yves Saint Laurent’s bold debranding.
Which is not to say the mob is always wrong. Indeed, some rebrands only prove that there are bad ideas in a brainstorm.
The sledgehammer indicator is usually sales. In 2009, Tropicana’s infamous rebrand — which saw the straw-pierced orange replaced by a banal glass of OJ — was pulled after less than two months when unit sales fell by 20 percent while competitors such as Minute Maid, Florida’s Natural and Tree Ripe enjoyed double-digit rises.
Sometimes the ejector seat is deployed before sales have a chance to nosedive. In 2010, the risible GAP rebrand was dumped after just six days, following what the company diplomatically called “an outpouring of comments from customers and the online community in support of the iconic blue logo.”
More often, though, companies take time to bow to the inevitable and/or to justify the treasure squandered on a fool’s errand. See, for instance, the boomerang rebrand of Kraft.
Inevitably, consumer packaged goods are more instantly buffeted by social-media squalls and falling sales than big-ticket items, subscriptions or vital services (just ask the CEO of Bud Light).
However, even those companies that are buffered from immediate outrage rebrand at their peril where deeply held aesthetic values are at stake.
Two British rebrands serve as cautionary tales. First, the 1997 decision by British Airways to abandon its patriotic livery for “ethnic art from across the world,” which former British prime minister Margaret Thatcher consigned to the dustbin of design with a fold of her handkerchief.
And second, the barbarous 2001 reimagining of Royal Mail as Consignia — which cost about ￡2 million (US$2.53 million) and lasted just 16 months.
What, then, can companies do to ensure their rebrands enter the rough and tumble of social media with a better than average chance of survival?
Show your work: Do not just Tweet out a logo, set out your strategy. Modern consumers are remarkably brand savvy and loyal customers enjoy feeling part of the process. Airbnb’s 2014 rebrand might have been fleetingly controversial for its sexual undertones and awkward similarities, but the company’s elegantly executed explanation still resonates.
Plan a multi-stage response. The first Tweet cut is often the deepest, but it need not leave a scar. Rebrands should brace for criticism and plan a multi-stage response that anticipates most stages of New York Magazine’s “Undulating Curve of Shifting Expectations”: Pre-buzz > buzz > rave reviews > saturation point > overhyped > backlash > backlash to the backlash.
For example, by encouraging artists to interpret its controversial new “We Love NYC” identity, the New York City Partnership Foundation clearly hopes to outlast the instant outrage and ease into the mainstream.
Get ahead of the curve: The fury that followed George Floyd’s murder in May 2020 prompted a phalanx of American icons to abandon their racially insensitive brands. Yet, the real outrage of Aunt Jemima, Mrs Butterworth’s and Uncle Ben’s rebranding is that it took so long. By the time you are one of the crowd, you are one of the crowd. An interesting example of early-curve rebranding came from McDonald’s, which in 2008 began replacing its garish red signage in sites across Europe for more eco-alluding green.
Know when to fold: Not every brand innovation is targeted by the confected Tucker Carlson takedown that greeted M&M’s updated “spokescandies.”
Sometimes a regrettable toe-dip into passing fashion can be undone without too much fanfare — as Arby’s proved when it abandoned its dalliance with sans serif text and beveled extrusion, and returned to its cowboy-inspired slab-lettered heritage.
Be not afraid: Any brand that does not plan a path for change is changing beyond its control. Some brands evolve in increments subtle enough to make a connoisseur squint — see Porsche’s latest crest. Others make bold leaps of blue-sky thinking — see BP’s 2001 cynical greenwashing sunburst.
However, most attempt a middle course by marrying modernity with heritage — see Budweiser’s crisp 2016 refresh.
Just as mattressing cash combines a simulacrum of security with the certainty of losing against inflation, so failing to evolve your brand comes with an inevitable cost. Companies should not let our current climate of instant outrage cow them into brand-damaging stasis or milquetoast cowardice — not least because critics (like me) seldom enjoy a monopoly of wisdom.
Ben Schott is Bloomberg Opinion’s advertising and brands columnist.
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