Lawrence Leung: Why these commercials live in my head rent-free

We all have those tiny pop cultural artefacts that get stuck in our heads.

You might be trying to sleep and suddenly you think about Taylor's scarf around Jake Gyllenhaall's neck. You are in a parking lot and you picture Elon Musk smashing his Tesla's window with a sledgehammer. You're stuck in a supermarket queue and you start humming Lube Mobile's jingle from your childhood. Maybe it's just me.

Whenever I'm stuck in a sticky situation, like forgetting to top up my Myki card, I can't help but think about the shifty problem-solving sociopaths from those Mentos commercials. Don't know what I mean? Good for you, but I am still haunted decades later by their brazen and frankly alien-like behaviour to get out of petty predicaments.

The Mentos Cinematic Universe (MCU)

The Netherlands confectionary company Van Melle wanted their Mentos brand to go global, so in 1991 they engaged a German ad agency to make commercials that mimicked American TV and behaviour. The result was a decade of unnerving 30 second fever-dreams that probably resemble what an AI bot would script if you entered the words: "White Person Problem-solving Mint."

Each edition in the Mentos Cinematic Universe usually features a Young White Guy faced with a first-world problem like being denied entry to a sold-out concert. He alleviates his disappointment by swallowing a Mentos which causes a flush of insight (represented by over-acting). But it's not the life lesson of: "I should queue earlier next time?" or "Maybe I should've booked ahead" or "Why am I at this concert with no friends?"

With a dose of Mentos-enhanced entitlement, the character executes a self-serving scheme, like disguising as a roadie and swiping some musical equipment in order to bypass security guards. Bizarrely, there are no negative consequences for these Mentos Junkies.

No judgement, just bleached smiles and emphatic approval. When the ticket-booth operator (whom previously denied him entry) sees him trespassing, the mint-fuelled intruder simply gives her a wink and holds up his Mentos packet like some Illuminati Get-out-of-Jail-Free Card.

Defying all laws of plausibility in the known universe, she smiles back with admiration and lets him get away with it. Everyone is so unnervingly cheerful in this hallucinogenic fantasy.

And don't get me started on the jingle. It's a toddler's jumble of words that makes less sense the more you look at it: "It doesn't matter what comes, fresh goes better in life". What does that even mean? It's less a jingle, more a ritualist chant of a cult that worships someone called The Freshmaker.

A (minty fresh) story as old as time

Perhaps the most brazen example of minty-flavoured toxic privilege comes from this 1996 ad known as WEDDING.

It features a story as old as time. Good-looking poster-boy meets soccer ball, loses soccer ball, must win soccer ball again … with the help of Mentos.

His ball has flown over the fence into his neighbour's luxurious mansion where a wedding reception is in full swing. The haughty father of the bride (who's dressed like a Monopoly game tycoon) takes one look at Mentos Dudebro's oversized T-shirt and 90s Brendan Fraser haircut and refuses entry.

Not to be deterred, Mentos Dudebro grins with the confidence of a young guy who has had multiple drink-driving offences annulled by his rich lawyer dad. He spies the bride and groom and has a brainwave — perhaps recalling a Mentos ad he once saw about a guy just like him who snuck into a sold-out rock concert: "If it can work him, impulsive self-assured trespassing can work for me."

He steals roses from an expensive flower arrangement and strolls up to the bride and shoves them at her. I suppose the plan means winning favour with the couple means winning favour with Dad — who has oddly been guarding access to a soccer ball, but not his daughter.

And this is where the typical Mentos ad should end. Problem solved! However, this Dudebro thinks: "To hell with it! I have a Mentos packet to wave around! I am entitled to get away with anything." So instead of simply retrieving his ball, he leans in and tries to steal a kiss from the bride. She recoils in disgust. The groom is equally astonished by this deviation from the usual Mentos Ad formula.

With ball in hand, the Dudebro goes to leave and catches the eye of the father of the bride. Dudebro pops a mint and holds up the confectionary packet. The bride's dad smiles back, beaming happily. Mentos — The Consent Maker.

The uncanny universe has made a comeback

The Mentos Multiverse of Madness ended around 1999 when sales of the mints levelled off, yet it is still immortalised in memory as one of the strangest ad campaigns of all time. 

I thought the world had finally escaped this minty psychosis from my childhood, but the uncanny universe is back.

These often feature similarly grinning Dudebros (suspiciously born around the same time as those Mentos ads!) in alien-like performances of unrestricted happiness and utter self-assurance. 

Or perhaps I've been wrong all along. As I doom-scroll through a newsfeed of wars, pandemic, natural disasters and petrol prices, maybe a little happiness is what we all deserve. Maybe, the fresh does go better in life.

In ABC Everyday's 'Rent Free' column, writers share the videos that have stayed in their heads (rent free).