What’s the idea again?

Sometimes it’s just four guys saying “Wassup?”

Housekeeping: I’m taking an August break. If your need for Tony Blair quotes, Roger Federer forehands or fuel duty revenues is urgent, please head here, here or here.

Sometimes, in my quiet moments, when I’m waiting for my Samsung washing machine to play its little ditty and my resentment log is fully up to date, I think about the gap between idea and execution.

For instance, do you remember the ubiquitous Budweiser “Wassup” advert? The premise was several guys watching sport in their own homes, calling each other up on the phone and asking, “Wassup?” To which the answer was, “Watching the game, havin’ a Bud.”

Such was its cultural breakthrough (ads held that power in the pre-streaming, algorithmic social media era) that Thierry Henry mimicked it in his celebration of *that* goal against Manchester United at Highbury in October 2000.

I have no idea why this campaign was so successful. For that, you’ll need to ask your neighbourhood marketeer. What I do suspect is that the creatives at DDB Chicago didn’t come up with it following a 14-page brief. I mean, what’s the core idea here? Guys on the phone saying “What’s up?”

What can be surmised is an ordinary situation, the use of a phone as dramatic device and increasingly absurdist repetition — all serving to make Budweiser shorthand for hanging out with your mates. It’s not that there is no idea here, it’s just that, like the beer in question, it’s pretty thin gruel.

The clearest inverse to this example comes not from another 30-second advert but an entire feature film. Yesterday, written by Richard Curtis and directed by Danny Boyle, rests on a single idea: that a jobbing musician wakes up in a world where The Beatles never existed and discovers he’s the only person who remembers their songs.

It’s a clean, high-concept hook that, for obvious reasons, also contains a lot of great music. But somewhere in the first act, it becomes clear that the filmmakers lose confidence that the idea, strong as it is, can sustain an entire picture. Consequently, the thing descends into gimmicky romantic comedy with plot holes big enough to drive a Yellow Submarine through.

So, the film centres on “average-looking, moderately talented musician gets famous by pretending Beatles songs are his.” When it could instead have explored the question of what happens to the world when the Beatles — and by extension a fair chunk of modern culture — never existed.

The film does briefly nod to this when the protagonist googles Britpop band Oasis, only to find no results. Before retreating to its “Oh, gosh, English people can’t express their feelings” comfort zone. At which point, the whole thing would have been better off serving as a five-minute SNL sketch with tight pacing and pop stars.

Imagine (see what I did there) musical guest Ed Sheeran realising he’d discovered a billion-dollar back catalogue and after a little confusion, having a duet with Kate McKinnon. I’d watch.

Here’s the not quite M. Night Shyamalan twist, though. And why, after all that, the gap between idea and execution isn’t always so clear: “Wassup” wasn’t even an original idea.