There’s Breakfast

at Tiffany’s, the classic that turned 45 this year, and just as many stomachs. The Coca-Cola Kid hung out with Cadillac Man before packing a Colt .45 and standing in line to see Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle.

Okay, that was as subtle as an Ayn Rand dialogue; the nearest cadaver’s id and superego got the point. Still, before brands grew up (and for good reason, paranoid), it was kinda neat-o for a feature film to use a product name in its title. Gosh, that’s swell, marketers thought. They like us. They really really like us.

Hell — even this summer, when The Devil Wears Prada, the anti-christ will have never enjoyed so much target demo mindshare.

But just like most things, the innocence of brand inclusion went the way of the Sta-Puff Marshmallow Man long ago. Recently, it’s taken a turn for the weird. I guess in some ways this trend kinda reminds me of the creepy hero-worship feeling I had when I watched Hollywood slobber all over #23 in Space Jam. Michael Jordan was the supernatural focus of the animated subject matter, yes; but in actuality, the whole thing ended up a superliminal music-video-tisement for the coming of the logo Jumpman.

But I digest. Well, that was, until I saw the title of the upcoming United 93.

Now I’m not about to launch into a 9/11 diatribe that could instantly consume every precious petabyte on the web and bring the whole damn thing down for a few seconds. (I watched the planes hit that morning from the street below, so this isn’t some pedantic attempt at shock blog bullshit; I’m forever distorted.) Rather, I'll just make a calm prediction.

But before I do, I want to admit openly that I don’t know what the official licensing agreement is (if there is one) between United Airlines and Universal Pictures. And that’s not for lack of looking.

Now here it is (and you read it here first): someday brands will pay NOT to be involved — in writ, mention, or image — with media vehicles.

Go to the site and just look at the title logo. Then read below it — “From the Acclaimed Director of Bloody Sunday and The Bourne Supremacy.”

Someone other than Holly Golightly, please make me understand.

I know I represent the mere fractional percentage of the U.S. population that witnessed the New York, New York; Washington, D.C.; and Shanksville, Pennsylvania events first-hand — so I and others like me make for an audience disincentive that’s laughable by Hollywood standards. All the same, without a clear, upfront message of cinema proceeds going to charity or some such cause, I'm going on-record as saying I’m so nauseated by the idea of the movie, of the title, of the consummation of United Airlines and Universal Pictures, of the Ameri-common betrayal/alienation of the thousands lost and their families, that I (of all loudmouths) am at a loss for words.