Takuma Takasaki × YouTube. What exactly is the difference between video and film, anyway?

Since the state of emergency was declared, I've been walking a lot more. I've consistently maintained an average of about 12,000 steps.

With the shift to remote work, my life changed drastically. I felt my autonomic nervous system slowly getting worn down by the new environment, thinking "This is bad," so I consciously started creating rhythms. Routines reduce stress. They give shape to the day, which can otherwise feel vague. For some reason, though, I haven't lost weight.

The hardest part of going remote is losing that comfort time right after a presentation goes wrong.

I'm painfully aware now of how much I relied on those gentle words in the elevator with just my colleagues: "But I really liked that proposal," or "Mr./Ms. XX had a good reaction."

With Teams or Zoom, the moment you hit the exit button, you're alone. No one says anything anymore. Only the fact that you flopped weighs heavily on your heart.

How reassuring it was to see juniors looking even more frustrated than me, or colleagues immediately strategizing next steps. We've traded that "commute home" kind of wasted time for convenience. Turns out, wasted time was pretty important after all.

Ah, I should get to the main point. Recently, I launched a project called TRACK with several young creatives from Dentsu Inc. Creative Bureau. It's a team focused primarily on developing video content for influencers. To put it simply, it's video planning for YouTubers.

When I mention this project, most people give me a look that says, "Why Takasaki?" And those who give me that look are usually older guys. The type who are shocked to find new employees don't even have TVs in their rooms anymore. That said, I was pretty much that type myself until just a little while ago.

Where exactly is the line between video and film?

When the first state of emergency was declared, I started studying YouTubers. I didn't really understand how this business model worked, and I'd never thought about where it was headed.

I vaguely accepted the TV vs. YouTube structure at face value. For me, the difference between video and film was enormous. I drew a line: film is something constructed with something to convey, while video is something funny that just happened to be captured.

That's why I resisted calling my own creations "videos." I decided I wouldn't make stuff like kittens crammed into a pot—because I couldn't compete with that. I believed video's role was to record interesting facts, and that the appeal of nonfiction was fundamentally different from the appeal of fiction.

Having spent my life agonizing over differences like film versus video, I guess I'd somehow forced myself to accept that distinction. When I discussed it with younger colleagues, they mostly ignored me, so maybe it doesn't really matter which is which.

Actually, watching YouTubers' videos, a lot of them feel like old late-night TV shows. It's not just the content; lately, celebrities have been joining in, making that feeling even stronger. You see patterns like "try it out" videos, competitive eating, or "○○" series. Apparently, if you can't imagine what's inside, people won't click.

As a creator, it feels a bit sad, but as a viewer, I get it. With so many videos flooding the platform, viewers can't find what they want unless it's organized. And when you're searching, you're already aware of what you want. You're not going to bother watching something that doesn't fit that.

Back when I designed candy packaging, I was told, "Stylish designs don't sell." People won't pick it up without a picture of the contents. And it was true. At the time, I took it as a defeat for design, but now that I'm on the buying side, I get it.

 
A junior planner I know firmly stated they hate watching movies or dramas without knowing the plot beforehand. They said they can't fully enjoy the details unless they have some sense of security. Hmm.

I occasionally see ad campaigns within videos. Most are essentially extensions of product placement. Despite having massive subscriber counts and insane view numbers, I get the impression companies and brands still aren't fully leveraging these influencers.

YouTubers interact directly with their viewers, so they need to keep meeting those expectations. If they casually take on ad projects, their subscriber count will likely drop. That's why I hear they tend to be cautious about ad deals. I also hear clients resign themselves to the fact that their own needs often can't be fully reflected.

Watching this landscape unfold, it began to look like an "untapped frontier" for advertising. Maybe it's not that advertising isn't suited for it, but that it simply hasn't permeated yet? Thinking this way, the landscape transformed completely.

Why did TV commercials have to be entertaining in the first place? Because ads are intrusive. That's right—we possess the magic of "planning" that transforms corporate information into something viewers are glad they watched. Isn't the realm of YouTube videos still untouched by "advertising planning"?

Thinking this way, I could smell the scent of things getting interesting. There's probably an opportunity here. Bumper ads and TrueView ads treat this as a medium and place ads there. But planning can go deeper. There should be a different form than TV. We might be able to do more than just placement.

There must be something that makes clients, YouTubers, and viewers all happy. Not just video, but something cinematic. Suddenly, I'm excited. We might be able to bring cinema into the world of video. All that agonizing over the difference between video and cinema might have been worth it.

Huh? What do you mean by necessary déjà vu?

I immediately gathered a group of young volunteers. The perspective of a generation constantly engaged with YouTube is crucial.

But while they have advertising skills, they don't know the skills for this kind of video. There must be video conventions and secrets we don't know. It's important to properly learn the rules of the video world. So, we had the folks at UUUM hold several lecture sessions for us. We presented plans in a hands-on format and got feedback. This was really interesting.

The most interesting part was the difference between "déjà vu" and "a sense of something past." Viewers won't choose something with absolutely no sense of déjà vu. They imagine the content from the thumbnail and click. No one will spend time on something they can't imagine.

But that doesn't mean you can just make something that feels old. A video's shelf life is much shorter than you'd think.

We hadn't really been conscious of freshness as a standard before. With advertising, we tend to think in slightly longer spans. It makes sense that the pace differs depending on the output genre, but it was interesting because it was a sense I hadn't been aware of at all in the last 30 years. TV broadcast writers probably have a closer understanding of this.

Then, after undergoing YouTube's unique algorithmic baptism, five young creatives from Dentsu Inc.'s various creative divisions ultimately joined us. They are: Haru Omi, Yohei Hagiwara, Ikuya Yozato, Chiemi Mako, and Nagiaya Haruta.

We then added three reliable business producers: Takeshi Takeshi, Nobuhiro Yamauchi, and Yuya Kishida, bringing the total to nine.

This became the core team for Project TRACK.

TRACK means something like a trail, a track, or a path. We hope the ground we've cleared will one day become a road.

This TRACK has formed a planning partnership with UUUM. While planning videos for YouTubers, we'll create something new that hasn't existed in YouTube videos before. I know I'm repeating myself, but it's video.

Using our planning skills to create something only we can do. We're confident we can build a wonderful relationship between sponsors and influencers. Learning and testing along the way, we plan to climb this mountain together for a while. We'll also report on our progress here in Web Dentsu Inc.

So, to everyone in advertising, to our clients, when you think, "Let's do something with influencers × video!", please give us a shout. We'll create new and effective outputs while learning.

Text and Illustration: Takuma Takasaki

TRACK Logo Design: Sakura Hotta