Today in Digital Marketing - BONUS: The Bizarre True Story Behind "Mana Mana"

Episode Date: March 7, 2020

Hi friends — this bonus weekend episode has absolutely nothing to do with digital marketing. So, either enjoy or feel free to delete. I'll be back Monday with the regular digital marketing news. Can you help spread the word? Review this podcast at https://ratethispodcast.com/today AND/OR click https://ctt.ac/o713H to preview a tweet you can publish Today in Digital Marketing is brought to you by engageQ digital. Can we help you with YOUR brand’s digital marketing and social media? Let’s chat. http://www.engageQ.com or call 1-855-863-6233. TOD’S SOCIAL MEDIA: Tod’s web site: http://TodMaffin.com Tod’s agency: http://engageQ.com LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/todmaffin Twitter: http://twitter.com/todmaffin Instagram: http://instagram.com/todmaffin Facebook: http://facebook.com/tmaffin TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@todmaffin Mixer: https://mixer.com/HappyRadioGuy --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/todayindigital/messageOur Sponsors:* Check out Kinsta: https://kinsta.comPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Hello, friends. As you normally know, this is usually a Monday to Friday podcast, and it covers the day's events in digital marketing, social media, online advertising, and so on. Today is a bit different. Just for shits and giggles, I thought I'd break from tradition and pop something in your weekend podcast feed just for fun. So either enjoy or delete. Either way, rest assured, I'll be back Monday with the regular digital marketing stuff. For some people, it is the anthem of childhood. This catchy song that most people just call Manamana is widely credited to Jim Henson from the Muppets,

who most people believe wrote the song and turned it into one of the biggest earworms in musical history. Manamana It has been covered thousands of times. Manamana It has been covered thousands of times. It's been used as beats for surprisingly good hip-hop tracks. Back to earth, and for what it's worth, I'ma stick a million dollars inside your purse. And if that don't work, then I give you two, cause I wanna, ma-na-ma-na with you. Even orchestras have attempted it, usually with mediocre results.

But what might surprise you? It didn't come from a children's show at all. In fact, quite the opposite. To trace the origins of Manamana, we have to go back to the 60s, to a film genre known as spaghetti westerns. Spaghetti westerns were exceptionally bad, low-budget movies produced in Italy and sometimes Spain. One example, the 1964 film A Fistful of Dollars. Saludos, amigo.

It's not smart to go wandering so far from home. I reckon he picked the wrong trail. Or he could have picked the wrong town. His big mistake, I think, was getting born. Like most spaghetti westerns of the time, this one was an extremely low-budget film. Henry Fonda was offered the role, but turned it down. Not enough money. So the role was offered to Charles Bronson, who read the script, and then reportedly said,

this script? Hell no. Eventually, Clint Eastwood took the role. He was paid just $15,000. You could try being a scarecrow. Oh no, the crows are liable to scare him, maybe. I'll spare you the full plot, but it's basically stranger rolls into a Mexican town, inserts himself into a long, simmering power struggle between three brothers, ends up screwing everyone over for his own benefit.

The rest of the cast was pretty much all Italian. But like all spaghetti westerns, a fistful of dollars desperately needed distribution in the U.S. was pretty much all Italian. But like all spaghetti westerns, a fistful of dollars desperately needed distribution in the U.S. So, in addition to the really bad audio dubs, the casting crew changed

their names on the credits. Gian Maria Valente appeared as Johnny Wells. Ennio Morricone became Dan Savio. Even the director, Sergio Leone, changed his name to perhaps the most generic Anglo name of all time, Bob Robertson. Four years after A Fistful of Dollars was released, another spaghetti western filmmaker, Luigi Scatini, decided to branch out. He was working on a quasi-documentary about Sweden.

And not the kind of documentary like you may have seen. This is Sweden, land of enchantment, land of freedom, where you are about to see things you just don't see at home. In America, you don't see beautiful girls bouncing boldly out of the sauna into the snow. In America, you don't see public pornography shops where erotic books are displayed for both sexes with government approval. In America, you won't see meter maids who wear uniforms by day and nothing by night. In America, you won't see any of these. But you can, and will, when you see Sweden, heaven, and hell. There's really nine mini-films in one, each segment trying to build the case that the Swedish people have loose morals. See the sex capital of the world, where topless bands beat out the throbbing rhythms of a turned-on generation.

See the swap shop, where married couples get a one-night trade-in on the turn of a card. And get to know each other by the flickering light of films whose titles we dare not mention. Some of the segments show lesbian nightclubs, porn films, the swinging lifestyle of married couples, the sex education of teenagers. It also goes into drug addiction, alcoholism, and suicide. This genre actually went on to become quite popular and known as exploitation documentaries, or sometimes just called mondo. But Scatini needed music, a composer, someone who'd work cheap.

And he found one. His name? Piero Umelani. Umelani was a relatively well-known film score composer. He specialized in music for soft porn, spaghetti westerns, other exploitation docs, and so on. Some of his film credits include films with names like Orgasmo, The Slave, and Sexpot. His style, as corny as it sounds, is actually cited as inspiration for music in some of today's films, like Kill Bill and Ocean's Twelve.

You tried to warn me then, and I still love you when you said the words... This is one of his songs from the film. It's actually used in the opening title, which is accompanied by, for two solid minutes, a slow-motion segment of young women in skin-tight baby blue leotards bouncing on yoga balls. That's it. That's the entire opening sequence. The film starts out innocently enough. Sweden covers little more than a quarter of a million square miles of Europe. Its population is 8 million, which means statistically around 34 and one quarter inhabitants to every square mile.

It talks about the demographics of the country, the GDP, that sort of thing. And then dives quickly into the smut. See the Stockholm Strip, where Sweden's liberated youth, bored with sex, bored with drugs, bored with life itself, drop out for good. See the Salome Club, where a beautiful country's most beautiful women turn to each other in desperation, looking for satisfaction. And then, about halfway into the film. It's hard to describe the disconnect between the visuals and the music here. So there's only two shots in this sequence. It starts with a dozen attractive young Swedish women walking, suitcases in hand, down this snowy path. They walk into a wooden cabin.

Then they cut to the next shot. Close-ups of the women, who are naked now, except for some towels wrapped around them, in what is presumably a sauna, giggling and flirting and carrying on as those Swedish harlots are clearly known to do. And then, with no real context or even narration, the scene just ends. And the film moves on to the next segment, which it calls Hippie Haven,

and talking about a market where everything, including love and sex, is free. As it turns out, the song itself is sort of an accident. This scene is one of the last to be cut, and despite most of the score laid down, there still isn't any music for this particular segment. So, in the recording studio, Umalani improvises. He sings a refrain with just three notes and calls it Viva La Sana Svits. Sweden, Heaven and Hell is released in 1968. It does not play in Swedish theaters. But not for the reason you may think. The authorities don't actually care about the content as much as the people in it.

It turns out, and this is kind of amazing, the director never got consent forms from many of the people in it. It turns out, and this is kind of amazing, the director never got consent forms from many of the people he filmed. So the Swedish film authorities cut out the scenes where those people appeared, which was, of course, a lot of the film. Even so, no cinemas in Sweden pick it up. It isn't until three years later when Swedish national TV plays part of it. Needless to say, national outrage ensues. At least in Sweden. Back in Italy, the film is a huge success. Italy is still quite conservative in the late 60s, so images of a wild Sweden with its shocking images drive huge box office numbers. And, like the Spaghetti Westerns before it, what really counts, thinks Umalani, is America. He tries to cut a deal for

the soundtrack and sends a New York publisher all 28 songs from the film. They're all listed on an index that accompanies the recordings. All except for one. Not on that index, but buried in the 90 minutes of music, almost as an afterthought, is this now famous tune. The record executives listen to it and become entranced. They insist that this song needs to be released as a single, and more than that, it needs to become the main title theme of the film. There's one problem. The name.

Viva La Sana Svits. It's not catchy enough, they say. It won't translate. It's ugly. So, they listen to it once more, and come up with a new name. Manamana. It's fall 1969. The film opens in the US and gets just miserable reviews. But still, tons of box office sales.

And then, just weeks later, a new children's TV show premieres. Sunny day, sleeping the clouds away. Not even three weeks after Sesame Street's first episode, the show airs a short segment, probably intended as a throwaway to fill time. It was the first time the song was performed by Muppets. We could sing a good song if we had one more person to sing. True. Ma-na-ma-na.

Hi there, would you like to sing a song with us? Ma-na-ma-na. Isn't that the name of a song? I think so. Ma-na-ma-na. Ma-na-ma-na? Ma-na-ma-na. Ma-na-ma-na. Ma-na-ma-na. song? I think so. It's pretty much the same sketch as you remember. Two nameless girl

Muppets with a hairy man Muppet who keeps popping in and out of the shot, first singing the song's refrain, then crumbling into improvisational scat, much to the confusion and frustration of the other two Muppets. Those girl Muppets, by the way, are controlled by Frank Oz, meaning both his hands are busy at the same time operating the two mouths, so their hands just kind of swing freely from

side to side. The segment is a monster hit. So much so, the show actually repeats it the next day. Then, just two days after that... Here are the Muppets who call themselves Puppets. The Ed Sullivan Show comes calling. And already the sketch has been tweaked. The girl Muppets have become pink aliens

with giant yellow mouths. They kind of look like skinny emo cows. And the big hairy guy now has a bright red beard. Oh, and a name. Bip, Bipidatta. The aliens have names too. The snouts. A combination of the words snouts and mouths.

And when you watch this Ed Sullivan appearance, despite, remember, the huge success on Sesame Street just a couple of days prior, despite that, it's clear the audience just is not quite sure what to make of it. There is uncomfortable laughter. In the year or two that follows, Sesame Street starts using the routine as promotion for the TV show. They go to the Dick Cavett show. Here's a classic number from the world of Muppetry,

Ma-na, Ma-na. Red Skelton uses it as background for a recurring sketch. Tom Jones invites them to his show. The record company is thrilled. The single is skyrocketing. It hits number eight in the UK, number five on the Billboard Hot 100 chart. They release another single,

this one called The Entire World Sings Ma-Na-Ma-Na, with covers from Arthur Fiedler, the Dave Pell Singers, an orchestra, and more. The company throws a huge party in New York and mails personalized kazoos to invitees. Umalani, stuck back home working, doesn't make it to the party. Menomina doesn't slow down.

It's the opening number on the very first Muppet show. It's performed on the Jerry Lewis Telethon, the Benny Hill show, on stage at the Lincoln Center, and the snouts, those pink emo puppets, even sing back up on a Miley Cyrus performance. The number becomes so popular that in time the Muppets themselves spoof it. In a sketch with Kermit the Frog complaining to his psychiatrists, the snouts would appear every time he says the word phenomena. Today, there are hundreds of videos on YouTube with the song. Just one of those videos YouTube with the song. Just one of those videos has 70 million views. It's hard to make his list and check it in twice

So I hope he likes his TV with naughty little spice You got something bad to say about this crustacean You better come out to last a Christmas vacation Santa, won't you come and get me? Sesame Street goes on to be the most successful children's TV show in history. As of 2014, it had won 159 Emmys, 8 Grammys, and airs in more than 120 countries. As for the composer, Pierre Umalani, he did 150 more film soundtracks. Menomena was his greatest hit ever.

He died 14 years ago in Italy. It's not clear if this date receives royalties for the song. To this day, the full-length film, Sweden, Heaven and Hell, has never been shown in Swedish theater.

I think the Muppets hit a new low. Yeah, and his first name is C.