Big Game, Bigger Opinions: a transatlantic take on Super Bowl ads of 2026

The Super Bowl used to be the High Holy Day of advertising. The one night a year when brands tried to make us cry over a horse or fall in love with a sock puppet. But as Debbie Morgan and Cori Schwabe sat down to review the 2026 slate, something felt… off.

Sure, they loved the celebrity moments – it wouldn't be the Super Bowl without them. When the talent and the idea line up, it gives the whole thing an extra spark, but between the Americans' craving for "Big Game" magic and the Scots' "get‑to‑the‑point" cynicism, they realised the $8 million, 30‑second spot is having a midlife crisis.

The Teaser Trap: Death by a Thousand Micro‑Moments

Somewhere along the way, brands decided the Super Bowl itself wasn't enough.

Cori, the American, is exhausted by the hype cycle: "We're paying for the moment, but getting a month of fifteen‑second 'tune in Sunday!' crumbs". It's a trailer for a trailer, resulting in a slow leak instead of a Big Bang.

Debbie, the Scot, finds the whole thing maddening. She says: "You're spending a fortune on production for a teaser people will watch on a Tuesday and forget by Friday.

"It's like being invited to a party, only for the host to call you every day for a week to remind you there might be cake. Just give us the cake on Sunday, thank you very much."

This drip-feeding often means that, by the time the actual ad airs, the magic's gone, as is the surprise. The cultural moment has been stretched so thin it's translucent.

The Transatlantic Translation Problem

Now, we have to talk about the elephant in the room: the cultural divide. To Cori, Hellmann's "Sweet Caroline" spot is harmless wedding‑reception nostalgia. To Debbie, it's a football anthem with baggage. This one song has wildly different vibes depending on who's listening.

It raises a bigger question of how "global" we can expect these ads to be. When a brief has to work for Peoria and Perth, something is bound to get lost in translation.

Hims & Hers answered that by going hyper‑local, leaning straight into American wealth‑gap anxiety. Debbie found it uncomfortable, but in a way that worked. It was spiky, modern, and actually said something. In the UK, the micro‑dosing, hormone‑optimisation culture is still niche, but the provocation landed. It wasn't just selling a pill; it was selling access that usually belongs only to celebrities.

Challenger Energy vs. Christmas‑Ad Energy

Pepsi's trolling of the Coca‑Cola polar bear was clever. To Cori, a classic challenger swing with a Coldplay track and a wink.

On the other hand, to Debbie, it felt like a Christmas ad that wandered into the wrong month. Beautiful, yes, but Super Bowl‑level? Still up for debate. If your punchline relies on thirty years of mascot lore, you might risk shouting into a void.

Meanwhile, newcomers like Manscaped and Dave's Hot Chicken brought raw, unfiltered energy. It was refreshing to see some great creativity without too much gloss or polish. All these brands were doing was behaving like themselves, and it worked. These new players stepped into the arena with confidence, proving that the $8 million barrier to entry hasn't deterred everyone.

The Big Question: Has the spotlight become too bright?

Debbie and Cori wonder whether the problem is expectation inflation. Every year, the bar rises, and every year, the pressure grows. "Good" feels like failure. "Great" feels mythical.

Or maybe it's the price of globalisation. When a brief has to speak to a hyper‑fragmented audience and tries to be everything to everyone, the creative gets sanded down. We end up with ads that are technically perfect, strategically safe, and emotionally hollow.

The irony is that the Super Bowl used to be the one place where brands could take risks. Now, the fear of backlash, the pressure of the price tag, and the need to please everyone have created a kind of creative paralysis. The Big Bang has become a carefully managed spark.

Our Final Plea

While Debbie and Cori have different opinions on how the ads land, they can agree on this. If you're going to spend $8–$10 million to talk to us, treat the audience like more than a metric.

Don't give us a teaser of a celebrity eating a chip to win a news cycle. Don't sand down every edge until the work feels like it was made by committee. Take a swing, be spiky, and be specific.

Give us a reason to look up from our phones and remember why we fell in love with the Big Bang in the first place.