WrestleMania (and I guess also my daughter’s birthday) took over last weekend. And yes, I’m aware you’re here for hot takes on creative strategy, not updates on men in spandex or unicorn parties. But indulge me, because this got me thinking, not about wrestling, but about guilty pleasures.

Welcome “Insiders” to April’s second edition.

At film school you often get asked about your favorite film. The correct answer is Cool Hand Luke btw. That's your favorite film. A defiant loner is sent to a Southern chain gang, where his unbreakable spirit and quiet rebellion turn him into a symbol of resistance. Paul Newman. 1967. It's everything you want it to be and more. A man can indeed be broken, but still never bend.

But favorite films are easy, the real question students should be asked is what is a perfect film? There's only a couple, they're not what you think and I'm going to share an argument for one of them with you now. Ps. It's one of my guilty pleasures.

I like romantic comedies. There I said it. Sandra Bullock will always have a special place in my heart. But Miss Congeniality isn't where we're going here.

I present to you the 2011 masterpiece - Crazy, Stupid, Love.

At first glance, it is just a charming romantic comedy. But beneath the glossy Hollywood surface lies a structurally elegant, thematically rich, and emotionally intelligent piece that, when examined closely, may just be a perfect film. Particularly within its genre and ambitions. Let's deep dive, because I do have a point that's relevant to this audience of visionary corporate communicators.

Narrative Architecture

The film exhibits a rare structural precision. It's got multiple storylines - Cal and Emily’s dissolving marriage, Hannah and Jacob’s unexpected romance, and Robbie’s adolescent heartbreak. They intertwine effortlessly, culminating in a third-act that is surprising and satisfying. The twist, no spoilers here if you haven't seen it (but seriously, it’s almost 15 years old), is both emotionally resonant and narratively earned. Rather than feeling manipulative, it elevates the stakes and weaves the separate threads together. Chef's kiss!

Character Complexity

Romantic comedies often rely on caricature; Crazy, Stupid, Love. subverts this by offering characters who are flawed, evolving, and deeply human. Cal (Steve Carell) transforms from a passive everyman to a self-aware individual who learns not how to "win" his wife back through seduction but to understand and respect the complexity of love. Jacob (Ryan Gosling), the archetypal lothario, is given a backstory of emotional detachment and then a surprising arc of vulnerability and commitment. Even Emily (Julianne Moore) and Hannah (Emma Stone), who could be sidelined as narrative devices, are given agency and depth.

Painting a picture of these people, in this way fosters empathy. Can you see where I'm going yet?

Genre Mastery and Self-Awareness

Crazy, Stupid, Love. operates within the conventions of the romantic comedy but does so with an elevated awareness of its own format. It gently mocks the “pickup artist” culture while using it as a catalyst for deeper storytelling. It allows for a satisfying resolution without resorting to a complete fairy-tale ending: Cal and Emily do not get back together in a neat bow, but they begin to talk, to possibly start over - it's real.

The film is both accessible and intelligent, balancing humor with moments of disarming sincerity. The tone is funny without being glib, heartfelt without being overly sweet.

Look - Crazy, Stupid, Love. may not be perfect if you sit on the Oscars board, or if you’re dead inside. But it achieves something rare: intellectual rigor wrapped in emotional relatability.

I actually like romantic comedies, because they're near impossible to do well. The reason for this is they often rely on format over story:

Etc, etc, etc. I could continue but you get the point and likely a picture of what happens in Hollywood meetings.

Here's a format, let's plug whoever is in the limelight into it and people will watch. Remind you of anything?

Yes friends, the executive interview is the romantic comedy of corporate film production.

Familiar. Formulaic. And often entirely forgettable.

It’s everywhere. You’ve seen it a thousand times. You know how it starts. You know how it ends. A suited-up subject. A two-camera setup. Some B-roll. A few talking points wrapped in jargon.

But just like a romantic comedy, the executive interview suffers from under-imagination (I don't mean in variety of format) and some care and attention.

Running a film team in the heart of New York City during COVID was a trial. We spent a lot of time doing things to make ourselves useful. It was a trick, we had to show value when we had none. When no one wanted to have a film crew come to their office or when no one really knew what to say.

Executive interviews were, and still are, the bread and butter of Fortune 500 communications. They were never going away. They were just evolving. At that point in time, they were usually requested at very short notice, from a mansion upstate, and shot with a tiny crew and a lot of improvisation.

Much to my disappointment, I felt forced to productize what we did. To make it so formulaic that anyone could grasp it, sell it, or buy it. Needs must, as they say, especially in a global pandemic.

We had to make it easy to buy: focus on format over story, price over creative.

Rather than utilize our new mantra “What would Dan Fogelman do?” (that's the writer of Crazy, Stupid, Love. btw). We were forced to express our offer so simply that it inadvertently reinforced the bad behaviors I’m now on a mission to stamp out.

And therein lies the lesson for the executive interview.

Want to create something exceptional? Don’t start with the format. Start with the story.

Be better than the GAP!

The best executive interviews don’t reinvent the wheel. They respect the format - but find emotional truth within it. They don’t force CEOs to perform. They draw out authentic conviction, with good questions, patient pacing, and room to breathe.

They’re not defined by a single format. If you were wondering Crazy, Stupid, Love. is a bit of a genre chameleon, it doesn't fall neatly into just one format, in fact, it blends several rom-com tropes at once, which is part of why it works so well. There’s much to learn here communicators.

Don’t Subvert the Formula. Master It. Crazy, Stupid, Love. doesn’t toss the romantic comedy rulebook, it just reads it better than most. It knows the beats, but it delivers them with nuance, timing, and character. Stop defaulting to make things “feel corporate.” Start trying to make them feel real.

Surprise Without Betraying Expectations. One of the great moments in Crazy, Stupid, Love. is the reveal of who Hannah is. It’s not a twist for the sake of it, it’s structurally sound and emotionally earned.

The executive interview equivalent? That unexpected moment when a leader drops the script. Speaks from lived experience. Shares vulnerability. Moves from prepared messaging to personal conviction. You must build to something. Set it up. Pay it off. Let the viewer feel something they didn’t expect to.

Ensemble Cast. Interlocking Stories. Crazy, Stupid, Love. thrives because it doesn’t rely on just one character to carry the emotional weight. It’s a mix of perspectives, each giving the other context and contrast.

Executive interviews work better when they’re not monologues. Let different voices and points of view bounce off each other. Even a single interview can gesture toward a bigger story. No one falls in love with a soliloquy. They fall in love with a conversation.

Let Humor and Humanity Breathe. The film is genuinely funny, but never at the expense of its emotional core. The humor lightens the load, it makes the sentiment go down smoother.

In corporate films, especially interviews, there’s often a fear of levity. But humor is a signal of authenticity. A self-aware chuckle. A smile at a shared memory. These are human access points. They create trust. It’s not less professional to smile. It’s more believable.

I hate lists too, but it appears many audiences love a recap and sign-posted take-aways. Let's make this fast.

Format is Comfort. Story is Connection. Format gives you structure - explainer, testimonial, doc-style, scripted narrative. Story gives you meaning - who’s the person, what’s the tension, why should we care?

Formats Are Repeatable. Stories Are Memorable. A format is a vehicle - you can scale it, replicate it, template it. It’s often how creative is pitched to clients. Format is easy to sell. A story is the engine - the part that creates emotional engagement and recall and requires creators to have a deep understanding of their subject. Clients may ask for a format (e.g. “we want a customer success story”), but what they need is a narrative arc that makes people care. The most powerful thing you can do is show clients what they need rather than what they want.

Story Forces Specificity. Format can lead to generic outputs ("hero shots + VO = job done"). Story demands choices - this character, this obstacle, this insight. Don’t rely on visual polish or gimmicks alone. Storytelling forces clarity of message and audiences trust clarity.

Most Corporate Films Die in Format. They tick all the boxes: on-brand, well-lit, professionally voiced… and totally forgettable. Why? Because the format became the goal, not the tool. Start with the emotional truth or business tension. Then pick the format that best serves that story.

If the executive interview is the rom-com of corporate film, then Crazy, Stupid, Love. is the gold standard. It proves that genre doesn’t have to mean generic. That sincerity can defeat spin. And that understanding structure, honest characters, and a little self-awareness can turn something expected into something unforgettable.

When scoping your next brief, ask:

And if you get it right, maybe (just maybe) your audience will fall a little bit in love.

With the message. With the mission. With the people behind the logo.

And that’s the whole point, isn’t it?

As you were.

MrMcK.

About the Author: Mark McKenna helps companies all over the world drive progress through strategic storytelling and content production. He has spent nearly 20 years at creative agencies serving clients at the intersection of corporate communications, advertising, and public relations. For the last decade, he has held senior leadership roles, providing counsel to the decision makers at the largest organizations in the world. Mark’s career includes time spent in London and New York, working with Fortune 500 and FTSE 100 clients on their communication challenges across EMEA and the Americas.

But, if you meet him in person, he’ll say “Hi my name is Mark McKenna. I help businesses tell their most important stories in a way that makes people want to listen.”