Funerals are increasingly personal statements.  Funerals for comedic writers, can be raucous affairs (witness the rites for Monty Python’s Graham Chapman).  But something about writer/director Nora Ephron’s service knocked me out.

Ephron included 1 of 22 favorite recipes in every program for her service.

Okay - let’s call that gentle creativity.  But consider what it would have meant. 

Ephron was, by all accounts, more than a celebrated filmmaker with hits like Sleepless in Seattle, When Harry Met Sally, Julie and Julia, and more; she was a host of the best kind of gatherings.  Those lucky enough to be in her circle got fed well, and liberally loved by a wise, formidable woman. I wish I could have been there, even once.

            Ephron planned every detail of her service.  But she wanted to be remembered in a way that brought people together.  That fabulous biscuit recipe?  Let’s gather, make it, and toast our dear friend’s memory.

Beautiful, incredible, and desperate.  Of these 4 companies, at least 2 won't survive.

What happens when innovation hits the end of its road?  When there is no more “forward” in a system of creative values?  The question is relevant to the most legendary names in automotive history: Ferrari, Lamborghini, Porsche, McLaren.  So far, they're answering the question incorrectly - and I predict at least 2 of these companies won’t survive.  The reason is their core value - the “motive force” of their design and existence - has hit a wall.

Values drive all creativity, because they direct our creative decisions.  For supercar manufacturers the core value is obviously performance.  And not just any level of performance, but performance well beyond lesser cars.  To this shared value each company differentiates itself by nuances: for Ferrari, it’s passion and racing, for Lamborghini, it’s outrageousness, while McLaren expresses technical perfection.  All express exclusivity.  But these are side dishes to the main course of uncommon performance.  Which is now a problem, because there simply is no more performance possible to extract.  Or at least no more if the vehicle is going to be driven by a human being.  Seriously.  There’s nowhere to go.  That value is played out, which creates a creative conundrum. 

The problem is the performance envelope of lesser cars - the level supercars must substantially exceed - is now so high that most drivers can never explore it.  Today, a V6 Honda Accord gets down the road like a 1990’s Ferrari.  Lowly Nissan makes a genuine 200 mph car.  Ford will sell anybody with about 60k a Mustang with nearly 700 horsepower, a figure Ferrari has only exceeded in a single production-car in its history. Sure, nobody cross-shops a Mustang and a Ferrari.  But neither does anyone want a Ferrari that is no faster than a Mustang.

This is why innovation from these companies has entered into the realm of the avant-garde.  At Detroit’s International Auto Show, Ferrari, Porsche, and McLaren showed cars that exemplified how desperate times are for these companies.  In order to be “special” in the traditional supercar value-system, these cars are so absurdly fast that effectively none of its owners can come close to exploiting its performance, even on a race track.  The Ferrari Laferrari accelerates from 0-186 mph in 17 seconds.  The McLaren P1 goes from 62 to 125 in 4.0 seconds - much faster than many full-on race cars. 

The Porsche, McLaren, and Ferrari are justified by their complex hybrid powertrains - a nod to eco-relevance.  But note they’re also voluntarily limited to very small production numbers; the LaFerrari will only be built in 7 units; the Lamborghini only 3.  This shows the manufacturers are forced to increase exclusivity in order to compensate for lowering performance as a value.  Of these, probably none will be driven more than a dozen or so miles.  They're collector items, million-dollar Beanie Babies..

 So, then: whither Ferrari, Lamborghini, McLaren, and even Porsche?  300 mph cars?  Can a wealthy enthusiast be happy spending a fortune on a car with performance that is essentially theoretical, like some avant-garde art project?  Yes - in very, very small numbers.  But not in large enough numbers to sustain these billion-dollar companies.  Of these, only Porsche, with its more diverse product line, is positioned to survive.

1. Maker culture is based on a simple premise: if you can think it, you can build it.  This is pretty close to blind optimism (you can obviously think of things you can't build, like a nuclear reactor).  But this optimism maximizes the way tech is destroying traditional barriers of skill. There's enormous power in just trying. 

2. Makers aren't afraid to fail.  In maker culture, failure isn't what happens when things go wrong.  Failure is accepted as part of the creative process, and a primary learning tool.  This, by the way, is the precise opposite of how university classes are normally structured.

The Zeitgeist has changed.  Followers of this blog know I track the zeitgeist, or Z, pretty closely.  The Z is the ghost in our time; the "feeling" of this moment.  Think of it as an amalgam of the prevailing hopes, aspiration, anxieties and fears of now.  And we've reached a tipping point.

A couple of years ago, I was having lunch with my friend John Bettis, one of the most successful songwriters in history. John has 800 songs in the ASCAP database, including minor legends like Michael Jackson's Human Nature and Madonna's Crazy For You.  John's songs were just as in demand as ever, but that day he said, "Reed, there are 2 words I can't use together in a song right now.  Those words are "love" and "forever".

The Z was in a different place.  Kesha and the YOLO ethos was riding high. A lyric like Kesha's Dirty Love came across as empowering to a generation of girls making the duck-face on Facebook:                       I just want your dirty love                       I just want your dirty love                       All I need is to get in-between your sheets

But the Z never stops moving.  Hooking up has hit a wall and it's taken some of the YOLO energy with it.  There were hints at the Grammy's 2 years ago, when leading artists embraced the turn towards the comfort of nostalgia.  Bruno Mars looked like he just stepped off the Temptations' tour bus. Adele, the big winner, was singing about broken hearts - and looked like a 1950's English housewife. This year, Lady Gaga looked quaint and out-of-date with her "shock" gear. 

Meanwhile, MIchael "Sinatra" Buble has the #1 record in America.  He's singing nothing but romance, baby, complete with big band.  Just like Justin Timberlake, who added the tuxedo.  It's official: romance is back.