There’s a moment in most ads where the brand leans forward and says, “Look at me.” This one doesn’t.
Instead, it watches. In doing so, Griffin’s may have stumbled onto something many brands talk about but rarely achieve: relevance that feels earned, not inserted.
24 Hours. 24 Films. Zero Hard Sell.
3.00 am with a new mother. A night shift with a Nigerian migrant.
Quiet conversations. Heavy silences. Small laughter. Somewhere in each frame, almost incidental, a biscuit.
Not hero. Not prop. Just… present. The campaign is helmed by Florian Habicht, a filmmaker known for his ability to find poetry in the ordinary.
Working alongside Motion Sickness and The Tuesday Club, Habicht crafts something that sits in that elusive space between documentary and brand storytelling.
Not quite advertising. Not quite art. Which is precisely the point.
The Bravest Thing A Brand Can Do: Step Back
Most brands still operate like stage performers—loud, polished, centre-lit.
Griffin’s chooses instead to be part of the audience. That restraint is strategic. Because the modern consumer—particularly in markets like Malaysia and across APAC—is increasingly allergic to overt persuasion.
We scroll past perfection. We mistrust polish. We crave something that feels unedited, unforced, human. This campaign understands that.
Rather than constructing moments, it observes them. Rather than selling emotion, it borrows it. In doing so, it aligns with a broader shift we’re seeing globally: brands behaving less like broadcasters and more like documentarians.
A Biscuit As Cultural Shorthand
At the heart of the idea is something deceptively simple: the biscuit as ritual. Not indulgence. Not reward. Ritual. A pause between tasks. A shared moment. A small act of comfort.
In Malaysia, we understand this instinctively. Replace Griffin’s with Jacob’s, Julie’s, or even a kopi and cream crackers moment—and the insight travels seamlessly.
In a bold departure from traditional campaign structures, New Zealand biscuit maker Griffin’s has launched “Life Needs a Biscuit”—a 24-part micro-documentary series capturing a full day across Aotearoa. Each film marks a single hour.
The brilliance here is not in inventing a new behaviour, but in recognising an existing one and giving it narrative weight.
As Griffin’s marketing director Allison Yorston puts it, the campaign reflects “the simplest things”—time, presence, connection. It’s not a new message. It’s just finally told without shouting.
From Campaign To Cultural Canvas
What elevates this work is its structure. Twenty-four films are not just content—they’re a system. A living archive of a day. A mosaic of a nation.
Individually, each film is a vignette. Collectively, they become something larger: a cultural portrait.
This is where the campaign shifts from marketing into meaning. Because it’s no longer about biscuits. It’s about time.
Who has it. Who doesn’t. How it’s spent. What it feels like at 3am versus 3pm. In capturing that spectrum, Griffin’s quietly inserts itself into the emotional infrastructure of everyday life.
The Advertising Lesson Hiding In Plain Sight
There’s a temptation to label this as “branded content.” That would be reductive.
What this campaign actually demonstrates is a recalibration of brand behaviour:
It also signals something important for agencies and marketers closer to home. The era of over-produced, over-written festive films—where every scene screams “brand purpose”—may be nearing saturation.
Audiences aren’t rejecting emotion. They’re rejecting manipulation. Increasingly, the work that lands is the work that feels like it didn’t try too hard.
Where This Leaves Malaysian Brands
For Malaysian marketers, the takeaway isn’t to replicate the format. It’s to rethink the posture.
What would it look like if a brand here documented a day in Klang Valley? Or followed a Ramadan evening across different households? Or captured Thaipusam not as spectacle, but as lived experience?
The opportunity is enormous. But it requires discipline. Because the hardest thing in advertising is not creating something. It’s holding back.
A Quiet Idea That Lingers
In the end, “Life Needs a Biscuit” doesn’t try to be memorable. Which is why it is. There’s no punchline. No dramatic reveal. No swelling soundtrack demanding emotion.
Just people. Time. The small things that carry us through the day. And somewhere in between, a brand that understood its role perfectly. Not the story. Just part of it.
Share Post:
Haven’t subscribed to our Telegram channel yet? Don’t miss out on the hottest updates in marketing & advertising!
