The worlds portrayed visually in pharmaceutical commercials are almost always idyllic: big, wide open spaces tempered by the reach of long branches with the greenest leaves; a starlit night above the open window of a large home in a valley full of other large homes, with just enough space between them so that they collectively make up a nice view (for the panning shot); a sunny day at a pier where fishing is the natural, picturesque thing to do. And wouldn’t you know it? The only thing preventing people from enjoying these surroundings is an ailment or condition that a calm, dull voice relays a possible remedy for, followed by the listing of lots of potential side effects with images of people not experiencing any of them. By the end of the commercial, they’re enjoying life where it’s beautiful again.
Sometimes it seems like the handful of people in these commercials are the only folks around for miles. And the people themselves–they’re usually the kind of people associated as a given for idyllic places. Maybe, every once in a while, there’s an old, black couple whose passing presence in such places probably wouldn’t be too bothersome.
I guess that’s a presiding kind of idyllic, anyway.
For some interesting history about pharmaceutical advertising (apparently most prominent in the US and New Zealand), see this piece at io9.