Iconic Ads: Isuzu- Lying Joe Isuzu
Marketers still hail Joe Isuzu as proof that a small brand can punch above its weight—with a big idea that told the truth through a lie.
In the mid-1980s, Isuzu found itself in a tight spot. The Japanese automaker had entered the American passenger-car market with sound engineering and solid reliability—but in a country ruled by Toyota, Honda, and the Big Three, no one even knew how to pronounce “Isuzu,” let alone buy one.
The company’s marketing budget was a fraction of its competitors’. Traditional car ads—with gleaming cars on open roads and smooth-voiced narrators promising “performance and power”—were out of reach. And even if they could afford one, such ads would drown in the noise of sameness.
So the question at the agency Della Femina, Travisano & Partners was simple: How does a small brand get noticed in a sea of giants?
The answer would be one of the most unforgettable liars in advertising history.
Inventing a Liar to Tell the Truth
Creative head Ron Travisano had an idea that turned the industry upside down. If every car company bragged about their cars’ greatness, why not have a spokesman who bragged too much—to the point of absurdity?
Enter Joe Isuzu—a fast-talking, insincere car salesman who lied so outrageously that it became funny. His wild claims were interrupted by on-screen captions that bluntly revealed the truth: “He’s lying.”
It was an anti-advertisement. A commercial that mocked the very idea of advertising. And in doing so, it did precisely what Isuzu needed—people noticed.
Casting the Perfect Liar
The role went to actor David Leisure, an unknown at the time who, legend says, was living in a van before his big break. Leisure had the perfect smirk and the perfect delivery—a salesman who could say, with total confidence, that the Isuzu Trooper could hold the entire state of Texas in its trunk.
From the moment he appeared on television in 1986, audiences were hooked. The first line he delivered—“Hi, I’m Joe Isuzu”—was followed by a string of impossible claims:
- “This car gets 300 miles to the gallon!”
- “It can go from zero to 60 in four seconds… flat!”
- “It has more seats than the Astrodome!”
As he spoke, captions contradicted him, revealing the truth in small text. The brilliance was in the contrast—Isuzu’s honesty shone brighter because its spokesman was so obviously dishonest.
A Super Bowl Star Is Born
The campaign took off. In 1987, Joe Isuzu appeared during the Super Bowl, instantly becoming a national sensation. People quoted his lines. Late-night shows parodied him.
Even politicians got in on the act—during the 1988 U.S. presidential race, one candidate famously called his opponent “the Joe Isuzu of American politics.” That’s when you knew the ad had gone from television to pop culture.
When a Joke Becomes Too Real
But with fame came friction. Some Isuzu dealers loved the attention—sales jumped noticeably in the first year of the campaign. But others weren’t thrilled. Customers were walking into showrooms joking, “Are you lying like Joe Isuzu?”
The satire that made people laugh on TV started to make real-life salespeople squirm. The brand had built awareness, but not always trust.
Critics also pointed out that Joe Isuzu was becoming bigger than the cars. People remembered him, not the Trooper or the Impulse he was supposed to be selling.
By 1990, after more than 35 commercials, Isuzu decided to retire Joe. The headline in TIME magazine read, “He’s Retiring—Yeah, Sure.” Even in goodbye, the character couldn’t stop lying.
The Comeback Nobody Expected
But legends don’t stay quiet for long. In 1999, nearly a decade later, Joe Isuzu returned to TV to promote the Isuzu Axiom SUV. Older, still smirking, still lying—America welcomed him back like an old friend who hadn’t changed a bit.
It was nostalgic, funny, and reminded everyone why the campaign had worked so well in the first place: it was honest about dishonesty.
The Legacy of a Liar Who Told the Truth
The Joe Isuzu campaign became a marketing case study for the ages.
More importantly, it proved something deeper: authenticity doesn’t always have to come from sincerity. Sometimes, by exaggerating the falsehoods, you reveal the truth.
Joe Isuzu’s outrageous lies made Isuzu seem more self-aware, more human, and—ironically—more trustworthy. The campaign showed that humour could do what horsepower couldn’t: make a brand part of cultural memory.
Today, marketers still cite Joe Isuzu as the perfect example of how a small brand can punch above its weight with a big idea—one that dares to tell the truth through a lie.
