"What is the difference between a villain and a super-villain? PRESENTATION!" – Megamind
You may remember the famous scene from the movie, Megamind, where Megamind explains to Titan the difference between a villain and a super-villain. As the intro to Guns N’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle plays, we first hear Megamind’s voice offscreen asking Titan what he thinks the difference is. Titan shrugs: “I don’t know.” The music crescendos, fireworks explode into a massive likeness of Megamind’s face, the mouth opens, tongue extended, and Megamind himself slides down it to deliver the punchline:
"Presentation!”
Megamind's line is funny because "presentation" feels like the least important thing. We usually assume what makes something "super" is its core function—the substance, not the surface. In startup terms, we assume the product is the most important thing, and the presentation is just a way to get people to try it.
But sometimes, the surface is the most important thing. If you can't get people to try your product, it doesn't matter how good it is. In the short term, marketing often outweighs the product. Over the long term, the balance shifts—but you have to win the first battle before you can fight the next one.
I love great literature. I remember reading a wild poem in high school that made this point. Wallace Stevens' The Emperor of Ice Cream is set at a funeral, with vivid details of the corpse on display. Yet the star of the poem isn't the deceased—it's a muscular, cigar-rolling man whipping up ice cream for the mourners.
Many interpret the poem as bleak: life is short, death is inevitable, and our pleasures are just distractions before we are all "eaten by worms." But there's another reading: the ice cream of life—those fleeting indulgences and moments of delight—isn't a distraction. It's the point.
That idea comes into sharp focus in the closing lines:
"Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream."
Here Stevens collapses the distinction between appearance and reality. In our analogy, he collapses the distinction between marketing and product. What seems—the story, the branding, the presentation—is in some sense the product itself.
This is particularly true in the early days of a startup. Most products launch as MVPs: promising but incomplete. Customers want more, and you can't deliver it all at once. So you rely on the aspirational sale. You collapse your product and your marketing message into one, asking customers to buy into not only what is but what will be.
The best way to do this is to sell more than just a product—you sell an identity. You help customers see that choosing your product is also choosing who they want to be.
- A productivity tool isn't just an app—it's a declaration: I am efficient.
- A design platform isn't just software—it says: I am creative.
- A financial automation system isn't just code—it signals: I am trustworthy and in control.
This is why presentation matters so deeply. People don't just buy products; they buy identities. They use your brand as a mirror for who they want to be. And because a prospect has to hear about you and resonate with your pitch before they ever try your product, branding always comes first.
This isn't to say the product doesn't matter. It does. But without presentation, no one will stick around long enough to experience the substance.
So here's the challenge: take a marketing-first approach. Presentation isn't window dressing. It's what people live for.
And the lesson for founders is Megamind-simple: the difference might not be the tech or the features. It might just be—presentation.