EssilorLuxottica · Previs Slate

First Sight

Films about the moment a sense comes back. One company spans the first pair of glasses to the eyes' next chapter: sight corrected, hearing restored, craft inherited, connection translated. Each :30 is built to make that mission felt, not explained.

The slate
The Leaves

Trees have edges.

New glasses wearers famously cry the first time they see individual leaves. A seven-year-old walks out of the shop through a watercolor world, and under one colossal oak, the canopy detonates into detail.

Built toOwn the emotional truth of correction: the product isn't eyewear, it's the first fifteen seconds of a corrected life.
La Tavola

Nonna got new glasses.

She's been laughing two beats late for years. Tonight her timing is lethal, and she lands the punchline of the summer. Only her daughter clocks the tap on the gold temple: the glasses hear.

Built toLaunch hearing you'd never call an aid: med-tech disguised as the thing she already loves wearing, revealed with a wink.
The Same Gesture

Four hundred years, one stroke.

A Venetian lens grinder leans into a polishing stroke in 1609, and never stops. The workshop morphs around the unbroken gesture until it belongs to a cleanroom engineer over a wafer of display glass.

Built toClaim heritage and the AI-glasses moment in one act: the hands never changed, only the glass got smarter.
The Line

What her eyes see at 130.

An Olympic downhill, start wand to finish spray, entirely in first person. No readouts, no interface, just supernatural clarity and the calmest eyes on the mountain, revealed only at the finish.

Built toMake performance eyewear human in an Olympic year: vision as the instrument, the athlete as the proof.
The Optician

The blockbuster nobody made.

A superhero teaser, played dead straight, about a strip-mall optician. The lair is her shop, the powers are fittings, and three civilians walk out seeing. She allows herself one small Tuesday smile.

Built toMake heroes of the thousands of doors where the mission actually happens: sight, handed back over a counter.
The Witness

A life, kept in glass.

One lens held in aged hands, an entire life surfacing inside its curve: graduation, a first key, a newborn, the wedding dance, until the memory-light spills out onto the face of its owner.

Built toGive the masterbrand its poem: a lens doesn't correct a life, it witnesses one.
Armor

Some people put on who they are.

A judge, a DJ, a sprinter, a conductor: four private rituals, one shared two-handed gesture, cut on their own percussion. The frames seat home, the eyes open, and four doors swing wide.

Built toBottle the swagger of the house's frame brands inside a single universal ritual: the last piece of armor before going public.
The Market

The joke survives translation.

A night-market cook and a traveler share no language. His glasses whisper hers into his ear, one millimeter of neon on a temple tip, and the lane empties around a conversation neither will end.

Built toSell AI glasses the human-first way: the technology gets one glint of light, the humans get everything else.
Class of 2050

Picture day, seventy years running.

One classroom, one locked frame, one flash at a time: 1980, 2000, 2026, 2050. The glasses multiply photo by photo, and the room only gets happier.

Built toTurn the myopia epidemic into proof of stewardship: half the world will need them, and the leader spent seventy years making that fine.

Helping people see more and be more, felt in thirty seconds at a time.