Big fish, massive ocean
Especially during the summer, when the air is hot and thick, the perfect environment to sew the seeds of nihilism and nurture a clear sense of the pointlessness of it all. My personal rule is, if I don't sink into a major existential crisis when I get back from vacation then I wasn't gone for long enough.
Of course, the sight of that massive pile of DVDs of brand-new summer shows on my desk when I got back into town certainly helped to jump-start my downward spiral. In case you've been soaking in mineral-rich mud at some pricey spa all summer, here's a news flash: There are tons of new cable dramas starring big names like Glenn Close and David Duchovny and John Leguizamo and Lili Taylor. And, shockingly enough, a lot of them are good. That's because cable channels like Spike, AMC and TNT are rolling out their best (or only) shows now, knowing that in the fall, there will be tons of other (big, flashy, tasteless) fish to fry. So far, these summer pilots look better than the fall offerings -- but give me a few more years to plow through this mountain of DVDs before I give you my official word on that.
Mad about you
"Should we drink before the meeting or after? Or both?"
I know this is probably predictable, but my daydream of being the first wife in a polygamous household has given way to a much more captivating fantasy: The life of the high-powered '60s-era ad executive is the life for me!
Imagine, swaggering down the hallways of a smart office in a tailored suit, surrounded by subservient Bettys in tight sweaters and 18-hour bras! Imagine, casually firing up one cigarette after another in meetings, in your office, mid-sentence while chatting with the guy down the hall! Imagine, having a nice glass or two of bourbon before that dreaded meeting, then celebrating afterward with more bourbon and pretty ladies, then rolling on home to your gal, who's got food on the table and endless love in her heart for her main squeeze!
Damn those bastards at AMC and the team behind the new drama "Mad Men" (10 p.m. Thursdays) for showing me that I was born 30 years too late, and the wrong sex to boot. No wonder I've always felt like a sullen old man with a dry, rattling cough, trapped in a woman's body.
"Mad Men," which premiered Thursday, sets the bar extremely high for the competition, both summer and fall. Presenting the most vivid picture of early '60s social oddities that I can recall -- Chain-smoking pregnant ladies! Kids without seat belts! Philandering galore! -- "Mad Men" offers a snapshot of bygone times that is a pure joy to watch, from the incredible costumes and sets to the deliciously claustrophobic depiction of work and domestic life it presents.
Creator Matthew Weiner, who was an executive producer for "The Sopranos," doesn't settle for the same old clichéd dialogue found in other dramas. The writing here is snappy and clever, and every scene has something to hold our attention or surprise us. When Don Draper (Jon Hamm), a senior ad exec, finds himself in the impossible position of having to come up with a campaign for Lucky Strike cigarettes at a time when the health dangers of cigarettes are becoming publicized, you expect him to walk into his meeting and suddenly become inspired (a scene we've seen so many times before). Instead, his mind goes blank under pressure, and his younger co-worker Pete (Vincent Kartheiser) steals the show. Then Pete's pitch fails and Draper regains his composure in time to sell the tobacco execs on a much simpler campaign. Immediately, we recognize that this won't be the typical peppy idealization of the good old days, populated by heroes and villains: Pete and Draper are both sympathetic and selfish, they behave callously but we can see how they're both hemmed in by their circumstances.
On the surface, all of the ad execs can seem like the kinds of guys who tirelessly celebrate their own specialness and harass women around the clock. But Weiner and the other writers know how to reveal weakness, just enough to get us on board with some of these cads. It's a testament to the fine writing and acting that we can identify with Draper's high-rolling, big-city existential trap, even as he chain-smokes and screws around and insults one of his female clients, saying, "I'm not going to let a woman talk to me like that!" Later, he has a drink with her as an apology, and when she admits that she's never been in love, he tips his hand ever so slightly:
"The reason you haven't felt it is because it doesn't exist. What you call love was invented by guys like me, to sell nylons. You're born alone and you die alone and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts. But I never forget. I'm living like there's no tomorrow, because there isn't one."
Oof -- pass me the cigarettes! Draper is flawed, self-pitying and spoiled, sure, but he's charismatic and possibly depressed enough that we feel for him nonetheless. He has a soul, that much is clear, and it's immediately easy to care about his welfare. The other, less sympathetic characters take more shape over the course of the first four episodes (the second episode is a little slow compared to the first, but stay the course).
Next page: I'm watching you, John from Cincinnati! (Or am I?)
