Kal is the only person I know (at least, the only one I know I've talked to on the subject) who watched one episode of Mad Men and did not make it part of his viewing rotation. He called the show "stressful."
Which means Matthew Weiner is doing his job. The greatness, brilliance, insert other appropriate superlative here, of Mad Men
is its refusal to turn real life into a heroic adventure (although Don's mystical cleansing in the Pacific at least felt near-heroic) or play real life for laughs (although in its best moments it is very, very funny). Instead, it IS real life. Not our real life in 2009 exactly, but like Trollope and Eliot…or, even more to the mark, O'Hara and Cheever, it perfectly depicts the spirit, morality, intelligence, and ethos of its age, and, in turn, every age. The characters make 1960s decisions with 1960s information and logic, specifically, Kennedy-era information and logic, but their dilemmas range from mundane to life-changing, just as ours do, and deal with the same concerns and worries faced in all generations: money, faith, the life's occupation, sticking to one's personal code, and sex and love…lots of sex and love. I watch Mad Men and in a way no other show makes me believe, I see people struggling my struggles and wanting and needing what I want and need. The only program which ever came close to this was the original The Office, but Gervais and Merchant concentrated on a few select aspects of existence, primarily the awkwardness arising when two different points of view collide, which was played for the most guilty laughter imaginable. Weiner also captures that awkwardness, but emphasizes how it disrupts and hurts us. On Mad Men, everyone is undergoing joy, pain, triumph, and heartbreak with every decision they make, and there are no answers, no promise of an ending, because real life offers no answers but we make and ends only with death. Of course it's stressful to watch!
And it's also demanding. What attracted me to the show from the very first episode was the wealth of details and how much "story" was behind every moment of "plot." I quickly realized Mad Men is more akin to a novel where every detail must be savored, every morsel chewed over and analyzed and left to judgment. The second season, which swept the awards shows and which I just finished, was a prime example. Small details introduced early on proved to be crucially important to what happened by the time of the season finale: a new employee's hiring, an engagement, a whispered word of passionate commitment on a drive to the suburbs, and most of all, a chest full of Heineken which threw the second half of episodes into a tizzy. Every story received plenty of air, plenty of big, gulping, marathon-runner-at-the-end breathing room, and the final result, while not upbeat by any means, was satisfying. It helps that there is visceral pleasure in the plethora of period detail (the recent Vanity Fair piece emphasized Weiner's exactitude bordering on OCD for all aspects of the show) and that the scripts are enacted by a perfect cast. Jon Hamm, handsome, assured, but reeking of both danger and guilt. Elisabeth Moss, now more gorgeous than ever, never less than complex to the point where her enigmatic behavior only makes her more hard to understand…and paradoxically easier to sympathize with. (Peggy Olson is one of the best-realized characters in TV history…her issues are probably more realistically dealt with than anyone.) January Jones, combining Grace Kelly's beauty, Maria Callas's emotionalism, and Audrey Hepburn's cool reserve. Vincent Kartheiser, smug and self-destructive and looking like the great Mark Phillips. I could go on, but why bore you? Or better yet, watch the damn show and see for yourself! (By the way, the supporting players who don't get as much time are just as carefully delineated…this is artistry writ large.)
In less than two and a half hours from this writing, Season Three premieres. The hints are that after 1960 and 1962, the action will occur in 1963, the year of The Feminine Mystique, the March, and the passing of everything Don, Betty, and their world knew with the assassination. I believe Mad Men's fictional…but how fictional is the question…drama will come close to the unsurmountable heights of that year.
And they filmed episodes at St. James's, which is even more awesome.
And I took the "Which Mad Man Are You?" quiz at AMC's website and got…Joan. JOAN? I mean, Christina Hendricks is personable (read: sexy) as hell, but as a straight, somewhat shrinking man, couldn't I have been Ken? Paul? Even Harry?
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