The summer of 2007 is when Mad Men swept the nation. Why? It is anti-politically correct. It is an intelligent, thinking man's ("persons" would be too PC for *this* show)) show for adults. Not to mention the fantastic, Rod Serling-esque realism in the quality of its writing, the direction, the scope, and the dazzling work of the previously unknown cast - now all certified household names - stars, if you will (none will ever have to worry about getting future work). The best part of this casting is that there are no familiar public-entrenched "personalities" to disturb the continuity and believability of the proceedings; a "star" would have interupted the realism of the story and surroundings. And, in the process, we get to discover a whole new set of actors (their work and camaraderie is gaspingly satisfying, the most sheerly pleasurable in recent memory).
Matthew Weiner, the show's genius creator, has painstakingly ensured that we're really getting a believable early 1960s. There's not an irritatingly currently contemporary viewpoint to be found anywhere. Of course the show is depicted in a hindsight manner; but all of the dialogue, situations and characters are all breathtakingly, reassuringly of a past time. Despite the deceptively, smoothly stylized look via the posh sets and clothes, the atmosphere is constantly invaded by the smog of cigarette smoke; we're not used to seeing such flagrant puffing and inhaling on film. You can almost smell the overfilled ashtrays. No one goes outside to smoke here. This is the Martini and Rossi era, and everyone in corporate America smoked and drank as if it were part of the life and job description. Then, too, you see women used as business, sexual and marital props. They existed to serve their men (and I hope the PC feminists are in a tizzy, because they should be). To provide their dictation, their pleasure, their masculine image, their food, their offspring. Of course, we see in Joan, the foxy, knowing secretary, using the men in return to get what she wants; and we see in Don Draper's wife (brilliantly, tensely enacted by January Jones) an all-pervasive, unnameable malcontentedness. We see the glaring dichotomies of the men, looking Madison Avenue dapper, but behaving and displaying attitudes of overgrown high schoolers. Most of these men, from today's standpoint, are bastards; and no attempt is made to Ralph Nader or Alan Alda-ize them (it would be interesting to have the series run into the late 1960s, when these men are forced to run into the massive social consciousness that emerged in a shockingly short time later).
Most of all though, the tone of the show is presided over by the brilliant Jon Hamm, whose Don Draper is the most multifaceted character on television in ages. Hamm is blessedly allowed several moments in deep repose, and we can see the massively disturbed soul behind the savvily successful executive. And yet the character's troubled mien allows him to understand human nature, therefore key elements in advertising - how to emotionally ensnare the public into believing the merit of a product or slogan. He's also smart enough to see that Peggy (wonderfully played by Elizabeth Moss), the secretary, with her questioning, probing mind, has a depth unavailable to most of the male executives, to provide key insights into how to sell a product. Hamm's Don Draper is already a classic, public-entrenched persona. It is a stunningly limned portrayal.
The great strength of this show is its quietly commanding, un-TV-like sense of pacing. You wouldn't call this a suspense show, yet the bottled-up, stealthy sense of pacing keeps us in a tantalizingly unnerved state; you always wait for that cork to explode unexpectedly. The brilliance here is that the explosion factor doesn't always come when we expect it; but the build-up leads us to believe it will. Those explosions come when the build-up has not been prepared, and happens in a swift, tightly controlled manner, never spilling over into predictably cheap shock value.
After each show, we smile, having been on the edge of our seats, engrossed, and left deeply satisfied - and impatient for next week. Thursdays at 10:00. Phone turned off, a glass of wine or spirits.
Another great asset to the overall tone is the darkly cynical humor. Never overplayed or explicitly self-conscious, it nevertheless ingeniously, deftly exposes the foibles of human nature. The most overt humor is slyly depicted by Christina Hendricks, whose eye-poppingly Kim Novak-voluptuous, leeringly confident secretary Joan is an absolute delight. Hendricks looks and acts so unerringly real of the time period, it would be a shock to see her as she really is in real life. She and John Slattery, perfectly playing the sloppily amorous boss, create genuine sexual edge in their scenes together.
Vincent Kartheiser, playing Pete Campbell, an insecure, untalented but ruthlessly ambitious business and social climber, is scarily effective; there's an element of genuine danger in this character. Campbell is so aware of his limitations, and you sense he'd stop at nothing to prove himself.
The good-time unreformed Frat-elevated-to-biz-executive contingent, played by Rich Sommer, Aaron Staton, Michael Gladis, and Bryan Batt, strike just the right notes; they're all joyfully oversexed, blithely good-time, but very real, and we get to see inside their characters.
Robert Morse, the only familiar name in this cast, is perfect as the head of Sterling Cooper, a boss who cares not what goes on as long as the money rolls in.
I hope Mad Men will be on for years to come. HBO's loss is AMC's considerable gain - and is the best-written, best acted show of our time. It will be heralded, discussed, and acclaimed for years to come, and be held as the classic show it has already become. I have never enjoyed something so much as this intriguing, wonderfully engrossing drama. Cheers and thanks to all those involved.