Thin ties and thick cigarette smoke. Strong martinis and weak hearts. Welcome to the world of Mad Men, where men are men, women are secretaries and the good ol' days aren't so good after all.
AMC's Mad Men has snagged scads of critical praise (and 16 Emmy nominations) for its sophistication, style and sauce. It focuses on the go-go world of 1960s advertising, particularly the lecherous, hard-living ad execs employed at fictional Sterling Cooper.
"Advertising is based on one thing: happiness," says the agency's creative director, Don Draper (Jon Hamm). And Don, it would seem, should know all about that. He has crafted his own idealized American dream complete with a beautiful wife, two adorable children and a big house in the suburbs. He's drunk on power, praise and three-martini lunches.
But Don's high-gloss life hides darker truths, including the fact that he's not Don Draper at all, but a guy named Richard Whitman. Apparently he exchanged his old life for a newer model and now drives a lie. His deception doesn't end there. During the drama's first season, Don cheats on his wife with two different women, at one point asking a paramour to run away with him.
"What kind of man are you?" his shocked lover says. "Go away, dump everything, leave your life?"
"People do it every day," he replies.
Sadly, however, Don may have the most highly developed conscience of any of the show's Madison Avenue ("Mad") men. They drink constantly, smoke incessantly and treat women like cheap, pretty baubles. They call the office secretaries "sweeties" and ogle their assets. One wrestles a girl to the ground to see what color panties she's wearing. Another beds a secretary before and after his wedding day (a tryst that results in a neglected baby boy). Marriage vows are as treasured as expired coupons. The only character who has appeared reasonably happy in a domestic setting is Salvatore Romano (Bryan Batt), a man who has long resisted homosexual urges.
Although profanities have been mild, sex scenes can be raw, with glimpses of breasts, behinds and strippers in pasties. Most every character's sense of morality is just shy of abysmal, which may be why the show's supporters want to see it go commercial-free. Jon Kamen, CEO of the company that produced the Mad Men pilot, told Advertising Age, "A brand wants to sponsor a show and not face family-values attacks."
Legendary ad man William Bernbach once said, "All of us who professionally use mass media are the shapers of society. We can vulgarize that society. We can brutalize it. Or we can help lift it to a higher level." Mad Men does a lot of the former, a bit of the latter. Its creators use 50 years of hindsight to subtly satirize America's love affair with consumerism and excess, claiming to be "big on [showing] consequences." But the price is too high. Families should heed the time-honored warning of caveat emptor: Let the buyer beware.
