Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta Mad Men. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta Mad Men. Mostrar todas las entradas

11.10.10

Don Draper & Mark Zuckerberg: The Smartest Guys In Their Rooms


Ambos saben que saben. Que enfrentados a cualquier complicación en sus respectivos ámbitos, tienen mejores respuestas que los demás. Los ponen a prueba, los superan sin esfuerzo, un dejo de condescendencia ante todo y todos los atraviesa.

Ambos son, además, estafadores, escaladores sociales: quieren entrar a clubes privados en los que no eran bienvenidos. Draper no es quien dice ser, Zuckerberg quiere ser otro. Ambos sueñan con ser Sterling o los Winklevosses: pertenecer por un derecho que les fue negado por origen. Mienten, se llevan los laureles por trabajos de otros, roban ideas.

Ambos son ambiciosos, nada los frena y no tiene problemas en lastimar a cualquiera con tal de conseguir lo que se proponen. Pueden ser hirientes, cuando quieren, o simplemente imponerse por el rol que ya tienen en sus respectivas "sociedades".

Claro que, a primera vista, no podrían ser más diferentes. Don Draper, siempre atildado y elegante, seguro de sí mismo, un "ladies man", carismático, conquistador de mujeres y hombres por igual. Zuckerberg es un "shleper", término del idishe que se usa para describir a tipos con aspecto de vagabundo, poco atildados, desordenados, capaces de andar con buzito, ojotas y medias en pleno invierno por la calle. ¿Social skills? Cero.

Si algo los diferencia, también, es que Draper vive rodeado de mujeres, las busca, se le acercan, pasa la noche con una distinta cada dos o tres episodios. A Zuckerberg, antes de los billones al menos, las mujeres se le escapaban, le resultaban un mundo ajeno e inalcanzable. Según THE SOCIAL NETWORK, casi el motivo, el "Rosebud" que lo lleva a desarrollar Facebook.

Draper también tiene su "Rosebud" y es su paso por la guerra, su "robo" de identidad. Son usurpadores, finalmente, gracias a determinados y específicos talentos. Es claro que, con su ventaja en el rubro carisma (y facha, digámoslo), Draper es casi inmaculado e intocable: a la belleza se le perdona todo, dicen por ahí, y el tipo sale casi sin manchas de cualquier situación.


No así Zuckerberg, un "nerd" que está al borde del Asperger: casi no registra los efectos que sus actos causan en el otro (Draper parece que tampoco, pero sabe y se hace el tonto) y sus acciones y comportamiento a veces lo hacen parecer más sospechoso de ciertos actos de lo que realmente es.

Hay otra diferencia, al menos aparente: Draper anda por los 40 y es de imaginar que por el recorrido de la serie y de su personaje, viene en decadencia. Zuckerberg anda por los 26 y tiene mucho camino todavía por recorrer, por más que ya sea multibillonario.

Si MAD MEN es una más que acertada representación narrativa del paso de los 50 a los 60, del fin de una era en la sociedad estadounidense y el inicio de otra, llamémosla, contracultural, THE SOCIAL NETWORK es también una película que se ubica entre dos mundos, en un giro que, más de medio siglo después, tal vez cierre el círculo hasta hacer que todo vuelva, en cierta medida, a parecerse a los años 50. Aunque digitales.

MAD MEN está atravesada por ese presente y Draper se ubica en el medio entre una cultura que parece extinguirse y otra que está naciendo. En THE SOCIAL NETWORK, Zuckerberg es una de las figuras de esa cultura que nace: una que, disfrazada con el traje de la socialización y la conectividad, parece de vuelta querer volver hacia los mundos privados, cerrados, sólo que aquí conectados digitalmente.

Es por eso que ambos nos resultan, a la vez, reconocibles y ajenos. Draper, porque viene de un modelo cultural previo y trae consigo hábitos y costumbres que nos suenan fuera de lugar. Y Zuckerberg porque actúa, casi, como un robot del futuro: reconocemos sus impulsos humanos, pero nos aleja su desapego, su frialdad y cinismo. En el medio, entre los Draper y los Zuckerberg (casi 60 años de edad los separarían, uno podría ser el abuelo del otro), un par de generaciones con otros modos y objetivos (¿humanista, llamémosla? ¿políticamente correcta?) parece haber fallado en sus búsquedas y sus objetivos. Limitada por sus escrúpulos, su falta de ambición, su necesidad ¿arcaica? de crear algo así como una comunidad real, hecha de contactos humanos.

De las casas frías de suburbio de los '50, separadas entre sí y los secretos familiares guardados bajo cien llaves, a los avatares digitales que hoy disfrazan que la situación, en realidad, se parece bastante a aquella, parece quedar en el medio la historia de una derrota cultural, social y acaso política. La que, curiosamente, parece representar una película como la propia AVATAR: con su humanismo y sus "nobles sentimientos".

Draper y Zuckerberg son dos verdaderos avatares en sus respectivas épocas, self made men en sus versiones más extremas. Ambos nos representan y a la vez nos repugnan, sus ambigüedades nos ponen contra la pared, nos obligan a pensar si seríamos capaces de ir tan lejos como ellos o si debemos mantenernos a prudente distancia.

Por representar a sus respectivas épocas, pero por sobre todo por haber creado personajes que son, en sí mismos, las contradicciones que esas épocas plantean, MAD MEN y THE SOCIAL NETWORK (de hecho, hasta los títulos podrían ser intercambiables) son dos de los productos culturales más valiosos de este año "audiovisual". Y tanto uno como el otro son relevantes hoy porque, más allá de las apariencias, son la misma cosa.

19.7.10

"Mad Men" - Temporada 4, Episodio 1 (Variety review)


Mad Men (Series -- AMC, Sun. July 25, 10 p.m.)

By
BRIAN LOWRY

Filmed in Los Angeles by Weiner Bros. in association with Lionsgate. Executive producer, Matthew Weiner; co-executive producers, Andre Jacquemetton, Maria Jacquemetton, Scott Hornbacher; producers, Dahvi Waller, Dwayne Shattuck; director, Phil Abraham; writer, Weiner;

Don - Jon Hamm
Betty - January Jones
Pete - Vincent Kartheiser
Peggy - Elisabeth Moss
Joan - Christina Hendricks
Roger - John Slattery
Lane - Jared Harris
Ken - Aaron Staton
Harry - Rich Sommer
Cooper - Robert Morse
Sally - Kiernan Shipka

There will be no spoilers in analyzing the fourth-season kickoff of "Mad Men," other than to say the Emmy winner again begins slowly but hasn't lost its stride. AMC has shrewdly scheduled the program not just to help introduce "Rubicon" -- another new drama -- but seemingly to maximize its exposure while the latest round of Emmy ballots are in circulation. Although the series will likely never be a major ratings success, its campaign to earn basic-cable buzz and prestige has been Clio Award-worthy.

As in past seasons, "Men" has made another time jump when the season opens, forcing the audience to catch up with what's transpired in that time. Perhaps for that reason, creator-writer Matthew Weiner eases into the story, deftly weaving ample humor into the premiere.

The main focus, happily, is on ad man/ladies man/man of mystery Don Draper (the as usual terrific Jon Hamm), who (and this is a spoiler if you're not caught up on season three) saw his marriage collapse when we saw him last. Based on this sampling, one suspects the issue of those Draper kids also will be a thread throughout the season, reflecting the generation birthed in the 1950s and '60s who, more than any preceding them, were the product of divorce and broken homes.

Yet things are equally challenging for Don at work, where he and his partners are trying to make the best of the boutique agency they launched after considerable scheming.

This hour finds the cast in fine form, but the most interesting crumb to emerge might be Weiner's apparent rumination on the program's success and -- speaking through his protagonist -- his own heightened profile since the series took off.

"Who gives a crap what I say anyway?" Don asks at one point. "My work speaks for me."

The real genius of "Mad Men" has been its ability to draw in a discerning audience with such a low-octane vehicle -- one that, like "The Sopranos," disgorges plot advancements on a timetable of its choosing. Story arcs are developed and then set aside, with Weiner and company returning to them as they see fit.

By that measure, the show's accomplishments include not only re-examining the cultural revolution of the 1960s through a decidedly un-nostalgic lens, but unfolding its serialized narrative with a clear resistance to compromise.

From that perspective, the work does, indeed, speak for itself.

Production designer, Dan Bishop; editor, Leo Trombetta; music supervisor, Alex Patsavas; casting, Carrie Audino. RUNNING TIME: 60 MIN.

With: Christopher Stanley, Alison Brie, Deborah Lacey, Jared S. Gilmore.


18.8.09

Fan Questions for Matthew Weiner (Mad Men)


Prior to the Season 3 premiere, series creator Matthew Weiner sat down with AMCtv.com to answer a few of your questions.

Q: What is the most challenging thing about recreating an entire era? -- Andrea

A: Not being distracted by the way history has interpreted it. It's really hard. You have to construct it out of what you think to be the truth based on the way human beings behave, and then you have popular media, which often says something is very important and it turns out it wasn't. And then people's memories of when things happened and in what order is very unreliable. There are some things we get wrong, but more likely there are things we know are 100 percent right and people just can't accept that. It was very hard for people to believe that the lifestyle in the Village in the '50s was very much what the Summer of Love was like. In fact, it was like that in the '30s. We feel so smart because we're here and we can look back and we know exactly what happened. We have a sense of superiority, but the truth is it keeps happening over and over again and we should get ready for it to happen to us instead of thinking that we're over it.

Q: How much similarity do you see in the worlds of Madison Avenue and Hollywood? -- thechosenfew

A: I think the battle between creative and business is definitely always there. My insight into Madison Avenue and copywriting in particular is because I'm a television writer. I think the businesses are very parallel to each other. Creative people like to think of themselves as artists. And when there is money at stake it becomes for both, "What is the most entertaining?" I've always looked at advertising as a form of entertainment. And if it's entertaining, you think it will sell things, but that's not always true. The Taco Bell dog was so funny, but I don't know if it produced business.

One of the interesting things about the show is it's brought up this whole concept of legacy, which has become a business word for, "Why don't we take advantage of the nostalgic quality attached to our product?" Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

Q: Can you give an example of ways that an actor's performance has influenced you to shift the direction in which you take the character? -- Jesse

A: No. The truth is that the actors are so good I don't have to limit my imagination, and I never have to write around anyone. We think of something, we know that we can write it and the actor is smart enough, talented enough, and has enough of a presence that they can pull it off. And having that kind of confidence in them allows people's imaginations to run free. I know that January Jones is funny and she can do angry and can do touching and can understand complexity. That allows me to write scenes that have all those things in it for her, when a lot of times a woman who looks like that in such a role is only capable of one thing.

Q: The media often refers to Betty as a Hitchcock Blonde. Is that a deliberate characterization on your part or just a nice coincidence? -- janeeyre

A: It's a nice coincidence. I'm a Hitchcock fan, but I didn’t know the term. I think January has the qualities of an old movie star, and I certainly recognize the Grace Kelly thing right away. So did Hitchcock [Laughs]. So the fact that you have a beautiful woman who has been objectified her whole life, and that there's any depth there at all, and there's sexuality, that is interesting to me. And it probably was to him too. You're dealing with someone who's so beautiful you don't even know if they're a person. You literally think, "What is it like for her to go to the supermarket?" As soon as you start going inside that person you have this big drama.

Q: Betty already knew Don was having an affair with Bobbie Barrett, so what was it about seeing Jimmy's commercial that set her off? –- MadforMad

A: When the Bobbie Barrett thing happened, she never had any evidence of it. But what she did have was the public humiliation of seeing that man on TV. And that was enough for her, and had she not gotten pregnant the marriage probably would have been over. She felt like, "Everybody knows but me." And I think it was her pride more than the reality of Don that got to her. Jimmy suggested it; Don never admitted it. It's based on the way he behaved in the past, and that people thought it was true, and that was too much.

Q: Did you create profiles in advance for each of the characters and, if so, how detailed are they? -– LLM

A: I knew who the characters were instinctively, but one of the big breakthroughs for us was when [costume designer] Janie Bryant came on board, she made these posters based on photos of the time and actors, and those were the character profiles. I had everyone look at those. They're framed on the walls of our office to remind people: This is Peggy. This is Rachel Menken. There's a consistency to these human beings, and the show rejects things that are out of character. Sometimes we try to do things, and either we've done them before or we're just like, "He wouldn't do that."

Q: Is there a fixed moral center to the show, or does it shift? –- GEfridge

A: There's a fixed moral center of the world, and we all deal with it the way we can -- the same way the characters do. And there's a lot of embracing of it, a lot of moments of superiority, and a lot of moments of rationalization. I'm trying to imitate our experience. Whenever we talk about other people's moral issues, it's very clear to us. But I think for ourselves there's a lot of wavering, a lot of relative morality. Anybody who has a clear picture of what's right and wrong uses it to judge other people. And a lot of times when we come to our personal situations we're pretty loose. Or we just feel guilty and horrible about what we do. Peggy gave that baby away because she had to, she had to, she had to. But how do you judge her? I don't know. That's what I’m interested in: Here's the objective standard of what's good and bad, and here's the way we behave.

Q: I'm glad that women's lives are being explored in the show. You've said that, originally, men were going to be your focus; what did you intend to explore that you haven't yet? –- The Sound of One Man Laughing

A: Um, watch the show. [Laughs] The issues that are particular male issues are all wrapped up in female issues, and I've never really tried to differentiate them. But I was interested, just from my own point of view, at how strange it is to not have a code of male behavior at this point in time, and how that happened. But then it became just about a bunch of human beings in the world, and I'm always interested in the problems of human beings.

Q: Do you see the show running long enough to leave the '60s and enter the '70s, possibly even the '80s? How do you think it would affect the characters, plot lines, and overall feel of the show? –- Chelsea C

A: I would love to see what happens to them. That's all I’m going to say.

Q: What is the one thing you really wish someone would ask you in an interview that no one has yet asked? -- Deborah Lipp

A: It reveals more about me than it does about the show, but I am always surprised that no one asks me why I was writing about Don Draper. [Laughs] I think it's about admitting the most negative qualities in yourself and how you overcome them. I'm not some crazy philandering guy; I don't look like Don, but I was definitely struck with the idea of the confusion that sets in about feelings that you have from when you're single and ambiguous feelings about family and all these institutions that you're craving. I guess people think that the story was so sexy I just couldn't resist it. [Laughs] The story is pretty sexy, but I've always identified with Don and Peggy and all of those characters. They're multiple sides of my personality, and I'm thrilled there's an audience out there that’s not threatened by investigating what's wrong with us. And that's why there's no judgment. A lot of entertainment is about making you feel that you're OK. That's what Don says in the Pilot. But life is more complicated than that.


17.8.09

Which MAD MAN are you?


Buenísimo, el juego... aunque a mí me dio que soy la secretaria Jane Siegel

Link



Jane Siegel (Peyton List)

14.8.09

‘Mad Men’ Strains to Stay as Button-Down as Ever (The New York Times)


Retrospective winks at past ignorance are what makes “Mad Men” so funny and, at times, so chilling.

“Mad Men” mocks and celebrates forbidden vices, the drinking, smoking and promiscuity that in the advertising business of the 1960s flowed heedlessly, without health warnings or the sour taint of political incorrectness. From the start, the show has mined hindsight for wicked humor: a child playing dangerously with a dry-cleaning bag is chided only for messing up the clothes inside; a pastoral family picnic ends with the mom tossing the entire basket of trash onto lush, pristine park grounds; the presidential candidate Richard M. Nixon is marketed as a young, handsome Navy hero.

Even more than in the first two years, this new season, which begins on Sunday on AMC, stresses the less amusing side of that innocence, leading viewers to look back, aghast at, and enthralled by, a world so familiar and so primitive. Characters on “Mad Men” struggle in shame and secrecy with the very things that today are openly, incessantly boasted and blogged about: humble roots, broken homes, homosexuality, unwed motherhood, caring for senile parents.

In the early ’60s space was for conquest; the social order was overripe for exploration. And in this age before chat rooms, support groups, confessional talk shows, self-help books and 24-hour hot lines became commonplace, each crisis, from the Cuban missile to the midlife, seems encountered as if for the first time, uncharted and befogged by bewilderment and fear.

It’s not just that everyone has a secret; each character feels so alone in guarding it.

The first episode begins with the show’s star ad man, Don Draper (Jon Hamm), at a stove, heating milk, wrapped in a plaid bathrobe and haunting memories he tried to smother long ago. Staring into the darkness, Don conjures scenes of the sordid, poverty-stricken way he came into the world, images accompanied by faint, sad strains of “My Old Kentucky Home.”

Those first fugues into Don’s hidden past are not the most inviting way into a new season, however. “Mad Men” is essentially one long flashback, an artfully imagined historic re-enactment of an era when America was a soaring superpower feeling its first shivers of mortality.

In contrast, Don’s daydreams about his deprived childhood seem incongruous and hokey — less a look into his psyche than a re-creation of a comedy skit from vintage programs like “The Garry Moore Show.” Only when the camera returns to the offices of the Sterling Cooper advertising agency are things right — and deliciously wrong — in this mad world.

A British company bought the agency at the end of Season 2, and now Don and his colleagues are supervised by Lane Pryce (Jared Harris), a supercilious financial officer from the London headquarters, and his insufferably pompous male secretary, John Hooker (Ryan Cartwright), nicknamed “Moneypenny” by his American co-workers.

Peggy (Elisabeth Moss) has risen to copywriter but still can’t command the respect of her own secretary, who ignores her boss and instead moons over John’s clipped British accent. “I could listen to him read the phone book,” she says dreamily to Peggy.

“Well,” Peggy snaps. “When he gets to S, I need Howard Sullivan at Lever Brothers.”

The show’s period clothes, cocktails and allusions to Hitchcock, Bob Dylan and Frank O’Hara are no longer new. Neither are the narrative feints that spike suspense by deflecting it — though the trick continues to work. There are still mysteries to even the most closely examined lead characters. Peggy; Joan (Christina Hendricks), the office manager; and even Pete (Vincent Kartheiser), the weaselly account executive, are so familiar, yet they remain enigmatic — protected by a thin, exotic veil of weirdness.

And, most of all, so does Don’s beautiful wife, Betty (January Jones), who is in the last stages of pregnancy with their third child and worried about her increasingly senile father, Gene (Ryan Cutrona). Betty is even more concerned that her brother and his wife have designs on their father’s property.

Don, an incorrigibly unfaithful husband but a loyal spouse, decides that the old man can live with them. Gene repays the hospitality by instructing his granddaughter to read aloud to him from Gibbon’s history of the fall of the Roman Empire. When Don comes home, Gene asks acidly, “How’s Babylon?”

Gene’s generation, forged by the Depression and Prohibition, finds an unlikely ally in youth, the would-be beatniks who despise their parents’ conformity and decadent consumerism and yearn for change. At Sterling Cooper change comes slowly and ambivalently; some ad men smoke marijuana and quote T. S. Eliot while fretting about nuclear war; others drink and dance the jitterbug at a Derby party at a segregated country club. Don Draper smoothly works in both worlds and belongs to neither.

At this moment in 1963, John F. Kennedy is still president; the most imminent threat of mutually assured destruction has ebbed; and Don is still restless, knowing and unknowable.

Over dinner, an eager stewardess chirps to Don about her travels. His reply is typically inscrutable. “I keep going to a lot of places and ending up somewhere I’ve already been,” he says.

It’s the third season, and we still want to go with him.

MAD MEN

AMC, Sunday nights at 10, Eastern and Pacific times; 9, Central time.

Created and written by Matthew Weiner; directed by Phil Abraham; Mr. Weiner and Scott Hornbacher, executive producers; Lisa Albert, supervising producer; Dahvi Waller, co-producer; Dwayne Shattuck and Blake McCormick, producers. Produced by Lionsgate.

WITH: Jon Hamm (Donald Draper), January Jones (Betty Draper), Vincent Kartheiser (Peter Campbell), Elisabeth Moss (Peggy Olson), Christina Hendricks (Joan Holloway), John Slattery (Roger Sterling), Jared Harris (Lane Pryce), Ryan Cartwright (John Hooker), Bryan Batt (Salvatore Romano), Michael Gladis (Paul Kinsey), Ryan Cutrona (Gene Driscoll), Aaron Staton (Ken Cosgrove), Rich Sommer (Harry Crane) and Robert Morse (Bertram Cooper).

10.8.09

Vuelve "Mad Men"









Si vienen leyendo el blog desde hace una semana, se darán cuenta que me he vuelto un obsesivo con este tema. Aquí, los wallpapers que pueden encontrar con mucha mejor calidad en el sitio oficial de la serie.

9.8.09

Women We Love: Christina Hendricks (Esquire)


Despite the Golden Globes, the endless doxologies from critics, and the blandishments from members of its cult who tell you that you of all people would love it because it's so smart — there's a chance you haven't seen Mad Men, which enters its third season this month. And if you haven't seen Mad Men, then you can't understand the totality of Christina Hendricks. On the show, she plays a 1960s secretary, her relentless curves tamped into tight dresses and her hair architected into a copper ziggurat. She bosses around the other girls in the office and electrifies the men who run it, just by sashaying down the hall. The pieces that make up her presence — her voice, smooth as the highway; the look in her eyes, sweet or cunning or both; the way she glides around the office, presiding — make her tower over everyone around her, whether she's wearing heels or not.

Here, in a hotel restaurant in Los Angeles, the elements are the same — the red hair, the pristine, pale swath of skin between her shoulders, the long legs, the doe eyes. But the hair is loose, pinned up in a hurry. There's a high-pitched laugh. The thirty-four-year-old actress is sitting comfortably in jeans and a loose top, in a private dining room, at a long table that's set for ten. It's an odd time to eat — three on a Saturday — but Christina's day is just beginning. Shooting for Mad Men ran late last night, and she went to bed close to sunrise.

CHRISTINA HENDRICKS [scanning the menu]: It looks like a lot of food, but I have to assume they're smaller portions, right? [To the waitress] I'm going to do the celery soup and then the carbonara.

WAITRESS: The celery soup is not vegetarian. It has some pancetta, and guanciale. And the carbonara is served classic style, with egg yolk. So when you mix it, it cooks itself. We can skip the egg yolk.

Hendricks blinks. She has a talent for delicate blinking — she blinks to communicate. When she does it on Mad Men, it usually means she has just made a stinging comment that's lingering in the smoke-filled air while she blinks innocently, her eyelids crushing some hapless officemate. But in real life, it's nice, for the most part.

CH: No, no, that's okay.

The waitress leaves.

CH: "Would you like a carbonara without the carbonara?"

ESQUIRE: She was concerned about a lot of things.

CH: And two kinds of pork in one soup? Bring it on. I just learned what guanciale is, when I was in New Orleans. It's the pig jowl. I went to this butcher there, and I came home with lots of sausages: a big andouille and a blood sausage.

ESQ: You know your pork.

CH: I can see it in Esquire — "I know my pork!" Oh, my gosh, you've had chocolate-covered bacon, right? It's so perfect.

ESQ: Do you like to cook?

CH: I love to cook. I just got a deep fryer, and it's amazing. The first night we got it, we made homemade poppers. I mean, what's the best deep-fried thing ever? Cheese poppers.

ESQ: Do you drink while you cook? Watching Mad Men always makes me want to drink.

CH: I love cocktails. My specialty drink is a gimlet with a little egg white in it so it gets frothy. I really like rose water — sometimes I'll add it to champagne. I was at a bar recently and the manager came up to me and said, "We have a drink named after you!" The Joan Holloway. There was Campari in it. People are throwing these Mad Men — themed parties because, I think, it's an excuse to get dressed up and drink and smoke.

ESQ: What do you smoke on the set?

CH: Herbal cigarettes. They're disgusting.

ESQ: Do you wear the undergarments of the day?

CH: Oh, yeah, they're all the authentic girdles, and we wear the longline bras, with boning.

ESQ: Boning?

CH: It's like what's in a corset — it has these long strips of plastic or metal that keep everything [pauses], you know. Oh, yeah — it's supercomfortable. And then the authentic stockings, with the garters, and then a slip and then our dress. From my girdle and my garters last night, I have two bruises on the top of my legs. From being in it for seventeen hours. Women did that.

ESQ: Why do you think you got the part of the bossy secretary?

CH: Matt Weiner, the creator, had thought of Joan as pinched and tightly wound, but she's more of a sort of sexual character. I just went in and did the character as I had read her, which was bossy, brassy, everyone-listen-to-me. And then when wardrobe got involved, doing the pilot, I put on this dress, and all of the sudden I had a different walk than I normally had, and Matt turned to me and said, "That's Joan." I have my hair brought up a couple inches, and I have heels. I look like an Amazon.

ESQ: But you seem to embrace the fact that you're not this little waify nothing.

CH: This is the way I'm built, and I feel beautiful. It's funny, because I don't feel like I look that different from anybody. Everyone's always like, "You're so much smaller in person!"

ESQ: Must be the boning.

CH: And the bras and all that.

ESQ: Even besides Joan, the show drips with sex.

CH: Because there's something in what you don't see. There's restraint. I've had people say to me, "My husband and I watch it and we always have sex afterwards." I think it's really hot that some of the things it's stirring up in people are very naughty things.

The waitress asks how everything is and Hendricks is honest. She says the noodles are overcooked. While blinking.

CH: I have this habit of, when they ask me if it was good, I tell them when it's not.

ESQ: I think they'd want to know.

CH: I don't mean to cause a ruckus. They're probably saying "God, that girl from Mad Men is so fussy."

ESQ: Are you a ruckus-causer?

CH: I have a problem keeping my mouth shut. I usually speak my mind. I'm trying to learn my lesson.

Drama Confronts a Dramatic Decade (The New York Times)


IT’S 1963 as the third season of “Mad Men” on AMC gets under way next Sunday night. And its creator, Matthew Weiner, hopes the show stays on the air long enough to string out his story through the entire turbulent decade.

“What I always wanted to do,” he said in a phone interview from his office in Los Angeles, “is to take this classic American archetype of the late 1950s, with all the trappings of that time, and see how he ends up in 1970 or ’72.”

This archetype is Don Draper (played by Jon Hamm), creative director at a midsize Madison Avenue ad firm, who has a nice house, a blond wife and two kids in the suburbs, and a life that’s unraveling.

In the first season, two years ago, we saw him having stormy affairs with exotic brunettes — a Greenwich Village artist, then the daughter of a department-store owner. And we learned that his whole life, not just his job, is built on deception. During the Korean War, a fellow soldier was blown up in an attack and our hero stole his identity, to escape his own dead-end life, and he’s kept it a secret ever since.

“We live in a culture where people can transform themselves,” Mr. Weiner said. “We have a phrase: ‘Find a job, then become the person who does it.’ Don is one of those people. It’s a hard thing to swallow, because you’re never really secure about yourself. For our hero that insecurity makes him especially good at understanding what people want and why they want it.” And that makes him a perfect ad man.

In the new season we see this ultimate self-made man of midcentury America — outwardly confident but hollow at the core — smacked, like the culture he embodies, by the earthquake of the ’60s. “I started off writing the show as a scathing analysis of what happened to the United States,” Mr. Weiner said. “But the more I got into Don, the more I realized this is an amazing place. Something really did change in those years” — the late ’50s and early ’60s. “What would it be like to go to that place?”

He continued: “I’m interested in how people respond to change. Are they excited by the change, or are they terrified that they’ll lose everything that they know? Do people recognize that change is going on? That’s what the show’s about.”

“Mad Men” has become one of those shows whose cultural weight exceeds the size of its audience. Despite an average audience of just 1.8 million viewers for each episode last season, it garnered more Emmy nominations this year (16) than any other series besides “30 Rock” (which had 22). It has spawned countless newspaper and magazine articles on cocktail culture. Banana Republic is even featuring window displays inspired by its fashions and is handing out a “Mad Men” style guide.

In the wake of “The Sopranos” and “The Wire,” “Mad Men” seems to fill a hunger for shows with grown-up themes, snappy (but not too snappy) dialogue, compelling multiple story lines, realistic settings, high production values (it’s shot on 35-millimeter film) and characters, whether they’re attractive or loathsome (or both), who have entirely credible motives.

Mr. Weiner is notoriously secretive about new plot developments, an attitude that he acquired as a writer for “The Sopranos,” whose creator, David Chase, firmly prohibited leaks.

But when asked if the season will touch on, say, the Kennedy assassination, he hesitated, then replied, “We’re going to handle everything.”

The first season ended on Thanksgiving Day 1960, with Don’s marriage in tatters and the soundtrack blaring Bob Dylan’s “Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right,” a song that didn’t come out until 1963. “I didn’t know if the show would be picked up,” Mr. Weiner explained. “I was saying: ‘Here’s this song. This is what’s coming.’ ”

Season 2 ended in October 1962 with the peaceful resolution of the Cuban missile crisis and the tentative restoration of Don’s marriage.

For many Americans the missile crisis, was “a near-death experience,” Mr. Weiner said. “There was a tremendous anxiety that did not go away. People were unsettled by something. You can see it in all the accounts of that year.”

Season 3 is about this anxiety. Without going into details he laid out some of the themes that serve as backdrops: sexual openness, urban renewal, fear of technology (especially atomic technology), environmental decay and overheated consumerism.

Mr. Weiner listed some of the best-selling books of that time — Rachel Carson’s “Silent Spring,” Ralph Nader’s “Unsafe at Any Speed,” Betty Friedan’s “Feminine Mystique,” John Kenneth Galbraith’s “Affluent Society” — and said, “The themes of these books come into the show and affect the characters’ lives.”

Matthew Weiner is 44, meaning the first three seasons of “Mad Men” take place in a time before he was born. But, he said, he’s long been “obsessed” with that period. During his teenage years, in Los Angeles in the 1970s and early ’80s, pop culture was drenched in ’50s nostalgia — bowling shirts, rockabilly, “American Graffiti,” “Happy Days.” It also formed the real-life culture of his parents, who were married in 1959 and who filled their home with the era’s artifacts.

So young Matt devoured “The Catcher in the Rye” and “Catch-22,” sat glued to reruns of “The Twilight Zone” and read histories about the Beats and the Hollywood blacklist. “I saw the late ’50s and early ’60s as this golden age,” he recalled. “The pop culture was so sophisticated.”

Before receiving an M.F.A. at the University of Southern California’s school of cinema and television, he studied philosophy, literature and history at Wesleyan University in Connecticut. And he would later weave much of what he read there into “Mad Men.”

John Cheever’s short stories about midcentury suburbia were a major inspiration, but not Richard Yates’s 1961 novel, “Revolutionary Road,” to which the series is often compared.

Mr. Weiner had never heard of Yates when he wrote the “Mad Men” pilot in 2000. “ ‘Revolutionary Road’ was given to me three years after I wrote the pilot,” he said. He says if he had read the book before, he wouldn’t have had the nerve to write the show: “Yates was there. This is what he was writing about.”

Beyond its literary references and themes “Mad Men” has been most lavishly praised for its meticulous period detail.

“I read a lot from the period — memoirs, novels, histories,” Mr. Weiner said. To get the look of the time he collected personal photos and home movies, and watched the era’s few films that were shot in the streets of New York, especially “Sweet Smell of Success” (1957) and “Shadows” (1959).

Bob Shaw, the production designer for the “Mad Men” pilot, noted that magazine ads from an era are misleading sources of how people actually lived at the time. “The first premise I had,” he recalled, “was that no period exists purely as itself. People don’t discard all their clothing. Very few people update their homes.”

As a result Henry Dunn, the pilot’s art director, said, “Our choice of sets, furniture and clothes was based on research as much from the early ’50s as from the late ’50s.”

So the pilot’s first scene took place not in a “cool ’50s bar,” as one producer suggested, but in a bar with an Old New York style. The Drapers live not amid high-modern décor but in a colonial home. “Don Draper is someone aspiring to an established lifestyle,” Mr. Shaw said. “He’s not breaking new ground.”

If the series lasts as long as Mr. Weiner hopes, will Don finally break that “new ground,” or will he settle grumpily into the ’70s backlash of Nixon’s “silent majority”? Will Sal come out of the closet after Stonewall? How will Peggy reconcile her career with motherhood?

Mr. Weiner said he doesn’t know right now how his stories end. Or at least he isn’t saying.

Fred Kaplan is a Slate columnist and the author of “1959: The Year Everything Changed.”

7.8.09

Don and Betty’s Paradise Lost (Vanity Fair)


Probablemente esta larguísima nota (aquí les copio apenas una de las siete páginas que tiene) sólo me interese a mí: no conozco nadie más, al menos por aquí, que vea "Mad Men".

Entering its third season on a fresh wave of Emmy nominations, AMC’s Mad Men is the most stylish—and perhaps best—show on television. Inside its meticulous reconstruction of the precipice that was New York advertising circa 1960, where the men and women of Sterling Cooper smoke, drink, love, and lie, the author learns about the struggle of Mad Men creator (and former Sopranos writer) Matthew Weiner, the casting of Jon Hamm and January Jones as Don and Betty Draper, and the obsession that fuels each episode. Photographs by Annie Leibovitz.

By Bruce Handy

T
he thumbnail history of Hollywood goes something like this: Once upon a time, the studios reigned supreme. They bulldozed geniuses and turned out dreck, but in applying Henry Ford discipline and efficiencies to filmmaking they also gave us The Lady Eve, Casablanca, and Singin’ in the Rain. By the 1960s, however, the factory system began to give way, power shifted to directors and stars, and a new generation of independent-minded auteurs crafted sometimes indulgent but often original and even brilliant films such as Bonnie and Clyde, Midnight Cowboy, Taxi Driver, and Apocalypse Now. Then, another turn: studios got the upper hand back, or learned to share it grudgingly with a handful of superstars and A-list directors. But without the old assembly-line rigor the result has too often been big, bloated dreck, like the films of Michael Bay, or the gaseous Oscar bait that bubbles up every fall—the worst of all movie worlds.

But, ah, television. Its great accomplishment over the past decade has been to give us the best of all movie worlds, to meld personal filmmaking, or series-making, with something like the craft and discipline, the crank-’em-out urgency, of the old studio system. I’m thinking first and foremost of The Sopranos, which debuted in 1999 and sadly departed in 2007. This strange and entertaining series, as individual a work as anything by Hitchcock or Scorsese, was the creation of David Chase, and it paved the way for The Wire, Deadwood, Rescue Me, Damages, and its successor as the best drama on television, the equally strange and entertaining Mad Men, which will launch its third season on AMC August 16.

Set in an advertising agency in the early 1960s, Mad Men debuted two summers ago and right off the bat earned itself two Golden Globes and a Peabody Award, and was nominated for 16 Emmys, becoming the first basic-cable series to win for outstanding drama. Its second season, no sophomore slump, has been nominated for another 16 Emmys, including best drama and four out of five possible writing nominations. A more interesting measure of the show’s impact is the fact that its title has become a kind of shorthand: you can now talk about a Mad Men skirt or lampshade or pickup line where once you might have used “space age” or “Kennedy era” or “Neanderthal.” But while the show, like its subject, has many surface pleasures—period design, period bad behavior (if you like high modernism, narrow lapels, bullet bras, smoking, heavy drinking at lunch, good hotel sex, and bad office sex, this is the series for you)—at its core Mad Men is a moving and sometimes profound meditation on the deceptive allure of surface, and on the deeper mysteries of identity. The dialogue is almost invariably witty, but the silences, of which there are many, speak loudest: Mad Men is a series in which an episode’s most memorable scene can be a single shot of a woman at the end of her day, rubbing the sore shoulder where a bra strap has been digging in. There’s really nothing else like it on television.

The central character is Don Draper, the cool and commanding creative director of the fictional Sterling Cooper agency. He’s a man in flight from his own past, a Gatsby-esque figure without the romance of a Daisy; or rather, he seems to be looking for a Daisy everywhere but his home in the suburbs, where his beautiful, bored, emotionally stunted wife, Betty, is stranded in what feels at times like an improbably compelling adaptation of The Feminine Mystique. Played in an instantly iconic performance by Jon Hamm, Don is a man whose emotions are in lockdown—a man as sleek and handsome and seemingly invulnerable as a hood ornament. But in the show’s central irony he is able to plumb human needs and desires with an artist’s intuition: if Mad Men ever approaches shtick, it’s when Don gets a faraway look in his eyes and somehow pulls a psychologically barbed selling point out of his own inner ether (a trope wonderfully parodied on Saturday Night Live last fall, when Hamm was hosting). In short, Don Draper is an advertising Mozart, or at least he’s the best Sterling Cooper has to offer, for another of the show’s ironies is that Don and his colleagues are dinosaurs not just in terms of the impending social revolutions of the 1960s but also in terms of the creative revolution that would roil advertising that decade. As in Hitchcock, the characters are unaware of shocks that the audience knows all too well lie ahead, whether they be the Kennedy assassination and women’s lib or long sideburns and the lasting influence of Doyle Dane Bernbach’s witty, self-deprecating “Lemon” ad for Volkswagen, which Don dismisses with the words “I don’t know what I hate about it the most.”

All in all, that’s a lot to pack into a mere 47 minutes of TV, one night a week—astonishing, really, considering that each episode of Mad Men, with its scrupulous period detail, is shot in just seven days on a budget that, at an average $2.8 million an episode this season, even a lot of indie-film producers would scoff at. But who knows? Going back to my original point, if Heaven’s Gate had been a 13-episode series with a hard-and-fast airdate, the last 30 years of Hollywood history might have been different, and Michael Cimino something other than the butt of a cautionary tale.

“I’m of the persuasion that budget contraints are very, very good for creativity. I think people having unlimited amounts of money makes you really lazy. And I will be quoted on that, believe it or not.” The speaker turning his back on decades of Hollywood wisdom was Matthew Weiner, 44, the auteur behind Mad Men, who also has a Sopranos pedigree, having written for that series during its final three seasons. As Mad Men’s creator and show-runner—the industry term for whoever has ultimate creative responsibility for a series, typically a writer- producer—he has imbued his own series with a similarly novelistic richness, scope, and meticulous sense of craft. He talks about “training the audience” to learn how to read the show, and says things like “It’s been a process for the audience to trust the show on some level, to think that we’re thinking about it as much as they hope we are.”

They are, all right. They’re thinking about it as much as even the most Mad Men–obsessed shut-in blogger could hope. You can glean this from watching the show, with its precise, even exacting style of acting and shooting—on Mad Men, the perfect prop can be the equivalent of a well-placed comma—but I had no real idea until I had a chance to visit the Mad Men offices and soundstages, which, aptly, are in a studio on the edge of downtown Los Angeles which was converted from a steel-and-glass Mad Men–era office building. A scene-setting anecdote everyone in the Mad Men orbit tells is how Weiner came onto the set one day and focused on some pieces of fruit he said were too large and shiny and perfectly formed; produce in the early 60s—period produce—wasn’t pumped up. Get smaller, dumpier fruit, he ordered. (Depending on who was telling me the story, from cast members to network executives, the offending produce morphed from apples to oranges to bananas, but Amy Wells, the set decorator, said definitively: it was apples.) In a similar vein, the show’s prop masters have been plagued by the steroidal dimensions of contemporary American pastry whenever a Sterling Cooper secretary needs to pick up a Danish from the coffee cart.


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16.7.09

Principales nominaciones a los Emmys


List of Major Categories:

Outstanding Comedy Series
Family Guy
30 Rock
Weeds
How I Met Your Mother
The Office
Flight of the Conchords
Entourage

Outstanding Drama Series
Mad Men
Breaking Bad
Lost
Damages
Dexter
Big Love
House

Lead Actor in a Drama
Bryan Cranston, Breaking Bad
Hugh Laurie, House
Gabriel Byrne, In Treatment
Michael C. Hall, Dexter
Jon Hamm, Mad Men
Simon Baker, The Mentalist

Lead Actress in a Drama
Elisabeth Moss, Mad Men
Glenn Close, Damages
Sally Field, Brothers and Sisters
Mariska Hargitay, Law and Order: SVU
Kyra Sedgwick, The Closer
Holly Hunter, Saving Grace

Lead Actor in a Comedy
Jim Parsons, The Big Bang Theory
Alec Baldwin, 30 Rock
Steve Carell, The Office
Charlie Sheen, Two and a Half Men
Tony Shalhoub, Monk
Jemaine Clement, Flight of the Conchords

Lead Actress in a Comedy
Toni Collette, United States of Tara
Tina Fey, 30 Rock
Julia Louis-Dreyfus, The New Adventures of Old Christine
Sarah Silverman, The Sarah Silverman Program
Mary-Louise Parker, Weeds
Christina Applegate, Samantha Who?