Every time I would hear about "Mad Men", I'd ask what it was about, and the response would inevitably come back with some variation on, "It's about the sixties ... and smoking ... and sexually harassing women ... and looking awesome in a suit." Well, I would think to myself, I would rather watch THE WIRE eight hundred times in a row than watch that. Then I'd sit back in a smug, self-satisfied way, and convince myself that THE WIRE is the finest piece of American television ever made. Which, to be absolutely clear here, it is.
However, "Mad Men" wouldn't go away. More and more people were talking about it. I started hearing things that intrigued me, like the main character not being who he said he was. I saw a picture of Christina Hendricks and unconsciously did a "Mary Steenburgen in Back to the Future III" impression: golly! And then I heard about the storyline tying into events like the Cuban Missile Crisis.
Now, I haven't got there yet, having only reached episode six of the first season, but this is what truly excites me about this show (or at least this show's potential): I'm a history nerd. I will confess to owning THIRTEEN DAYS. I bought Soderbergh's CHE films, sight unseen. Hell, I own AND STARRING PANCHO VILLA AS HIMSELF, a made-for-HBO movie I had to write an essay on for a history elective and ending up buying because I thought it was so swell. I mean, Antonio Banderas as the legendary Mexican revolutionary? Colm Feore as D.W. Griffiths? Amazing!
I realize few people would echo those exact sentiments (for example, I feel like laughter at Mr. Banderas' casting would be a more common reaction), but I think many people have the same general response to period pieces: a fascination with the past. How else would you explain the enduring popularity of "Mad Men" in spite of the show's lackadaisical pacing?
BAM! Complisulted!
I kid. I haven't watched enough of "Mad Men" to really make an informed judgment yet, but I will say that the first six episodes of HBO's period-piece-response "Boardwalk Empire" has me far more interested in its sprawling story and compelling characters. So far, "Mad Men" is less about any of those things than it is about the fetishization of period details: stainless cigarette lighters, crisply ironed white dress shirts, and the smooth curved lines of bourbon glasses. It's no coincidence that the beautiful DVD packaging of the show features these objects, instead of the characters. At this point, the "smoking... sexual harassment...suits" criticism is bang-on. Not to say that it can't become more, but six episodes in, that is what "Mad Men" is about.
My apologies to everyone who told me that and saw me roll my eyes. You were right.
However, when I watched ANCHORMAN: THE LEGEND OF RON BURGUNDY yesterday, I started wondering where this reverence for the past comes from.
ANCHORMAN and "Mad Men" may not seem the most compatible of entertainments, but once you get past their tonal qualities, they do share a great deal of similarities. In fact, "smoking, sexual harassment, suits" might as well be Ron Burgundy's personal motto. The only noticeable difference between him and Don Draper is the horrifying moustache.
The similarities go beyond the protagonists, though. There is a sense of deep-rooted affection for the entire world that goes beyond a love of character or place: both of these works are in love with the past itself. Of course, the tone in ANCHORMAN is a much more comedic look at the excesses and political incorrectness of the 1970s, but there is a warmth to the innocence of the era that permeates the film.
I guess the word that most defines what we're talking about is nostalgia, and what makes these works so relatable is that everyone experiences nostalgia. It's not so much the specifics of the memory, but the feeling that the act of remembering something evokes. So while none of us (I assume) worked in the advertising agencies of '60s America, or have ever seen a news broadcast from the '70s, we can relate to it, because it feels like we're remembering it (even though we've never actually experienced anything like it).
But why would we want to do this? Why would we want to relive things we haven't lived through in the first place? I think the issue at the heart of nostalgia is that we know how fragile (and important) history is. History is how we construct narratives in every facet of our lives, and without narratives, it's exponentially more difficult to arrive at a truth. Just ask that crazed genius, David Lynch.
BAM! Complisulted!
I kid. But I do think that the reason Mr. Lynch has never dabbled in the historical film genre may be that he's not interested in cinematic meaning deriving from narrative, but rather from mood and emotive qualities. However, on both a personal and societal level, we're constantly examining why we got where we are and how we got there, forming narratives to help us understand. Therefore, memory, both personal and cultural, is one of our most cherished possessions.
And that's why we fetishize the horrifying moustaches and gleaming cigarette lighters of our past: they all tell us something about who we were, where we've come from. It's why we can enjoy Will Ferrell screaming at us for an hour and a half. He's a reflection of us, a chubby, hairy signpost of our history.
And it's why I'll give "Mad Men" some more time to impress me. At least until the Cuban Missile Crisis kicks in. Now who's up for a little THIRTEEN DAYS?
No one? Oh. Okay.
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