Normally, we write in the Royal We around here, but today I'm breaking that rule because I'm going to say something kind of scandalous, and I don't want to bring any of my upstanding colleagues down with me. Not that many of 'em are standing up at this point in the day, but you know: figure of speech.
Anyway, here goes: I hate Mad Men.
I don't just dislike it. If I happen to flip through AMC while it's on, I don't just keep going. I stop. I rant. I scream at the set. It makes me very, very mad. (See what I did there?)
My problem isn't with the cast, who are very, very talented. Nor do I mind the theme song, which was, coincidentally, penned by one of my personal faves, RJD2.
My problem is with the writing, which is about as subtle and nuanced as a hockey puck to the nads. The plot points of most episodes can be summarized as, "It's the 60s! Women belong in the kitchen! We drink at work! We smoke like crazy! And if you think we treat the ladies bad, wait till you see what we do to people of color. Whom we don't call 'people of color', of course!"
The show is also art-directed to within an inch of its life. Every scene is cluttered with period-appropriate mid-century paraphernalia, to the point that we can't see the actors for all the vintage ashtrays, decanters, and TV sets. It's beyond frustrating...or rather, it usually is.
Every so often, however, the art directors throw in an object so beautiful, so perfect, that distraction is peachy keen. Case in point: this shot of John Hamm (follow the link below), cruising on the Mad Men set in a pristine, candy apple-red Chrysler Imperial convertible that might even match Christina Hendricks in the beauty department. Seriously: would it kill the producers to build an entire season around this car? I'd sooner watch that than January Jones tanking on SNL again.