In Which I Passionately Discuss Mad Men

One of my favorite things about television, or at least the type of television I gravitate towards, is how it is like a great book or novel. Each season being a different volume in some great series. I guess growing up a huge Harry Potter nerd means I have an affection for serialized storytelling. And I'm always hungry for more. I have an unquenchable appetite for a story with plot, purpose, and payoff. People that feel like actual people is also a plus. In terms of visuals, I've grown to even love the technical side of things, finding myself appreciating certain shots or sequences that a causal viewer may not even notice. Obviously these latter qualities are unique to visual media, but craft is craft. Whether it is a book whose prose you find poignant or if it's a television show whose visual motifs you admire above all else, it almost doesn't even matter what's being said when the presentation is just so damn good. And obviously, one such show to possess all this since its start, has been Mad Men.

When I am in the midst of a season of Mad Men, I feel like I'm in the midst of a great book. Not just in terms of seasonal arcs or plotting, but in the sense that I need time to absorb the chapter I just finished. I need to actively consider the style and structure choices. I need to dissect characters and their actions. I need a moment to recall the lines of dialogue and how they were delivered. And to speculate on where it's all going. And I also can't wait to get online and read how other people interpreted the episode. It's like a great big book club for me. Or an English class in which last night's reading is brought to discussion. I always look forward to reading some Mad Men recaps to gather various points of view or discussion. And heck, Mad Men has made me love comment sections because I will absolutely seek those out. Even the people commenting bring up fantastic points that I would never have thought of on my own. It often ends up being a jumping off point to parse my own theories and analyses. And what makes Mad Men so good is that so much is left open. Matthew Weiner doesn't give definitive answers--which he should never do, to be honest--he just lets people have their own relationship with the ambiguities of his work. And in that sense, it's like a great book.

After last Sunday's sixth season finale, I tweeted that it was probably one of my least favorite seasons of the show. But honestly, that means nothing. Because even the worst season of Mad Men is amazing. And also because I've had almost a week to reflect and while I may still stand by that statement, the season overall has grown on me. The things that I found boring and repetitive were meant to feel boring and repetitive. I was so sick of Don Draper this season. And his endless cycle of self-destructive drinking and cheating and "mystery." It didn't feel exciting or compelling anymore. It didn't feel much of anything. It was lifeless and indifferent and habitual. Yes there were painful low points, but I didn't feel sympathy in those moments. I felt disgusted and sick of it all. But now that the season is over and I'm looking at this complete thing, I realize it felt that way for a reason. Because even Don felt that way about himself.

For example, I was so uninterested in the brothel flashbacks. But I have now fully realized their necessity to the understanding of Don Draper slash Dick Whitman. At times I thought it was just about mommy issues and why Don treats women the way he does. And while it was about that, it was only partially. The flashbacks kept going, implying there was more to them. Their overuse and heavy-handedness are exactly what got everyone talking about them. Every recapper and commenter was rolling their eyes at those whorehouse scenes not knowing that it was all leading up to this incredible character moment in which Don lets his Dick out in a meeting. Similarly, everyone was wondering, "What's the deal with Bob Benson?" which led to a great reveal that's not even really about Bob that much at all. Instead we reflect on Don and who he is, where he started, and what he's become. But Bob's existence wasn't merely about holding a mirror up to Don Draper. It was actually done in a fantastically rich way. Because Bob feels like a character now. He's only been around thirteen episodes, and we don't know much about him, but there's enough there to hold our attention. And all at once, in Bob's reveal, we were presented with fantastic writing for more than one character. It's a twofer. And it feels genius because it came so easily and led to so much more. Because all of this--the brothel flashbacks and Dick slips and Bob Bension mysteries--was in the service of not only character, but plot and story. This whole season was leading us there and we didn't even know it. We were looking directly at it--we were complaining about it and speculating about it--and it still managed to surprise us. And it's fucking amazing. In its subtlety, seeming simplicity, and denouement, it is all amazing. And it's quintessential Mad Men.

There was also the death imagery from the season's opener. And the quote from Dante's "Inferno" that was ever present in our minds, heavily implying that Don had entered some sort of existential hell this season. Not to mention the chaos of 1968, the assassinations and riots, the sirens constantly blaring, the drug induced hallucinations...and also that bayonet incident. But after the Hershey speech it's now clear that the imagery wasn't necessarily foreshadowing someone's actual death (although, to be fair, the finale did include one) but possibly the death of Don Draper. And I love where this season left off. Not only the speech and what it implies about Don's state, but also that brief moment between Sally and Don. And even the moment between Sally and Betty in the previous episode. And also Peggy and Ted. And Peggy and that pantsuit. And Pete and his family. And Joan and Roger (and Kevin). And Don and SC&P. And Megan and that mouth of hers. And Ken and his one eye. And obviously, what its always been about: Don Draper and Dick Whitman.

Knowing that the next season of Mad Men is going to be its last has got me excited. I'm looking forward for this show to end. And not in any sort of negative way, but because I'm ready for some resolution. The show has run its course and everyone knows it. It's been quality since the beginning and I can't wait to see the end. To see where the story leaves us. And to see how the volume fits on the shelf.

Arrested Development: Season Four

It's been about a month since Arrested Development's entire fourth season premiered on Netflix, and therefore sufficient time to not only mull over and discuss the episodes, but give others the opportunity to do the same, I have finally decided to post some quick thoughts about the season (which, keep in mind, I have only watched the one time).

I had mixed emotions going into AD's fourth season. The original run happened so long ago and was so finely shaped by the times it existed in, that I was concerned how an Obama administration, a decimated and recovering housing market, a lack of Iraq war, and the existence of silly new technology would affect the feel of a show I truly love. The fact that these serious societal concerns can even be applied to a comedy goes to show how truly genius Arrested Development is and I was simply concerned that the same level of genius couldn't be repeated.

And the conclusion I have come to in regards to that concern probably best resembles a blurry gray area with some points. The fourth season itself has some incredibly funny moments and small little wry/clever jokes that only Arrested Development could deliver. Upon marathoning the season I found myself concerned that the show wasn't as funny as its original run. At first I found the character centric premise to be somewhat tiresome and grating while the individual episodes felt bloated and strange. But as the season continued, the episodes got better and better until we finally got to Maeby's truly hilarious and explanatory episode. And Maeby's episode led into George-Michael's which brought conclusion, cliff-hanger, and hilarity as well. So in the end, comedically, I'd have to say the season was overall a success. However, it took me some time to come to that conclusion.

I have to say that I did not laugh much during the first few episodes of season four. Don't get me wrong, I was having a good time and a couple of jokes here and there really tickled me, but it wasn't until probably Tobias' first episode that I felt the show finally found its footing. And thankfully, by Gob's episodes, I was fully on board (I'll go on the record as saying Gob and Maeby probably centered my favorite episodes). The recurring gags and jokes were working well and each episode managed to build on the humor and become funnier and funnier. However, I was still having issues up until the very end. And I immediately realized that the issues had more to do with the structure than anything else.

Now, going into the season, Mitchell Hurwitz and the cast did their best to set up the premise: that episodes were to be character-centric, that plot points were happening out of sequence, that it was all happening simultaneously and non-linearly, and we would have to piece it all together as we went along. We all knew this going in. And it was incredibly ambitious and at times quite successful. But as much as I admire it, I didn't love it. I found the constant revisiting of Cinco de Quatro (among other things) to be tiresome. I was getting antsy. At some points I honestly didn't even care anymore to piece it all together--I was just sick of spinning my wheels in the same settings and seeing the same things without moving forward. There's something to be said for thoroughness, but there's also something to be said for momentum. Yes the jokes and pieces coming together were quite clever, but I was eager for more. I was eager to move past all this. I felt the show was concerning itself too much with its clever little premise than about progressing. It was chasing its own tail and it felt as tiring as it looked. And for all that I have to blame Netflix.

Seeing as that Netflix is not an actual television channel and does not have commercials or time slots, each episode could be as long as Hurwitz and Co. wanted. And I think it was a detriment to the season. Some episodes felt too long. And jokes were left in that, honestly, weren't very funny. What made Arrested Development's original run so genius was partially due to its time constraint. Twenty-two minutes to tell a cohesive story. And they did it. They did it hilariously. And it built on itself in a refreshing way. Instead of digging a hole by spinning in the same place, the old Arrested Development solidly rose higher and higher before our very eyes and it was amazing. Every single joke was a keeper, and it was probably because the weaker ones were left on the editing room floor. The fact that little Easter eggs, foreshadowing, and self references also managed to make the cut further cemented its comedic genius by ultimately elevating the show. Yet this time around, those contraints didn't exist. Hurwitz instead tried creating his own constraints, which led to humor and were smart and impressive at times, but were also the weakest aspect of the newest season. It didn't build toward anything much, in my opinion. It was just held up against a wall. Knowing that this is the first third of a longer story possibly leading into another season/movie didn't comfort me. There are too many "ifs" and those deals simply haven't been made. So we were left with this rutted, incomplete story.

My immediate impression of the season in early June was clouded by these structural issues. It didn't feel like Arrested Development. It was impressive and funny, but it wasn't the same. Michael wasn't acting like Michael, but was instead too much of a Bluth. Some jokes were too obviously set up. There was way too much Ron Howard on both the screen and in voiceovers. There wasn't enough ensemble work. Etc. But the clouds lifted and as time went on, I found myself referencing the new jokes in every day conversation. I was working quotes into my speech much like I did with the original run. Certain gags stayed with me over time and I thoroughly realized how very funny they were. The contentious ending was something I actually really liked. The cameos were over the top and over-relied upon, yes, but they were also constant highlights of the episodes. The songs were all hilarious. The successful use of running gags from the show's original run with new ones they created were impressive and a joy. The confusing set ups and little details of the earlier episodes in the season made much more sense to me. And all these actors and writers and crew actually all came back to create it. It actually exists for our entertainment. And it WAS entertaining. And it is way better than almost any other sitcom on actual television.

So overall, like it's structure, my thoughts on Arrested Developmen't's fourth season was very much like a puzzle I had to piece together. I had to work for this conclusion, which really makes me appreciate it. There were incredibly hilarious high points and some questionable low points. But when you place them all next to each other, and step back to look at the bigger picture, you realize how ambitious, funny, and clever the season really was. I'm still not completely in love with it--its no early Arrested Development--but I enjoyed myself immensely. What more can you ask for? I was entertained and impressed and it made me think and my commitment paid off. Those are all things I love in my television shows. It grew on me. And I'm so glad it did. Because I can't wait to sit down and watch it all again.

Comparative Thought: The Americans and Homeland

[This is the second in a series of posts regarding FX's The Americans. The first dealt with my general impressions of the show. There are no spoilers here nor there.]

A lot of television shows have done the spy thing. And wanting to compare The Americans to something like Alias, 24, or Homeland is easy. In fact, I have encountered many brief comparisons to Homeland. Which I find to definitely be warranted. Both shows are quality programs taking place in Washington DC, dealing with counterintelligence and characters hiding in plain sight. And to further align these two series, I found The American's first season to be the best first season of television since Homeland's freshman run on Showtime. So yes, they're comparable. However I believe where Homeland falters, The Americans excels wonderfully.

I would say the main difference between The Americans and Homeland is that Homeland is all soap. Listen I love Homeland, particularly that first season (and the first half of the second), but the show lives on the brink. Stakes and emotion are always high. Scenes are regularly tense, putting me on the edge of my seat. And it's great. It's fantastic television and amazingly well-acted to boot.  It deserves all the recognition it has gotten. But I still think Homeland would have been better off as a one-season show-- I simply don't see them successfully keeping up that pace. They're going to burn themselves out at some point. And while the stakes on The Americans are also high, the characters aren't as extreme. They are just as damaged and just as complex, but more quietly so. The show exhibits beautifully balanced restraint. The characters have quiet moments of tension that I find just as compelling as a manic Carrie Mathison jazz freakout. And seeing a show strike that perfectly soft cord of complex emotion is incredible to witness.

Related to the idea of restraint, is how The Americans is far more nuanced. There are actual themes and motifs happening throughout the season as well as within individual episodes. Symbolism and foreshadowing and mirroring help us arrive at points in an episode in wonderfully artistic ways. And so the show resonates more deeply than the star crossed lovers of Homeland. One fantastic episode of The Americans involved the necessary death of a minor, yet compelling character. But the show never feels the need to spell it out for us. We arrive at that point of realization together with the characters. Seeing no other way out, we have to come to grips with what is about to transpire while the characters are doing exactly the same. And that makes the emotion of the show feel so much more earned. It feels more visceral and relatable. The Americans doesn't feel the need to race to the rooftops and shout out its frustrated darkness. It plays out much more subtly. And it is just as satisfying as anything on Homeland. This isn't to say that I don't love some of the over-the-top Carrie Mathison freak outs or her incredibly compelling cry-face. Because I do. I'm not bashing Homeland. There's just something to be said for a slower build up and letting your audience arrive there themselves.

The American's season finale was one of the best episodes of television I have seen all year. They nailed every aspect of that episode, from the plot, to the story of these characters, to the waves of emotion rippling throughout. And the final sequence utilizing that perfectly chosen Peter Gabriel song brought it all together amazingly well. (In fact, Emily Nussbaum of the New Yorker has a nifty theory regarding that song choice). The Americans has quite an artistic eye. And I find it to be unique to the show. But like the plot and story, it is never over the top. You settle into it and learn to appreciate its little nuances along the way. Meanwhile I can't remember loving a song choice on Homeland (maybe I'm just not into jazz) or a particular camera angle or series of shots. I mean, Homeland is shot well and still remains great. And I'm not saying some cinematic flourish is what makes a show good. But it definitely helps. I mean, just look at Breaking Bad. (No. Seriously. Look at it. That show is visually stunning.)

The Americans: Games Without Frontiers

Oh boy, where do I begin with The Americans? I've been wanting to write about this show its entire freshman season. Every week there was something new and exciting to mention. This is a show I wouldn't mind doing weekly recaps for. If it wasn't for my great Game of Thrones project, I probably would have. Just trust me when I say it is fantastic television. I already know it's going to make my Top Ten at the end of the year. And I have been recommending it to everybody and anybody in ear shot.

At various points throughout the season I went as far as to actually write notes, which would typically evolve into proper posts. But I failed to follow through. Instead I have decided to compile and refine my rough notes and update with a series of posts about the show. So here, my friends, is the first installment of my mega-series regarding FX's fantastic freshman program, The Americans.


First Impressions
The Americans stars Keri Russell and Matthew Rhys as Russian spies living in the United States during the 1980s. Right away, just based on that, I was interested in the premise of the show. A few early reviews seemed to imply that the pilot might be worth my time...and it sure was. The Americans isn't about spies per se. I mean yes, spy things are happening (to an amazing soundtrack of Fleetwood Mac, Phil Collins, and Peter Gabriel, by the way), but there's SO much more to it. There are elements of loyalty and duty to these characters' actions--as you would expect coming from a spy drama--but that loyalty and duty is about marriage and family just as much as it is about commitment to home and country.

From the beginning, one of the most compelling aspects of The Americans wasn't necessarily the time period or the spying, but rather the idea of partnership and marriage. Not only the one between Phillip and Elizabeth Jennings (Rhys and Russell, respectively) and how it is a faux marriage of necessity--a commitment to the motherland via each other. But also the marriage of FBI agent Stan Beeman (Noah Emmerich) and his civilian wife. Both couples are neighbors. Both couples have children. And both couples have secrets within their own family. The Jennings' children, Paige and Henry, have no idea that their parents are Russian, let alone spies. And as the season continues, the dynamics of their relationship comes into sharper focus. Elizabeth comes across as cold, committed, and serious while Phillip appears to take to American life a little too well, and this obviously all affects their marriage. Throughout the season Phillip and Elizabeth navigate the ups and downs of their relationship while also managing to engage in some extremely entertaining espionage.

All the characters have damage and past experiences that others, including spouses, don't even know about. This is made clear in the pilot episode and comes back again and again throughout the season. Stan is still a mess from his past undercover jobs and it is negatively impacting his home life. Meanwhile Phillip and Elizabeth are partners who have been spying together for well over a decade. They have children and they depend on each other in all aspects of their lives. But there's still a distance between them, and individual pasts and relationships the other knows nothing about. The entire season deals with Phillip and Elizabeth recognizing this distance, coming to grips with their feelings for one another--how deeply they may or may not run--and doing something about it. It's a delicate yet fascinating relationship. Especially when they are encouraging the other to seduce a target and gather post-coital intelligence.

Emotions run strong throughout this entire season. To the point that the season finale was so much more emotional than a show about Russian spies in America has any reason being. And that's what makes The Americans such a fantastic program. Not just the fact that I'm sitting here at home with my baby-boomer mother rooting for these Russians and worrying about their safety, but because the characters are so well drawn, the dynamics of their relationships so delicately laid before us, that it elevates every action on the show to another level. And its not cheap or soapy, but rather genuine and relatable.


And Did I Mention Spies?
The show is about spies! Russian spies! In America! During the Cold War! In the 1980s! The clothes! The technology! The cars! THE WIGS! It's all fantastic, really. There are great action sequences, and sexy times, and costumes to keep the most shallow viewer entertained. But there is also a compelling story and an intricate plot with wins and losses and actual stakes. And woven throughout is the dynamics of the main characters' marriage.

Just know that The Americans is one of my favorite shows at the moment. And for damn good reason: because it's a damn good show.

A Quick Post About Veep

NOTE: I know I have been neglecting this blog lately. I am still going to blame it on the fact that I am reading the A Song of Ice and Fire series (I'm about 300 pages into A Feast for Crows). But there are still several topics I am going to try to blog about in the near future. For now, I just wanted to express some thoughts on the current season of HBO's Veep. They're not very well articulated and for that I apologize.

There's not much to say about Veep aside from the fact that I think it has been hilarious from the start. And in it's second season Veep not only continues to be hilarious, but it's hitting its stride so strongly that it is very quickly becoming one of my favorite comedies. A lot of shows take some time to find themselves and figure out the type of show they want to be. And it's usually in the latter half of the first season that things typically come together for the whole production. But seeing as that Veep, being on HBO, had a shorter first season it seems that we're now at the point where it's found its sweet spot. And it's truly glorious to behold. I'm having nothing but an amazing time watching this season's episodes these past three weeks.

No one makes cursing sound as poetically hilarious as the show's creator, Armando Iannucci (The Thick of It, In The Loop) and I have had high hopes for the show and its humour from the start. But now Veep is really beginning to lean into its talent, writing for the actors, highlighting their strengths, and settling in comfortably to world it has created for itself. And I honestly can't wait to see what the rest of the season has in store.

The latest episode, "Hostages" had me laughing so hard and so often that I honestly couldn't remember the last time a comedy was landing so well with me. I love a good comedy. I love shows like Community (which is having a disappointing fourth season) and Parks and Recreation (a show I have long considered to be the most consistent comedy currently on television), but neither of them have had me laughing the way Veep had me laughing on Sunday night in quite some time.

I feel like it's easy to compare Parks and Recreation and Veep seeing as that they both have female leads and are set in the world of politics. But for all the optimism and hope and genuine heart Parks and Recreation has, Veep answers back with equal amounts cynicism, pessimism, and bluntness. They are total opposites of each other yet I still love both for not only their humor, but their respective political lenses. And I love that both manage to even surprise me. This past Sunday's Veep ended with a moment in which Julia Louis Dreyfus's Selina Meyers actually showed some concern (and dare I say, remorse?) for another human being and it actually felt deserved. It didn't feel cheap or random at all, which somehow managed to surprised me even more. When I realized she was showing hints of a genuine emotion it made the episode stand out even more strongly.

Lastly, a quick side note: I was reading the AV Club's recap of "Hostages" earlier this week and the recapper, Robert David Sullivan, brought up this one stray observation regarding the gender politics of the show. And not only do I wish I had noticed this myself, but it actually makes me admire the show even more.

Gender politics: Amy and Sue are the most level-headed people on Selina’s staff, and the males all bring to mind female stereotypes. Gary is emotionally fragile, Mike is a ditz, and Dan is a gossipy social climber. At the climax of “Hostages,” Selina goes into a national-security meeting with Amy and barks, “No, no, you’re not needed here, Gary. This is man’s work. Same goes for you, Dan.”

It's a great point that I could honestly break down in a whole new post. But I won't. Instead I'm just going to gush over this and say that I love the show even more for flipping gender stereotypes on their head. It is only going to enhance my enjoyment of future episodes. And it adds a whole other amazing layer to the comedy of this program.

Game of Thrones: Page Versus Screen

First off, I apologize for neglecting this blog lately. But I assure you it was all for quite a productive reason: this past March I have been reading the third book in the A Song of Ice and Fire series, A Storm of Swords. I have been reading as much as possible before the third season of Game of Thrones premiered on HBO.

I went into Game of Thrones' past two seasons ignorant of the events of the books. I watched the first season knowing absolutely nothing about the series. And I loved that first season. I loved the world and the characters and the intricate yet ballsy storytelling. Later that year I read the first book. By the time I finished and acquired A Clash of Kings, the second season was about to premiere and I thought it useless to read and watch simultaneously. So instead I watched. And later read the book. And honestly, I found reading these two books to be somewhat frustrating. Not because of the story or the writing style or the characters or the way the television series interpreted the written source. But because of how long it took for me to get through them.

Listen, I love to read. I read a lot. And I love to read book SERIES (for the same reasons why I love a quality television series). But having seen Game of Thrones first made reading the books feel more tedious than enjoyable. As I read I really enjoyed the series, but I simply wasn't eager enough to pick up the books. I didn't sit around wondering what was going to happen. I wasn't compelled to stay up late reading. Because I already knew everything that was going to happen (the differences between the second book and second season merely meant a more mild tedium). Instead I would actually put off reading. And in doing so, it literally took me months to get through each book. But I knew WHY this was happening: because I watched the show first.

So as spring approached, I promised myself that this time around things would be different. And I had this crazy notion to actually read the book first. (I was extra motivated to do so because multiple sources informed me that some crazy things happen in the third installment.) And while I'm still not done, I am about half way through. And I've gotta tell you, although it has only been one episode, it's making the show feel an itsy bit tedious...

More after the jump...

Blue and the World of Web-Based Programming

Up until this point, I've been trying to keep this blog TV-centric. However, in an age when a series like House of Cards may never even be "broadcast" in the traditional sense of the word, "TV-centric" takes on a whole new meaning. I like to interpret "television" as basically any form of scripted, serialized story-telling. And if that's the case, than I quickly want to discuss a series I encountered, and enjoyed well-enough, called Blue.

Blue, starring Julia Stiles, is a webseries on a YouTube channel called WIGS. The channel has several scripted original series and short films-- all with female leads. (I have been meaning to look into the other series on the channel, but Blue is really the only one I'm familiar with at this point). Blue is the name of Julia Stiles character-- a single mother who supplements her day job by secretly prostituting herself at night (don't worry, she's the classy kind). The episodes are short (ten minutes at most) and there were only twelve in the show's first season. It took me about 90 minutes to watch.

I first watched the series last year and given the medium, I was pretty impressed by its production, by the acting, by the chancy storytelling and subject matter, and by the emotion on such a limited show. It's obvious they had a small budget, but in a series on YouTube, budget is barely important. Story and performance are what drive the show. Albiet flawed, I got drawn into the story and the character. It is clear that Blue has a dark past and demons to exorcise, but she keeps it all bottled up tight while struggling to provide for her son and keeping her two worlds separate. It really is a very interesting character-driven show that allows a well known actress like Julia Stiles explore something new and different. And there are other familiar faces as well-- aside from Stiles there is Sarah Paulson (American Horror Story; Game Change; Martha Marcy May Marlene), David Harbour (The Newsroom; Law & Order) and Kathleen Quinlan (Prison Break; Apollo 13).

This isn't anything groundbreaking or game-changing. It's actually melodramatic and often forced and awkward. But at least it's something new. The second season starts March 15th. And I have to say, based on the trailer below, I'm very interested to see what this show has to say and where this medium takes us. I am familiar with other webseries (The Guild, which I highly recommend; The Lizzie Bennett Diaries; Battlestar Galactica: Blood and Chrome), and it's very interesting to experience the feel of these shows. In the case of Blue the show doesn't feel like a television series, but it also doesn't feel like a play nor a film nor a miniseries neither. It's something else entirely. And it's fascinating to see this medium shape itself with the help of such dynamic programming.