Mad Men

I like AMC’s Mad Men. It’s one of the only real television shows that I make a point of watching. It’s one of the only “dramas,” dry and human, that I really enjoy.

But I’ve always had difficulty understanding what the show was about. Sure it’s about identity and marriage and kids and work and life in general. But I never could place a finger on the overarching theme that drove the plot of the show, that allowed audiences to connect with it.

I think the first few seasons were about being lost, being hidden. Don’s dodgy history was something that intrinsically kept people captivated and interested in the plot and the characters. But then Don/Dick revealed the truth about his past to Betty and Megan and moved on.  Sure, Don’s past still isn’t known to many of the characters in the show, but it’s been out in the open for long enough to prevent the questions it raises (Will Don be found out? Will his career be ruined? etc.) from being dramatic and suspenseful. But people still watch Mad Men even though the main question, the important conflict has seemingly (at least temporarily) been resolved. Why?

Pain.

There’s a shot that is used a lot throughout the five seasons of Mad Men, and it appeared a few times in the premiere of the sixth. It’s this haunting zoom-in, in which the character’s face is in focus and closed in on until it fills the screen. Nothing else happens. The character, whoever it is, is completely motionless. The setting around him or her is almost silent.

Betty (January Jones) pulls the shot off perfectly after her conversation with 15 year old violinist and non-prodigy Sandy. The conversation between the two ends with Betty huffily complaining about being insulted and the camera just sits on her face. And she looks so sad, so pained.

That’s what the show is about. That’s what drives it. Sure Mad Men is about the 60s (or the 70s). Sure, it’s about historical events and interesting clothing. And of course it’s about advertising. But that’s just stuff. That’s the stuff that happens. And then there’s the pain. That’s the rest of the show. But the pain is hidden.

There’s stuff and then there’s pain. Don is badgered by a photographer, then he’s caught by a moment of reflection involving PFC Dinkins. Ken keeps asking people about their parents, Don vomits and Roger’s mother dies. And that’s what people will talk about when they watch the show. But the show is about the five seconds Roger spends admitting to his (first) ex-wife that he feels nothing. That’s the pain. That’s the show. That’s why we are invested.

These people realize their pain. They know of its inevitability and its inescapability. Roger wails that this is his funeral, not his mother’s. For whatever reason, each of the characters has a huge, gaping, painful hole in their being. And they know it can’t be filled. But they try to fill it. They do stuff. They make ads and smoke cigarettes. They act. They all act.

That’s compelling.

Maybe that’s not what the show is about, but that’s why I like watching it.

"What'd you see when you died? Did you hear the ocean?"

That's all they want to know.