As Mad Men nears the close of its final season's first half, much of the discussion surrounding it has morphed into a rhetorical echo chamber: Does it deserve the hype?
Early Scrooge and Draper appear "normal" enough, if unsavory, to be representative of mainstream society, yet we are aware of a low-grade pathology at work. Bateman would drive off the cliff, laughing maniacally.
Can't we please at least get to see one Puerto Rican (or any other Latino character for that matter) portrayed as an actual New York City human being?
Do you remember what Don, in a burst of fury, found under a radiator in Lane's former office? It was a Mets pennant! By the end of our last segment that pennant was off the floor and on Don's office wall, front and center.
My TV and movie selections for the majority of my life have tended to be relatively juvenile. So recently, I've been making an effort to watch "real people movies" and "grown-up shows." Through this personal cinematic transformation, I've noticed a trend in the shows and films I've been introduced to.
It's interesting to look back and see just how much this show has influenced the landscape of cocktail culture.
In "The Monolith" -- and imagery royalties here might be due to Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick for this episode set about a year after the release of 2001: A Space Odyssey -- Don Draper has gotten back through the door of the ad agency he founded. And he is showing up.
Why isn't Don going elsewhere? Why is he accepting horrific, disrespectful treatment? Sterling and Cooper was a launching pad for him, and his life's blood went into Sterling and Cooper and Draper.
It's not exactly a stretch to say that the episode is structured in three parts to show Don's past with his first wife demonstrating why she remains stuck in an untenable child-like mode, his present with his second wife and why her unstable situation is untenable for him, and his hoped-for future at his past employer Sterling Coo.
If our society complacently allows power brokers like Donald Sterling to go unpunished for their prejudice, it will be maddeningly difficult for America to progress towards a more just and equitable future.
Unfortunately, the world hasn't caught on yet that the times... they are a changin' (and have been for quite a while) on everyone's favorite swingi...
In a sweaty state of anxiety, he's been confronted with many demons whether it be PTSD from the war or memories of his disturbing childhood growing up in a whore house. But he's always prevailed because he's Don Draper and no one can touch him.
Valentine's Day 1969 finds not much romance amongst the Sterling Cooper crew and no little consternation over work. But there are some definite green shoots of hope and change popping up amidst the confusion and anger.
While Don considers his future, with one foot in New York and the other in California, and neither on especially solid ground, another New Yorker has made a fast adjustment to the California lifestyle.
As Mad Men kicks off its seventh and final season on Sunday, we take a look back at some of Don Draper's favorite -- and most famous -- haunts.