Let’s Talk About "Mad Men"

Personal inspiration Donald Draper

In 1960s terms, eleven months is a short lifetime. Politicians have the longevity of pop stars, pop stars the longevity of a Lucky Strike smoke. These are turbulent times – times that are a-changin’ – and the guys calling the shots from the swanky high-rises presiding over Madison Avenue are at the forefront of it all. Last time we had a look at Sterling Cooper’s playboy product pushers, they were holed-up in a hotel room trying to make sense of an 11th-hour cut-’n-run agency launch.

The old Sterling Cooper was no more, replaced instead by a scrappy upstart hellbent on conquering the world one account at a time.

The way the mad men put everything on the line – an entire ad empire they had built from scratch – couldn’t help but foreshadow the all-or-nothing sacrifices on the horizon for their country as a whole. Equality, freedom, rock ‘n roll. These were things all within reach – there for the taking, but demanding of a giant leap of faith and a dogged trust that it would all pay off in the end.

A makeshift revolution.

Sea change was the law of the land in the dark winter of 1963. And if “no turning back” was the rule eleven months prior, then a year of violent protests and cutural upheaval only raised the stakes that much higher. We’re in November 1964. The ground is moving beneath our feet. Our society is on the brink of swallowing itself whole.

And Don Draper is still cool as hell.

AMC premiered the fourth season of its critically acclaimed “Mad Men” drama Sunday, and as you can probably already tell from my five paragraphs of unhinged, gratuitous buildup, my sole aim here is to add to this acclaim. Now we can sit here and argue the merits of last season’s 180-degree finale. I’ll even entertain the idea that there are better shows out there. But come 10 o’clock Sunday nights, there is no disputing this: no other hour of TV excels at making you feel like an unequivocal badass quite like this one.

“Mad Men,” at its core, explores the darkest nooks of the American Dream, where you can be anything you want so long as you keep the sordid means a secret. So as an identity thief, a ladies’ man, a serial adulterer and the sharpest guy in the room, Don Draper is this freewheeling world’s quintessential antihero.

Greed is good.

Draper, played iconically by Jon Hamm, is one of four partners at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, but its his charisma, vision and off-the-cuff creative genius that drives the entire enterprise. Don is ruthless. He’s charming. He’s cunning. He’s a shark with a smile that buckles knees. He’s a cheat, a liar, an alcoholic with a pack-a-day habit. He’s more unshakeable than the slicked-back hairs on his own head. He’s the inspiration for a thousand “Dos Equis” commercials, the most interesting man in the world.

It’s no doubt with a mischievous smirk, then, that creator Matthew Weiner introduces the following season-opening wrinkle…

What if Don Draper has to work for it?

That question seems to be forthcoming episodes’ main premise (though it’s hard to tell anything from a 50-minute intro), as well as the truth-undermining foil that breathes new life into a plot that was very much alive in the first place. Don Draper is used to getting whatever he wants whenever he wants it. Now, for the first extended period in the show’s history, he’s an honest-to-goodness, I’m-not-just-saying-this-to-fire-you-up… underdog.

‘Scuse me. Just got a little shiver.

Along with fronting his sputtering upstart, Don’s also wading through the aftermath of a nasty divorce. Trophy wife Betty (January Jones) left him for a smarmy politician, and though nobody can fault her for cutting ties, her choice of seconds raises eyebrows – compared to Don, Henry Francis is a vanilla cupcake. Extra frosting. That he’s still living with Betty and the kids in Don’s house only makes me dislike him more.

Jones and Christopher Stanley: a match made in... the back of an Oldsmobile

The guy’s a lightweight, just like his childish arm candy.

At work, Don’s trying to recapture the confidence of Manhattan powerbrokers and the big money accounts his agency compromised upon Sterling Cooper’s dissolution. As an ad man, he’s also at the epicenter of a culture war splitting the nation into two equally passionate camps: prudish conservatives determined to uphold traditional values and an avant garde new-wave stubborn for change (Sound familiar?).

Don’s not one to compromise, so when execs for family-oriented Jantzen swimsuits balk at his risque “So well built, we can’t show you the second floor” pitch, he throws them out of his office, stopping just short of showering them with their own scotch.

“Mad Men” plays up the dichotomy between professional and private lives not just with its central character, but with his sidekicks as well. In the former walk, these characters pursue a singular vision of cutthroat capitalism; in the latter, they’re grasping at straws. Sunday kept at this theme, reveling in both Don’s hardline creative endeavors and the ass-backwardsness of his personal [con]quests.

Draper on a first date? Draper stuck on first base? Huh?

Good thing he’s got a smokin’ hot redhead on the side.

“Struggling” is not part of this man’s M.O., and because the premier placed its lead in so many uncomfortably foreign scenarios, I get the feeling that this could all be a season-long exercise in mojo rediscovery.

Don’s game. And he’s got serious help – Roger Sterling (John Slattery) plays Hef-lite debonaire wingman; Peggy Olson (Elisabeth Moss) provides creative spark, conscience and, ironically, balls; Joan Harris (Christina Hendricks) offers a cable show’s requisite drop-dead curves; and the rest of bunch is always up for a little plot-twisting horseplay.

Hendricks: goddess in the doorway.

In the hair-raising moments of the premier’s final sequence, Draper flips his charm switch, atoning for a botched newspaper interview by slyly talking up a reporter for the Wall Street Journal. Perhaps here we’ve witnessed act one in “How Don Gets His Groove Back.” But most certainly we’ve seen that “Mad Men,” even in 1964, is still the coolest show on TV.

- Robbie