I’D LIKE TO GIVE THE WORLD A CROCK; OR AHAB KILLS THE WHALE

“Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?” — Johnny Rotten

[ Spoiler alert: the finales of Mad Men, the Wire, and Breaking Bad are all referenced. ]

I had always thought of Mad Men as a journey of self-discovery where Don (and we, the audience) would achieve an understanding of the hollowness at the heart of the American Dream, in particular, the version peddled by Madison Avenue—what screenwriting manuals would call the Education Plot. But as it transpired, the seven seasons of Mad Men were just a pretext to sell us more crap; or in Don’s case, a Coke.

The second half of Mad Men’s final season was surprisingly wasteful with time spent on characters and plot lines and scenes that added nothing. Diane the diner waitress? Stephanie, Anna Draper’s niece?  Peggy’s date? Ken and his stupid eye patch? Don racing a car in the desert? My three favorite cable series of all time: The Wire,  Breaking Bad, and now, finally, Mad Men (after years of perfection) have all stumbled badly before the finish line.

The final season of The Wire had Detective Jimmy McNulty go so far off the deep end by impersonating a serial killer that it really debased the character and by extension, the show itself.(And I’m still pissed that Kima Griggs ratted McNulty and Lester Freeman out. You broke the rules when it suited you, Kima. You were just jealous that you were left out of the loop.)

The writers of Breaking Bad got a bad case of the guilts as Walt’s character grew darker and decided to turn Walter White’s wife, Skylar into some kind of tortured moral conscience, complete with A Star Is Born moment where she walks into the pool, conveniently neglecting the fact that Skylar had already cheated on her husband out of spite,  helped her boss and lover defraud the IRS,  and  coolly set up a money-laundering front for her husband’s drug profits. This improbable plot turn brought the misdirected wrath of angry fans down on the actress, Anna Gunn, instead of  Vince Gilligan and his writing team where it properly belonged. It didn’t help that a few episodes later she’d be coldly urging her husband Walt to murder his young partner and  surrogate son, Jesse.

Mad Men lost its way, I’m guessing, because Matthew Weiner and his writers got sentimental about the characters. I get it. I understand the temptation as Writer/Creator to dole out happy fates to one’s own characters. I think that in terms of the Mad Men writing team it went even further; they had a genuine sentimental attachment to the actors who played these characters and wanted to reward them all. (Except for Betty, of course.) I gotta believe that Vincent Kartheiser, who plays Pete Campbell, must be a helluva guy to work with because for the life of me, I don’t understand why Pete and Trudy got the glorious sendoff they did. Pete was a weak, weaselly, back-stabbing, adulterous, creepy, privileged little snob. Am I supposed to be happy for him? Roger Stirling, the entitled, racist, misogynist, lecherous piece of crap rides off into the sunset, happily ever after with Megan Draper’s deranged mom? Yes, I know Roger has great lines sometimes and John Slattery is a terrific actor but — really? I saw that some critics felt Joan got a raw deal because the leathery old millionaire she was seeing walked out on her because she wanted to have a career. I’ll tell you what: Joan marries that guy, she’s screwing the pool boy in a couple of years. I never saw Joan as a feminist icon myself. She used her looks and sex to get everything she wanted; she should hardly be surprised if men saw nothing else to her. She didn’t, either. Then there’s Peggy and Stan enacting a romantic cliche` so tired it was mocked in a Seinfeld episode in the early ‘90s (Kramer walks in on Jerry and Elaine fighting  and says, “Can’t you two see—that you’re in love with each other?” Their mouths drop open in exasperation).  This plot development, realistic or not, was so poorly handled it was about as much of a parody as that Seinfeld scene.

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—bother me that virtually all the main characters were petty, small-minded, egotistical creeps. That always seemed realistic to me. Mad Men, instead of glossing over its characters’ various flaws as so many dramas would do, (especially ones set in a historical past) set to work exposing them. The  particular genius of the show was allowing its characters to be wrong or look bad in one scene, and yet show them in a positive light in another scene or context. I felt an affection towards the characters, not because they were good people, or people I’d ever want to be friends with, but because they were multi-faceted characters, played by great actors and created by great writing and directing. Mad Men’s characters resembled actual people in their complexity—which is an amazing achievement, by any standard.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on all around you
—Bob Dylan

And finally, we get to Don, our main protagonist. The enigmatic ad man extraordinaire who walks away from advertising at the very moment he’s reached the big time; the ladies ‘ man who’s trashed every meaningful relationship he’s ever had; the tall, dark handsome stranger who is supposed to be the very embodiment of the American Dream he’s selling when in fact, Don is a tortured, alcoholic wreck of a man who has finally reached the point of no return; both wives lost to him forever; estranged from his kids, mostly by his absence ( in his daughter Sally’s case,  by guilty knowledge of an illicit affair of his). His professional life and reputation have been damaged by a spontaneous and ill-advised personal confession in the middle of a pitch. He has been a serial philanderer, a liar and a bully. However, Don is redeemed by three non-sexual relationships: Anna Draper, the wife of the man whose identity he stole during the Korean War; Peggy, his protege, and Sally, his independent-minded daughter, whose love and respect he craves.

I have no idea if Mathew Weiner was aware of this but the fictional Don Draper’s life has some eerie parallels to the real-life US Army officer and Vietnam-era adviser John Paul Vann, the subject of  Neil Sheehan’s 1988 prize-winning biography, A Bright Shining Lie. Like Don, John Paul Vann was the son of a prostitute.  Where Don stole the actual identity of his dead commanding officer to get out of the Korean War, Vann felt compelled to claim a previous commanding officer’s exploits as his own, despite having served with bravery and distinction himself with a Ranger company in Korea. Both men went above and beyond in their profession, Don as the (fictional) premiere creative genius of Madison Avenue and John Paul Vann, being one of the first US advisors to understand the nature of guerrilla warfare and what it would take to win the Vietnam War.  But both of them were compulsively promiscuous and damaged their personal and professional lives as a result.

What made Don so compelling was that he was the outsider who managed to create the ultimate insider persona, the shining male paragon of the American Dream when he was anything but. And the ability to invent or reinvent oneself, seems to be a very American mythic story.

To end the series the way Mathew Weiner did, reducing the question of Don Draper’s ultimate fate to a punchline scene of the iconic 1971 Coke ad, is to diminish the show and any meaning it had for its loyal viewers. The ending basically tells the audience that it wasted its time caring about these characters;  that this was simply a crass, commercial exploit from the start, a dopey period soap opera that simply existed to sell you things and if you thought otherwise, the joke was on you. And I think that’s a shame and a disgrace and a real disservice to the outstanding actors, writers and directors who helped create this show. Art and commerce can coexist.  I found this final episode to be a rude, cynical prank on the audience who loved the show like I did.

Why am I so angry about it? So disappointed? Because the Mad Men writing team cheated the narrative arc. With seven season’s worth of momentum behind it the show’s final act was either going to be a tragedy or a tale of redemption. Either Don Draper was going to bottom out as a drunk or he was going to figure out how to become a whole person who could have a healthy relationship with a woman, not to mention his kids, and even his co-workers (or at least start moving in that direction, I don’t mean a sudden transformation). I didn’t have a rooting interest one way or the other, as long as the ending was plausible. “Surprising yet inevitable” as Aristotle would put it. Instead, Mathew Weiner and his writing team took a victory lap, they waved a wand and gave out happy endings right and left. John LeCarre’ once described the Bond franchise as “cultural pornography”. Likewise, Don Draper, a seemingly doomed and tragic figure, becomes the Madison Avenue version of James Bond, indestructible and forever triumphant. I’m not buying it.