Archive for Television
The (Real) Story on “Mad Men”
Posted by: | CommentsFirst, let me make this clear: I’m a big fan of the Emmy-winning AMC series Mad Men.
That said, I go through a veritable buffet of reactions during each episode – fear, loathing, fear AND loathing, and occasionally PTSD. The PTSD and the fear/loathing are inextricably intertwined, due to the fact that I started my sojourn in the workforce in the mid-70s, when the captains of industry exemplified by Sterling, Cooper, Draper, and the rest of the boyz were running the show.
On Madison Ave., Main St., and everywhere else.
Being an XX in an XY world – the ’70s – meant dealing with behavior exactly like what was on display in last Sunday’s episode of Mad Men. All my bosses back in the day presumed that I was in the workforce to land a husband. And they assumed that my presence in their world meant that I was a perfect candidate for Bedroom Romper Room as pre-marital training.
I was still in college, working a part-time job, when a boss cornered me in the supply shelves and told me to put out, or get fired. Had he been less Aldo Ray and more Henry Fonda, I might have gone for it. He wasn’t. I was fired, and overjoyed about it.
The early days of the sexual revolution essentially amounted to guys assuming they had a right to hear “yes”, but grrlz had no right to say “no”. Starting in the late ’60s, and going up to – and through – the Age of AIDS, it was a never ending grope-fest. Seriously.
I was working in an ad sales division of a major broadcasting network by the late ’70s, serving a sentence as a secretary in exchange for NYU Film School tuition. (A rockingly fair deal.) The sentence-serving piece came from most of the guys in the office, who clearly believed that we office grrlz were there for their amusement, delectation…and occasional dictation.
I thought about that as Don groped Allison, his secretary, on Sunday night. I found myself wondering when Helen Gurley Brown’s Sex & The Single Girl came out – 1962, so I was right to hear an echo.
This past Sunday’s dark Christmas party Mad Men took me back to the Christmas party the network sales division threw in ’79, where I was forcefully propositioned by no fewer than 7 execs, all married, all drunk, all entitled. I managed to evade their desired result, but still felt like Allison did when Don handed her two crisp $50 bills – a whore.
I was putting up with bad behavior in exchange for a paycheck. Not a lot of alternatives at the time, more now but still not utopia.
I watch Mad Men with a strong sense of history, and that PTSD I mentioned before. Joan, Peggy, and Sally are the most interesting characters in the show, as far as I’m concerned. I worry about all of them, because I know what marriage for the sake of marriage does, what it feels like to sacrifice a personal life to a career, and how childhood hurts can morph into very bizarre behavior.
I’ll keep watching. And I’ll keep worrying. And I’ll hope that Joan becomes an account exec, that Peggy starts her own agency, and that Sally grows past her dark side…
That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it…
Ending not with a bang, but a whimper
Posted by: | CommentsOne of the most anticipated events in recent television history, the final episode of The Sopranos on HBO, apparently left legions of fans (including this one) staring at their television sets in dumb wonder at 10:05pm on June 10.
An anguished outcry ensued (including Nikki Finke’s whining screed, with side commentary on how much HBO basically sucks and that subscribers are jumping ship in droves), which I admit I joined for about 15 seconds…and then I realized that this is actually the only way this series COULD end.
Life doesn’t end, even if one life does. Just ask Phil Leotardo’s daughter, or Janice, or even Ginny Sack.
This series is quintessentially New York, including the bridge & tunnel crowd, of which the Soprano crew were proud members. Things in the tri-state area don’t get wrapped up neatly, unless it’s a hero from Satriale’s.
In the Land of LA, appearance is all. Gotta hide anything that ain’t perfect behind the hedge, or out past the Valley. This is not to say that appearance doesn’t matter in NY – just TRY to get away without a predominantly-black outfit at certain social events – but in NY, we like our art a little messy. Things don’t get completely resolved. Life has ragged edges.
So, I think last night’s episode – in spite of some of its more obvious moments, like “Don’t Stop Believing” as the denouement’s auditory backdrop – but that cut-to-black?
Brilliant.
And now for something completely different…
Posted by: | CommentsJim Cramer, Mister "Booyah" himself, is bloody brilliant.
In an effort to clear up the tottering piles of print magazines that are always accumulating in this writer’s garret, I was going through said piles and tossing any that didn’t grab me with their cover. (Magazine 101 – gotta grab ‘em with your cover.) And there it was – the June 4, 2007 NY Mag, with Mr. Mad Money himself on the cover, figuratively punching the viewer in the face and posing the question "Who the @#$%! does Jim Cramer think he is?" , bylined by his own self.
I couldn’t resist. I abandoned the clean-up, and settled in to see just who the @#$%! Jim Cramer thinks he is.
Turns out, he thinks he’s a loser and a bit of a jerk – but he also is a glutton for attention, and has a deeply held belief that his audience is pretty damn smart.
That’s a refreshing change from most of the talking heads on the financial networks, who either read headlines between breathless reports from the floor of one exchange or another while spouting "Market’s up!" or "Market’s Down!" or "Market’s Flat!"…or pontificate on some piece of news that purportedly explains why the market is up, down, or lying there like a turnip. All with an air of "we’re waaaay smarter than you."
This goes a long way toward explaining Cramer’s Q factor – he’s one of the most recognized faces in financial news – and his popularity with the under-30 audience, particularly the college crowd, where "booyah" is a war cry heard on campuses across the land. Cramer regularly does remotes from colleges and universities, and he’s greeted like a rock star at each and every one.
Love him or hate him, he’s a powerful force – and he’s bringing a whole new generation head-long into the real American pastime, making money. The American Dream is built on the idea that you can make a killing as a savvy investor. You can, if you educate yourself – that’s the "savvy" piece.
Authenticity and passion. Stand up, tell the truth, back it up, and if you’re proved wrong, admit it. Cramer gets so passionate about his topic that he ends up "sweatin’ to the market wrap" – given a choice between that, and the usually predictable pronouncements of the rest of the financial networks’ talking heads…I’ll take the sweaty guy, please.
I asked in my last post if you were the genuine article – Cramer is a great example of the point I was going for there.
I’m a communication consultant. My customers want to become better at sharing their message. Initially, they think that what I’ll help them do is become letter-perfect, to rehearse and prepare so they’re 100% "ready". I then show them that rehearsal isn’t what they need – they need a focused message, and an authentic, passionate delivery of that message.
It’s not necessary to demonstrate passion at the Cramer level to be seen as authentic, but you do have to walk your talk. You have to believe what you’re saying is truth, and have your message resonate with your market, and your team.
If they need to see you sweat, then sweat.
ENOUGH already!!
Posted by: | CommentsIn re Imus, I think this is freakin’ ridiculous. I find what he said repellent, but then I find everything that comes out of Howard Stern’s friggin’ mouth repellent, yet I have never cried out for his banishment from the airwaves. Imus has always made me laugh more than he’s ever pissed me off.
He’s being hoist by the petard of Mel Gibson, Michael Richards, Isaiah Washington (I’m still struggling to figure out what THAT was all about), and any other celeb who’s caught with his/her kicks in his/her mouth.
The hip-hop world has a lot to answer for in its ever-escalating “doin’ the dozens” invective – why is “nappy headed hos” something the black community can call each other, but god forbid those words should fall from thin, pale lips?
No justice, no peace. I found Jesse Jackson (don’t make me laugh) and Al “Jheri Curl” Sharpton on my TV this morning and was looking around for my gun. I almost did an Elvis. I’m so very sick of those who drape themselves in victim-hood. Almost as much as I’m sick of those who wear white hoods. Racists, all…IMHO, at least.
Tabloids, Noise, and Handcuffs. Film at 11.
Posted by: Mighty Casey | Comments (1)Also around that same time, CNN (acronym for Cable News Network, was referred to as Chicken Noodle News by those of us in “establishment” TV news at the time) brought the 24-hour TV news cycle to life. That was, I think, one of the first strikes on the first nail in the coffin where the body of real news ultimately got buried.
As my grandmother used to exclaim, “saints preserve us!”
That 24-hour spin cycle has now delivered the most meta of screaming headlines. A media shark frenzy is now chowing down on media itself: Rupert Murdoch’s News Corp. and its burgeoning phone hacking scandal has, so far, brought us the heads of Rebekah Brooks, chief of News International and the last editor of The News of the World (I so will not miss that rag) and Sir Paul Stephenson, who was the chief of Scotland Yard until his career got hacked by hiring former NotW editors as Scotland Yard PR flacks.
The wind sown on the day that 24-hour spin cycle started – April 1, 1980 – is now reaping the whirlwind, and taking down an entire profession. Both Rupert Murdoch and Ted Turner have a lot to answer for – I’m wondering how wide a net might ultimately be cast as the feeding frenzy keeps bloodying the news-business water.
I’m no longer working directly for any news organization, haven’t been for five years. Part of that decision was driven by the writing I saw on the interwebs wall. The web was eating the lunch of mainstream media, and combined with “the internet wants content to be free!”-ocracy that developed in the first decade of the 21st century, it all meant that making any kind of a living in media was going to be problematic at best, impossible at worst.
But what really drove my decision was my utter disgust at what had happened to a profession in the 20+ years I had been in it. I was passionate about news, about that first draft of history that is the news business, about the feel of newspapers in my hands, about covering stories that I thought were important, exciting, and informative.
Democracy only fully works when an educated citizenry has access to unbiased information about what their overall society is up to, going through, exploring, learning, or pissed off about. By “unbiased” I mean that the reporter isn’t inserting his/her own opinions into their reportage.
Calls ‘em like they sees ‘em – those should be the rules of the game.
Unfortunately, the advent of a 24/7/365 “feed me!” mindset, along with the rise of info-tainment – which dictates that everything from how Tiger Wood’s wife deploys his 3-wood, to whether or not some celebutante is or is not wearing underpants, to which loser gets a rose from some other loser on some “reality” show that’s about as real as Pam Anderson’s rack – as “news” has brought us here.
At first blush, the crew who was phone-hacking might seem to be just the lower-than-pond-scum Brit tabloid jerks. However, the investigation has crossed the pond, and the FBI is now looking into allegations that Murdoch’s minions were hacking the families of 9/11 victims, seeking headline-worthy dirt.
So, the next time you pick up a People magazine or a supermarket tabloid, watch Entertainment Tonight or Access Hollywood, read TMZ or Perez Hilton, you must understand that you’re supporting the lack of real information available to move our society, our culture, and our world in a positive direction.
Yep, I’m talkin’ to you.
Stop the insanity.
That’s my story, and I’m stickin’ to it…