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| Beautiful. Cynical. |
by Lyndsey Graves
I was never going to watch Mad Men. I caught about ten minutes of an episode once, channel
surfing on vacation with friends, and there was some sort of affair going on
and everyone in the TV was clearly terribly unhappy. I didn’t want to host such
misery in my own television.
Then I agreed to watch “just the first episode” and of course I was
hooked. The first season (that’s all I’ve seen) of Mad Men is beautiful, artistic, witty, and addictively voyeuristic.
But the first word I’d use to describe it is cynical. I watch the show out of love for the characters and
writing, not because it makes me feel good.
One of the most fascinating and frustrating aspects
of the characters’ intertwining storylines is that they are all a little
bewildered by their own unhappiness. Behind webs of words and actions, deceit
and hidden motives, successes and failures, lie carefully hidden layers of
sadness, need, and that distinct feeling of unbelonging – along with a kernel
of hope that these unexpressed desires will be fulfilled somehow. For each
character this dilemma is unique, but most of their stories also share a sense
that they can’t quite do what they want to do – what they know is right. The
depth of the show’s cynicism lies in the fact that no one is pretending their lies
or affairs or petty behavior are right;
it is just how things are.
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| Depravity in motion |
Mad
Men strikes
quite the contrast to the almost aggressively bright outlook on humanity I’ve
encountered from a good many people in churches. The show’s characters are
usually sympathetic, but they are not “good
people”, and at least some of them know it. This is exactly why we sympathize –
because they so evidently struggle against themselves. I think we can fairly
label this human tendency toward such selfishness, intentional or not, as
“sin”, and the writers are counting on the fact
that we can all relate to it for many of the show’s moments of greatest tension
and pathos.
Could it be that pop culture is more willing and
ready than we think to admit something about human depravity? Just how mad do
we think the men involved in this show could be? Or what about Mad Men's cable cousin,
Breaking Bad? The entire concept of that show is the slow, steady devolution of
a man. Or The Walking Dead, another AMC show, that utilizes the time-honored
zombie motif as a way to explore the depravity of humanity. In each case, there seems to be a deep
brokenness to the world, to the relationships and the characters inside of
it. The world is going crazy and they’re
drawn inexorably into it.
While this deep darkness permeates these shows, the
same isn't true in much of pop culture. Instead, there is a constant push to
refrain from calling certain destructive habits “sin” and a reaction against
value judgments overall. I understand the desire not to condemn, to look for
the best in people, to offer hope and affirmation rather than despair and
finger-pointing – and yet, at least in the social circles where I currently
find myself, the word “sin” is an unfashionable conversation-stopper to a
degree that I find dishonest.
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| Good or bad? |
It seems frustratingly glib to pretend that there is
nothing really wrong with anybody,
that the sinful are really just unfortunately misguided or environmentally
disadvantaged. At its worst, it feels absurdly privileged (a word I normally don’t like using) to assert that
people really aren’t all that bad. I don’t know any victims of generational
poverty, of child abuse, of addiction, of gang violence, who would say that.
I still bristle whenever I hear the messages of condemnation hurled down by the holier-than-me. I’m certainly not here to say that people are 100% bad, incapable of doing good – or that sin carries no elements of environmental influence or simple misunderstanding. Neither does Mad Men think so. But this world and the people in it are in dire need of redemption at some fundamental level; somewhere far beyond our own attempts to set things right. I think the world Mad Men speaks to – desperate for authenticity, for the truth beyond the layers of advertising we are all wrapped in – won’t reject us for admitting it.
Lyndsey lives and works in Syracuse, NY. She majored in theology at Lee University, which is like eating cake or listening to thunderstorms - too enjoyable to be called work. Also, no one will pay you to do it. You can follow her on Twitter @lyndseygraves and you can find more of her writing at her blog To Be Honest.
