In this summer of nostalgia, we keep finding ourselves pulled back to the 1960s on TV. When legendary CBS anchor Walter Cronkite passed away last month, reliving his career felt like a time capsule of ’60s milestones: JFK’s assassination, Beatlemania, the Vietnam quagmire and the Apollo XI moon landing, which marked its 40th anniversary while the nation was mourning Cronkite. This weekend, historians are training their focus on the purple haze of Woodstock.
All of which has yet to infiltrate the consciousness of those dapper kings of the universe in AMC’s dazzling
Mad Men, returning this weekend for a third season of rich and provocative drama poised at the brink of cataclysmic cultural change. Which, after all, is why we still find the turbulent ’60s so fascinating.
“We’re charting the course of transition right now,” says a subtly sinister newcomer (
Jared Harris) to the Sterling Cooper ad agency, part of a British invasion that has nothing to do with mop-topped musicians. Last season ended with the agency about to merge with a London firm, and the shock waves that result will resonate with many in today’s uncertain economy.
Creator
Matthew Weiner's season-opening script ignites a powder keg of conflict at the workplace while keeping the personal intrigues simmering and sizzling, especially where leading man of mystery Don Draper (
Jon Hamm) is concerned. Don’s troubled past continues to haunt him when he least expects it, but like the seasoned ad man that he is, you can always count on him to arrive at the perfect metaphor.
His latest inspiration: “Limit your exposure,” a catchphrase with deeply embedded meaning for so many of these characters who are harboring dark secrets, forbidden desires and naked ambitions. As one of his co-workers sputters in frustration, “Why can’t I get anything good all at once?” Because this is
Mad Men, and what fun would be that be?
On a business trip to Baltimore with the closeted Sal (
Bryan Batt), the disillusioned Don muses, “I keep going to a lot of places and ending up somewhere I’ve already been.”
Betcha he’s never been anywhere quite like Woodstock, and how I hope
Mad Men lasts long enough to confront these starched, smug tastemakers with the counterculture that reached its fullest flower in a field in upstate New York. [Note: I'll be revisiting the
Mad Men opener next week, reacting to things I'd prefer not to spoil in advance.]
To note the 40th anniversary of the music festival that helped define a generation, VH1 and the History Channel (delightfully odd bedfellows) have collaborated on a rollicking new documentary,
Woodstock: Now & Then, directed by Oscar-winning
Barbara Kopple. Excerpts from the event are intercut with interviews from organizers, crew members, performers and concertgoers who fondly remember the mud and the madness. “It was good dirt,” says one attendee. “I earned this dirt.”
The special is filled with terrific vignettes ranging from comic to tragic—either way, usually involving drugs—that captures the organized chaos and spontaneous musical bliss that a new generation of fans (embodied by students at the actual School of Rock) can only dream about.
Something tells me 10 years from now, we’ll still be reliving 1969.
Mad Men premieres Sunday, 10/9c, on AMC
Woodstock: Now & Then premieres Friday, 9/8c on VH1 and VH1 Classic; also airs Monday, 8/7c, on History Channel