Mad Men Season 7: Sneak Peek

Here they are: the first images of Mad Men’s seventh and final season. Debonair flailing!

Although I think I can speak for the entire Internet when I say Season 6 was a pile of expensive doodie, I’m so genuinely excited for 7. My instinct says the season will be depressing and murky, but if Weiner veers back onto the main highway of workplace intrigue, fast-clip philosophy, and period-piece candy for the eyes and ears, we’ll be cooking with gas before the finale. Jesus. I don’t want it to go. Even with the betrayal of shitty-shit-shit Season 6, I’m rooting for a WOW. How will Mad Men end? How will this utterly ambitious series leave its mark? Things are so…UP IN THE AIR! I made an airplane joke because Don is probably D.B. Cooper. Have you read this theory yet? It’s so crazy. So crazy it just…might…work.

Let’s do what Mad Men fans do best and tear these screenshots a new analytical asshole.

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*steeples fingers*
*adjusts microscope*

Don’s wearing a brown suit and a hat. There’s a curb and a building involved. Probably a leitmotif of death, life, time…thinking…also transportation. Looking for a cab. A cab to the afterworld. Or rebirth? Did the Buddha ever reference a Big Yellow Taxi?

It’s a real red-herring pair of images, because in one he’s looking right, and in the other he’s looking left. Kind of like the Season 6 poster. Is that deliberate? Probably. Even when Mad Men is arbitrary, it’s deliberate, you know what I mean? And like, the fact that his hands are in the same position both times really indicates the growing generational gulf Don’s struggling to straddle, as well as a preoccupation with FINGERS, with POINTING, with, you know, FINDING ONE’S DIRECTION.

He’s adjusting his cufflinks but there’s no one there. Isolation. The search for God? The search for companionship? Sexual addiction. Definitely. The Madonna versus the whore. Cufflinks are signifiers, you know.

Of course, there are the earth tones of Don’s suit juxtaposed with the austere New York architecture. Is this a nature and nurture question? I mean, WHO IS MAN, really, situated amongst the byproducts of his artifice? These beautiful columns could support dreams or nightmares. And the temperature is unclear. Because that’s a jacket but not a coat. Cloudy? Sunny? Are we in the winter? Maybe the world is the winter and advertising is the sun. Perhaps the final season aims to settle questions of whence humanity’s creativity springs forth, or maybe it’s about weather and stuff like that.

Also he’s wearing black shoes and you’re not supposed to pair brown and black. Unless you’re a maverick. I suppose this could be a reference to Ayn Rand. I might be reaching, but I MIGHT NOT BE.

The diagonal tie is throwing me off, though, because that’s a clear allusion to…Kafka. A parody of straight lines, signifying a thematic shift to moral relativism. Diagonals are very crucial to masculinist ideology, clearly. I don’t have to tell YOU that. When you pair these gendered geometrics with the concept of a necktie-as-noose, you get into some very shaky nihilist quicksand.

Oh, and don’t even get me started on the shrubs. Those things are SO loaded. Who even knows, with shrubs and Don Draper.

But, you know. Phallus.

Mad Men: Season 6 is Nigh

Today marks a very special occasion in a young woman’s life. I am that young woman. One month till the penultimate season of Mad Men begins and I couldn’t be happier! I am happy because:
A) Mad Men is just my goddamn fucking life.
B) Matthew Weiner finally realized that all great things must come to an end.
Except he realized it too late, so now it’s more like all pretty good things must come to an end.

I’m not saying Season 5 didn’t have its moments (can I get a holla for that weepy Peggy/Don farewell?) but after the absolute zenith of creative achievement that was Season 4, it would have been nice to make 5 a bit of an elegant cooldown session. As the years advance in Sterling-Cooper-Draper-Prycedom, our heroes and heroines get older and sadder and it’s not giving me the feels so much anymore. Now we’re pretty much just watching Pete Campbell cringe away from the encroaching hellfire that is the boogie-oogie 1970s:


Only my groovy ‘burns can save me now.

That said, it is always my sincere hope that Weiner will captivate and surprise me. He did that last season, but in the meanest way possible – by killing off my darling Laney-pants. No more suicides please. However, I will take a murder. Wouldn’t put that past Don or Un-Fat-Betty.

Of course, The Master took the time to disseminate 10 “facts” about Season 6, but as usual they don’t really portend much. I don’t mind; I hate when showrunners spoil shit hither and thither. And Man Men isn’t really the kind of show you can spoil anyway (see Weiner’s revelation that every season has “different tones and flavors,” like a Pinkberry of class and gender struggle). I like my quality programs slow, and thorough, and thoughtful. Like the lovemaking of a great samurai. Take notes, Weiner!

Anyway, so, so excited for the premiere, which is going to be two delicious hours. Let me note that I am pulling for an upwardly mobile Peggy storyline and some good Sally Draper bitchery. If you wish to puzzle things out a little bit and prepare for the TV event of the spring, check out the preview. See you in a month, fellas.