she being Brand
she being Brand
-new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff I was
careful of her and (having
thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.
K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her
up,slipped the
clutch (and then somehow got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell) next
minute i was back in neutral tried and
again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my
lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightning) just as we turned the corner of Divinity
avenue i touched the accelerator and give
her the juice,good
(it
was the first ride and believe I we was
happy to see how nice and acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens I slammed on
the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
breaks Bothatonce and
brought allofher tremB
-ling
to a:dead.
stand-
;Still)
Saturday, July 17, 2010
No Longer Lost...
I know that this comes a couple of days late, but I just saw the Lost season finale and I feel a little empty inside. I don't feel surprised by the ending, or shocked, or saddened. It was like watching the latest Star Wars movies, you just know what is coming even if you don't know all of the specifics.
Let me make this clear, I am a Lost newbie, having watched the entire series over the past six months, so I don't have quite the same rumination period that the veterans have enjoyed. Maybe this has left me with a clearer vision, maybe it leaves me with a less-than-credible experience. Granted, there were some mysteries that left me baffled, i.e. how much of the flash-sideways segments were true, the contradicions from backstory to flash-sideways (Sawyer the criminal or Sawyer the cop?), will Big and Carrie have a baby (oops, wrong show), etc. Still, the end did not surprise me.
Let me explain, from season one, many fans--myself included--started to link the island with some sort of Biblical or pseudo-religious metaphor. The references to Dharma, numerology, heiroglyphs, and the Adam and Eve reference from the pilot, combined with the unfolding stories of human failure and isolation suggested that redemption of some sort was the underlying girder. As the show progressed, especially into the Jacob storyline, the spiritual element became more clear. The key moment for me came during the Richard Alpert episode, wherein Jacob promises eternal life. That entire scene on the beach with the wine, the apparent baptism, and the devotion aspect were no less than direct symbolism. Why was Jacob able to offer eternal life? Because he was already dead. The promise was eternal purgatory. Same goes for the man in black answering in the negative when Alpert asked if he was dead. The devil lies.
This is a short synopsis of my feelings on the show, so let me be perfectly clear. I am not claiming to have known the ending, nor can admit to having understood the mystery of the show. I was as "lost" as the rest of you. What was clear were certain spiritualistic elements that led me to think that redemption was the major theme. This is why I was not shocked or surprised to learn in the final episode the characters had learned to love and thus regained their humanity, allowing them to move forward to the place that follows physical death. At least, that is my interpretation of the end.
Honestly, I am glad it's over. The constant build-up and partial release was frustrating and exhausting. Ultimately, Lost was a character driven vehicle; to me the important questions were answered, those dealing with the characters, not the minutiae of the island. I imagine that with a little deep thought, any of the mythology questions could be answered reasonably. I won't be doing that type of analysis. My show is over.
Let me make this clear, I am a Lost newbie, having watched the entire series over the past six months, so I don't have quite the same rumination period that the veterans have enjoyed. Maybe this has left me with a clearer vision, maybe it leaves me with a less-than-credible experience. Granted, there were some mysteries that left me baffled, i.e. how much of the flash-sideways segments were true, the contradicions from backstory to flash-sideways (Sawyer the criminal or Sawyer the cop?), will Big and Carrie have a baby (oops, wrong show), etc. Still, the end did not surprise me.
Let me explain, from season one, many fans--myself included--started to link the island with some sort of Biblical or pseudo-religious metaphor. The references to Dharma, numerology, heiroglyphs, and the Adam and Eve reference from the pilot, combined with the unfolding stories of human failure and isolation suggested that redemption of some sort was the underlying girder. As the show progressed, especially into the Jacob storyline, the spiritual element became more clear. The key moment for me came during the Richard Alpert episode, wherein Jacob promises eternal life. That entire scene on the beach with the wine, the apparent baptism, and the devotion aspect were no less than direct symbolism. Why was Jacob able to offer eternal life? Because he was already dead. The promise was eternal purgatory. Same goes for the man in black answering in the negative when Alpert asked if he was dead. The devil lies.
This is a short synopsis of my feelings on the show, so let me be perfectly clear. I am not claiming to have known the ending, nor can admit to having understood the mystery of the show. I was as "lost" as the rest of you. What was clear were certain spiritualistic elements that led me to think that redemption was the major theme. This is why I was not shocked or surprised to learn in the final episode the characters had learned to love and thus regained their humanity, allowing them to move forward to the place that follows physical death. At least, that is my interpretation of the end.
Honestly, I am glad it's over. The constant build-up and partial release was frustrating and exhausting. Ultimately, Lost was a character driven vehicle; to me the important questions were answered, those dealing with the characters, not the minutiae of the island. I imagine that with a little deep thought, any of the mythology questions could be answered reasonably. I won't be doing that type of analysis. My show is over.
Football, Foot Ball
So. In an effort to be openminded and fair toward my soccer-loving friends, I attempted to watch a World Cup de FIFA match last night. I want to say that the two teams involved were New Zealand, which I didn't even know was a real country, and Slovakia, though I was not positive until going online to decipher Neuvo Zelanda and Eslovaqia. I had to do this because the game was on Univision, the Mexican TBS. That's right, the only two countries on the planet that do not have ANY Mexicans played soccer on the Mexican channel. I could probably write more on this, but I am sure you get my meaning.
In between advertisements for McDonalds and Bud Light was a "sport" that featured grown men running and kicking at each other. Let me say this before going forward, by the time the first goal was scored, some 50-something minutes into the game, there were only five shots on goal. Five. In 50 minutes. I was ready to pull my hair out. None of the finesse, or excitement, or flair that my friends find so fascinating was apparent. In fact, it was the opposite. The only time I got excited was when some guy would take a spike to the ankle and fall down in agony, rolling about while clutching his foot in obvious pain. That is, until the other team was handed the ball to throw back into play at which point the injured player would hop up, spry as a cat, and resume running with no apparent damage to his foot at all. It was as though he was never hurt! I haven't seen acting so bad since Lorenzo Lamas in "Mega-shark Versus Giant Octopus."
The first goal came some 55 minutes into the game, as the team in blue scored against the team in white when a player used his head to angle the ball downward. It didn't even look like he was trying to score. He looked like he was trying to keep the other guy from kicking it clear. Unfortunately, the goal mouth is about 40 feet wide and the lone protector could not even get close enough to stop the ball from going in. I mean really. Why even have a goalie? The huge goal in relation to the single netminder should allow for higher scoring games, but the damn field is so big, the ball rarely approaches the goal! When it does get there, either the players miss the shot, kicking it some 20 feet over the net, or one of the 40 defenders kicks it away. I digress.
Let me make a few points here that sum up my soccer experience.
1. If you cannot use your hands, you shouldn't get to use your head either. In hockey, you cannot alter your body in anyway that would alter the trajectory of the puck. No turning the skate, no angling your hips or shoulders, etc. if the puck naturally deflects off of you and you made no effort to guide it, then it counts. If there was movement, the goal is ruled null. Soccer fails in this regard.
2. Referring above, if you fall to the ground with an injury that is so painful as to force the referee to penalize the offender with a yellow card, you should be so hurt as to leave the field. When I was a child, and stayed home sick, my mother would not let me go to the movies or out to play for the rest of the day. The logic was that if I was too sick for school, I was too sick to go out. Obviously, soccer players have no mothers. I say that if you fall to the ground in writhing malaise that results in a penalty card, then you get up and play like nothing ever happened, you should be ejected from the game.
3. Stop comparing soccer to hockey in an effort to convince me to watch it. The two sports are nothing alike. You think that because there is a net, a goalie, and offsides, that there are similarities. Nothing could be further from the truth. Hockey moves quickly, forcing each team member to be aware at all times of where each of his opponents is on the ice. Soccer has an offensive squad and a defensive squad that do not leave their respective zones. In hockey, any player on the ice is capable of scoring a goal--that includes the goaltender should he be so lucky. Additionally, the level of physicality in hockey cannot be compared to soccer. You wear little rubber spikes; we wear razor-honed blades and travel at speeds reaching 15 mph. We have walls that players are regularly slammed into, and curved sticks that can cut, slash, and check. Also, a 0 - 0 game is an irregularity, except in matches where the goaltenders have actually had to stand on their heads for the entire duration of the game. Facing 30 shots is not uncommon for a goalie, from a puck that may travel in excess of 100 mph. how many shots does a soccer goalie face in 90 minutes? Ten? Five?Enough with the comparisons already, the two sports are nothing alike so quit trying to sell me.
4. What is the deal with the constant buzzing from the crowd? I'm not talking about cheering or other human voice; it is like a train horn running in the background for 90 minutes at the most annoying note on the chromatic scale. After 10 minutes, I had to mute the television lest it drive me into permanent insanity. As the broadcast was in Spanish, it didn't matter if I was listening anyway.
I would love to go on, but to be honest I have no more desire to continue this line. I was bored stiff. By the time the first goal came, I was so tired of watching that I felt nothing. It was like masturbating without release. Where was the payoff? For the first time in my memory, I could care less whether the U. S. A. won or lost in a competition. This is not a sport, it is jogging with a ball. Much like Kevin Smith's script wherein The Lord of the Rings is described as walking, walking, and more walking, soccer struck me as running, running, and more running, though with an occasional glimmer of hope that the ball might eventually get near the goal mouth. It rarely does.
With the World Cup now over, I quote the words of Marcus Swisher, "Now soccer can go back to being a fag sport."
In between advertisements for McDonalds and Bud Light was a "sport" that featured grown men running and kicking at each other. Let me say this before going forward, by the time the first goal was scored, some 50-something minutes into the game, there were only five shots on goal. Five. In 50 minutes. I was ready to pull my hair out. None of the finesse, or excitement, or flair that my friends find so fascinating was apparent. In fact, it was the opposite. The only time I got excited was when some guy would take a spike to the ankle and fall down in agony, rolling about while clutching his foot in obvious pain. That is, until the other team was handed the ball to throw back into play at which point the injured player would hop up, spry as a cat, and resume running with no apparent damage to his foot at all. It was as though he was never hurt! I haven't seen acting so bad since Lorenzo Lamas in "Mega-shark Versus Giant Octopus."
The first goal came some 55 minutes into the game, as the team in blue scored against the team in white when a player used his head to angle the ball downward. It didn't even look like he was trying to score. He looked like he was trying to keep the other guy from kicking it clear. Unfortunately, the goal mouth is about 40 feet wide and the lone protector could not even get close enough to stop the ball from going in. I mean really. Why even have a goalie? The huge goal in relation to the single netminder should allow for higher scoring games, but the damn field is so big, the ball rarely approaches the goal! When it does get there, either the players miss the shot, kicking it some 20 feet over the net, or one of the 40 defenders kicks it away. I digress.
Let me make a few points here that sum up my soccer experience.
1. If you cannot use your hands, you shouldn't get to use your head either. In hockey, you cannot alter your body in anyway that would alter the trajectory of the puck. No turning the skate, no angling your hips or shoulders, etc. if the puck naturally deflects off of you and you made no effort to guide it, then it counts. If there was movement, the goal is ruled null. Soccer fails in this regard.
2. Referring above, if you fall to the ground with an injury that is so painful as to force the referee to penalize the offender with a yellow card, you should be so hurt as to leave the field. When I was a child, and stayed home sick, my mother would not let me go to the movies or out to play for the rest of the day. The logic was that if I was too sick for school, I was too sick to go out. Obviously, soccer players have no mothers. I say that if you fall to the ground in writhing malaise that results in a penalty card, then you get up and play like nothing ever happened, you should be ejected from the game.
3. Stop comparing soccer to hockey in an effort to convince me to watch it. The two sports are nothing alike. You think that because there is a net, a goalie, and offsides, that there are similarities. Nothing could be further from the truth. Hockey moves quickly, forcing each team member to be aware at all times of where each of his opponents is on the ice. Soccer has an offensive squad and a defensive squad that do not leave their respective zones. In hockey, any player on the ice is capable of scoring a goal--that includes the goaltender should he be so lucky. Additionally, the level of physicality in hockey cannot be compared to soccer. You wear little rubber spikes; we wear razor-honed blades and travel at speeds reaching 15 mph. We have walls that players are regularly slammed into, and curved sticks that can cut, slash, and check. Also, a 0 - 0 game is an irregularity, except in matches where the goaltenders have actually had to stand on their heads for the entire duration of the game. Facing 30 shots is not uncommon for a goalie, from a puck that may travel in excess of 100 mph. how many shots does a soccer goalie face in 90 minutes? Ten? Five?Enough with the comparisons already, the two sports are nothing alike so quit trying to sell me.
4. What is the deal with the constant buzzing from the crowd? I'm not talking about cheering or other human voice; it is like a train horn running in the background for 90 minutes at the most annoying note on the chromatic scale. After 10 minutes, I had to mute the television lest it drive me into permanent insanity. As the broadcast was in Spanish, it didn't matter if I was listening anyway.
I would love to go on, but to be honest I have no more desire to continue this line. I was bored stiff. By the time the first goal came, I was so tired of watching that I felt nothing. It was like masturbating without release. Where was the payoff? For the first time in my memory, I could care less whether the U. S. A. won or lost in a competition. This is not a sport, it is jogging with a ball. Much like Kevin Smith's script wherein The Lord of the Rings is described as walking, walking, and more walking, soccer struck me as running, running, and more running, though with an occasional glimmer of hope that the ball might eventually get near the goal mouth. It rarely does.
With the World Cup now over, I quote the words of Marcus Swisher, "Now soccer can go back to being a fag sport."
With your bad self...
LeBron James is a true American. This country is the home of capitalism. He became one of the best at his job and he wants more money and prestige for his accomplishments. This is the very essence of our economic system. I suggest that everyone who thinks he is a jerk go to work next Monday and offer to give back your last raise, or better yet, ask your boss if he will pay you minimum wage from now on.
What's the point of becoming the best if you can't cash in on it? The feeling of having done a job well? Those are fine things for some people (guidance counselors, teachers, etc.) but not enough for others. He has about 15-20 years to make as much money as possible, then his career will be over. Right on LeBron. Go get your championship ring. Go cash in on your ability. God bless America.
-----------------------------------------------------
Sports fans have allowed this financial mess in the professional leagues to happen. We refused to stop watching games, stop buying tickets, stop buying food when salaries, stadiums, and ticket prices become outrageously grandiose. We have encouraged--and continue to encourage--players and owners to make as much profit as possible by tacitly funding them with merchandise, cable channel subscriptions, and ticket sales. We can't get angry when they play the game we let them play, the game we are funding them to play. You get what you pay for so quit whining.
I often think of what sports would be like without free agency and I think of Ray Bourque winning his Stanley Cup with the Avalanche. The best defenseman in hockey was not going to get a championship in Boston so he played his final season with the best team in the league. The hockey world rejoiced the night he hoisted the Cup--a result of free agency. There are similar stories in other sports, where great players are denied the chance to earn the ultimate prize because they are locked into untenable situations with no recourse.
This note has two points, that sports does benefit from time to time due to free agency, and that we cannot possibly fault a player because he wants a chance to play his game for the most money and with the best chance to wear a championship crown. We should support LeBron, and any other whose effort and achievement allow him or her to pursue further excellence. Isn't that the American dream?
What's the point of becoming the best if you can't cash in on it? The feeling of having done a job well? Those are fine things for some people (guidance counselors, teachers, etc.) but not enough for others. He has about 15-20 years to make as much money as possible, then his career will be over. Right on LeBron. Go get your championship ring. Go cash in on your ability. God bless America.
-----------------------------------------------------
Sports fans have allowed this financial mess in the professional leagues to happen. We refused to stop watching games, stop buying tickets, stop buying food when salaries, stadiums, and ticket prices become outrageously grandiose. We have encouraged--and continue to encourage--players and owners to make as much profit as possible by tacitly funding them with merchandise, cable channel subscriptions, and ticket sales. We can't get angry when they play the game we let them play, the game we are funding them to play. You get what you pay for so quit whining.
I often think of what sports would be like without free agency and I think of Ray Bourque winning his Stanley Cup with the Avalanche. The best defenseman in hockey was not going to get a championship in Boston so he played his final season with the best team in the league. The hockey world rejoiced the night he hoisted the Cup--a result of free agency. There are similar stories in other sports, where great players are denied the chance to earn the ultimate prize because they are locked into untenable situations with no recourse.
This note has two points, that sports does benefit from time to time due to free agency, and that we cannot possibly fault a player because he wants a chance to play his game for the most money and with the best chance to wear a championship crown. We should support LeBron, and any other whose effort and achievement allow him or her to pursue further excellence. Isn't that the American dream?
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Alice Cooper?
It's nearly 5 a.m. and I am awake again. I cannot sleep with any regularity knowing that I am a week from graduating. I have a final to take today, a project to complete over the weekend, and two more finals next week (Monday and Wednesday), and then I say goodbye to CSU, Sacramento, forever. What along strange trip it's been...
Here are the highlights of my time at CSUS:
1. Thanks to Dr. Ernie Olsen, I finally gave stand-up comedy a try. During my short run as a comic, I worked Laughs Unlimited, the Punchline, Harlow's, and the Dante Club among others, and even got paid a few times. A career? Not hardly. But I learned a lot about myself and why I think funny is funny. Thanks Doc.
2. I was elected president of Lambda Pi Eta, Epsilon Phi chapter, the national honor society for Communication Studies scholars. In six weeks, we more than doubled our membership, much in part to my recruiting tactics and tireless efforts, and also with the help of a few dear classmates. I also rewrote nearly the entire society constitution with the suggestions of the general body and our Faculty Advisor, Dr. Edith LeFebvre. This experience has taught me more than I ever thought possible about leadership, responsibility, and the value of teamwork. I can't wait to see what the incoming members are capable of!
3. My GPA to date is at 3.758, not to shabby considering that there were a few classes I felt completely lost in.
4. I learned that no amount of research can ever tell me what someone's motivations are. Thanks Dr. Chris Miller.
5. Toastmasters International is not an organization than interests me. I tried it. Was not much fun. Some good people there, for sure.
6. Allison Stark, Lauren Phillips, Allie Mandel, Elizabeth Green, Lindsay Donahoe, you are the cornerstone of friendship. I cannot wait to see how your lives progress in the coming years. I love you, each and every one.
7. I should have taken the time to minor in Sociology. I took enough Soc. classes, dammnit.
8. Dr. David Zuckerman, you are my hero, you little Jewish wonder. If my style, my intellect, my comprehension of our discipline ever emulates or approaches yours, I will have done well.
9. How the hell did I ever stay sober through all of this? Oh yeah, I still remember what my life had become at the end of my drinking days. May I never forget.
Here are the highlights of my time at CSUS:
1. Thanks to Dr. Ernie Olsen, I finally gave stand-up comedy a try. During my short run as a comic, I worked Laughs Unlimited, the Punchline, Harlow's, and the Dante Club among others, and even got paid a few times. A career? Not hardly. But I learned a lot about myself and why I think funny is funny. Thanks Doc.
2. I was elected president of Lambda Pi Eta, Epsilon Phi chapter, the national honor society for Communication Studies scholars. In six weeks, we more than doubled our membership, much in part to my recruiting tactics and tireless efforts, and also with the help of a few dear classmates. I also rewrote nearly the entire society constitution with the suggestions of the general body and our Faculty Advisor, Dr. Edith LeFebvre. This experience has taught me more than I ever thought possible about leadership, responsibility, and the value of teamwork. I can't wait to see what the incoming members are capable of!
3. My GPA to date is at 3.758, not to shabby considering that there were a few classes I felt completely lost in.
4. I learned that no amount of research can ever tell me what someone's motivations are. Thanks Dr. Chris Miller.
5. Toastmasters International is not an organization than interests me. I tried it. Was not much fun. Some good people there, for sure.
6. Allison Stark, Lauren Phillips, Allie Mandel, Elizabeth Green, Lindsay Donahoe, you are the cornerstone of friendship. I cannot wait to see how your lives progress in the coming years. I love you, each and every one.
7. I should have taken the time to minor in Sociology. I took enough Soc. classes, dammnit.
8. Dr. David Zuckerman, you are my hero, you little Jewish wonder. If my style, my intellect, my comprehension of our discipline ever emulates or approaches yours, I will have done well.
9. How the hell did I ever stay sober through all of this? Oh yeah, I still remember what my life had become at the end of my drinking days. May I never forget.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Let's all go to the lobby...
At what point in history did this country, so proud of its freedom, become a nation of whiners and ninnies? We regulate everything from toothpaste to toilet paper, airplanes to advertising. Where does it all end. It seems that the movies are our last bastion of freedom and one segment that just shouldn't be toyed with. Like television, if you don't like what you see you can change the channel or leave your set turned off; with movies, you can simply not purchase a ticket, or just walk out of the theatre. Leave my movies alone.
It is the parents who control the destilny of film, and it has been since the inception of the MPAA ratings schema. I say we let them. Remember what happened when government tried to intervene on art? Robert Mapplethorpe nearly burned at the stake. Larry Flint had to go to the Supreme Court of the United States. Listen, I can't go to the DMV without facing an hour and a half wait, let alone watching them toil in trying to pass a budget that inevitably ends in more national poverty. Why would I want these people trying to manage content on the silver screen?
I want to hear "fuck" as much as possible, and I want to see female breasts--many, many female breasts--when I go to the movies. I want to see Bruce Willis blow shit up. I want to see Jim Carrey make dick and fart jokes for 90 minutes. It is as American an apple pie, Chevrolet, and grandmas apron. Don't agree with me? Great! You are not expected to. This is America, damnit! The land of the free. Go watch Gwyneth Paltrow or some chubby English chick cry for an hour before getting the hot guy. I want you to see the movies that make you feel something; that's what movies are for.
I'll make you a deal. You don't control the content of the films I want to see, and I won't control the content of the movies you want to see. Capice?
Let the blood flow. Let the explosions begin. Let the James Cameron do whatever it is he does. Let untalented 18 year olds get off the bus in the San Fernando Valley and fall into porn because they didn't get love at home from their families. Film plays too important a role in all of our lives.
Self-regulation is the key.
It is the parents who control the destilny of film, and it has been since the inception of the MPAA ratings schema. I say we let them. Remember what happened when government tried to intervene on art? Robert Mapplethorpe nearly burned at the stake. Larry Flint had to go to the Supreme Court of the United States. Listen, I can't go to the DMV without facing an hour and a half wait, let alone watching them toil in trying to pass a budget that inevitably ends in more national poverty. Why would I want these people trying to manage content on the silver screen?
I want to hear "fuck" as much as possible, and I want to see female breasts--many, many female breasts--when I go to the movies. I want to see Bruce Willis blow shit up. I want to see Jim Carrey make dick and fart jokes for 90 minutes. It is as American an apple pie, Chevrolet, and grandmas apron. Don't agree with me? Great! You are not expected to. This is America, damnit! The land of the free. Go watch Gwyneth Paltrow or some chubby English chick cry for an hour before getting the hot guy. I want you to see the movies that make you feel something; that's what movies are for.
I'll make you a deal. You don't control the content of the films I want to see, and I won't control the content of the movies you want to see. Capice?
Let the blood flow. Let the explosions begin. Let the James Cameron do whatever it is he does. Let untalented 18 year olds get off the bus in the San Fernando Valley and fall into porn because they didn't get love at home from their families. Film plays too important a role in all of our lives.
Self-regulation is the key.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Go Ahead and Change the Channel
Go Ahead and Change the Channel:
Mad Men, Jack Daniels, and Product-As-Character in a Television Series
Woody Laughnan, III
California State University, Sacramento
Abstract
The acclaimed television show Mad Men is a throwback to the golden age of television due to the inclusion of alcohol as a lead character rather than merely as a prop. In utilizing alcohol as a character, Mad Men breaks from modern flow while bypassing the liquor industry’s self-banning of advertising during primetime. An examination of producer interviews, advertiser statements, script highlights, and DVD formatting reveals plotlines, advertising strategies, and visual staging that indicate a purposeful effort to redefine the nature of narrative character. The use of an inanimate object in a role, in this case specific alcoholic beverages whose manufacturers have paid for considerable immersion, indicates the effect of advertising culture on television production and suggests that Mad Men may be the vanguard of a new paradigm, one that hearkens back to a time before commercials interrupted drama every seven to twelve minutes..
Keywords: Mad Men, alcohol advertising, narrative, character, agent, advertising culture, product placement, Jack Daniels, genre, flow
Go Ahead and Change the Channel:
Mad Men, Jack Daniels, and Product-As-Character in a Television Series
For two-and-a-half years, Mad Men has been a ratings darling and Emmy© award winning serial drama for American Movie Classics (AMC), a pay cable network traditionally known for its B-grade, made-for-TV movies and content-edited airings of classic (and not-so-classic) domestically produced films. In winning the awards for Outstanding Drama Series and Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series in 2009, Mad Men accomplished in two seasons what other highly rated and popular dramatic series’ such as E.R. (winner in second season), NYPD Blue (winner in second season), and The West Wing (winner in first season and the following three) had done, garnering critical acclaim quickly (winner in both first and second seasons) while developing a solid, loyal fan base. ”Smart and tremendously attractive” (Franklin, 2007, n.p.), Mad Men has witnessed a clamoring for new episodes and water-cooler discussion not seen since the departure of The Sopranos in 2007. In fact, over the previous 39 years, Mad Men and The Sopranos are the only two cable shows to earn the Outstanding Drama Series Emmy©.
Historical Approach Mad Men is set in a Madison Avenue agency during the 1960’s, the “golden age of advertising.” J. McDonough (2008, p. C6) implores us not to confuse the turbulent, Vietnam War-driven political landscape with the post-1950’s suburban American promised land; instead he asks us to remember that the children of the second world war were now grown and “raising their own kids in freshly built suburbs… buying washing machines, color TV’s and long-and-low cars visualized as jet fighters on wheels” (p. C6). Nearly every American was familiar with popular brands made famous in the commercials that paid for their shows, yet few knew of the behind-the-scene dealings that resulted in huge profits for both the public relations firms and the producers of consumer goods. Originally driven by demographics and “psycho-graphic markers” (McDonough, 2008, p. C6), the ad agencies eventually applied complex behavior models, employed psychologists to develop subliminal messaging, and maximized depictions of male/female disparity in their attempts to manipulate potential consumers.
Mad Men is as much a television show as it is an historical accounting, something its set designers, costumers, and directors have set forward with purpose. Matthew Weiner, the show’s 43-year-old creator and former Sopranos writer, gained sole control of his project from Charlie Collier, the new head of AMC, to produce a series that would not only feature top notch writing, but a dedication to period authenticity. Says Weiner, “(T)hey trusted me completely, the pilot was the script that I had written three years earlier” (Guthrie, 2008, p. 36). Still, an historical series such as Mad Men traditionally follows one of two courses according to J. Tulloch (1990): “comforting nostalgia” or “superficial nominalism,” either of which “obscure history as a relationship between past and present” (p. 91). As in other period dramas, Mad Men is an amalgam of popularly held remembrances of the time, and although “an archaeological dig into the anthropology, idioms and secret codes of a distant culture” (McDonough, 2008, p. C6) are apparent, we should be careful to remember that any television program is but a reflection of an age—its attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors—revealing only those elements deemed important by the show’s writers, directors, and producers. In addition to period costuming, set decoration, and social turbulence, it seems that Weiner wants us to remember the prevalence of, and lackadaisical attitude toward, social drinking, one of the major recurrent themes throughout.
Casting and Character The series stars Jon Hamm as Don Draper who, as creative director and resident genius at the Sterling Cooper Agency, develops advertisements “that evoke emotion and aspiration and thereby create a fantasy only consumption can fill” (Schulman, 2009, p. 47). The prototypical flawed protagonist, Draper is ruthlessly efficient at closing the deal with corporate clients, but as a husband and father he often falls short of expectation. Alcohol flows and cigarettes smolder as Draper cheats on his wife, disappears from his adolescent daughter’s slumber party, bribes his younger brother to leave and never return (the brother would later hang himself), and in an interesting twist assumes a false identity by stealing the name of a former war buddy (Schulman, 2009). Surrounding characters include January Jones in the role of Betty Draper, the wife and mother whose arc has taken her from the therapist’s couch to an affair of her own; John Slattery as Roger Sterling, senior partner at Sterling Cooper, whose return from a heart attack prompted him to merge his company with a British competitor; and Vincent Kartheiser as Pete Campbell, the sycophantic, petulant freshman agent who initially idolizes Draper but eventually comes to despise his standing (see fig. 1).
Figure 1 John Slattery as Roger Sterling and Jon Hamm as Don Draper head the cast of TV's Mad Men.
Although the players have been infamously snubbed by Emmy© voters, critics and fans alike claim that the program’s “chief virtues are the amazing stillness of its central performers… and
its obsessive attention to detail” (Cooke, 2009, p. 46).
What may be one of the most prominent characters in Mad Men, and one that appears in what seems most every scene, is not a human performer at all, but rather an inanimate object, liquor. Be it a conference in Sterling’s office, a meeting at the club with a potential client, or Don’s coming home to his family, alcohol silently but masterfully infuses every scene both as a prop and as a focal point. When communication pauses, the slow, careful sip of a drink speaks volumes on both the scene and the time. The offer of a drink serves as the entryway to every business conversation just as its pouring creates a buffer zone between warring spouses.
Alcohol in Primetime The concept of alcohol advertising is intriguing, especially when we consider that the nature of such promotions are not federally monitored, but rather self-regulated by those who would sponsor the advertising (Mosher, 2006). In 2003, Congress requested data from the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) regarding marketing of alcoholic beverages to minors, due in part to the influx of new malt beverages (Mike's Hard Lemonade, Bacardi Breeze, et. al) and related marketing (Federal Trade Commission, 2003). The Distilled Spirits Council of the United States, not the Federal Trade Commission or Congress, is the governing body when it comes to disputes of irresponsible alcohol advertising on television. The line is generally drawn when liquor appears in programs that feature graphic “’depictions of overt sexual activity,’ lewd images or language,” or “irresponsible drinking and intoxication” (Smith, 2007, p. 1), all of which are hallmarks of Mad Men.
Responses to Product Placement In 1996, the alcohol industry lifted its self-imposed, 48-year old ban on primetime advertising. Since then, alcohol companies have rushed to develop commercials, using many of the same tactics as the Sterling Cooper Agency, that mirror the settings, characters, and plotlines of shows on over 500 stations (Smith, 2007). Ralph Nader’s Commercial Alert (CA) group has been a vocal opponent of these advertisements and, due to the abundance of alcohol and sex depicted in the show, called for Mad Men to be removed from the air altogether. CA managing director Robert Weissman, responding to a Federal Trade Commission (FTC) announcement on product placement, reasoned that the inclusion of a product into a television show rather than in standard commercial form, does not allow for product disclaimers at the time of viewing, instead “(T)he emotional and persuasive power of a product placement advertisement, like other advertisements, occurs at the moment it airs” (2008, n.p.).
There exists considerable research into the subject of product placement, but the majority of work centers on film rather than television. Ferraro and Avery (2000) make the claim that in primetime broadcasting across the four network stations, “brands are prevalent” (1), though most appear during sporting events, magazine-style shows, and game shows. They do state that sitcoms and dramas also have a fair share of brand representation, but fail to cite those programs leaving one to wonder if the placement is as obvious as suggested. Pompper and Choo (2008) are more specific in citing examples, the Junior Mints episode of Seinfeld chief among them. Other programs, like Frazier and Survivor are mentioned as past examples of successful product placement campaigns, yet these and other examples differ from Mad Men in one significant way. Whereas product placement does certainly exist on television, what Mad Men accomplishes weekly is not placement but immersion. The regular viewer rarely hears the product name—though he or she occasionally does—but rather sees the characters interacting with the product, allowing the product to guide character decision-making as a supporting character might.
Television Flow A look at the early history of television reveals a pattern that is mostly unrecognizable today. The majority of programs from the late 1930’s through the 1940’s were only 15 minutes in length and were nothing more than blatant advertising vehicles. Shows had a single, identifiable corporate sponsor; hosts of talk and variety programs were similarly linked with a particular product and compensated by its manufacturer. This early branding took the form of commercials that were interwoven with either the introductory voice-over or during the broadcast itself. Shows of the era such as Bristol-Myers' Geographically Speaking and Proctor & Gamble's The Guiding Light did not break for commercials per se; the actors from these programs would pitch the products from the studio sets between acts. Even perennial favorites such as I Love Lucy and The Flintstones were sponsored by cigarette makers. The original run of The Flintstones featured Fred and Barney puffing on Winstons (see figs. 2 & 3) at the end of each program (Ingram, n.d.).
Figures 2 and 3 Barney Rubble, Fred Flintstone, and Wilma Flintstone enjoying Winston cigarettes.
The evolution of broadcasting included the introduction of the stand-alone commercial, pre-recorded for purchased airtime. Advertisers shifted away from direct sponsorship, and instead favored “the scheduling of programs and the advertising breaks within and between” (Thompson, 2003, p. 6). The shift from stop-and-start, intermingled advertising and public service programming to the more popular pattern we witness today was coined by R. Williams (1976) as flow; flow is not an industry term, but an accepted label to describe the new organizational structure (commercial—program—commercial) that has become the essential nature of all broadcasting systems. Television is less a series of isolated, sponsored productions, having now morphed into a “mode of higher unity” (Corner, 1999, p. 62), specifically in the way that program segments are now filmed to accommodate commercial breaks. Flow is designed and managed to accomplish one task, cultivating in viewers the “impulse to go on watching” (Williams, 1974, P. 94) by timing patterns in such a way as to: create excitement during opening sequences, build tension through comedic or dramatic escalation, and intersperse commercials to make each four to twelve-minute program segment into a mini-cliffhanger.
Purpose of Research This report argues that Weiner’s inclusion of alcohol serves two not unrelated purposes:
1. That Mad Men’s developers have utilized alcohol as a character rather than set decoration;
2. That the producer’s contractual agreements with Jack Daniels and Smirnoff, the subsequent placement of these beverages as character, exemplifies a new, old paradigm—the true marriage of advertising with television for mutual financial benefit. In effect, this paper predicts that in coming years, Mad Men will usher in a new genre of product immersion, replacing product placement, via the manipulation of television flow.
An examination of the definitions of, and expectations of, dramatic supporting players should provide insight to the first claim, while an inductive application of generic reasoning should lend support toward the second, speculative claim.
Methodology
Supporting Role Characteristics When it comes to defining a supporting part in a dramatic endeavor, we find it necessary to examine the role a supporting player serves, rather than a semantic definition that limits us to placing people as agents. To assume that a dramatic character must be a human being, as noted by J. Butler (1994), places restrictions on criticism that are too limiting. How would we define an animated character if voice is the only necessary component? We might argue that an animated mime, according to Butler, is not a character at all as it lacks human presence. We must not draw too narrow a boundary in looking at the characteristics of a supporting character nor focus too intently on human appearance as a requirement. A search for relevant research into this discussion has yielded little result, requiring this study to take a more generative approach to developing criteria for the nature of inanimate or non-human character in dramatic narrative.
What then are the native characteristics of a supporting player? First, and most basic, the role requires some definite interaction with lead agents, often offering some form of support, guidance, or influence. Second, the supporting actor cannot upstage the lead performer yet still remain noticeable and recognizable. Third, the role requires consistency; that is, from scene to scene, the behaviors, values, or attributes ascribed to the character must not deviate from previous appearances—they must be predictable. Finally, a supporting role must, in some way, help to move the story forward. The character should not have a dedicated or major story arc, but must assist in moving the lead characters toward the traditional signposts of plot development, conflict, resolution, and denouement. One might make a case that in certain examples, primarily in cinema, support roles often have back story, but even these only serve to enrich the overall conflict and add depth to the lead role/support role dynamic.
Generic Criticism Generic criticism can take one of two divergent paths, that of the deductive pattern or the inductive pattern. As this paper attempts to determine, or at least speculate, that Mad Men is the progenitor of a new paradigm in television broadcasting, we are better served in performing an inductive analysis. The process is staged, and includes a look at specific textual features or other evidence that supports the claim; in this case, the claim is that we are potentially witnessing the dawn of a new genre in television. The second stage should include a look at other possible genres the text might fit, but for the purposes of this argument, identifying such genres as drama, business-themed, mature, or other would be neither beneficial nor informative. The relative newness of Mad Men, and a lack of presence of other television shows that utilize product-as-character, insists that we begin to see the program as an isolated, unique entity that due to its rapid rise in popularity will shape television shows to come.
Discussion of Evidence
Product as Character Many examples exist of product/inanimate object as character, some with dialogue, some without, but always affecting the story either as lead or in support. For example, consider the 2002 Hong Kong film, The Runaway Pistol, which follows an aging handgun as it changes hands and takes the lives of those in contact with each owner. The film features voice-over narration which is taken to be the inner monologue from the weapon itself. Although critically panned, the film makes an interesting case study for inanimate object as character and serves this argument well. A recent commercial for Carl’s Jr. Restaurants features a pair of hamburgers comparing their relative size and cost. Geico, the insurance giant known for their quirky yet annoying commercials, has for the past year featured a stack of money with googly eyes as its spokesperson. Although the cash has no dialogue, advertisements have attributed cell phone text messaging, self-mobility, and most importantly, symbolic representation of savings to the icon. Academic study has also linked such shows as Sex and the City, Friends, and The Sopranos with location as character (Sadler & Haskins, 2005; Handyside, 2007); all three take place in New York City, which, following the September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center has become less of a locale and more of a personality.
This is not to say that the argument for setting not equating to character—or, that other categorical dimensions of a traditional narrative are isolated and mutually exclusive—is not viable. The intent here is not to argue the relative merits of Fisher or other narrative critics, but simply to argue that narrow definitions do not account for paradigmatic anomalies. Indeed, the majority of television shows have very definite and unobscured themes, settings, narrators, causal and temporal relations, and events, but as television is at heart a creative medium, writers and producers have the poetic license to play with these norms, whether successfully or not.
The criteria presented above demands that a supporting player interacts with the lead players in such a way as to offer support, guidance, or influence. As most would agree that alcohol rarely supports or offers guidance—at least not helpful support or guidance!—we must look to liquor’s influence on character behavior. Mad Men has received considerable attention for not just the preponderance of booze on the show, but also for the effect of alcohol on its lead players’ demeanors and behaviors. From Draper’s driving-under-the-influence automobile accident to his whiskey-fueled affairs with more women than are worth counting, alcohol can easily be said to influence character behavior. In one telling scene, in which Sterling visits the Draper home for a late dinner, Sterling is seen ogling the bottle on the table and mentions repeatedly his close relationship with drink. In this sense, liquor acts like a great supporting actor by forcing the leads to raise their game through the incorporation of alcohol-affected gestures (holding a glass, pouring a drink, etc.) while helping to perfect blocking techniques (misé-en-scene to include the beverage, maximize lighting, etc.). Because of its translucent nature, alcohol affects the role of lighting directors, as well as impacting directors, property masters, and advertising and product placement executives, demanding as much attention as any human character.
As to exposure, the second qualifier, alcohol pervades scene after scene, its presence noticeable in both foreground and background. Beginning with the opening scene from the pilot episode, wherein Draper seeks advertising advice from nightclub employees, the character actor alcohol sets the stage for many of the lead role interactions. Combining exposure and supporting role is easy enough. Like a bad friend, urging a decision that we know we shouldn’t make, liquor encourages and empowers Draper to rationalize and dismiss extramarital affairs. Like a confidant, the loner Draper is invited by booze to unburden his guilt and childhood pain—three fingers of scotch at a time. No business meeting begins without social lubricant, as though liquor were another sexily-dressed temp from the secretaries’ pool; rarely does the personal encounter end without an intoxicated monologue or frustrated exit. Alcohol is the third friend in the room and the bad influence on a Saturday night for the ad men of Madison Avenue, but never do we fail to see the bottle; it is either in the hand or on the desk, but never far from view.
This consistency of role satisfies the third claim. Consider for example if Cosmo Kramer, the quirky neighbor to Seinfeld, were to casually enter the room rather than bursting in with his trademark stutter-step? What if Robert Barone, Ray Romano’s television brother from Everybody Loves Raymond, was to suddenly gain self-confidence and feel no shame about being the brother who is consistently overlooked? These characters would never have behaved so differently, else the relational dynamic of these shows would have fallen apart. The example carries over to Mad Men easily. Picture Don Draper, on his third glass of whiskey, telling his girlfriend of the month that he needs to call things off because his family and wife are just too important. What if Roger Sterling suddenly realized his mortality, as he did following his heart attack, and decided that alcohol just did not fit into his new fitness regime? Though this happened on the show, not one full episode passed without his return to the drink. No, alcohol needs to be the bad guy in the room, as it provides at least some saving grace for the often despicable actions of the lead characters. We each have a relationship with drink; some see it as poison or part of a damaged past, others see it as a casual acquaintance, useful for relaxation or an evening out. Whatever one’s opinion, should alcohol cease to be the intoxicating, seductive, or occasionally appropriate beverage that it is, a small part of our worldview would be altered. For this reason, Robert will always whine, Kramer will always be Kramer, and alcohol will be a ubiquitous and consistent partner to the Mad Men agents.
And finally, does alcohol move the story forward? This is a question that could be asked of any supporting player; in this case, as proved by the above examples, and others that space does not allow for, the answer is a resounding YES! The relationship between the producers of Mad Men, and both Jack Daniel’s and Smirnoff, has ensured that entire story arcs revolve around these beverages. Season two is particularly interesting in that Jack Daniel’s signed a lucrative deal with Weiner and AMC to not only place the beverage in scene, but to build an entire story line out of a possible advertising campaign. Though Weiner claims that “drinking on the show is not advocacy,” (Smith, 2007, p. 1) Robert Weissman of Commercial Alert, a Washington-based watchdog organization, argued that a contract of this sort changes the face of television. He concludes that this specific endorsement means that “Jack Daniel’s will not be in a bit part; Jack Daniel’s will be a star of the show” (Smith, 2007, P. 1). Though he may have been speaking euphemistically, the combined proof shows that he is not off the mark.
One final bit of evidence that went mostly unnoticed, yet is stark when a simple observational comparison is done, appears on the DVD from season two. Due to space limitations, only three episodes appear on any compact disk. Each disk has a title menu, allowing the viewer to play, select an episode, watch the special features, etc. From disk one of season one forward, the title menu has featured the menu selections opposite or adjacent to a still photo of one of the lead or secondary characters; for example, disk one of season one shows the menu options opposite a picture of Jon Hamm taken from a random scene. Disk two of season two is eye-catching in that no human star is pictured; instead a highball glass filled with what appears to be whiskey on ice is shown. Rather than a still image, the ice is slowly melting in the glass, tinkling as it taps the edge of the glass. Though this is not proof in itself of the claim that whiskey, vodka, and scotch appear where a lead is traditionally situated, the DVD presentation certainly adds to the mounting evidence that even Weiner and his creative staff consider alcohol to be more than just a prop but an active member of the cast.
Making the Case for Genre Critics often fall into the trap of organizing and cataloguing while failing to recognize that genre “must go beyond mere classification” and into the realm of clarification (Measell, 1976). This seems the most appropriate direction for a claim of this sort, as this paper asserts that Mad Men may be the father of a new genre. As posited earlier, this program could easily be categorized as drama, mature viewing, or any other of an infinite number of already established genres or subgroups, yet Mad Men features an element that others lack—that of product as character. It is this definition that leads to the postulating that follows, beginning with the advertisers' link to new and existing programs.
The television series, and thus television advertising, begins with a pilot. Pilot episodes are the opening salvo. Intended as a practice episode to see if the general public shows an interest, they are most often produced by networks based on a producer’s sales pitch, which may include the addition of a writer who has developed successful shows in the past, recognizable or journeyman directors, or cost-return ratios—the guarantee of high profit in relation to reduced overhead (salaries, production costs, location fees, etc.). Advertisers are reluctant to invest in programs that are untested or are projected to have low repeat viewership. Program genres that are high on intellectualism, like science fiction, fantasy, and conceptual drama, often fail to develop mainstream appeal as the first few episodes set the stage for subsequent episodes; if we miss the beginning, the middle and end will make little sense. These shows are poison to advertisers—though the fan base is loyal it is not generally large. For advertising to be effective, and by effective we mean impacting sales, it must affect the greatest number of people possible (D’Alessandro, 2008).
Thus, it is no great secret that advertising pays for television and is the driving force behind those series’ that have garnered increased levels of viewership. Once a program gains momentum, the network—comprising the executive producer and the studio chief of advertising—begin marketing the show to advertisers, charging for the airtime during which a commercial appears. Some programs find that the advertising matches closely with the events on the show, an example of which is the Sears advertising during episodes of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, especially noticeable on the nights when Sears’ products are utilized by the cast. For shows that have reached iconic status, the highest bidder wins the coveted commercial time, generating huge profits for the producer, the distributor, the network, etc.
This is all fine and good when people stay tuned in for commercial breaks, but since an ever increasing number are turning to personal recorders (i.e. TiVo and DVD recording devices) or switching channels away from the advertisements, how are agencies expected to hit their target demographics? The answer is product placement, or what this paper argues will be the next wave of television production, product immersion. Television production is predatory; much like in the film development, buzzwords, hot topics, and financial successes spawn copycatting, a legal term that recalls childhood accusations of mimicry. Television history is rife with examples of copycatting, most of which go unprosecuted: GoBots and Transformers, The People’s Court and Judge Judy (among others), Saturday Night Live and MadTV (among others), the list could continue ad infinitum. Recently, ABC pulled Wipeout from American distribution due to copycat infringement of a Japanese originator. Despite the legal or ethical decision to borrow or appropriate from an original series, many programs that mimic the content of originating shows develop into profitable ventures—in spite of the competition they create. This leads one to suggest that television advertisers, not unlike television producers who share the same goal of generating profits, would be wise to follow suit.
Thus it is that two elements may herald a new dawn for television at the hands of Mad Men: the marriage of product placement/product immersion and the creative effort to attribute human-like qualities to such products, creating characters on a show that while lacking dialogue, have a greater impact on story than comparable supporting actors; and the notion that if something works once, it will work again and again and again, especially if it means profiting despite changes in audience viewing habits. As researchers, we would do well over the coming years to pay close attention to contractual agreements between distributors, advertising agencies, and network marketing departments to verify or disprove the theory presented here, or, to do as the infamous Deep Throat advised to Woodward and Bernstein, “Follow the money.”
Considerations for Future Research
Of course, this paper is in part speculative, relying on knowledge of genre while prognosticating future advertising and production decisions. Much like Postman’s (1985) work on human development as a result of television viewing, we can look at television development as a result of television, as odd as that sounds. Though commerce is the motivation for, and measuring stick of success, the creative interests find art to be the driving force behind television production. As such, the ability of an artist to bend the traditions of dramatic theater and narrative theory is both clever and innovative and is deserving of more study. As mentioned earlier, Sex and the City, Friends, and The Sopranos have been examined for the use of New York City as a character. As the city is not just buildings, streets, or subways, but a group of people, one might argue against the logic. A broader look into object as character would certainly be noteworthy both from a dramatic and communications perspective.
Although not discussed in depth, this paper mentioned that we live in an age of TiVo, DVD players, onDemand, and channel surfing. Some research, mostly quantitative in nature, has been done toward this subject (Brasel & Gips, 2008; Pompper & Choo, 2008; Friedman, 2003; Wirtz & Schwartz, 2001) but much remains to be uncovered. Qualitative analysis of television advertising in relation to the recent technological changes that have developed in response to the personal video recorder would provide necessary insight to television critics. Similarly, an examination of the advertising that precedes or is inserted into recorded shows should prove vital to this course of research.
Friedman (2003) quotes Jordan Levin, president of the WB network, who states that the majority of product integration deals fail, that advertisers and producers “are betting with (their) gut” (p. 2). Research might focus on this aspect of television advertising, the speculative and problematic issues of what Friedman terms product integration. Where Levin argues that product immersion is a gamble, the liquor portrayal on Mad Men is not so random. The show features alcohol as a supporting character, thus Jack Daniel’s is the perfect product for the series. Additional research should examine various contemporary television programs to determine what products currently belong or could have been successfully placed based on character and content. BMW’s short films and the failed ABC series Push, Nevada, which featured Toyota and Sprint exclusively, were nothing more than advertising vehicles, yet a study of the success and failure of these and similar ventures might aid both television producers and advertisers to more seamlessly integrate product without taking from the quality of the program or cast dispersion on the creative process.
Summary
Announcing alcohol as an agent in Mad Men, rather than a set prop, does not require much stretching of the imagination. Unlike the office and home furnishings that grace the Ossining and Manhattan locales, liquor plays an active role in shaping scene after scene by swaying major character behavior. We need only consider that the symbolic links we draw with alcohol may reference our own behaviors, motivations, intentions, and/or personal foibles while under the influence. We might also consider, humorously, that most of us have that acquaintance who has repeatedly told us that a particular brand of alcohol is his or her best friend! Similarly, as Shelly West sang in 1983: ”Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine.” If we accept the criteria stated above as a definition of supporting role, including our pop culture personifications, then certainly alcohol can be classified as such.
In considering Mad Men the vanguard of a new genre, only time will bear this out. If we assume that Weiner's brainchild continues to enjoy the critical achievement enjoyed in only two seasons, then we may assume that advertisers--always quick to duplicate success--will begin in earnest to provide financial backing for new shows that allow for product immersion. Mad Men has prominently featured cigarettes, an FCC no-no when it comes to advertising, but has circumvented regulations by linking them to Lucky Strike, a now defunct brand. Communication scholars would do well to keep a watch in the coming years for cell phone providers, soda vendors, and sundry product lines to make their starring debuts on our favorite shows. If in fact we begin to see this marriage of drama and not-so-covert advertising proliferate, the long range effect on how we analyze television will be drastically impacted.
References
Brasel, S. A., & Gips, J. (2008, November). Breaking through fast-forwarding: Brand information and visual attention. Journal of Marketing, 72, 31-48.
Butler, J. (1994). Television: Critical methods and applications. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing Co.
Cooke, R. (2009, February 16). The art of darkness. New Statesman, 138(4936), 46.
Creeber, G. (2001). ‘Taking our personal lives seriously’: Intimacy, continuity and memory in the television drama serial. Media Culture & Society, 23, 439-455.
D’Alessandro, K. J. (2008). Pilot programs. Museum of Broadcast Communications [Website]. Retrieved from http://www.museum.tv/eotvsection.php?entrycode=pilotprogram
Federal Trade Commission. (2003, September). Alcohol marketing and advertising: A report to Congress. Retrieved from http://www.ftc.gov/os/2003/09/alcohol08report.pdf
Ferraro, R., & Avery, R. J. (2000, Fall). Brand appearances on prime-time television. Journal of Current Issues and Research in Advertising, 22(2), 1-15.
Franklin, N. (2007, July 23). Dangerous liaisons. The New Yorker. Retrieved from http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/television/2007/07/23/070723crte_television_ franklin?currentPage=2
Friedman, W. (2003, Feb. 10). Marketing in a TiVo world. Advertising Age, 74(6), 13.
Guthrie, M. (2008, July 21). From ad man to ‘Mad Men.’ Broadcasting & Cable, 36.
Handyside, F. (2007, September). It’s either fake or foreign: The cityscape in Sex in the City. Journal of Media and Cultural Studies, 21(3), 405-418. Retrieved from http://web.ebscohost.com.proxy.lib.csus.edu/ehost/pdf?vid=2&hid=105&sid=91df346e-de07-4a60-a79b-722cdd289953%40sessionmgr104
Ingram, B. (n.d.). Cigarette commercials: Cigarettes on TV. TVParty.com. Retrieved from http://www.tvparty.com/vaultcomcig.html
Irbic, B. (2009, winter). Social values in Mad Men and Revolutionary Road: Conformity and loss of the dream in the golden era of American ascendancy. Screen Education, (54), 78-84.
Lippert, B. (2009, August 17). It’s a mad, mad world. Brandweek, 50(30), 6.
McDonough, J. Why 1960 is the golden age of advertising. Advertising Age, 79(25), C6.
Measell, J. G. (1976, April 3). Rhetorical criticism: Genre criticism – counter statements. Symposium conducted by the Central States Speech Convention, Chicago, IL.
Mosher, J. F. (2006, February). Alcohol industry voluntary regulation of its advertising practices: A status report. Center for the Study of Law and Enforcement Policy
Pacific Institute for Research and Evaluation. Retrieved from http://camy.org/washington/files/industrycodereport.pdf
Novak, M. (1981). Television shapes the soul. In R. P. Adler (Ed.), Understanding Television: Essays on Television as a Social and Cultural Force (19-34). New York: Praeger Publishers.
Pompper, D., & Choo, Y.-F. (2008). Advertising in the age of TiVo: targeting teens and young adults with film and television product placements. Atlantic Journal of Communication, 16, 49-69.
Postman, N. (1985). Amusing ourselves to death: A scintillating analysis of television’s effect on culture’s New Society. New York: Penguin.
Sadler, W. J., & Haskins, E. V. (2005, July). Metonymy and metropolis: Television show settings and the image of New York City. Journal of Communication Inquiry, 29(3), 195-216.
Schulman, S. (2009, February). The television show that says you’re better than your parents. Commentary, 46-48.
Smith, L. (2007, June 21). ‘Mad Men’ and Jack Daniel’s: Bad mix?. L. A. Times Online. Retrieved from
http://www.articles.latimes.com/2007/jun/21/business/fi-jack21
Tulloch, J. (1990). Television Drama: Agency, audience and myth. New York: Routledge.
Weiner, M. (Executive Producer). (2007-2009). Mad Men [Television Series]. New York: American Movie Classics Company, LLC.
Weissman, R. (2008, June 27). Commercial Alert response to FCC product placement rulemaking: Agency sidesteps real solution. Commercial Alert.org. Retrieved from http://www.commercialalert.org/issues/culture/television/commercial-alert-response-to-fcc-product-placement-rulemaking-agency-sidesteps-real-solution
Williams, R. (1974). Television: Technology and cultural form. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press.
Wirtz, B. W., & Schwarz, J. (2001). Strategic implications of the segment of one TV: The evolution of the personalized television structure. The International Journal on Media Management, 3(1), 15-25.
Wober, J. M. (1988). The Use and Abuse of Television: A Social Psychological Analysis of the Changing Screen. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Earlbaum Associates, Inc.
Wober, J. M., & Gunter, B. (1988). Television & Social Control. New York: St. Martin’s Press.
Mad Men, Jack Daniels, and Product-As-Character in a Television Series
Woody Laughnan, III
California State University, Sacramento
Abstract
The acclaimed television show Mad Men is a throwback to the golden age of television due to the inclusion of alcohol as a lead character rather than merely as a prop. In utilizing alcohol as a character, Mad Men breaks from modern flow while bypassing the liquor industry’s self-banning of advertising during primetime. An examination of producer interviews, advertiser statements, script highlights, and DVD formatting reveals plotlines, advertising strategies, and visual staging that indicate a purposeful effort to redefine the nature of narrative character. The use of an inanimate object in a role, in this case specific alcoholic beverages whose manufacturers have paid for considerable immersion, indicates the effect of advertising culture on television production and suggests that Mad Men may be the vanguard of a new paradigm, one that hearkens back to a time before commercials interrupted drama every seven to twelve minutes..
Keywords: Mad Men, alcohol advertising, narrative, character, agent, advertising culture, product placement, Jack Daniels, genre, flow
Go Ahead and Change the Channel:
Mad Men, Jack Daniels, and Product-As-Character in a Television Series
For two-and-a-half years, Mad Men has been a ratings darling and Emmy© award winning serial drama for American Movie Classics (AMC), a pay cable network traditionally known for its B-grade, made-for-TV movies and content-edited airings of classic (and not-so-classic) domestically produced films. In winning the awards for Outstanding Drama Series and Outstanding Writing for a Drama Series in 2009, Mad Men accomplished in two seasons what other highly rated and popular dramatic series’ such as E.R. (winner in second season), NYPD Blue (winner in second season), and The West Wing (winner in first season and the following three) had done, garnering critical acclaim quickly (winner in both first and second seasons) while developing a solid, loyal fan base. ”Smart and tremendously attractive” (Franklin, 2007, n.p.), Mad Men has witnessed a clamoring for new episodes and water-cooler discussion not seen since the departure of The Sopranos in 2007. In fact, over the previous 39 years, Mad Men and The Sopranos are the only two cable shows to earn the Outstanding Drama Series Emmy©.
Historical Approach Mad Men is set in a Madison Avenue agency during the 1960’s, the “golden age of advertising.” J. McDonough (2008, p. C6) implores us not to confuse the turbulent, Vietnam War-driven political landscape with the post-1950’s suburban American promised land; instead he asks us to remember that the children of the second world war were now grown and “raising their own kids in freshly built suburbs… buying washing machines, color TV’s and long-and-low cars visualized as jet fighters on wheels” (p. C6). Nearly every American was familiar with popular brands made famous in the commercials that paid for their shows, yet few knew of the behind-the-scene dealings that resulted in huge profits for both the public relations firms and the producers of consumer goods. Originally driven by demographics and “psycho-graphic markers” (McDonough, 2008, p. C6), the ad agencies eventually applied complex behavior models, employed psychologists to develop subliminal messaging, and maximized depictions of male/female disparity in their attempts to manipulate potential consumers.
Mad Men is as much a television show as it is an historical accounting, something its set designers, costumers, and directors have set forward with purpose. Matthew Weiner, the show’s 43-year-old creator and former Sopranos writer, gained sole control of his project from Charlie Collier, the new head of AMC, to produce a series that would not only feature top notch writing, but a dedication to period authenticity. Says Weiner, “(T)hey trusted me completely, the pilot was the script that I had written three years earlier” (Guthrie, 2008, p. 36). Still, an historical series such as Mad Men traditionally follows one of two courses according to J. Tulloch (1990): “comforting nostalgia” or “superficial nominalism,” either of which “obscure history as a relationship between past and present” (p. 91). As in other period dramas, Mad Men is an amalgam of popularly held remembrances of the time, and although “an archaeological dig into the anthropology, idioms and secret codes of a distant culture” (McDonough, 2008, p. C6) are apparent, we should be careful to remember that any television program is but a reflection of an age—its attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors—revealing only those elements deemed important by the show’s writers, directors, and producers. In addition to period costuming, set decoration, and social turbulence, it seems that Weiner wants us to remember the prevalence of, and lackadaisical attitude toward, social drinking, one of the major recurrent themes throughout.
Casting and Character The series stars Jon Hamm as Don Draper who, as creative director and resident genius at the Sterling Cooper Agency, develops advertisements “that evoke emotion and aspiration and thereby create a fantasy only consumption can fill” (Schulman, 2009, p. 47). The prototypical flawed protagonist, Draper is ruthlessly efficient at closing the deal with corporate clients, but as a husband and father he often falls short of expectation. Alcohol flows and cigarettes smolder as Draper cheats on his wife, disappears from his adolescent daughter’s slumber party, bribes his younger brother to leave and never return (the brother would later hang himself), and in an interesting twist assumes a false identity by stealing the name of a former war buddy (Schulman, 2009). Surrounding characters include January Jones in the role of Betty Draper, the wife and mother whose arc has taken her from the therapist’s couch to an affair of her own; John Slattery as Roger Sterling, senior partner at Sterling Cooper, whose return from a heart attack prompted him to merge his company with a British competitor; and Vincent Kartheiser as Pete Campbell, the sycophantic, petulant freshman agent who initially idolizes Draper but eventually comes to despise his standing (see fig. 1).
Figure 1 John Slattery as Roger Sterling and Jon Hamm as Don Draper head the cast of TV's Mad Men.
Although the players have been infamously snubbed by Emmy© voters, critics and fans alike claim that the program’s “chief virtues are the amazing stillness of its central performers… and
its obsessive attention to detail” (Cooke, 2009, p. 46).
What may be one of the most prominent characters in Mad Men, and one that appears in what seems most every scene, is not a human performer at all, but rather an inanimate object, liquor. Be it a conference in Sterling’s office, a meeting at the club with a potential client, or Don’s coming home to his family, alcohol silently but masterfully infuses every scene both as a prop and as a focal point. When communication pauses, the slow, careful sip of a drink speaks volumes on both the scene and the time. The offer of a drink serves as the entryway to every business conversation just as its pouring creates a buffer zone between warring spouses.
Alcohol in Primetime The concept of alcohol advertising is intriguing, especially when we consider that the nature of such promotions are not federally monitored, but rather self-regulated by those who would sponsor the advertising (Mosher, 2006). In 2003, Congress requested data from the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) regarding marketing of alcoholic beverages to minors, due in part to the influx of new malt beverages (Mike's Hard Lemonade, Bacardi Breeze, et. al) and related marketing (Federal Trade Commission, 2003). The Distilled Spirits Council of the United States, not the Federal Trade Commission or Congress, is the governing body when it comes to disputes of irresponsible alcohol advertising on television. The line is generally drawn when liquor appears in programs that feature graphic “’depictions of overt sexual activity,’ lewd images or language,” or “irresponsible drinking and intoxication” (Smith, 2007, p. 1), all of which are hallmarks of Mad Men.
Responses to Product Placement In 1996, the alcohol industry lifted its self-imposed, 48-year old ban on primetime advertising. Since then, alcohol companies have rushed to develop commercials, using many of the same tactics as the Sterling Cooper Agency, that mirror the settings, characters, and plotlines of shows on over 500 stations (Smith, 2007). Ralph Nader’s Commercial Alert (CA) group has been a vocal opponent of these advertisements and, due to the abundance of alcohol and sex depicted in the show, called for Mad Men to be removed from the air altogether. CA managing director Robert Weissman, responding to a Federal Trade Commission (FTC) announcement on product placement, reasoned that the inclusion of a product into a television show rather than in standard commercial form, does not allow for product disclaimers at the time of viewing, instead “(T)he emotional and persuasive power of a product placement advertisement, like other advertisements, occurs at the moment it airs” (2008, n.p.).
There exists considerable research into the subject of product placement, but the majority of work centers on film rather than television. Ferraro and Avery (2000) make the claim that in primetime broadcasting across the four network stations, “brands are prevalent” (1), though most appear during sporting events, magazine-style shows, and game shows. They do state that sitcoms and dramas also have a fair share of brand representation, but fail to cite those programs leaving one to wonder if the placement is as obvious as suggested. Pompper and Choo (2008) are more specific in citing examples, the Junior Mints episode of Seinfeld chief among them. Other programs, like Frazier and Survivor are mentioned as past examples of successful product placement campaigns, yet these and other examples differ from Mad Men in one significant way. Whereas product placement does certainly exist on television, what Mad Men accomplishes weekly is not placement but immersion. The regular viewer rarely hears the product name—though he or she occasionally does—but rather sees the characters interacting with the product, allowing the product to guide character decision-making as a supporting character might.
Television Flow A look at the early history of television reveals a pattern that is mostly unrecognizable today. The majority of programs from the late 1930’s through the 1940’s were only 15 minutes in length and were nothing more than blatant advertising vehicles. Shows had a single, identifiable corporate sponsor; hosts of talk and variety programs were similarly linked with a particular product and compensated by its manufacturer. This early branding took the form of commercials that were interwoven with either the introductory voice-over or during the broadcast itself. Shows of the era such as Bristol-Myers' Geographically Speaking and Proctor & Gamble's The Guiding Light did not break for commercials per se; the actors from these programs would pitch the products from the studio sets between acts. Even perennial favorites such as I Love Lucy and The Flintstones were sponsored by cigarette makers. The original run of The Flintstones featured Fred and Barney puffing on Winstons (see figs. 2 & 3) at the end of each program (Ingram, n.d.).
Figures 2 and 3 Barney Rubble, Fred Flintstone, and Wilma Flintstone enjoying Winston cigarettes.
The evolution of broadcasting included the introduction of the stand-alone commercial, pre-recorded for purchased airtime. Advertisers shifted away from direct sponsorship, and instead favored “the scheduling of programs and the advertising breaks within and between” (Thompson, 2003, p. 6). The shift from stop-and-start, intermingled advertising and public service programming to the more popular pattern we witness today was coined by R. Williams (1976) as flow; flow is not an industry term, but an accepted label to describe the new organizational structure (commercial—program—commercial) that has become the essential nature of all broadcasting systems. Television is less a series of isolated, sponsored productions, having now morphed into a “mode of higher unity” (Corner, 1999, p. 62), specifically in the way that program segments are now filmed to accommodate commercial breaks. Flow is designed and managed to accomplish one task, cultivating in viewers the “impulse to go on watching” (Williams, 1974, P. 94) by timing patterns in such a way as to: create excitement during opening sequences, build tension through comedic or dramatic escalation, and intersperse commercials to make each four to twelve-minute program segment into a mini-cliffhanger.
Purpose of Research This report argues that Weiner’s inclusion of alcohol serves two not unrelated purposes:
1. That Mad Men’s developers have utilized alcohol as a character rather than set decoration;
2. That the producer’s contractual agreements with Jack Daniels and Smirnoff, the subsequent placement of these beverages as character, exemplifies a new, old paradigm—the true marriage of advertising with television for mutual financial benefit. In effect, this paper predicts that in coming years, Mad Men will usher in a new genre of product immersion, replacing product placement, via the manipulation of television flow.
An examination of the definitions of, and expectations of, dramatic supporting players should provide insight to the first claim, while an inductive application of generic reasoning should lend support toward the second, speculative claim.
Methodology
Supporting Role Characteristics When it comes to defining a supporting part in a dramatic endeavor, we find it necessary to examine the role a supporting player serves, rather than a semantic definition that limits us to placing people as agents. To assume that a dramatic character must be a human being, as noted by J. Butler (1994), places restrictions on criticism that are too limiting. How would we define an animated character if voice is the only necessary component? We might argue that an animated mime, according to Butler, is not a character at all as it lacks human presence. We must not draw too narrow a boundary in looking at the characteristics of a supporting character nor focus too intently on human appearance as a requirement. A search for relevant research into this discussion has yielded little result, requiring this study to take a more generative approach to developing criteria for the nature of inanimate or non-human character in dramatic narrative.
What then are the native characteristics of a supporting player? First, and most basic, the role requires some definite interaction with lead agents, often offering some form of support, guidance, or influence. Second, the supporting actor cannot upstage the lead performer yet still remain noticeable and recognizable. Third, the role requires consistency; that is, from scene to scene, the behaviors, values, or attributes ascribed to the character must not deviate from previous appearances—they must be predictable. Finally, a supporting role must, in some way, help to move the story forward. The character should not have a dedicated or major story arc, but must assist in moving the lead characters toward the traditional signposts of plot development, conflict, resolution, and denouement. One might make a case that in certain examples, primarily in cinema, support roles often have back story, but even these only serve to enrich the overall conflict and add depth to the lead role/support role dynamic.
Generic Criticism Generic criticism can take one of two divergent paths, that of the deductive pattern or the inductive pattern. As this paper attempts to determine, or at least speculate, that Mad Men is the progenitor of a new paradigm in television broadcasting, we are better served in performing an inductive analysis. The process is staged, and includes a look at specific textual features or other evidence that supports the claim; in this case, the claim is that we are potentially witnessing the dawn of a new genre in television. The second stage should include a look at other possible genres the text might fit, but for the purposes of this argument, identifying such genres as drama, business-themed, mature, or other would be neither beneficial nor informative. The relative newness of Mad Men, and a lack of presence of other television shows that utilize product-as-character, insists that we begin to see the program as an isolated, unique entity that due to its rapid rise in popularity will shape television shows to come.
Discussion of Evidence
Product as Character Many examples exist of product/inanimate object as character, some with dialogue, some without, but always affecting the story either as lead or in support. For example, consider the 2002 Hong Kong film, The Runaway Pistol, which follows an aging handgun as it changes hands and takes the lives of those in contact with each owner. The film features voice-over narration which is taken to be the inner monologue from the weapon itself. Although critically panned, the film makes an interesting case study for inanimate object as character and serves this argument well. A recent commercial for Carl’s Jr. Restaurants features a pair of hamburgers comparing their relative size and cost. Geico, the insurance giant known for their quirky yet annoying commercials, has for the past year featured a stack of money with googly eyes as its spokesperson. Although the cash has no dialogue, advertisements have attributed cell phone text messaging, self-mobility, and most importantly, symbolic representation of savings to the icon. Academic study has also linked such shows as Sex and the City, Friends, and The Sopranos with location as character (Sadler & Haskins, 2005; Handyside, 2007); all three take place in New York City, which, following the September 11, 2001, attacks on the World Trade Center has become less of a locale and more of a personality.
This is not to say that the argument for setting not equating to character—or, that other categorical dimensions of a traditional narrative are isolated and mutually exclusive—is not viable. The intent here is not to argue the relative merits of Fisher or other narrative critics, but simply to argue that narrow definitions do not account for paradigmatic anomalies. Indeed, the majority of television shows have very definite and unobscured themes, settings, narrators, causal and temporal relations, and events, but as television is at heart a creative medium, writers and producers have the poetic license to play with these norms, whether successfully or not.
The criteria presented above demands that a supporting player interacts with the lead players in such a way as to offer support, guidance, or influence. As most would agree that alcohol rarely supports or offers guidance—at least not helpful support or guidance!—we must look to liquor’s influence on character behavior. Mad Men has received considerable attention for not just the preponderance of booze on the show, but also for the effect of alcohol on its lead players’ demeanors and behaviors. From Draper’s driving-under-the-influence automobile accident to his whiskey-fueled affairs with more women than are worth counting, alcohol can easily be said to influence character behavior. In one telling scene, in which Sterling visits the Draper home for a late dinner, Sterling is seen ogling the bottle on the table and mentions repeatedly his close relationship with drink. In this sense, liquor acts like a great supporting actor by forcing the leads to raise their game through the incorporation of alcohol-affected gestures (holding a glass, pouring a drink, etc.) while helping to perfect blocking techniques (misé-en-scene to include the beverage, maximize lighting, etc.). Because of its translucent nature, alcohol affects the role of lighting directors, as well as impacting directors, property masters, and advertising and product placement executives, demanding as much attention as any human character.
As to exposure, the second qualifier, alcohol pervades scene after scene, its presence noticeable in both foreground and background. Beginning with the opening scene from the pilot episode, wherein Draper seeks advertising advice from nightclub employees, the character actor alcohol sets the stage for many of the lead role interactions. Combining exposure and supporting role is easy enough. Like a bad friend, urging a decision that we know we shouldn’t make, liquor encourages and empowers Draper to rationalize and dismiss extramarital affairs. Like a confidant, the loner Draper is invited by booze to unburden his guilt and childhood pain—three fingers of scotch at a time. No business meeting begins without social lubricant, as though liquor were another sexily-dressed temp from the secretaries’ pool; rarely does the personal encounter end without an intoxicated monologue or frustrated exit. Alcohol is the third friend in the room and the bad influence on a Saturday night for the ad men of Madison Avenue, but never do we fail to see the bottle; it is either in the hand or on the desk, but never far from view.
This consistency of role satisfies the third claim. Consider for example if Cosmo Kramer, the quirky neighbor to Seinfeld, were to casually enter the room rather than bursting in with his trademark stutter-step? What if Robert Barone, Ray Romano’s television brother from Everybody Loves Raymond, was to suddenly gain self-confidence and feel no shame about being the brother who is consistently overlooked? These characters would never have behaved so differently, else the relational dynamic of these shows would have fallen apart. The example carries over to Mad Men easily. Picture Don Draper, on his third glass of whiskey, telling his girlfriend of the month that he needs to call things off because his family and wife are just too important. What if Roger Sterling suddenly realized his mortality, as he did following his heart attack, and decided that alcohol just did not fit into his new fitness regime? Though this happened on the show, not one full episode passed without his return to the drink. No, alcohol needs to be the bad guy in the room, as it provides at least some saving grace for the often despicable actions of the lead characters. We each have a relationship with drink; some see it as poison or part of a damaged past, others see it as a casual acquaintance, useful for relaxation or an evening out. Whatever one’s opinion, should alcohol cease to be the intoxicating, seductive, or occasionally appropriate beverage that it is, a small part of our worldview would be altered. For this reason, Robert will always whine, Kramer will always be Kramer, and alcohol will be a ubiquitous and consistent partner to the Mad Men agents.
And finally, does alcohol move the story forward? This is a question that could be asked of any supporting player; in this case, as proved by the above examples, and others that space does not allow for, the answer is a resounding YES! The relationship between the producers of Mad Men, and both Jack Daniel’s and Smirnoff, has ensured that entire story arcs revolve around these beverages. Season two is particularly interesting in that Jack Daniel’s signed a lucrative deal with Weiner and AMC to not only place the beverage in scene, but to build an entire story line out of a possible advertising campaign. Though Weiner claims that “drinking on the show is not advocacy,” (Smith, 2007, p. 1) Robert Weissman of Commercial Alert, a Washington-based watchdog organization, argued that a contract of this sort changes the face of television. He concludes that this specific endorsement means that “Jack Daniel’s will not be in a bit part; Jack Daniel’s will be a star of the show” (Smith, 2007, P. 1). Though he may have been speaking euphemistically, the combined proof shows that he is not off the mark.
One final bit of evidence that went mostly unnoticed, yet is stark when a simple observational comparison is done, appears on the DVD from season two. Due to space limitations, only three episodes appear on any compact disk. Each disk has a title menu, allowing the viewer to play, select an episode, watch the special features, etc. From disk one of season one forward, the title menu has featured the menu selections opposite or adjacent to a still photo of one of the lead or secondary characters; for example, disk one of season one shows the menu options opposite a picture of Jon Hamm taken from a random scene. Disk two of season two is eye-catching in that no human star is pictured; instead a highball glass filled with what appears to be whiskey on ice is shown. Rather than a still image, the ice is slowly melting in the glass, tinkling as it taps the edge of the glass. Though this is not proof in itself of the claim that whiskey, vodka, and scotch appear where a lead is traditionally situated, the DVD presentation certainly adds to the mounting evidence that even Weiner and his creative staff consider alcohol to be more than just a prop but an active member of the cast.
Making the Case for Genre Critics often fall into the trap of organizing and cataloguing while failing to recognize that genre “must go beyond mere classification” and into the realm of clarification (Measell, 1976). This seems the most appropriate direction for a claim of this sort, as this paper asserts that Mad Men may be the father of a new genre. As posited earlier, this program could easily be categorized as drama, mature viewing, or any other of an infinite number of already established genres or subgroups, yet Mad Men features an element that others lack—that of product as character. It is this definition that leads to the postulating that follows, beginning with the advertisers' link to new and existing programs.
The television series, and thus television advertising, begins with a pilot. Pilot episodes are the opening salvo. Intended as a practice episode to see if the general public shows an interest, they are most often produced by networks based on a producer’s sales pitch, which may include the addition of a writer who has developed successful shows in the past, recognizable or journeyman directors, or cost-return ratios—the guarantee of high profit in relation to reduced overhead (salaries, production costs, location fees, etc.). Advertisers are reluctant to invest in programs that are untested or are projected to have low repeat viewership. Program genres that are high on intellectualism, like science fiction, fantasy, and conceptual drama, often fail to develop mainstream appeal as the first few episodes set the stage for subsequent episodes; if we miss the beginning, the middle and end will make little sense. These shows are poison to advertisers—though the fan base is loyal it is not generally large. For advertising to be effective, and by effective we mean impacting sales, it must affect the greatest number of people possible (D’Alessandro, 2008).
Thus, it is no great secret that advertising pays for television and is the driving force behind those series’ that have garnered increased levels of viewership. Once a program gains momentum, the network—comprising the executive producer and the studio chief of advertising—begin marketing the show to advertisers, charging for the airtime during which a commercial appears. Some programs find that the advertising matches closely with the events on the show, an example of which is the Sears advertising during episodes of Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, especially noticeable on the nights when Sears’ products are utilized by the cast. For shows that have reached iconic status, the highest bidder wins the coveted commercial time, generating huge profits for the producer, the distributor, the network, etc.
This is all fine and good when people stay tuned in for commercial breaks, but since an ever increasing number are turning to personal recorders (i.e. TiVo and DVD recording devices) or switching channels away from the advertisements, how are agencies expected to hit their target demographics? The answer is product placement, or what this paper argues will be the next wave of television production, product immersion. Television production is predatory; much like in the film development, buzzwords, hot topics, and financial successes spawn copycatting, a legal term that recalls childhood accusations of mimicry. Television history is rife with examples of copycatting, most of which go unprosecuted: GoBots and Transformers, The People’s Court and Judge Judy (among others), Saturday Night Live and MadTV (among others), the list could continue ad infinitum. Recently, ABC pulled Wipeout from American distribution due to copycat infringement of a Japanese originator. Despite the legal or ethical decision to borrow or appropriate from an original series, many programs that mimic the content of originating shows develop into profitable ventures—in spite of the competition they create. This leads one to suggest that television advertisers, not unlike television producers who share the same goal of generating profits, would be wise to follow suit.
Thus it is that two elements may herald a new dawn for television at the hands of Mad Men: the marriage of product placement/product immersion and the creative effort to attribute human-like qualities to such products, creating characters on a show that while lacking dialogue, have a greater impact on story than comparable supporting actors; and the notion that if something works once, it will work again and again and again, especially if it means profiting despite changes in audience viewing habits. As researchers, we would do well over the coming years to pay close attention to contractual agreements between distributors, advertising agencies, and network marketing departments to verify or disprove the theory presented here, or, to do as the infamous Deep Throat advised to Woodward and Bernstein, “Follow the money.”
Considerations for Future Research
Of course, this paper is in part speculative, relying on knowledge of genre while prognosticating future advertising and production decisions. Much like Postman’s (1985) work on human development as a result of television viewing, we can look at television development as a result of television, as odd as that sounds. Though commerce is the motivation for, and measuring stick of success, the creative interests find art to be the driving force behind television production. As such, the ability of an artist to bend the traditions of dramatic theater and narrative theory is both clever and innovative and is deserving of more study. As mentioned earlier, Sex and the City, Friends, and The Sopranos have been examined for the use of New York City as a character. As the city is not just buildings, streets, or subways, but a group of people, one might argue against the logic. A broader look into object as character would certainly be noteworthy both from a dramatic and communications perspective.
Although not discussed in depth, this paper mentioned that we live in an age of TiVo, DVD players, onDemand, and channel surfing. Some research, mostly quantitative in nature, has been done toward this subject (Brasel & Gips, 2008; Pompper & Choo, 2008; Friedman, 2003; Wirtz & Schwartz, 2001) but much remains to be uncovered. Qualitative analysis of television advertising in relation to the recent technological changes that have developed in response to the personal video recorder would provide necessary insight to television critics. Similarly, an examination of the advertising that precedes or is inserted into recorded shows should prove vital to this course of research.
Friedman (2003) quotes Jordan Levin, president of the WB network, who states that the majority of product integration deals fail, that advertisers and producers “are betting with (their) gut” (p. 2). Research might focus on this aspect of television advertising, the speculative and problematic issues of what Friedman terms product integration. Where Levin argues that product immersion is a gamble, the liquor portrayal on Mad Men is not so random. The show features alcohol as a supporting character, thus Jack Daniel’s is the perfect product for the series. Additional research should examine various contemporary television programs to determine what products currently belong or could have been successfully placed based on character and content. BMW’s short films and the failed ABC series Push, Nevada, which featured Toyota and Sprint exclusively, were nothing more than advertising vehicles, yet a study of the success and failure of these and similar ventures might aid both television producers and advertisers to more seamlessly integrate product without taking from the quality of the program or cast dispersion on the creative process.
Summary
Announcing alcohol as an agent in Mad Men, rather than a set prop, does not require much stretching of the imagination. Unlike the office and home furnishings that grace the Ossining and Manhattan locales, liquor plays an active role in shaping scene after scene by swaying major character behavior. We need only consider that the symbolic links we draw with alcohol may reference our own behaviors, motivations, intentions, and/or personal foibles while under the influence. We might also consider, humorously, that most of us have that acquaintance who has repeatedly told us that a particular brand of alcohol is his or her best friend! Similarly, as Shelly West sang in 1983: ”Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine.” If we accept the criteria stated above as a definition of supporting role, including our pop culture personifications, then certainly alcohol can be classified as such.
In considering Mad Men the vanguard of a new genre, only time will bear this out. If we assume that Weiner's brainchild continues to enjoy the critical achievement enjoyed in only two seasons, then we may assume that advertisers--always quick to duplicate success--will begin in earnest to provide financial backing for new shows that allow for product immersion. Mad Men has prominently featured cigarettes, an FCC no-no when it comes to advertising, but has circumvented regulations by linking them to Lucky Strike, a now defunct brand. Communication scholars would do well to keep a watch in the coming years for cell phone providers, soda vendors, and sundry product lines to make their starring debuts on our favorite shows. If in fact we begin to see this marriage of drama and not-so-covert advertising proliferate, the long range effect on how we analyze television will be drastically impacted.
References
Brasel, S. A., & Gips, J. (2008, November). Breaking through fast-forwarding: Brand information and visual attention. Journal of Marketing, 72, 31-48.
Butler, J. (1994). Television: Critical methods and applications. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing Co.
Cooke, R. (2009, February 16). The art of darkness. New Statesman, 138(4936), 46.
Creeber, G. (2001). ‘Taking our personal lives seriously’: Intimacy, continuity and memory in the television drama serial. Media Culture & Society, 23, 439-455.
D’Alessandro, K. J. (2008). Pilot programs. Museum of Broadcast Communications [Website]. Retrieved from http://www.museum.tv/eotvsection.php?entrycode=pilotprogram
Federal Trade Commission. (2003, September). Alcohol marketing and advertising: A report to Congress. Retrieved from http://www.ftc.gov/os/2003/09/alcohol08report.pdf
Ferraro, R., & Avery, R. J. (2000, Fall). Brand appearances on prime-time television. Journal of Current Issues and Research in Advertising, 22(2), 1-15.
Franklin, N. (2007, July 23). Dangerous liaisons. The New Yorker. Retrieved from http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/television/2007/07/23/070723crte_television_ franklin?currentPage=2
Friedman, W. (2003, Feb. 10). Marketing in a TiVo world. Advertising Age, 74(6), 13.
Guthrie, M. (2008, July 21). From ad man to ‘Mad Men.’ Broadcasting & Cable, 36.
Handyside, F. (2007, September). It’s either fake or foreign: The cityscape in Sex in the City. Journal of Media and Cultural Studies, 21(3), 405-418. Retrieved from http://web.ebscohost.com.proxy.lib.csus.edu/ehost/pdf?vid=2&hid=105&sid=91df346e-de07-4a60-a79b-722cdd289953%40sessionmgr104
Ingram, B. (n.d.). Cigarette commercials: Cigarettes on TV. TVParty.com. Retrieved from http://www.tvparty.com/vaultcomcig.html
Irbic, B. (2009, winter). Social values in Mad Men and Revolutionary Road: Conformity and loss of the dream in the golden era of American ascendancy. Screen Education, (54), 78-84.
Lippert, B. (2009, August 17). It’s a mad, mad world. Brandweek, 50(30), 6.
McDonough, J. Why 1960 is the golden age of advertising. Advertising Age, 79(25), C6.
Measell, J. G. (1976, April 3). Rhetorical criticism: Genre criticism – counter statements. Symposium conducted by the Central States Speech Convention, Chicago, IL.
Mosher, J. F. (2006, February). Alcohol industry voluntary regulation of its advertising practices: A status report. Center for the Study of Law and Enforcement Policy
Pacific Institute for Research and Evaluation. Retrieved from http://camy.org/washington/files/industrycodereport.pdf
Novak, M. (1981). Television shapes the soul. In R. P. Adler (Ed.), Understanding Television: Essays on Television as a Social and Cultural Force (19-34). New York: Praeger Publishers.
Pompper, D., & Choo, Y.-F. (2008). Advertising in the age of TiVo: targeting teens and young adults with film and television product placements. Atlantic Journal of Communication, 16, 49-69.
Postman, N. (1985). Amusing ourselves to death: A scintillating analysis of television’s effect on culture’s New Society. New York: Penguin.
Sadler, W. J., & Haskins, E. V. (2005, July). Metonymy and metropolis: Television show settings and the image of New York City. Journal of Communication Inquiry, 29(3), 195-216.
Schulman, S. (2009, February). The television show that says you’re better than your parents. Commentary, 46-48.
Smith, L. (2007, June 21). ‘Mad Men’ and Jack Daniel’s: Bad mix?. L. A. Times Online. Retrieved from
http://www.articles.latimes.com/2007/jun/21/business/fi-jack21
Tulloch, J. (1990). Television Drama: Agency, audience and myth. New York: Routledge.
Weiner, M. (Executive Producer). (2007-2009). Mad Men [Television Series]. New York: American Movie Classics Company, LLC.
Weissman, R. (2008, June 27). Commercial Alert response to FCC product placement rulemaking: Agency sidesteps real solution. Commercial Alert.org. Retrieved from http://www.commercialalert.org/issues/culture/television/commercial-alert-response-to-fcc-product-placement-rulemaking-agency-sidesteps-real-solution
Williams, R. (1974). Television: Technology and cultural form. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press.
Wirtz, B. W., & Schwarz, J. (2001). Strategic implications of the segment of one TV: The evolution of the personalized television structure. The International Journal on Media Management, 3(1), 15-25.
Wober, J. M. (1988). The Use and Abuse of Television: A Social Psychological Analysis of the Changing Screen. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Earlbaum Associates, Inc.
Wober, J. M., & Gunter, B. (1988). Television & Social Control. New York: St. Martin’s Press.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
