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Earlier today, Hank Stuever of the Washington Post floated the idea that we’re in a “Silver Age” of television, filled with pretty-good-but-not-great dramas which exist in such quantity that it’s become more and more difficult to stand out as either better (say, Rectify) or worse (House of Cards).
It seems like the right time to make such a declaration, as this TV season is marking the end of both Mad Men, a Golden Age show if there ever was one, and Justified, a byproduct of the era that reached extraordinary heights like so many others -- Game of Thrones, Damages, Big Love, Sons of Anarchy, Dexter, The Walking Dead and on -- but couldn’t quite sustain its place at the top of the mountain. With their departures, it’s safe to say that we’re firmly in a new era right now: an era defined by the immediacy of binge-watching and the gluttony of good-enough entertainment. And Mad Men is going out not with a bang, but with a whimper. A show notorious for taking its time and reveling in ambiguity has perhaps overstayed its welcome, given how the TV culture has changed: after a remarkable Emmys streak, it hasn’t won a single major award in years, and its viewership numbers are on the decline. Breaking Bad and The Sopranos went out with record ratings and a healthy Emmy salute. Sadly, Mad Men’s farewell won’t be quite so generous.
The voluminous Mad Men-related content emerging from outlets right now has as much to do with the show as the era it came to define. The nostalgia is palpable. Here was a show chewed on, week-by-week, for a full eight years. The discourse around Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead may be just as loud, but it’s near-exclusively based in content; in fandom, and comparison with source material. Similarly, House of Cards and Orange Is the New Black generate all kinds of chatter, but after a couple weeks they’re not to be heard from for another 11 months. You’ve got Hannibal, NBC’s cult genre piece that’s found favor with critics but is hardly centered on. The Good Wife renaissance appears to be over. Scandal and Empire are no one’s idea of “Great TV,” but at least they gather millions weekly to talk and debate. Or let’s put it another way: True Detective and Fargo ate up most of the conversation in 2014, but those stories have finished; the endings have already been debated to death, and we, now, can only wait to see if lightning can strike twice.
What’s really missing from the current TV landscape is consensus. There’s no Breaking Bad to rally around; no Sopranos, either. The drama of the moment is certainly The Americans, but it’s a show that -- unlike other dramas of its quality and overwhelming critical consensus -- has been unable to click with viewers. Its viewership simply doesn’t grow, no matter how loud its proponents are (and they are loud, and there are many). Another “consensus” drama among critics would be Rectify, which ostensibly has followed a very similar path to Breaking Bad. Its abbreviated first season attracted some critics and generated some chatter, and then exploded with rave after rave for a more properly-lengthed sophomore campaign. It was, like Breaking Bad, on an obscure network (Sundance Channel) starting to break out with award-winning miniseries, and it had a distinct, absorbing voice that TV hadn’t really heard yet. But Rectify premiered in the culture of glut, and though it’s managed to stand out to some degree, there has simply been too much happening outside of Sundance Channel for the show to really break out.
Mad Men has had brilliant seasons, great seasons and one or two okay ones. It’s not been perfect, but TV in its purest form shouldn’t be: it evolves, and changes, and adapts. The period drama leaves behind shows like The Americans and Rectify -- thematically rich, brilliantly conceived hour-longs that air weekly -- as (relative) qualitative equals. But they’re far from cultural equals, and that’s where the difference lies. The end of Mad Men marks the finish of a longer era, perhaps, when the demands of “top tier” TV could be met by any true TV aficionado. Now? Can you fault someone for lacking the ability to invest in the devastating Americans? Or the slow poetics of Rectify? Jesus, they’ve still got the third season of House of Cards on queue -- and they better watch it before people forget about it in two weeks!
Or maybe that’s not quite the story. TV is now, more than ever, an “at your own pace” activity. Eventually, they’ll get to Rectify. When there’s time, they’ll give the necessary time to The Americans. It’s the binge culture, after-all -- all at once, whenever you want. We can debate its merits and weaknesses, sure. But it’s the TV realm of now. As I wrote a few weeks ago, writers are adjusting to the model: Bloodline, Netflix’s slow-burn family drama, is a tough sell until, suddenly, it’s an irresistible, addictive ride. It’s the novel for TV; in structure, more-so than The Wire ever was. And, okay, Bloodline has inspired a few think-pieces, generated some healthy backlash and warranted a few full-season raves. But Netflix is already gearing up for its next original, Daredevil. Time to move on; catch you in 11 months, Rayburns.
There is something momentous about Mad Men’s departure; it carries a weight. I entered into TV around the time of Mad Men and Breaking Bad, not to mention Damages and Dexter and Big Love and a whole lot else. There were the great ones, the good ones, the ones-I-probably-shouldn’t-be-watching-but-was-anyway -- but they felt more distinguishable. Duh, Mad Men and Breaking Bad were the best. Of course, Damages and Dexter were flawless fun flirting with something a little extra (and no, I don’t know how I got through Big Love season four). Everything felt well-established. Right now, I’m shrieking about nobody watching The Americans and Rectify; I’m exhausted by the blink-and-you’ll-miss-it conversations that come with the dropping of House of Cards and Orange Is the New Black (now featuring Bloodline!).
I’ve seen enough great stuff in the past few months alone to disagree with Stuever’s thesis. But there’s something missing right now; something that Mad Men might just be taking to the grave. When it comes to the really good stuff, there’s always something to talk about. But most always, there’s either not enough time or not enough people. It’s even true for Mad Men now, progressing with a reduced episode order and diminished fanbase. There was nothing quite like the end ride of Breaking Bad, its final eight weeks galvanizing so much analysis and commentary it could make your head spin. It’s hard to imagine that happening again anytime soon: that fusion for TV of pop culture phenomenon and legitimate creative breakthrough.
And so off Mad Men goes, fading out like Breaking Bad -- just a little shorter and a lot quieter. An end of an era indeed.
Andrew and I will be weighing in on the final episodes of Mad Men weekly (beginning this Sunday), with a series post-mortem to follow the finale.