Sunday, 31 January 2010

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More on the visual rhetoric of Mad Man (after a brief acknowledgment of the magnitude of my wrongness). In the first comment to my first post on Mad Men, Tom Elrod wrote: I definitely want an update to this post once you've finished the third season. I can't really respond much to this post until then, because I don't want to spoil anything[.] Nor do I. If you plan on watching Mad Men but haven't seen the third season finale, stop reading now. In a fit of remarkable wrongness, I wrote: So Peter and Peggy are not left behind because, over the course of two seasons, they learn to love and accept modernity in their hearts. They still seek Draper's approval, but they recognize that he's valuable in a way the world soon stop valuing. When the rapture comes, they know Draper won't be numbered among the chosen [...] Nor, for that matter, will Joan Holloway[.] Had Matt Weiner decided to re-shoot "Shut the Door. Have a Seat." after having read my post in order to maximize my wrongness, he wouldn't have had his work cut out for him. This shot alone refutes much of what I wrote: There sit Pete and Peggy, toiling into the future alongside Draper and Joan in the temporary headquarters of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. Why was I so wrong? I didn't anticipate that Draper would recognize that he belonged to the past. He admits as much when Pete demands Draper tell him why he's needed: You've been ahead on a lot of things. Aeronautics. Teenagers. The Negro market. We need you to keep us looking forward. I do, anyway. In one respect, then, my claim that Pete and Peggy belong to the future is validated; but unfortunately for me, my claim's being validated by the very person I had claimed was constitutionally incapable of recognizing its validity. My argument went awry because I failed to account for the complexity of Draper's reaction to Betty divorcing him: without the illusion of a perfect marriage to stabilize his conception of self, Donald Draper is as free to reinvent himself as Dick Whitman had been. I think. More on Draper as a character later. For now I'd like to focus on just how effective Matt Weiner's direction of "Shut the Door. Have a Seat." was. Mad Men typically uses the angle and level of framing fairly conventionally. Consider the scene in which Betty leaves for her rendezvous with Henry Francis: The dominant character literally towers over the subservient one. When the shot shifts to them individually, the angle of framing reinforces their respective positions. Dominant Betty is shot from a slightly lower angle—you can tell the canting of the camera by the fact that the ceiling is almost visible: But although Draper is shot looking up at her, the camera is framed almost level to his head, meaning it is barely even tilted: In visual terms, he is only barely the lesser party, which is in keeping with the tone of the scene (if not the season): he may not be dominant, but he is...

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