Season five tries too hard to do too little, and the result is frustratingly dull.
Denial is the first step on the path to acceptance.
My friends and I argue about The Walking Dead far more than we argue about anything important. Part of that is my fault, probably. For one thing I don’t pay […]
The struggle of Sterling Cooper & Partners is a metaphor for the struggles of all its major characters: How can we feel big and important when we are so, so small and insignificant?
‘Mad Men’ is and has always been about one thing and one thing only: the unrequited love between Betty Hofstadt-Draper-Francis and the kid who used to live down the block–the kid they call Glen Bishop.
How many lives has Don Draper ransacked? His very name is a lie; he’s just a Dick squatting in Lieutenant Draper’s abandoned identity.
Apart from some ill-advised mustachery, the rakish boys’ club of SC&P is a mirror of its early ‘60s glory days. The prostitutes are plentiful, the Benjamins are disposable, and the casting calls are as boner-encouraging as ever.
Is it in the best interest of the group to stand by Rick’s side amid the rising discomfort in Alexandria? Maybe the better question is: What even constitutes “best interest” in a post-American nightmare world?
When you aren’t invested enough in the lives of your fellow humans to fight on their behalf—to spot them a bullet or a fist or an improvised mace when certain death is lumbering toward them—there can be no such thing as community.
This is why the “last person on Earth” fantasy is less attractive to adults than it is to children. To say nothing of our sexual desires, we’d be thrown into the greatest existential black hole there is: What is human life without the context of other humans?