More than a decade ago, “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” won raves in a Broadway revival. It prompted an outpouring of amateur anthropology on the sins of the late ’50s and early ’60s, how far we have and haven’t come, and how the political incorrectness of those times affected relationships.
Now comes “Mad Men” on AMC, spurring another rethinking of the skinny-tie, bouffant hair, pinch-the-secretary era.
Clearly, we are (again and again) at the perfect moment in history to review the origins of modern macho corporate climbing, meaning 1960s Manhattan office culture, particularly as shaped on Madison Avenue.
Both the theater piece and the cable TV series probe sexual politics of the time with a bit of fun tsk-tsking (“a secretary is not a toy!”).
Both mock the bold displays of unabashed ambition, repressed personal lives and devil’s bargains on the way upward in the hierarchy.
But “How to Succeed” was about a soulless, faceless company making widgets. In “Mad Men,” the stakes are higher.
In “Mad Men’s” take on the era, debuting at 8 p.m. Thursday on AMC (Channel 64 on Comcast digital), it’s all about spinning and selling, manipulating the truth at every level and forsaking one’s inner life as the shrewd young climbers in the advertising game realize the power of their craft.
Advertising, the upbeat, flattering and not necessarily true propaganda of capitalism, was just beginning to flex its muscle in the years when Kennedy and Nixon first sat down to debate on TV.
Set in 1960, “Mad Men” is about the shiftiness of truth and the sometimes devious life of the salesman (and ladies’ man) using a glib style to sell ideas. Like the seductiveness of cigarette smoking.
Lest the tone threaten to become too heavy on the topic of cancer, the subtext of the show may be interpreted as a parable about the wisdom of drinking with the gang at the office.
In “Mad Men,” Emmy-winning “Sopranos” writer Matthew Weiner probes the ethos of the chain-smoking, birth-control adapting times, when women in the workplace were customarily treated as playthings and servants by their male bosses.
A new hire in the typing pool could be expected to master a steno pad and shorten her skirts, in addition to visiting an OB-GYN for The Pill, the better to win favor with the middle manager she serves. Younger viewers may be amazed to see how their grandmothers went along with these unspoken requirements.
Weiner cleverly explores the glory days of Madison Avenue, when smart junior executives giddily traded scientific fact for convenient fantasies in formulating and pitching cravings to the American public, from soap suds to political candidates.
In the lead role, Jon Hamm (Richard in “What About Brian?”) is appropriately slick as Don Draper, the successful ad man with the coveted corner office, who feels the pressure of young up-and-comers eyeing his job.
He’s deeply conflicted about his personal life – and, no, it’s not what you’re thinking, the expected plot device in the 2000s. He’s not gay; that role goes to someone who suffers a different sort of internal conflict while playing the game and being a company man. Draper has a somewhat more intriguing secret but needs to appear to be one of the office guys.
Elisabeth Moss (“The West Wing”) is all innocence as Peggy, a young new secretary learning about the working gal’s life in the big city.
Vincent Kartheiser (“Angel”) is the young whippersnapper with an eye on advancement.
John Slattery (“Desperate Housewives”) plays Roger Sterling, ruthless head of the high-powered Sterling Cooper Advertising Agency.
The 13 episodes deserve a look, not least for the period touches. It was all so sleek and chic – the highballs in the workplace after sealing a deal, the smoking in the face of mounting evidence of the hazards – and mindless.
Just as the workers in “How to Succeed” worship the coffee machine, the secretaries at Sterling Cooper are in awe of the mammoth IBM Selectric, a high-tech wonder of the rocket age.
The clunky 1960-vintage office furniture is noteworthy, as are the women’s dress styles. (Apparently, it was all about foundations).
TV critic Joanne Ostrow can be reached at 303-954-1830 or jostrow@denverpost.com.
