SKINS has arrived in Toronto!

thanks Paiige

Revolutionary television from before, well, the revolution

Mad Men mania has taken over the media. Here in Toronto the face of Mr. Don Draper is plastered on the cover of the alt-weekly rag     EYE. Vanity Fair also has an essay on the show and a photo spread of the set. The Toronto Star, the L.A. Times, the Huffington Post, New York magazine, the Wall Street Journal, and the Globe & Mail all have respective news stories, episode reviews, blog posts, columns, and feature length articles.

The ink spilling out of everyone’s pens seems to sound the same. As the show burst onto the screens of middle-America Sunday night with record ratings, everyone wanted to see, obviously, what would come next. The writers of the AMC blockbuster have long had a challenge looming in the distance: the second half of the sixties.

As Joshua Ostroff writes in EYE about the set of Mad Men, “What it doesn’t feel like is the 1960s…in 1963 America was still stuck in the 1950s.” And though the show’s popularity rests squarely on its decidedly 1950s un-politically correct, pre-feminism, pro-capitalist outlook on a world that still allows smoking indoors; in the years the show is approaching, the times are a’ changing.

All the talk about the small screen’s cinematic end to this golden age of 1950s-style advertising reminded me the of a retrospective on 1960s advertising I wrote last summer, titled, “The Revolution Will Not Be Advertised.”

What I had learned from 1960s issues of     Marketing was consistent with what turned up on the editorial pages over the weekend as culture reporters prepared for the first of this TV season’s major debuts. “In the 1960s, advertisers remained blissfully ignorant of the societal upheaval around them,” the tagline read.

“The 1960s were all about revolution. Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones spread counterculture throughout a new, unconventional generation: the baby boomers. The anti-establishment movement, however, meant trouble for marketers. They had to reach young freethinkers without alienating older, more conservative consumers.”

The imagery in advertising still carried the utopian postwar imagery of the 1950s, I wrote. And thus, the writers, art directors, set designers and, of course, stylists of Mad Men have the same challenge the marketers of the ‘60s had. They have to move past everything they know, and everything that has made them a success.

The charm of Mad Men undoubtedly lies in nostalgia, and any changes the show makes are going to receive outcry from viewers longing for the simpler times of earlier seasons. But change is coming, and they can either worry or prepare. And if the producers have reason to worry, Mr. Draper should be even more concerned.

As my former editor Rob Gerlsbeck wrote in Marketing two issues later, “In the 1970s, advertising was under the microscope, and legislation threatened to kill it outright.”

Things aren’t looking so swell for Draper, but he’ll no doubt deal just fine—he always does. Still, stay tuned. This could get ugly.

Ugly, and entertaining.

Orders up

I want whatever blood all the Americans just drank. Order me a pint: Tru Blood. I want to date a vampire, bed them; be feasted on. I want to become a vampire myself, live for close-to-forever with an eternal wine-tooth grin. I want stay undead and see how vampires fight off global warming, werewolves, and South Korean warfare. Please, True Blood, take a bite out of me.

Last night, on the season’s third episode, True Blood took a bigger bite than ever. A war is about to erupt, everyone is about to be sacrificed, and the sex scenes are more disgusting and delightful than ever. Even the humans on True Blood seem to have powers, although if often the ability to consistently get laid: in an all-too-spoofable scene of soft core Jason and the preacher’s wife got it on inside god’s house.

When not busy with adultery, the Aryan-race Christians were upping the ante in the impending war, acting as old world terrorists and plotting to kill a vampire on a cross, Jesus of Nazareth style. Other lessons learned from Christians this week: lying is revealed to be a divorce-warranting sin, though adultery can be committed upon a change-of-heart (especially if it’s God commanding you to do, well…you know). Also, the use of the word “cunt” is up high on the sin list, though nowhere near homosexual vampire intercourse.

The night’s commercials are sped through towards the next story-line revelation, thanks to the benefits of PVR. The network should get rid of commercials all together, given the number of product placements the show’s obviously banking on. On the way to the evening’s sacrificial orgy Eggs gets a strange desire to drive towards a coke ad, before the he and Tara mention a hunger not for blood, but Reese’s Pieces.

Loud beats lead Eggs and Tara towards the best drum-and-sex circle this side of Folk Fest, where they quickly get into position (doggy-style). Drum music only leads to bad things, we’re told, before the spellbound naked hippies are revealed, fucking in unison around Maryann, who has the apparent power to turn into a strobe light.

Meanwhile, Andy is chasing a shape-shifting pig, which is actually Daphne leading Sam towards the sexual-stoning death orgy. With a bull mask on his head Sam is summoned towards death, and as it’s all about to happen, the episode cuts out. Of course.

Like always, they leave you fanging on until next Sunday. In the meantime   read up on the revelations made by the stars of True Blood at the weekend’s Comic-Con conferences. Best of all? By the time Evan Rachel Wood shows up to guest star as  Vampire queen of Lousiana, Sophie-Anne, HBO is planning to have a human-friendly breed of Tru Blood pop on store shelves.

Finally, I’ll get a glass.

Three musketeers, one model

Photo: property of Facebook

One of these three will become the next Coco Rocha, or so goes the plot. The winner of the current season of Canada's Next Top Model will be crowned during prime time tomorrow night. She wins an admittedly ambitious title, given the lackluster track record of Tyra Bank's spawn of American Top Models. Still, the associated fame will get contestants into go-sees, which is an un-televised chance to prove they can wear clothes as well as Jessica Stam and Shalom Harlow. 

Finalist Nikita Kiceluk, posted these shots of the three finalists together in Toronto on her Facebook page. The girls look happy, but lets be honest: this will end in tears. 

Until tomorrow, enjoy those mascara-free cover girl cheeks. 

The boys are back in town 

HBO has a hard-on. Summer’s Sunday nights have never been sexier. The only media player not reliant on reality or re-runs is instead seducing viewers with money, vampires, and more mind-blowing sex.

First, the American public continues to come out of its coffin. The people want to be sucked dry, and that’s what has been arranged.  True Blood kicks off the evening, and unlike its most recent teen-vamp contemporary, True Blood’s sheets are soaked in the sexiest blood ever. During last night’s episode a Milf cast a spell on a party, causing sex, dancing, and an erotic, violent birthday cake fight. The guests fuck, punch faces, eat dirt. Plus, there’s a new virginal redhead vamp, and a Fang Bang Porno.

Next,  Entourage is back to ejaculate on the recession’s face, and the view from the top of the corporate ladder is exquisite. In Mark Whalberg’s world, seventy-one thousand dollar bottle bottles arrive from deep-pocketed clients and everyone gets laid. Chubby, nerdy, and aging men score along side the show’s picture-perfect film star. The sex is just like last season, but it still feels good.

Happiness is great sex. Great sex, in multiple positions, exactly how you like it. And happiness is big. That’s the premise of  Hung, a new show following a well-endowed protagonist. It another drama-induced comedy about an illegal occupation (see: Sopranos, Weeds), this time about a divorced alpha male selling his body. Like his client’s bank accounts, Ray Drecker is apparently massive. Also, like Hung’s main character, the show could work on its foreplay. But TV writers, like mortal men, can learn over over time.

After three hours of Sunday night television, I woke up this morning with a smug smile, still feeling satisfied. HBO, is a good pimp.

*No, this post is not an advertisement. This is simply how happy I am that there is a July pop culture invasion not mentioning the names "Heidi" or "Spencer". MTV, eat your fucking heart out. 

This fall, Canada is going to get a whole lot happier. Yesterday, Global announced its fall line-up, which includes the aptly titled feel good musical comedy Glee. Created by Nip/Tuck producer Ryan Murphy, Glee is a rarity in a prime time landscape overrun by cop-and-doctor dramas, and far fetched reality competitions.

The show has all the extravagance of High School Musical, which it will inevitably be compared to, but instead of painstakingly irritating Disney duets, Glee follows the lives of awkward but adorable underdogs. Each episode follows teacher Will Schuester on his quest to turn a glee club full of freaks and geeks into national champions.

According to Fox, the season will feature a mix of broadway standards and top-40 hits. In the first episode, a rival glee club performs a rendition of Amy Winehouse's Rehab. Rhianna reportedly offered the show Take a Bow at a reduced licensing rate, and other artists are allowing Glee to use their music free of charge.

Newbie Chris Colfer stands out as the Glee club's uptight perfectionist, asking the jocks to remove his new Marc Jacobs jacket before tossing him in a dumpster. His character, Kurt, is one of a full cast of over-the-top cookie cutter teen stereotypes reminiscent of Murphy's underrated late 90s teen comedy, Popular.

The slightly dark comedy is charming but not hilarious, and is more likely to become a box-set cult hit after cancellation than the prime time follow up to Idol FOX was hoping for, or the ratings-maker Global is banking on.

But even if it isn't renewed after its 13-episode season, Murphy has plenty to be gleeful about. The screenwriter and producer, who adapted the screenplay for Augusten∫Burroughs' memoir Running With Scissors, has a slew of films in development, including an erotic thriller starring Nicole Kidman, and a political comedy with Meryl Streep.

Project Runway Canada, Brothers and Sisters, and 90210 will all return to Global in the fall. Here's a quick run down of three more of the Canadian network's new American shows:

Melrose Place: Complex, confusing storylines, like a late night sexy-sleezy soap. Oh, and Ashlee Simpson still can't act.
The Good Wife: Who knew the Eliot Spitzer story could work as the plot for a drama?
Mr. Big is back, and I'm glad.
The Cleveland Show: Spin off or rip off, I don't care, this is even worse than American Dad.