Jon Hamm stars as a hotshot creative director at a New York advertising agency that is equally eager, in 1960, to sell cigarettes and Richard Nixon. John Slattery is the silvery boss who looks over his shoulder; Vincent Kartheiser, a lean and hungry account executive who would stab him in the back; Elisabeth Moss, the new girl from the steno pool; and there are many more, all waiting around for Marshall McLuhan to forgive them for their many crimes against intelligence and decency. They look a lot like the television journalists in George Clooney’s Edward R. Murrow movie—without, of course, the scruples. Odd how ridiculous they seem in their dark narrow suits with their dark narrow ties, like Murrow, Ed Sullivan, Lenny Bruce, Rod Serling, and Sinatra’s Rat Pack. So, too, does this series feel like a fifties leftover, chock-full of unimportant secrets.

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The Transformation of TV Into an Art Form
The Draw of Dream Worlds in Film
Gosselin, Prince of the Professional Nobodies
A Decade of Defining Moments in Pop-Culture
The Invention of New York's Local Cuisine 
Thirty-Five Short-Lived Looks of the Decade
Two Views of a Swath of the Upper West Side
An Older Generation Moves Into Williamsburg
Ten Years That Changed Everything
A Generation of Overparenting
The Sports Rivalry of the Decade
What Is the Point of the United States Senate? 