The 1950s revisited.

Rachel Brosnahan, Dior, DC3. Click the image.

Ike was in the Oval Office or, more correctly, on the putting green, supervising the greatest economic boom the country had ever experienced. That boom also brought growing economic equality to Americans, (nowhere to be seen today), and while Ike was soon to be replaced with the glamour of JFK – an attribute notably missing from the old soldier’s bag of tricks – there was no better time to be an American.

The winding down of the war machine saw huge amounts of disposable income directed to new housing and new cars in the New World. The outhouse and the clothing line had given way to the two car garage and new homes replete with modern conveniences like clothes washers, dishwashers and freezers. Affordable air-conditioning was a given. Goodness knows, it was an essential everywhere except San Francisco. America had yet to lose a foreign war and reveled in its global success, with General Electric stock in every investment portfolio. Pictures were taken on Kodak film with Kodak cameras and no one had heard of Honda or Toyota. They were still so much nuclear waste.

Madison Avenue was on a roll, and every hope could be fulfilled with a gallon of dirt cheap high test and a pack of Marlboros. After all, driving was patriotic and doctors assured Americans that smoking was good for their health. Two annual vacations had become an entitlement, and if you were east coast and Jewish that meant summer in the Catskills, which came with wonderful food, fabulous weather and even better comedians. The happening places were Grossingers and the Concord, no Gentiles admitted.

Generally confused, always understated, the wonderful Tony Shaloub is the father.

This is the era which the Amazon production “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel“ recreates accurately, albeit seen through the eyes of a wealthy, upper class (the terms are synonymous in America) young Jewish woman who, bizarrely, decides that her future lies as a standup comedian in a world exclusively populated by potty mouthed males. After all, if your topics of choice are your parents, food and sex, a potty mouth probably comes in handy. The most famous stand up class member was one Lenny Bruce, who spent more time in jail for use of obscene language on the stage than he did on the stage itself. Wiser heads like that of Woody Allen made long-term careers from this avocation, franchising natural writing and performing skills into the movies, and avoided dying aged 41 from a drug overdose. Bruce no longer sounds funny today, whereas Allen – no potty mouth required – just moves from strength to strength.

The Maisel show is an illustration of where the power in movie production lies today. With infinitely wealthy studios like Amazon, Apple, Netflix and HBO, most of which did not exist until recently, the acting profession has spotted that the future lies in streaming and the small screen, not the Covid-ridden theater parlor of old with its $7 Cokes, long drives and wasted real estate. While old Hollywood focuses on the transgender set as the topic of the day, its gross forever falling along with its Oscar audience, streaming TV has realized that the real money is to be found on the domestic couch. And it does not have to feature guys who wants to get into the ladies’ rocker room under false pretenses. Better that annuity of monthly streaming charges than the crapshoot which is the box office.

The always elegant Marin Hinkel as the mother.

And if you are a fan of 1950s American culture, love sharp-edged Jewish humor and revel in the greatest designer clothing civilization has ever seen, then the Mrs. Maisel show is a wonder not to be missed. While women were still expected to be barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen in the 1950s, the likes of Dior, Chanel, Balenciaga, Givenchy and Fath saw to it that the promise of liberation was not far away, with abundant volumes of pastel colored cloth supported by multitudinous layers of petticoat, all topped with outrageous hats. Of course, a wealthy spouse or a trust fund were requirements for the enjoyment of this haute couture but for those who could afford them women simply looked great in these outfits, and it would be hard to look better than the star of the show, Rachel Brosnahan. She may be forced into girdles and corsets now and then, but goodness knows, her natural figure hardly needs those. And boy, does she look good.

Unbelievable as the plot line may seem, the scriptwriting sparkles and after four seasons refuses to get old. One key reason for this is the strength of the supporting cast, with wonderfully understated comedic performances from Tony Shalhoub as Maisel’s father and from the ever elegant and gorgeous Marin Hinkle as her mother. Shalhoub‘s character is a mathematics professor at Columbia and Hinkle’s spent her formative years in Paris. In the modern world, these people would most certainly not be living in the Midwest, questioning their gender identity.

If you appreciate rapidly delivered verbal humor, perfect period recreations – there are shows in Las Vegas, the Catskills and Miami in addition to the core setting of Manhattan – and the most gorgeous fashions you’ve ever seen, do not miss this. And, yes, Luke Kirby as Lenny Bruce is pitch perfect, if less zonked out on amphetamines than the original. Maisel’s twenty Emmys, and counting, testify to the show’s success.

To read more about the clothier and her imitation game, click here.

A magnificent art work.

I watch one American football game annually, the Super Bowl. I barely know or understand the first thing about this brutal, brain addling game, but the spectacle and hype are prime examples of modern Americana.

Most importantly, watching the tenor of the advertisements and determining the target audience tells the viewer more about socio-economic trends and ‘low hanging fruit’ spending power than any study or survey could.

There was an exceptional contribution this year featuring one of Budweiser’s magnificent Clydesdale horses. Having stood next to one (but not too close) at a horse show some years ago, it’s impossible to convey the sheer sense of largeness of these animals. The advertisement itself is an extraordinary piece of story telling. In just sixty seconds you have beauty, tragedy, pain, suffering, healing, support, hope, recovery and beauty. You can read about the director by clicking the image below at which link you can also watch the video. The ad time runs $12 million a minute, reaching 100 million global viewers. Add another $3 million or so for the filmmakers and this sort of thing is not cheap. But, goodness, is it special.

Click the image.

Update July, 2023:

From the list of great boo-boos. Hitler attacks Russia. Putin attacks Ukraine, Budweiser uses a guy tricked out to look like a little girl to grow market share.

Yup, so far the size of the hole blown in the Budweiser balance sheet totals $6 billion, as the not so genius marketers at Bud Light learn that the market does not constitute a couple of gay bars in San Francisco and Greenwich Village. There’s all that ‘fly over’ country in the middle and those decent Americans sure as heck are not buying a gay branded beer.

Oh! well. It was nice while it lasted, Budweiser. 100 years of the best marketing on the planet destroyed in 30 seconds …. by a “girl” who still has his you-know-what.