Commentary

Mr. Weiner Instructs

For the past four years, the onset of summer has meant a new season of "Mad Men." But even though there will be no original episodes in 2011, the release of Season 4 on DVD means that we can still get our "Mad Men" fix this summer.

For me, the best part of the DVDs is Matthew Weiner's commentary. For such a hugely praised creator, producer and writer, he is surprising accessible and eager to explain what he's trying to accomplish with each episode.

The commentaries demonstrate what I've always suspected: that even the creator of a particular work of art cannot fully understand or interpret all that he has brought into being. Weiner frequently wonders aloud what the characters mean when they say certain things -- even though he wrote the dialogue himself -- and his co-commentators regularly point out meanings and insights that he hasn't even thought of.

In addition to illuminating the themes of the show, these commentaries provide a remarkable tutorial on how to produce a television series. Visual Arts School professors should make them required for any student thinking about working in television. Almost every commentary has multiple practical tips on how to shoot or edit a TV show. We learn, for instance, that actors in a party scene must recite their lines at the top of their lungs even though the background party noise won't be added until later. And that when you're filming a man and a woman in a diner, you can't use a two-shot if the man is reaching for French fries because the audience may think he's trying to grab her hand.

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Weiner's commentaries also provide an inside peek at the business side of producing a TV show: how you deal with a child actor's parents before asking the child to say sexually explicit lines, how you sometimes can't get the music you want (the Beatles wouldn't license "Do You Want to Know A Secret," so the production had to use a cover version), how anyone who thinks that Budweiser would do a product placement deal in a series about an alcoholic is crazy -- and best of all, how budget decisions color the creative process.

Indeed, Weiner is very frank about the importance that budget and format discipline play in putting the show together. Time and again he reveals that a scene was originally longer but cut to its basics because of time constraints -- or sometimes eliminated altogether. He's equally frank about the trade-offs that need to be made on a show with limited resources. In episode two, for example, he'd planned a party in the hall at Don's new apartment, but instead spent the money allocated for that scene on a conga line at the office Christmas party earlier in the same episode.

After listening to enough of these commentaries you realize that restraint and limits actually benefit the creative process because they make the artist work extra hard to hone each scene down to its essentials. A lot of what gets cut is exposition that explains the meaning of a scene, but Weiner finds alternative ways to convey information economically, while leaving it to the viewers to use their imagination and powers of deduction to fill in the gaps. Ironically, "Mad Men" would only be half as good if it was twice as long and had twice the budget.

A truly memorable television series needs an auteur, and there's no question that Weiner is the benevolent dictator of this show. Television is a collaborative medium, perhaps even more so than film, but it is not made by committee. It's Weiner's vision that permeates the show. He freely acknowledges the contributions of others, but the commentaries, which he always does with someone else -- an actor, director, editor, etc. -- demonstrate that everyone defers to him on all the creative decisions.

At the same time, Weiner seems to be a great guy to work for. Everyone involved in the creative process gets to weigh in with and argue for his or her ideas. He is free with praise and credit for those who contribute. A happy set, in this case at least, is a productive set.

The commentaries also demonstrate the danger of nepotism. Weiner cast his own son as Glenn, the weird neighbor boy. Except Weiner doesn't think that Glenn is weird. He's defensive about the numerous bloggers who refer to this character as "creepy Glenn." He maintains that Glenn is actually Sally Draper's "spirit guide."

I guess that's one way of describing it. The truth is that Weiner can't see the character the way the audience does because he can't be dispassionate about the actor who portrays him. Another lesson for world-be TV producers.

Finally, watching Weiner's commentary makes you experience the shows with a different level of intensity - you have to follow the action without the dialogue because the commentary plays over the sound. And since you've presumably already watched the episode once for plot, you can focus instead on what's being presented visually. It's particularly rewarding to watch the actors' faces when you can't hear their voices - so much of the emotion of the scene is conveyed by their expressions. And the scenery and staging stands out even more; one of things Weiner is proudest of is how true to the period the background is and he frequently elaborates on what went into creating a particular set.

Television has entered a Golden Age. The highest-quality shows -- "Mad Men," "The Sopranos," "Six Feet Under" -- are as artistically rewarding as the greatest films, and arguably as meaningful as the greatest novels. Imagine if we could have had a contemporaneous commentary by Dickens as he was writing "Great Expectations"? Well, we have the modern equivalent with Matthew Weiner's commentaries on "Mad Men" and generations of scholars and critics will be grateful for them.

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