Arcade Fire and Mad Men

I promise that I'm going to start keeping this up regularly.

Tonight I watched "Scott Pilgrim Versus the World." I have to admit it was pretty damn funny. Michael Cera played Michael Cera again, and Jason Schwartzman continued his run of slimy despicable characters. Also Aubrey Plaza was fucking hilarious. She's like the hipster update of Janeane Garofalo.

But I also watched the latest Mad Men again...

I'm sure there's a lot of you who don't watch Mad Men--and that's okay--its sort of a geeky English major-type show. Like one of those shows where you can watch an episode two or three times and still catch stuff. I was an English major, so I sort of geek out every episode.

Anyway, shitzzz (so intellectual I know) is getting "heavy," (McFly) and Don Draper (the protagonist) is spiraling into a dark dark place. Here's a man who I really think is a good person--or at least wants to be--but he's too afraid of his own emotions to be that person. He feels, thinks, and knows the right things to do, but he's too trapped being this identity that he's created to become anything different. Lately, he's comforting his pain with everybody's old pal Bourbon, but I wonder how long he can continue with this spiral into addiction and suffering. Somebody, or something, has to bring life back into this guy at some point this season.

This got me thinking though--about a lot of stuff.

Especially about Arcade Fire's new album. The Suburbs, is like a social commentary for our times, but it's also appropriate for the '60s era of Mad Men. The album thumps, wails, hums, beats, and haunts of what a life of conformity can do to our soul. It speaks of connections without touching, of how life takes us away from each other, how our 9-5 internet connected lives can kill our creativity--our passion. Is this 2010 or 1965? I couldn't help but think how resonate this subject matter is with the world of Mad Men. How the album mirrors the life of Don Draper, and the sadness that has enveloped that character. The man is literally a slave to his job, and what's worse is that he's so afraid to let anybody know who he really is that his work is all that he has. Sort of a paradox in a way. He's successful at his job, he's good at it, but the deceitful nature of it (he's in advertising) seems to further the lies of his life; and yet its only at work where he seems truly comfortable.

Maybe this is just my youth thinking, but somewhere along the line--in college or in high school--I think I lost my creative passion. I used to draw and paint every waking hour of my spare time as a kid, but during my adolescence this escaped from me further and further. Somewhere i got this notion that I had to "make something" of my life, and that art wasn't going to make me happy. I can't even put my damn finger on it--where that fucking thought came from (perhaps Leo DiCaprio incepted it in me)--but as I think I'm starting to find myself I realize that art, passion, things that celebrate life and all its complexity, are the things that I've always wanted to do and be apart of.