By Dave Shiflett (Bloomberg) “Man Men” enters its third session billed as the “sexiest” show on television. The season premier, which airs August 16 at 10 p.m. New York time, may inspire viewers to break a few erotic sweats, while others may be reminded that sex isn’t all moonlight and roses. Near the start, for instance, a rustic lass warns her incipient bed mate that if she gets “in trouble” she’s going to slice off his pride “and boil it in hog fat.” Shivver me timbers. Talk about performance anxiety. For the most part, however, all remains swell, or at least swollen, among the staff of the Manhattan-based Sterling Cooper advertising agency. Without revealing too much of the story line, at one point creative director and gigolo-in-chief Donald Draper (Jon Hamm), dapper as ever, works his mojo with a foxy blonde airline stewardess (the show is set in the 1960s) while colleague Salvatore Romano (Bryan Batt) jumps the bones of a hotel guy sent up to fix the air conditioner. Something for everyone, it seems, and thankfully no further mention of hog fat. Yet in our world of Internet sex-on-demand, where you can watch blondes take on an entire planeloads of creative directors, or hogs for that matter, this stuff seems fairly tame. Thankfully, the “Mad Men” has other strengths, especially its portrayal of human weasels. That and good writing explain the show’s Emmys and Golden Globe awards, and the opener suggests there may be more in the offing. Prime weasel remains Peter Campbell (Vincent Kartheiser, who simultaneously triggers the gag and slap responses. The premier finds him in a full snit. Sterling Cooper, now owned by a British firm, is trying out a few new management schemes, including putting Campbell and fellow weasel Ken Cosgrove (Aaron Staton) into a competitive arrangement that, with any luck, will result in a double homicide. Meanwhile, life at the 1960s-era agency goes on as usual. These were the days before anyone took the Surgeon General seriously and every living thing except the potted plants smokes cigarettes. The endless booze flow indicates the company motto is “It must be 10 a.m. somewhere.” This crowd clearly agrees the liver is evil and must be punished. The secretarial pool, led by office manager Joan Holloway (Christina Hendricks) operates behind a phalanx of pointed bras while members of the mostly male creative team leave few hairs ungreased as they go about devising jingles for the company’s client list, which includes Chevron, Dunkin Donuts, Warner Brothers, Bethlehem Steel, Lucky Strike and Platex. Draper, who considers himself something of a genius, puts his formidable talents to creating a new ad campaign for London Fog. To no surprise, it includes a female flasher. Back then that was pushing the envelope. These days, it might earn a promotion to the mail room. The pace goes a bit flat here and there, though creator/producer/director Matthew Weiner continues to squeeze good lines out of his writing staff. My favorite comes at the end, when Draper, reconciling with wife Betty (January Jones) while perhaps thinking about the steamy stew, confesses “I don’t sleep well when I’m not here.” It is hard not to notice that despite all the sex, booze and professional glory the mad men seem to be sad men. Smiles are rare with this crew. A nice atmospheric touch suggests at least part of the answer. In one office, against there wall, we see a glass-sided ant farm. As metaphors go, a pretty good one.
