Broken: The surprising male fragility in HBO’s Vinyl

Misogyny is no stranger to television. Likewise, it has been explored in Mad Men, The Sopranos and other shows of the past decade focused on the post-war depiction of the male psyche — one that was fragile and fragmented — rather than cop shows, medical shows and other ensemble stories. Don’t get me wrong, cop and medical dramas still exist and are vastly successful;  but take for instance, the change of pace from a show like Gilligan’s Island — which was a comedy about a group of strangers on an island — and ABC’s Lost, which was also an ensemble show about strangers working together on an island, but rooted itself firmly in its protagonist Jack’s inner turmoil and personal life pre-crash. This is just an example of how the TV landscape changed to focus inwardly — and mostly focus inwardly on the male.

A result of this male-gazing (excuse the pun) was a dramatic fixation on misogyny. Period dramas like Mad Men depicted Don Draper’s  (Jon Hamm) sexual exploits and womanizing, and although it wasn’t necessarily kosher, the misogyny wasn’t entirely looked down upon either — it was a fact of the time. The era of Man in the Grey Flannel Suit meant that bosses slept with their secretaries without either party batting an eyelash. We also saw it in Billy Wilder’s The Apartment and in the more contemporary Revolutionary Road, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet, directed by Sam Mendes. The men were allowed not only to prevent women from rising the ranks of the corporate ladder, but also given free reign to take advantage of them, using the female brain and body for person gain.

Mad Men was much of the same. Draper and his other comrades at Sterling Cooper were disrespectful of their wives and secretaries and although we follow a few plotlines concerning the women over the years, it is a predominantly male show. When it is about women, there’s still an element of the women being lesser than the men. Betty Draper (January Jones) feels petty and unlikable in her suburban housewife turmoil, her drama often one note and unchanging. Joan Holloway (Christina Hendricks) uses her curves to get her way more often than not and Peggy Olson, (Elizabeth Moss) though independent and strong-willed, is often beset by the male characters, hooked as she is on one of the other ad guys in the office (eventually leading to an emotionally scarring abortion) and dependent on Hamm’s stamp of approval. While yes, Mad Men is one of the more subversive of the male-oriented shows, it is also part of the same generation, fixated as it is on the male ego — the men feel above the women, and that just seems to be how it goes in television.

So when the trailers for HBO’s 1970s-themed Vinyl arrived, I expected much of the same and upon watching the pilot, and I wasn’t disappointed. The protagonist Richie Finestra (Bobby Cannavale) is a troubled Manhattan music executive trying to save his dying record label, often looking toward drugs and mistreating his lovely housewife Devon (Olivia Wilde), rather than actually solving his problems. I felt, as I watched the two-hour massacre of good drama (because, truly, the pilot is very bad) that I pretty much knew how the rest of this show would go. Richie would continue to fraternize and philander his way through the show, and we’d find him likable despite all this, because we are taught — in this glorification of sex and male domination — that this type of drama is what we should expect and accept.

But the thing is, Richie is not particularly likeable. Maybe this was by intent of the first season writer’s room or maybe just a result of misguided writing. But authorial intent aside, the product of the writing presented audiences with a depiction of the male character not often seen on television. Sure, Don Draper is morally faulty, but you generally like him. Furthermore, Draper’s co-worker Roger Sterling (John Slattery) exploits are basically forgiven because Sterling is so charming throughout the show. But Richie (and other character’s like Ray Romano’s Zak Yankovich) is completely unlikable. We don’t feel bad for him, we’re given no reason to. And that’s where Richie doesn’t get away — at least audience-wise — with his exploitation. We aren’t viewing him through the lens of glorification or sympathy. Nothing about his actions is admirable or forgiving. It’s an interesting presentation of the male, if nothing else.

Furthermore, the men are depicted as more fragile than their female counterparts, and perhaps more visually exploited than the women as well. Because even though Devon feels stuck in a similar suburban-housewife conundrum as Betty Draper, Richie and Zak are struck by their crisis in an even more desperate way. When Zak comes home with a broken nose (courtesy of Richie) he’s too ashamed to tell his wife, instead blaming it on a car accident. Later, Zak contemplates suicide, even turning on his car in the garage and pulling out sleeping pills, but is ultimately too cowardly to go through with it. I don’t even have time to talk about the Jamie Vine (Juno Temple) who — despite her rank as sandwich girl in the office — trumps Clark Morelle (Jack Quaid), who eventually is demoted as Jamie is promoted in the office.

The male body is on full display in a way I haven’t seen on any show as of late. A lead singer in an up-and-coming band sits nude on a chair, shooting heroin into his skin but looking more like a naked, vulnerable child than a guy just needing a fix. Zak wakes completely naked after engaging in a “god-sent” extra-marital threesome, only to find his hotel safe empty, believing the two women whom he so poorly claimed as his own had robbed him. We also glimpse Fenestre’s naked frame as he walks out of a shower, where he embraces his wife desperately and then walks off frame. There is a surprising element of equality in this show — despite the misogyny — that feels original and wholly unique to Vinyl’s voice.  So with the season finale having aired last week, and the next few days of studying before finals, maybe take some time and binge Vinyl. I don’t promise that you will love it, but I do promise interesting gender subversion. At the very least, it’s worth it for the outfits.

Minnie Schedeen is a a junior majoring in cinema and media studies.  Her column, “Film Fatale,” runs on Mondays.