What really constitutes a spoiler?
The fourth season of Mad Men debuted on July 25, but before the première officially aired, AMC sent out screeners of the episode to television critics. It’s standard practice, a courtesy to give writers a chance to put some thoughts together before airdate. Some of those critics posted reviews of “Public Relations” before the 25th, and AMC included a request with the screeners that any pre-air reviews avoid providing specific plot or setting details—“spoilers,” so to speak. This is common courtesy, really, but Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner is more protective about his show’s secrets than most. Small points, like the exact date of the episode or descriptions of character relationships, even in broad terms, are verboten. Most critics abided by AMC and Weiner’s request.
Alessandra Stanley of The New York Times did not. Who knows whether this was intentional; part of the problem is that Mad Men’s nature makes it difficult to tell what constitutes a spoiler, and what’s just background noise. Still, it’s clear Stanley crossed some kind of line. Her essay on “Public Relations” revealed what year the new season started in, described specific scenes, like Don Draper’s rejected pass at a date, and even quoted dialogue. It’s possible to argue that none of this would’ve really impinged on viewers’ enjoyment of the show. Mad Men generally relies more on mood and textures to captivate than on sudden shifts of story, and when the narrative does twist, those turns are so dramatic, there’s no ambiguity at all over their importance. But whether or not Stanley incurred bad critic-karma points, her work violated the rules. Weiner was upset, and soon after, he and AMC announced they would no longer be sending out screeners.
It’s all very silly, in its way; the critics who aren’t getting advance copy will still be able to watch the episodes when they air, same as everybody, and while it’s an inconvenience (especially considering all the research and care that go into most reviews of the show), it isn’t as though anyone’s being silenced or blacklisted. It does raise some interesting questions, though, about what a spoiler really is, and about the way we process stories in the age of the Internet and constant information flow. If you’re here reading The A.V. Club, odds are that you keep an eye on the Newswire, so you’ve seen items about casting developments, advance footage, and script leaks. A few months ago, script pages from the Lost finale hit the web, and we did a piece on it. Why? What made it relevant, since the episode itself was less than a month away? And what are the obligations of a site like this, or any review site, to keep its readership informed?
I’m not a spoiler fan. I have a friend who doesn’t get the big deal; he prefers to go to new movies knowing as much about them as possible, and if that means knowing Bruce Willis was dead the whole time, that’s fine. (I like how The Sixth Sense has become the standard-bearer for this kind of thing. Unless I’m referring to that other movie where Bruce Willis was dead the whole time—and given his output in the last decade, that’s certainly a possibility.) That’s my friend’s personal call, obviously. It only gets difficult because he doesn’t understand why I get so irritated when he tells me something I don’t want to know. Really, that’s the crux of the issue. Matthew Weiner was upset at someone sharing information outside the context it belonged in, and I’m upset when my friend lets information slip about some character dying, and what it comes down to is how we experience art, and how we respect other people’s right to experience art in the way they see fit.
Look, this sort of thing is always going to happen. It’s going to happen on a public scale, because we live in an age where privileged information, even of the insubstantial and fleeting variety, has value, and where people stand to profit on offering that information to others. Article views mean advertising revenue and greater visibility, and since there are always going to be people like my friend who honestly don’t see the point in waiting ’til Christmas to open their presents, spoilers are going to keep on keeping on. And it’s going to happen on a personal level as well, because you can’t always keep your mouth shut. Everybody’s done it before. I managed to spoil The Prestige in the comments section on this site ages ago, and I had Dumbledore’s fate ruined for me three days after a certain Harry Potter book came out, and in both cases, no harm was intended. And that isn’t even taking into account the anonymous trolls who just get off on ruining somebody else’s good time.
So I try to avoid reading too much about movies and shows and books I’m interested in experiencing firsthand, and it’s worked out okay. I managed to go into that Lost finale with no idea what would happen, and that’s because every reference I saw online to those leaked pages (including here, obviously) clearly stated that this was Spoiler Country, so tread lightly.
And y’know, it’s possible to over-fetishize the tabula rasa viewing experience. Generally speaking, yes, I prefer to go in not knowing what happens next. At the same time, if you value the kind of critical and commenter freedom the Internet provides for geeks like us, you have to accept the cost that comes with that freedom. There’s always a cost, even with something that is, let’s face it, as insubstantial as all this. I respect Matthew Weiner’s possessiveness as a creator, but there’s still something a little silly in his reaction. Compare the press around Mad Men to that of another AMC show, Breaking Bad. The last season of Breaking Bad was the tensest season of television I’ve ever seen. Revealing some of the season’s developments in advance would’ve severely undercut their dramatic impact. But I don’t remember a spoiler flood for the show. No major reviews gave away the tricks. Maybe that’s because Bad hasn’t reached the cultural zeitgeist Mad Men seems to be tapping. Or maybe it’s because creator Vince Gilligan didn’t spend so much time demanding people not give away the color of Walter White’s shirt.
Stanley’s article did cross a line, though, no matter what I may think of the line, or how it came to be drawn. It’s a shame that others have to suffer for her crimes. (As someone who’s never seen a Mad Men advance screener and probably never will, I weep for them, as I trust you all do.) But petty and ridiculous though it may be, Weiner has a point. There’s no warning in Stanley’s piece about how much information she’ll give away until she does it, and that’s probably the one rule we can all agree on: The spoiler alert is the hallmark of a civilized online discussion. We can talk about moratoriums and statutes of limitation, and we can nitpick on release dates and intentions, but we’re all trying to have a conversation. No one’s going to want to talk to you if you insist on finishing people’s sentences.
