In the alternate-Los Angeles timeline — becoming known among Lost fans as a “flash sideways” — Sayid arrives at the home of his brother, Omer, who has married Sayid’s beloved Nadia. At first it appears we’re headed toward a scandal and a confrontation between the two brothers, but instead it turns out that Omer has borrowed money from a loan shark who insists on interest payments in perpetuity. After Sayid refuses to use his mad torture skills to intervene, Omer is brutally attacked outside his store. Sayid reconsiders getting involved, but Nadia asks him not to. She blames Omer for the mess, and for that matter, why didn’t Sayid marry her instead of pushing her off on his brother? Sayid pleads that he doesn’t deserve Nadia, and never will.

After putting his niece and nephew on the school bus the next day, Sayid is accosted by men in a black S.U.V. — the official vehicle of bad guys and diplomats — and taken to a restaurant where Martin Keamy is frying up some eggs. Turns out he’s the shark. Sayid kills everyone, then discovers Jin trapped in a freezer.

You see? Sayid is a stone cold killer. That’s all he’ll ever be. He knows it. That’s why he didn’t marry Nadia (in this reality). Back in “real” 2007, Sayid did marry Nadia, but she was hit by a car. Did Jacob have something to do with that? Did MIB suggest to Sayid that Jacob had something to do with it? If he did, we didn’t hear him say it. Which seems odd to me.

Before meeting MIB in the woods on his ill-begotten hunting expedition, Sayid bursts into Dogen’s office/greenhouse and demands to know why Dogen wants him dead. Then they get into a ridiculously gratuitous martial arts battle that ends with Dogen banishing Sayid from the temple. When Claire arrives, however, and says MIB wants to have a chat with Dogen, the tribal chief retracts Sayid’s banishment and directs him to find MIB and stab him in the chest. Maybe the writers have painted themselves into a corner with this whole temple thing, but I’m starting to get whiplash from all the people coming and going and escaping and sneaking back in. Why is there a secret entrance to the temple that only people who don’t actually live at the temple know about?

Sayid finds MIB and stabs him as requested it, but it doesn’t accomplish anything. MIB offers Sayid anything he wants, and apparently it’s a convincing speech because Sayid returns to the temple and tells everyone MIB will kill them unless they go to the appointed location and meet him there. And that’s pretty much what happens. But first, Sayid drowns Dogen in the holy pool (so much for its life-saving powers, I guess) and then cuts Lennon’s throat. MIB barrels through the temple in smoke form and kills everyone whose names we don’t know.

Ilana, Frank, Ben, and Sun arrive — would someone please reunite Jin and Sun already? — and immediately leave, though we don’t actually know where Ben went. Kate dazily joins up with MIB’s crew, which also features crazy Claire, as well as an unseen Sawyer and Jin (though for the latter supposedly under fear of getting an axe in the chest).

This episode reminded us that we don’t actually know how Sayid was resurrected, and the look he gave Ben when the former leader of the Others told him there was still time was wonderfully demonic, so maybe there’s more going on with Sayid than meets the eye. But this episode couldn’t have made me care less. The flash-sideways was about as interesting as a Kansas highway and only half as suspenseful. That Sayid felt he didn’t deserve Nadia was the one notable thing to come out of those scenes — notable given that after spending time on the island in the original reality, Sayid ends up marrying her — but it could have been wrapped in any number of subplots. Why choose the most predictable formula available?

Part of what makes Sayid such a compelling characters is his sense of loyalty. It’s a shock for Sayid to double-cross anyone, but he feels no loyalty to Dogen, so the murder scene isn’t powerful. In fact, Dogen has already tried to kill him three times (if you believe he thought MIB would retaliate for stabbing him), so you can argue that it’s self defense! The show has always played with ideas of light and dark, but I wonder if we’re getting too literal about it. In any case, it’s starting to feel more and more biblical … or at least mythical. And that focus on mythology, I think, is detracting from what made the show so strong in the first seasons: the strength of the characters.

By replacing Locke with MIB, by reducing Sayid to … whatever he is now, by not knowing what to do with Jin and Sun apart from keeping them separated, the show is demonstrating greater concern for the “mysteries” we’ve been teased with these past five seasons than for the people whose lives the solutions to those mysteries were supposed to illuminate. As this season progresses, the whole thing is starting to feel more and more like a game. Follow the map on Hurley’s arm to the magic lighthouse. Smash the lighthouse mirror. Wait on the cliff. Stab MIB with dagger. Take message back to temple. Drown Dogen. Unleash smoke monster. Run from smoke monster! Use secret passage to escape temple. End of level.

Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

Honestly, I’m pretty sure the script was a first draft.

I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that Locke is dead, murdered — as he blithely declares in this episode — by Ben Linus. I’ve always thought of him as a central character, really the antagonist to Jack’s protagonist. White to Jack’s black, or vice versa. “The Substitute” reminds us about the role of opposing forces in Lost’s mythology, and culminates with the Man In Black removing a white rock from a set of scales and throwing it into the ocean. “Inside joke,” he says. So things are now out of balance between the opposing forces. Well, of course they are. Forget about Jacob. John Locke is dead!

Continuing on the idea of opposing forces, the cast of Lost tends to be divided into two groups. In the first season, the castaways were split between the beach and the caves. Then in Season 2, we met the survivors from the tail section. Then we spent time with The Others. And on and on. This season — so far — we are generally divided between the group which followed MIB to the statue and are now headed to the temple, and everyone who is already hiding there. Presumably those groups will merge at some point, only to splinter apart as the MIB convinces more people to follow him. His first recruit: Sawyer.

MIB first strikes out with Richard, who clearly fears and hates him. The feeling seems mutual. MIB suspends Richard from a tree, but the threat of torture and death isn’t enough to convince Richard to spill any secrets. The appearance of a mysterious blond boy with blood on his arms spooks MIB, and he leaves Richard with a promise to eventually show him what’s what. He then hunts down Sawyer in his New Otherton house. Sawyer immediately recognizes MIB as “not Locke”, but this doesn’t alarm him. When MIB promises to explain why Sawyer was brought to the island, the latter agrees to go with him.

Meanwhile, everyone is still in mourning at the statue. Ilana takes a collection of ash from the fire where Jacob burned away. Then they dig a grave for Locke — I don’t know where they got the shovels — before setting out toward the temple. Before the burial, however, a spider crawled down from the bald head of Locke’s corpse. Remember that the Medusa spider leaves its victims paralyzed and apparently dead for eight hours. I’m not speculating that Locke’s death is less than real, but the presence of the spider in that scene has to be deliberate, and could be foreshadowing.

Finally, MIB takes Sawyer to a cave in the side of a cliff, requiring a perilous climb down a series of poorly constructed ladders — Jacob’s ladders? — where he shows him a wall covered with names. Most of the names are crossed out, but a few — including Sawyer’s — remain, preceded by The Numbers. MIB claims that these names represent “candidates”: people Jacob believed could potentially succeed him in protecting the island. MIB claims that the island doesn’t need protecting, however, and offers Sawyer the opportunity to leave the island forever. Sawyer responds, “Hell yes.”

Assuming MIB is telling the truth about the names (which is hardly certain), why would Jacob have sought a successor? Did he know MIB would eventually find a way to kill him? And what about the names that are apparently missing from the wall completely, most notably Kate’s. If Kate wasn’t a candidate, why did Jacob intervene in her life and bring her to the island?

I’ll come back to that in a moment. But first, let’s talk about John Locke’s life in alternative 2004. In this reality Locke is still paralyzed and things still don’t always go his way — he’s still rejected for the walkabout, the lift on his van is shoddy — but his life seems immeasurably better. He and Helen are engaged and happy together. His father is a valued part of his life. And even though he loses his job at the box factory, “Lucky” Hugo Reyes quickly hooks him up with a new job through his temp agency, where he’s placed into a well-fitting job as a substitute teacher.

Why is Locke well-suited to be a substitute teacher? I’m not sure. It’s been sort of a running joke with the show that every time we’ve seen Locke in a flashback, he’s had a different profession. So maybe it’s appropriate that he’d belong in a job where he has to be a chameleon — teaching P.E., then health, then maybe math. But other than being generally more mentally stable in this reality, Locke is also distinguished by his stark lack of faith. After briefly considering taking Jack up on his consultation offer, he declares flatly to Helen that he doesn’t believe in miracles. Was Locke so manipulated by the presence and power of Jacob and the island that they managed to completely reverse his natural worldview? Is he really as better off now as he seems?

Last week I complained that the alternate 2004 scenes had yet to show that they mattered. Well, this group of scenes demonstrated the quality of “mattering”, making this a much stronger episode. I enjoyed the introduction of new mythology and, as always, the heavy focus on Locke. I was a little irritated at the multiple instances of “convenient knowledge” — Sawyer knows MIB isn’t Locke; Ilana knows MIB can’t take the form of any other human now (why?!) — but on the whole, I thought this was a strong entry with lots to chew over.

Let’s look at the use of substitutes. MIB, of course, is a substitute for Locke. Locke is a substitute teacher. According to MIB, Jacob was looking for a substitute for himself. And in a way, everyone in 2004 is a substitute for their “real” selves. The question, I suppose, is whether or not these substitutions are permanent. Case in point: MIB as Locke. When the blond boy warns (or scolds) him, saying “You know the rules. You can’t kill him,” MIB responds with the very outburst he previously ridiculed Locke for saying: “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.” Now that he is — according to Ilana — stuck with the physical form of Locke (or smoke), will the MIB become more and more like Locke?

And how about this: maybe the list of names on the cave wall aren’t Jacob’s at all, but actually MIB’s list of candidates to replace himself. He claims he has been trapped on the island all this time (and that he used to be an ordinary man), but if he’s really free to go, why would he bother trying to “recruit” people? Why doesn’t he just go? I suspect he needs someone to take his place, and he’s eying Sawyer to become that person — Sawyer, after all, was able to see the blond boy. Though really, I don’t see how Sawyer can end up as one of the final two. It’s got to be Jack and John at the end, somehow. Though if the MIB becomes John, then I guess that’s a reasonable expectation.

Dogen says that Sayid has been claimed, but his name hasn’t been crossed out yet. Claire’s has, assuming “Littleton” refers to her and not to Aaron.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

In her final scene, while embracing Locke, Helen’s fingernails are painted black. I’m not convinced it’s a coincidence.

Is Sayid’s body possessed by Jacob? Or Juliet? It appears not. Sayid seems to still be Sayid, though with a twist. And in addition to this, we got a provocative hint about something from last season that bears discussing. And though she appeared briefly last week when Kate hijacked the taxi, this episode more or less marks the official return of Cleer to the series.

The episode title “What Kate Does” is a callback to the Season 2 episode “What Kate Did”, wherein we learned that Kate killed her step-(or so she thought) father by burning his house down. She doesn’t do anything nearly as dramatic this time around: she steals Claire’s purse and luggage, drives to an auto shop where the proprietor (Jeff Kober, recognizable to Buffy fans as both one of the more menacing, drug-dependent vampires from the series … and Rack) helps free her from her handcuffs. She then feels guilty for stealing the possessions of a pregnant girl, and drives back to the airport to ask Claire if she wants a ride.

I want to go on record as saying that I enjoy Kate as a character, and always have. But Kate-centric episodes invariably kind of suck. It’s not always easy to figure out why this is, but it’s very easy to pinpoint where this entry in the Kate-o-pedia goes off the rails: despite the fact that she’s repeatedly had a gun waived in her face by this crazy broad, Claire not only accepts the offer of a ride from Kate (in a stolen taxi cab), but she asks Kate to join her at the door of the prospective adoptive parents of her unborn baby, and then shields her from police in the hospital after having contractions. This is nonsense, and I don’t see how anyone watching could have done anything less than smack their heads at the incredulity. Are the two cosmically connected because of the island and because Kate helped deliver Aaron before everything got turned back? I don’t know, but that kind of development was not earned.

Oh, the OB-GYN who treats Claire at the hospital is Ethan. You may remember that he once stuck her with a bunch of crazy needles, but now he doesn’t want to poke her with needles unless it’s absolutely necessary. Claire doesn’t have her baby today.

Meanwhile (or three years later, actually) on the island, Dogen takes Sayid into his office and tortures him. Sayid pleads that he doesn’t understand, isn’t withholding information, and would gladly tell him whatever he wants to know. I’m not sure whether or not we’re supposed to take this scene at face value, and it seems to me a distinct possibility that none of this torturing actually occurred. But Sayid certainly believes it did. It seems a just dessert for someone who tortured people for a living. Sawyer gets off a wonderfully bitter line to this effect: Sayid tortured children. Why shouldn’t he get another crack at life?

Sawyer takes advantage of some commotion to present his pistol and make his escape from the temple, despite Dogen’s urging. Kate agrees to go after him, and Jin goes with her. They are escorted by two Others, Justin and Aldo, who apparently can’t keep straight which information is secret and which isn’t. When Kate almost steps on what looks like a Rousseau-trap, Aldo remarks that the French woman has been dead for years (three, in fact), before being hushed by Justin. Kate springs the trap, and she and Jin take off alone into the jungle. Jin, who only wants to find Sun, leaves Kate, and she continues her pursuit of Sawyer.

When she finds him, he’s mourning Juliet in their old house. He blames himself for her death because he convinced her not to leave the island. He throws the engagement ring he planned to give her into the ocean. And then Kate cries. Have you noticed that Kate has spent most of her time on the island just following people around, either immediately behind them or tracking them through the jungle?

Dogen diagnoses Sayid with The Sickness (I guess), and prescribes one green capsule. Jack smells a rat and refuses to give it to him, and actually tries to swallow the capsule himself. Defeated, Dogen reveals that the capsule is full of green poison. Why would you want to kill Sayid? Jack wants to know. And then Dogen explains that there is a darkness growing within Sayid that will eventually overtake him, leaving nothing of the original Sayid behind — a process which has already claimed Claire!

And sure enough, while trying to escape Justin and Aldo, Jin steps in a bear trap. Before they can dispatch with him, Claire emerges from the foliage brandishing a shotgun and a hairstyle very reminiscent of Danielle Rousseau. And here’s the interesting question posed by tonight’s episode: Was Rousseau really the only member of the French party to avoid infection, or was she actually the only one that was infected? Is that why Ben took Baby Alex — to protect her?

As for the rest … blah. I’m getting really tired of seeing Sawyer storm off alone into the jungle (knowing Kate will eventually follow him). And Kate’s whole L.A. adventure just didn’t move me. As for Cleer, I’m certainly curious to know what happened to her over the past three years on the island, but like with Kate, I didn’t care all that much about what happened to her or her baby in that hospital. I wonder if the writers might not be in a real quandry here. These new and improved 2004 scenes aren’t going to be worth a damn to viewers unless we become convinced that they matter. Right now, I don’t see how they matter in the slightest.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Despite some shallow writing, Josh Holloway and Naveen Andrews give nice performances in this episode. But once again, “what Kate does” turns out to be “brings everything to a screeching halt”. And it’s too early in the season for that.

I guess it could possibly be true. “LAX”, the season premiere, opens with Jack making that same old joke about how “it’s not a very strong drink.” Then the turbulence happens, and Rose tells Jack how Bernard always tells her that planes want to stay in the air. We’ve seen it all before. We know the plane is about to snap in half. But this time it doesn’t. The turbulence ends and the guy from Heroes tells everyone that everything is fine, including the weather in Los Angeles. The plane lands safely. Apparently the bomb worked. Insert tasteless joke here.

But then we discover that Kate has somehow landed in a tree. She’s still on the island. And so are Miles and Sawyer. And Jack, whom we recently saw on a plane bound for the Southland. So did the bomb work or not? Well, apparently this is the new conceit of Season Six: the bomb both worked and did not. The castaways are both on the island as if they never left (though apparently back in 2007) and off the island as if they never crashed there in the first place. It appears we have alternative, parallel realities.

So what happens off the island? Well, Charlie tries to kill himself, apparently by choking on a bag of heroin. Jack saves him (with an assist from Sayid), and Charlie is hauled off the plane in handcuffs. Boone is on the plane, but this time has failed to convince Shannon to come with him. Hurley is still a lottery winner and owner of Mr. Clucks, but now he’s “the luckiest man alive”. Jin neglects to declare his big bag of money to customs officials, and Sun remains afraid to admit that she has learned English. Kate manages to escape from the federal marshal and hijacks a taxi, in which the other passenger is Claire. And both Jack and John have their luggage misplaced — John loses his knives; Jack loses his father’s coffin. But Jack gives John his business card, with the promise of a possible cure for his paralysis.

Back on the island, Sawyer hears Juliet crying for help at the bottom of the hole and climbs down to rescue her. Of course, he reaches her and she promptly dies, but not before cryptically suggesting that they meet some time for coffee, and that she has to tell him something important. When Sawyer later demands of Miles that he find out what she wanted to tell him, he returns with “It worked.” Was Juliet bouncing back and forth between realities the same way Desmond* bounces through time?

* Oh, Desmond is on the plane too, for some reason. But he disappears before the plane lands.

Having failed to keep Juliet alive, Jack tries to save Sayid (who ended last season by being shot). When he decides there’s nothing he can do, Hurley declares his plan. Earlier in the night, the “ghost” of Jacob appeared to Hurley and told him to take Sayid to the temple. Jin knows the location of the temple, having seen most of the French Party chase the smoke monster into it, so he, Hurley, Jack, and Kate head in that direction. Once they arrive, they’re immediately captured by a new group of Others, who threaten to kill them until Hurley produces a guitar case with a wooden ankh inside. The group’s leader — a man who only speaks Japanese because he hates speaking English — breaks the ankh open and produces … a list! It’s enough to keep our heroes alive, except for Sayid. They try to save him by drowning him in the pool, but it doesn’t work. He dies.

But then later, he’s alive again! Is it really Sayid though? Is his body actually inhabited by the spirit of Jacob — maybe Jacob needed an empty, purified (in the pool) vessel in order to save himself. In any event, there’s trouble on the horizon because Jacob’s nemesis — the creature wearing the form of Locke — kills several of the “good guys”, and punches Richard Alpert in the throat (after telling him he’s glad to see him “out of those chains”). He explains to Ben that while the real Locke was the only person who wanted to stay on the island, he — who is apparently the smoke monster (“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”) — only wants to go home. Where is home? Is it the temple? The people in the temple are certainly acting like it is, spreading ash around and lighting off fireworks.

So what’s the deal with the split realities? I’m not sure, but I’m reminded of an earlier thought I had: that rather than being about eschatology as most early theories speculated, Lost is a show about religious belief. And if you extend that line of thought, maybe it’s about all beliefs, all mental processes. The one thing that has appeared clear from the start of the series is that all of the castaways left behind lives that were lacking (if not outright awful). Maybe the plane crash was always metaphorical. Maybe it was the moment when their lives, as they previously knew them, ended. Maybe it was the moment when they felt they began to feel the most abandoned and lost. Perhaps some turned to logic (Jack) or faith (Locke) or each other (Jin and Sun). It will be interesting to see if the progression of the characters off the island mirrors their progression on the island since Season 1.

I really thought it was kind of cheap to reveal that Juliet survived the explosion, but then kill her off anyway. But I’m looking forward to seeing if the two realities cross in any other ways — I think they have to. I enjoyed the episode, and there was a lot to take in, as usual. It’s kind of amusing to imagine Jack and Locke chartering a plane to go look for their knives and coffin, but in all seriousness, those two characters have always been the keys to each other. Jack might be destined to give Locke his legs back — perhaps it was always their proximity to each other rather than the island itself that did it initially. What will Locke give Jack in return?

I’ll withhold judgment on the parallel universe mechanism until I see where they’re going with it. And it was good to see some of the old characters again. But I actually found the episode — two hours, by the way — to be a little slow. But I’m excited for the season to follow. Let’s get on with it.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

What am I forgetting? I don’t know. Probably nothing important. Oh, Jack’s neck was bleeding on the plane. What’s that about?

I’m sorry to disappoint you, loyal reader, by not writing a review of Episode 12, but I just didn’t have time. Suffice it to say that I thought it was a quality episode, but I’m much more interested in talking about this week’s brilliant season finale, “Shut the Door. Have a Seat”.

The episode opens on a meeting between Don and Conrad Hilton, where Hilton drops the bomb that PPL is being sold to the loathsome McCann-Erickson. Hilton tells Don that under the circumstances, he’ll have to take his business elsewhere. When Don reminds him that he (Don) no longer has that luxury because of the contract Hilton insisted he sign, Hilton calls him out for being a whiny baby who complains rather than getting things done. The rest of the episode is about Don trying to get something done, in some cases having to humble himself to do so.

He takes the news to Cooper and convinces him that they should try to buy the company back from PPL before the sale to McCann is final. Cooper is reticent at first, and points out that they’ll need Roger on board in order to have any chance of taking Lucky Strike with them. This puts Don in the position of having to apologize to Roger for not caring about his work or his friendship. “You’re not good at relationships,” says Roger, “because you don’t value them.” No truer words have ever been spoken about Don Draper. Even apart from the obvious cases of Betty and his younger brother, Don has almost systematically driven people away even as he has (briefly) attracted others. But Roger agrees to participate in their attempt, notwithstanding Bert’s “join or die” pitch.

When they take their offer to Lane, he scoffs that the company is worth much more now than when PPL bought it. But Lane is caught off guard by the news that McCann is also buying PPL. Knowing that he may be expendable, Lane takes Don, Bert, and Roger the news. Upon hearing this, Don hatches a plan: Lane will fire them — freeing them of their contracts — and they’ll start their own agency, with Lane as a partner. Lane agrees, and suddenly the episode turns into a heist story! They’ll need to hand pick the people they want to carry over to the new company, lay the foundation for a smooth transition for any clients they can poach, and steal whatever materials they’ll need to get started on Monday.

Don’s first action under this plan is to tell Peggy to get ready to change companies, but she balks. “I’m not going to beg you,” says Don. “Beg me?” she replies. “You didn’t even ask me.” Pete, fortunately, is more amenable to the idea, since he has been planning to leave Sterling-Cooper for greener pastures anyway. In exchange for a partnership, Pete agrees to bring eight million dollars of accounts to the new company, but first demands that Don suck up to him — which he does. Don then makes a visit to Peggy’s home to stroke her ego and vows to spend the rest of his life trying to hire her if she says no — once again humbling himself. She relents and joins the team. Harry and his television expertise rounds out the new company, along with the welcome return of Joan, whose services are required because no one knows where any of the supplies or documents are stored. One can only hope that poor Sal will find a home with the new company too, though with Lucky Strike as a client, maybe that won’t be possible.

As they walk out the S-C doors for the last time, Roger muses about how long it will be before they’re b ack in a big, fancy office. “I never saw myself working in a place like this,” says Don. It’s hard to imagine how he even could have, growing up on a wheat farm during the depression. I always find it interesting how the show uses Don’s flashbacks. In the case of this episode, Archie Whitman is faced with selling his wheat at half price or waiting until the price goes up (but potentially losing his farm in the interim). When he finally decides to sell the cut-rate wheat after all, he’s kicked in the face by a spooked horse, which kills him. Don knows from experience how quickly you can go from having almost nothing to having nothing.

It appears that as far as his marriage goes, he now has nothing. Betty has left him. After consulting an attorney, she decides to go to Reno so she can get a divorce without having to prove infidelity. But first, Don roughs her up a little bit, accusing her of breaking up the family and calling her a whore. It’s an ugly scene, one of the ugliest we’ve had between the two. The scene cuts against the easy impulse to root for Don to succeed at starting a new company, because there is nothing sympathetic about the way this philandering asshole talks to Betty, or the way he says “I don’t care” when she warns him that his yelling will wake the baby.

I’m sad for the children, who have apparently been left behind with Carla — not Don — while Betty and Henry jet off to Reno to fulfill the six-week residency requirements to qualify for a divorce. Are they going to be spending Christmas with the housekeeper?

There are a few things to quibble with in this episode — a lack of resolution to the Suzanne Farrell plotline, the way the relationship with Hilton fizzles out, the boilerplate “Mommy and Daddy won’t be living together anymore” scene — but all in all, this was the most enjoyable episode of the season, and one of the finest of the whole series. I’ve never been so excited about the formation of a new advertising agency! The episode had plenty of laugh out loud moments (like Trudy bringing sandwiches to the new office while wearing another ridiculous hat), but even the moments that weren’t outright humorous made me smile. And I was more than happy to see the Draper marriage finally reach its logical, necessary end. I don’t really find Henry Francis to be all that interesting, but getting Don and Betty apart had to happen. Incidentally, I think Don looks about fifteen years older when he has to defend himself against Betty’s scorn. He looks so defeated in those scenes.

As Sterling-Cooper effectively falls apart, we see Don broken down to his bare essence. He’s insulted by Hilton. He lowers himself to convince Roger, Pete, and Peggy to go along with his plans. And Betty kicks him out of the house. But I think Roger was wrong that Don doesn’t value any relationships: he seems to genuinely care about his children — the scene where he discovers Sally sleeping on the cot and lies down with her was poignant — which makes it all the more perplexing that he’s not caring for them while Betty’s in Reno. But I guess the fatherly roles were different in 1963.

It was a fun romp. I wish we didn’t have to wait until August to see the next one.

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

“Did you wash your hands?!”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

I haven’t kept up on the latest trends in Halloween costumes, but apparently every boy who lived between 1945 and 1985 spent at least one trick-or-treating trip dressed as a hobo, complete with brown hat and plastic cigar. I guess hobos smoked a lot of cigars. I did my turn as a hobo when I was about four years old, though naturally I couldn’t have told you what a hobo was. In retrospect, it seems like kind of a strange choice for a costume, except that it requires so little effort. I suppose scolding people for making light of homelessness would be cherry-picking, since no one complains about making fun of death. Or lycanthropy.

Don has a history with hobos, of course, having hosted one on his family’s farm as a child. Don’s father stiffed the man after a day’s work, and the hobo carved a symbol into the fencepost that translated as “a dishonest man lives here.” The Whitmans and their life of poverty are far in the past for Don now, but he can’t shake their legacy. And he can’t shake his father’s faults. Don is a dishonest man.

“The Gypsy and the Hobo” opens on the Drapers’ bedroom while Betty packs a suitcase. We know that she discovered Don’s secret stash of money, photographs, and incriminating legal documents in last week’s episode, but it appears she’s actually just taking the children on a trip to visit her brother. Once she’s there, however, and dispensed with William’s request that she sell her share of their father’s house for double what the old man paid for it (years ago), she confides in the family attorney, telling him everything she’s pieced together about Don’s secret past. The lawyer basically tells her to go home and be a good wife. Divorce, like apparently everything else, was different in the 1960s.

But sometimes it works out. Roger claims to be completely in love with Jane, and based on this episode, I guess we have some reason to believe him. He’s tempted by the return of an old flame, one Mrs. Annabelle Mathis (widow) of Caldecott Farms, a disgraced dog food company. Annabelle visits Sterling-Cooper under the pretense of needing a new ad campaign to improve the company’s image after a movie accused the company (accurately) of using horse meat in its formula. Don puts together a focus group to find out what people think of the food, but the three participants immediately pull their dogs away from the bowls in disgust when they learn their pooches are eating Caldecott Farms brand food. This leads to a typically Mad Men-ish bit of humor when Peggy responds to Annabelle’s request that they “turn it off” by sensibly replying, “I can’t turn it off. It’s all actually happening.”

It was nice to get an episode that spent some time focusing on Roger, but this tale of love once lost and possibly re-found didn’t do much for me. Maybe I just have a hard time rooting for characters to get together when I know that at least one of them is a dyed-in-the-wool philanderer. That Roger refuses Annabelle’s advances is interesting, and maybe even noble. But then again, Annabelle isn’t a spring chicken anymore. Roger likes them barely legal. Still, it was nice to hear about Roger wandering about France like he wanted to be a character in someone’s novel. I’d enjoy flashing back to Roger’s early days at the agency. Come to think of it, I’d like to see Don’s early days too.

Roger’s highlight of the episode, however, was his phone call from Joan, who listens as Greg bitches and moans about a failed job interview and concludes that she needs to find permanent work — something more fitting her talents than working in a department store. And Roger, sad that she won’t return to Sterling-Cooper, agrees to help. It’s a nice moment between two old friends and lovers, and carries a tinge of regret. Roger is kind of Joan’s Annabelle.

Joan gets the award for the episode’s most unexpected event. After listening to Greg accuse her of not knowing what it’s like to want something her whole life, Joan breaks a vase over his head! Greg eventually does the logical thing and joins the army so he can be a surgeon. I’m sure he won’t have to go to Vietnam. I mean, no one goes to Vietnam. Joan is supportive, but the look on her face at the end of the scene tells the story.

Which brings up an interesting point: While it’s understandable that a show in 2009 wouldn’t romanticize war, Mad Men doesn’t depict military service as something to even be proud of. Greg doesn’t have patriotic reasons for joining up; he just wants to cut people open. Gene’s catalog of artifacts from World War I was macabre, and the nonchalance with which he talked about killing Germans was disturbing. And Don, of course, is a deserter. Has there ever been a complimentary portrayal of a military veteran on the show?

Speaking of Don and his tendency to go AWOL, he’s taking advantage of Betty’s trip to Philadelphia by spending lots of time with Suzanne. She laments that she doesn’t get to go out to dinner with him, so he offers to go away with her for a few days. But when Don makes a quick stop at home before their trip — with Suzanne waiting in the car — Betty and the family surprise him by returning home early. And Betty’s got one thing on her mind — making Don open his private desk drawer.

The ensuing scenes didn’t really provide any new information. After all, we’ve already learned this stuff about Don in prior episodes. And yet, watching him squirm while Betty interrogated him was one of the most powerful and pleasurable moments of the season for me. It’s always interesting when a series known for its snappy dialogue crafts a fine scene built on mostly non-verbal acting, and Don splashing water on his face and fumbling for a cigarette while Betty mocks him for “looking at that door” was top notch. That’s not to say the dialogue wasn’t strong as well. Betty’s pitying “I’ll get you a drink. Just sit down,” was maybe the most devastating thing we’ve heard her say.

It feels as though the entire series has been leading to this moment, and the show did not disappoint. I expected a knock-down-drag-out, but the mostly-quiet approach turned out to be perfect. Betty is angry, but she wants answers at least as much as she wants to let her anger out.

Betty: Why didn’t you tell me? Why couldn’t you tell me any of this?
Don: When? The day we met? On our first date? On our wedding night? Why did you need to know?
Betty: You don’t get to ask any questions. (She retrieves the box of photos and drops them on the table.) You have a family.
Don: No I don’t.
Betty: All this time I thought you were some football hero who hated his father. I knew you were poor. I knew you were ashamed of it. And I see how you are with money — you don’t understand it.
Don: I was very poor.
Betty: Did you see her when you were in California?
Don: I did. And she reminded me that I love you.
Betty: What would you do if you were me? Would you love you?
Don: I was surprised that you ever loved me.

The scene just crackles. It’s exhausting for Don, but its invigorating to watch. Later he sits on the bed and goes through the photos with Betty, pointing out the subjects like a young couple seeing each other’s family albums for the first time. When Betty points out that Don’s little brother must still be alive, he recounts with overwhelming guilt how the young man hunted him down a few years prior only too have Don turn his back on him. “He just wanted to be part of my life,” weeps Don, “and I couldn’t risk all of this.”

After the dust settles, Don makes a quick phone call to Suzanne telling her they should probably cool it for awhile. That’s how it goes. I’m kind of intrigued by Betty’s opinion that Don doesn’t understand money. Does she mean that he doesn’t understand what it means to be rich — how a wealthy person should act? He’s not generally cavalier with his spending, so I have to assume she meant something like that.

Will the revelations of this episode further drive a wedge between Don and Betty or will it somehow bring them closer together? Will Betty use her knowledge to force Don to be a better husband, much as Bert forced him to sign a contract? Will Don be a changed man now he doesn’t have to hide his past from Betty? There are only two episodes left this season — things are coming to a close. We need some resolution on whether Peggy and Pete are leaving the firm — and by the way, where is Pete? This is the second week in a row he’s been absent from the proceedings. Conrad Hilton is presumably still floating around out there, and Sterling-Cooper is for sale. And of course, Roger’s daughter is set to be married on November 22nd.

I didn’t love everything in this episode, but the last fifteen minutes were as good as anything that’s ever been on the show.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Sally was a gypsy for Halloween. Feel free to discuss the similarities and difference between gypsies and hobos.

For the second episode in a row, Dollhouse gives us a disorienting teaser. This week it revolves around Sierra, who we find selling trinkets and artwork at the beach. It appears to be a flashback, but later, at a party being thrown by wealthy doctor and scumbag Nolan to celebrate a painting she has created for him, we see both Echo and Victor. So is this before or after Nolan has Sierra “sent” to the Dollhouse? Turns out it’s before, and the two actives on hand have been tasked with talking Nolan up so that Sierra — Priya, actually — will fall in love with him. It doesn’t work, of course. In fact, she almost leaves the party with Victor.

“Belonging” is the first Dollhouse episode (other than “Epitaph One”) to let Echo fades into the background. Dichen Lachman and Fran Kranz are the stars of this outing, and that was kind of refreshing. When Echo brings one of Sierra’s disturbing paintings to Topher, he tells her he hasn’t observed any problems with Sierra. “Maybe you’re not looking hard enough,” she responds. Topher discovers a collection of paintings in Dr. Saunders’ office, along with notes about “the bad man”. Saunders believed the bad man was Topher, but he rejects that out of hand. Being brilliant, Topher quickly pieces together that Sierra was made psychotic by drugs administered to her by Nolan. This is significant, because Sierra was brought to the Dollhouse as a means of curing her paranoid schizophrenia. If she was deliberately made that way, then the Dollhouse has been guilty of slavery.

Adele is outraged, and summons Nolan to her office. He’s a VIP with Rossum, however, and demands that Sierra be permanently imprinted and delivered to be his wife. Another Rossum bigwig, Matthew Harding (Keith Carradine) agrees, and implicitly threatens Adele with the attic if she doesn’t comply (“You won’t like our early retirement program.”). Topher also objects, but Adele chides him by pointing out that while everyone at the Dollhouse was hired for having compromised their morals, that doesn’t apply to him: “You’re here because you have no morals. You’ve always viewed human beings as playthings. That’s not a judgment. You’ve always taken very good care of your toys.” Topher finally agrees, reluctantly, to give Sierra the permanent imprint.

He doesn’t give her the imprint he’s supposed to, however. As anyone with half a brain could have predicted, Topher gives her back her original personality. So when Nolan’s perfect woman shows up at his door, it turns out to be Priya. There’s some irony in that, I guess, since Priya was the woman that he wanted in the first place. But after goading him by talking about how she fell in love with someone even as a blank slate, he begins slapping her around, and she kills him.

Despite the generally predictable nature of what transpired before this, I was fascinated by all the moving parts. Did Adele push Topher over the edge toward making a moral decision by accusing him of being wholly amoral? Did Topher know the encounter between Priya and Nolan would turn violent? And perhaps the biggest question of all, since a legally insane person wouldn’t have been able to consent to a five-year contract with the Dollhouse, why did it suddenly become outrageous to Adele and Topher when they learned Sierra had been drugged? Was Adele bothered by the moral implications of slavery, or was she just angry about being deceived? Does Sierra — who we learn, by the way, is not the first Sierra — “belong” in the Dollhouse? Does she belong to Nolan? Does Topher belong there? Does Adele? What kind of people are these anyway? It seems like no one is really free.

The remaining quarter of the show didn’t pack as much punch as the first three acts — Boyd shows up at Nolan’s house and helps Topher and Priya dispose of Nolan’s body, along with concocting an explanation for his disappearance — but there was a nice scene at the end between Topher and Priya where she, devastated by what she’s done, asks him to wipe the whole day from her memory. Somewhat disturbingly (to me, anyway) she has to go back to being a doll, but when she wakes up from being an active for the last time, she doesn’t want to know anything about the murder. Will that make things any better for her? She’s still going to remember what Nolan did to her, and that wound isn’t going to be any less fresh (unless they do some kind of neurological mumbo jumbo like they did with November). Topher, for his part, is equally horrified but doesn’t have the option of forgetting.

But it’s hard to argue that Nolan didn’t deserve his fate. As if it’s not bad enough that he kidnapped Priya, drugged her, drove her crazy, and arranged for her to be taken in by the Dollhouse so she could be made more pliant to his desires, he also did try to kill her when she again refused him at his house. Her sense of morality is clearly very different from the rest of the characters — killing is wrong no matter what, I guess — but it’s notable that Topher is also affected, perhaps because he feels he forced Priya to do it.

In the end, Priya goes back to being a doll, and walks down to the spiral staircase to meet Victor, who has been sitting on the floor waiting for her all night. Is there a sweeter romance on television right now than the one between Sierra and Victor? The moment in the show with the two painting each other’s faces was nice, and gave us an interesting — albeit brief — Victor flashback, where he remembered being a soldier during a battle (Sierra’s painted face is also called back to later when she finds herself covered in blood after stabbing Nolan). Good stuff, especially their little snuggle session in the shared pod at the episode’s end.

Echo wasn’t completely absent from the episode. After handing over the painting to Topher, Echo spends the rest of the episode perplexing Boyd by reading. I didn’t catch what the book was, but for some reason I remember it being Paradise Lost. Anyway, he’s skeptical that she would want to read a book with no pictures, but she assures him that she’s able to follow some of it. However, after Boyd discovers the book (with a little leaf as a bookmark), he manages to completely overlook that Echo has been taking notes on her pod’s glass door to help keep track of everything she knows and all the personalities she’s had.

I was trained to kill.

Victor loves Sierra.

My son killed me.

Dominic was bad.

Women are whores.

Echo is messed up. But she confesses to Boyd that she fears “a storm is coming”, and she wants to make sure everyone in the Dollhouse survives it. Boyd later leaves a gift for her: an all access keycard. Echo now has the run of the place (including, presumably, the freedom to leave).  It’s interesting.  For a titular head of security, Boyd seems to have no concern whatsoever about dolls not knowing their place — especially Echo.  When she asks him if she’s in trouble for reading the book, he responds blandly, “Not with me.”

The evolution of Topher from smug puppet-master to destroyed, regretful Dr. Frankenstein is one of the more compelling story-lines of the series, so I’m glad to see that continuing week-to-week. I also enjoyed Harry Lennix’s assured deadpan skills while Topher explains the intricacies of the human brain: “I’ll take your word for it.” And yet, this episode felt like a missed opportunity. The performances were strong, but the plot was by-the-numbers, and the final act fizzled out. But it did manage to demonstrate that there are ways to make the characters come through even when personalities aren’t permanent.

I wanted to love it, but I only liked it. But perhaps more importantly, I love where we’re going.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

With the start of November sweeps, Dollhouse is now off the air until December, when the network plans to run two episodes at a time. After that, who knows? Enjoy it while it lasts. The ratings for this episode where down 20% over the previous one, though the DVR numbers will probably look better than that.

While lying in bed after agreeing to spend “the entire night” at Miss Farrell’s over-garage apartment, Don provides his explanation to a hypothetical eight-year-old about whether or not different people see the color blue in the same way. It’s too literate an answer for a child, but he finally comes around to the real answer he’s been clawing for: “People may see things differently, but they don’t really want to.” The process of finding the response is similar to the act of brainstorming that happens in the Sterling-Cooper creative offices every day, but it also sums up what must be one of the most important tenets of advertising. How many times have you seen a commercial touting “The #1 movie in the country?” To be sure, there are people who want to be different. But most people would rather be only mildly different, and only in specific areas. People want to fit in. People want to be normal. It’s horrifying to think that other people might see a color in a different way.

But of course, people do see things in different ways. Aside from actual physiological differences like color-blindness, people also observe and notice different things. Peggy is especially valuable to the creative team because she picks up on things the other copywriters don’t. Part of that comes from the different experiences she’s had by virtue of being female, but also simply because she’s kind of quirky. The same is true of the other writers, and certainly of Don.

But “The Color Blue” of the title refers as much to a general feeling of sadness enveloping the lives of many of our heroes this week. Paul is feeling down because Peggy (successfully) tweaked his pitch during their presentation to Don, and now he feels undercut. Tasked with finding some golden words for Western Union — in an era when everyone has a telephone — Paul does what all ad men do and turns to the bottle. He comes up with a brilliant idea while talking to a custodian named Achilles — leading to one of my favorite lines of the night, as Peggy later asks Paul, “How do you talk to Achilles?” — but decides to drink some more rather than put the idea to paper. Naturally he regains consciousness the next morning having completely forgotten his brilliant idea.

I remember a Seinfeld episode with a similar plot, so I can’t say I was impressed by this writing, but when he has to face the music, Paul is surprised to find that Don is sympathetic. Happens to everyone, I guess. But Peggy pulls a thread from a Chinese proverb Paul previously quoted about “the faintest pen is better than the best memory.” Suddenly they’ve got their angle for selling telegrams. I wasn’t sure if Paul felt like a chump for being bested by Peggy again, or he was genuinely impressed. In any case, this was the least consequential storyline of the episode.

Who else is feeling blue? Bert Cooper, who doesn’t want to attend the Sterling-Cooper 40th Anniversary party — where Don will be presented with a humanitarian award — because he doesn’t like being reminded of how much time has passed and all the people that have died. Lane, for his part, is trying to handle a wife (whom I just noticed is played by Embeth Davidtz) that reminds him constantly that she hates New York, and a home office that insists on seeing “all flowers in bloom” because they’re planning to sell the company. Turns out Lane’s work at Sterling-Cooper was sort of analogous to flipping a house. Ever the good soldier, Lane convinces Cooper to come to the party telling him that if he’s not there, everyone will assume he’s ill. “How did you know I was vain?” asks Cooper. “It’s obvious,” replies Lane.

I have to say, when the season began I expected Lane to become a villain, but I’ve actually come to like him. He’s a doormat, obviously, but seems to be fundamentally a decent guy. It feels strange to call someone who is obviously quite well-to-do an underdog, but that’s kind of what he is. I’ve started to root for him, so let’s give some praise to Jared Harris. And of course, a potential sale raises lots of questions. Who would buy the company? Hilton? Sterling and Cooper? Don? Would Hilton buy it and give it to Don? Remember their exchange about how when a man like Hilton asks what you want…

Don apparently still wants Suzanne Farrell, and she wants him. We don’t see any of her previous reluctance. She seems to be head over heels for him, in what I think has been approximately a month since he first showed up at her door. “I don’t care about your marriage or work or any of that,” she tells him. “As long as I know you’re with me.” This being 1963, we know Don has never seen Fatal Attraction, but that was the first reference that sprang to my mind when she said that. A man as astute and aware as Don ought to be hearing some warning bells right now. There’s potential for this affair to end in tragedy. And that would kind of be a relief, wouldn’t it? Sooner or later, Don’s philandering has to actually matter.

Suzanne’s got an epileptic brother named Danny, who apparently can’t hold down a job because his seizures freak people out too much. But I wonder if that’s really true, or if that’s another case of people seeing the color blue in different ways. Does Danny just assume people think the worst and flee before that assumption can be confirmed? In any case, Suzanne finds him a menial hospital job in Massachusetts, and Don volunteers to drive him there. Danny convinces Don to let him out by the side of the road instead, but where is he going to go? The hospital job might be miserable, but he doesn’t give any indication of what he plans to do instead. Don gives him some extra money and a business card. So … I guess we’ll be seeing Danny again, probably first in the form of a phone call to Don’s office. Will Don find a way to hire him? Will he have to hire him to keep his affair with Suzanne secret? Regardless, it’s becoming increasingly more unlikely that he’ll be able to get out of that affair clean.

But it may not even matter because Betty finally got into Don’s desk drawer. She finds his box of closely guarded secrets, and most of the clues about his double life don’t make sense to her. But one item definitely does: the certificate of divorce from Anna Draper. So while most of the damning evidence doesn’t tell her very much (yet), she is devastated to learn that her husband has a secret ex-wife somewhere in the world. It’s kind of telling, isn’t it? There’s a lot of “blue” in that box, but the only blue Betty sees is her own. She only sees the part that seems to diminish her personally. While Don is driving to Massachusetts and back (and then spending the night with his mistress), Betty hovers over the box and a wine glass. And yet when he finally calls her in the morning, she has decided not to confront him. She bristles when he asks why she doesn’t want to go to the party that night (“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?“), but ultimately bides her time.

I thought Don’s claim that he wants to “show her off” was one of the more revelatory lines of the episode, and I’m not sure how to read Betty’s reaction. He doesn’t always treat Betty like an accessory, but he certainly has before. I don’t think she is ambivalent about it, but I’m not sure whether she especially enjoys it or especially doesn’t. I do not think, however, that she was feeling especially proud when Don took to the podium at the party and said, “I’m very honored.” There was an almost Hitchcockian menace in the way that final scene was shot and edited.

There is another interesting thread tying all of these subplots together: unfinished business. Don and Suzanne have their tryst interrupted by the arrival of Danny. Paul’s efforts toward a brilliant ad campaign are aborted by his careless inability to take a few notes. Sally doesn’t get to demonstrate her phone-answering skills because the person on the other end hangs up. Don’s attempt to “do the right thing” and take Danny to the hospital in Massachusetts is thwarted by Danny’s unwillingness to go. And Betty is deprived of the chance to throw her righteous anger in Don’s face by his continued, uncooperative absence throughout the night. No one gets to finish what they start. Even Don’s speech is cut off by the closing credits.

The other shoe must be about to drop. We’re very near the end of the season, and it comes back to the way people see things. Betty doesn’t have all the information, but she knows something about Don that she didn’t before. At that party, accepting that award, he is surrounded by people who admire him or respect him or resent him or fear him. But one thing is certain: Betty doesn’t see Don the way anyone else sees him.

The quality of episodes has been quite good of late. Also Ken Cosgrove enjoys receiving telegrams, but never sends them himself. I’m not sure how that’s helpful though.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My other favorite line of the night belonged to Cooper: “You really pour the honey on. Then you lick it off.” In a completely unrelated matter, I do not want to discuss what Paul does in his office.