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.

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.

I’m late getting to the write-up this week because, you know, life happens. Fortunately Mad Men waits for me. It’s not as demanding as a crying baby or an “eccentric” hotel baron or a lascivious cigarette salesman. After all, the stories are already forty-six years old. What’s a few more days?

When the sun is high in the afternoon sky
you can always find something to do…
But from dusk til dawn as the clock ticks on
something happens to you.

“Wee Small Hours” drops us without warning into one of Betty’s dreams, and it turns out to be a sex dream about Henry Francis having his way with her on her new “fainting couch”.  Well, he doesn’t actually get very far because the telephone rings, which either causes Baby Eugene  to start screaming or his parents have just learned to sleep through his wails.  Betty gets up to feed Eugene while Don talks to Conrad Hilton, a man who apparently never sleeps and doesn’t think anyone else should either.  He wants Don to put something together for Hilton’s international portfolio.

Don’s wide awake now, so he decides to drive to the office and get a head start on his day, but discovers Miss Farrell jogging in the street.  He convinces her to let him give her a ride back to her house, and is startled again when she says she plans to read Martin Luther’s King’s “I Have a Dream” speech to her new students.  “Are you dumb or pure?” Don asks.  Turns out Don has been maddened by thoughts of the pretty young teacher since last spring when he watched her dance barefoot around the maypole.  He’s not new to alternative types — Midge was a beatnik, after all — but there’s something airy about Miss Farrell that he can’t get his head around.  And he wants her all the more for it.

For once maybe Don shouldn’t feel too guilty because Betty is still conducting her own illicit romance with Henry Francis.  On the heels of her dream, she sends him a letter asking a simple question: “Does anyone else read this?”  She’s delighted when she receives his response (“Not anymore.”), but terrified when he shows up unannounced at her house one afternoon, right as Carla is due back.  When Carla walks in on the two of them, Henry declares the house a fine location for a Rockefeller fundraiser and leaves.  Carla is no fool, but she’s not family either.  What can she say?

I was a little surprised to find this storyline continuing.  Betty’s reaction to Henry last week, and her curt response to Francine made me think Betty had made up her mind to give up on Mr. Francis.  And I suppose I should think the same thing after her reluctance to conduct an affair in Henry’s office or hotel (which is “tawdry”).  But I suppose we’ll see.  Betty’s pouting when Henry’s assistant showed up at the sham fundraiser was exactly what I’ve come to expect from her though.

In the wee small hours of the morning
While the whole wide world is fast asleep
You lie awake and think about the girl
And never ever think of counting sheep

Henry works in politics, where no one bats 1.000.  You win some and you lose some.  So perhaps he’s willing to admit that he’s lost.  Conrad Hilton is no such man.  He wants what he wants when he wants it (much, as Betty points out, like a baby).  Hilton is basically a patriot.  He wants Americans to travel abroad, not so much so they can experience all the great culture the world has to offer, but so they can spread American influence, essentially remaking the globe in our red, white, and blue image.  I suppose we’ve succeeded at that to some degree, and consumerism has played a large role in that — McDonalds, anyone?  Hilton, upon calling Don for a midnight drink, tells him, “You can say no.  I’ve heard it before.”  But while Don is more than happy to say no to Peggy (“all the time”), he has so far never said no to Hilton.  He has catered to his every whim.

Perhaps that’s hurt his sense of perspective (as Roger suggests).  When Hilton says that he wants to put Hilton hotels on the moon, Don assumes it’s hyperbole.  But when the Sterling-Cooper team unveils their proposed campaign for Hilton International, Connie is sorely disappointed that there’s no ad featuring the moon.  “When I say I want the moon,” Connie says, “I expect the moon.”  Is this a test?  Does Hilton really want the moon, or is he just trying to see how far Don is willing to go?  I can’t tell, but I do know that Don would have been much more forthright with any other client, explaining in precise detail why portraying a hotel on the moon is a stupid idea.  That he’s not willing to do that with Hilton seems a major red flag to me.

When your lonely heart has learned its lesson
You’d be hers if only she would call
In the wee small hours of the morning
That’s the time you miss her most of all

Meanwhile, Sal is shooting a new commercial for Lucky Strike, and Lee Garner, Jr. is making a pest of himself.  Garner picks up on Sal’s sexual orientation and makes a pass at him in the editing room.  When Sal rebuffs him, Garner calls Harry and demands that Sal be fired.  He also insists that Harry not tell anyone else.  Harry, not being in a position to fire Sal or anyone else, decides to bet that the situation will blow over when Garner sobers up.  It does not.  Garner arrives for the ad screening, sees Sal sitting at the table, and storms off without saying a word.

After Roger fires Sal himself and rips Harry for not being smart enough to tell someone in the Accounts Department that the company’s largest client was unhappy, Harry and Sal go to Don for help.  When Don is finally able to coax an explanation from Sal about what happened, he’s surprised to learn that Sal wasn’t willing to take one for the team.

DON: You must have been shocked.
SAL: I was. Believe me.
DON: But nothing happened. Because nothing could have happened, because you’re married.
SAL: Don, I swear on my mother’s life.
DON: You sure you want to do that? Who do you think you’re talking to?
SAL: I guess I was just supposed to do whatever he wanted? What if it was some girl?
DON: That would depend on what kind of girl it was and what I knew about her. You people…

Sterling-Cooper is in the business of giving clients whatever they want. There’s no question that Don would not have allowed Garner or any other man to literally have sex with him, but he would probably sleep with any female client necessary. Sal either takes this message to heart or is just tragically desperate, because he later calls his wife to tell her he won’t be home until late. I guess we should assume he plans to hunt down Garner and allow the man to do what he wants to do.

It’s interesting to me, though, that Don also seems to think that gay men are poly-amorous, and that the world is just a big potential all-male orgy to them. It’s also interesting that the other gay characters we’ve seen on the show apparently share this attitude. They’re all skeptical when Sal tries to turn them down. But Don’s belief isn’t just limited to homosexuals. He expresses a similar sentiment to Miss Farrell when he shows up at her apartment at the end of the episode. “I want you. I don’t care. Doesn’t that mean anything to someone like you?” But who is someone like you? A free spirit? Is a woman who dances barefoot in the grass and jogs before dawn naturally the kind of woman who will give herself to any man that wants her? I suppose he turns out to be correct.

This is really the only moment of the episode where we see Don pursuing something he wants rather than trying to fulfill the needs of Hilton, and he’s not willing to take no for an answer. Everyone wants something. Hilton wants the moon, Garner wants Sal, Sal wants his job back, Don wants Miss Farrell, Henry wants Betty, Betty wants Henry (and then doesn’t). And Roger wants everyone to stop trying to do his job, which is interesting because he previously compares the responsibilities of the Accounts Department to, um, “massaging” their clients. He is an expert at giving people what they want, and yet no one seems to want him around.

I liked this episode a lot, though the lack of subtlety started to bother me the more I thought about it: Hilton asking for the moon, the juxtaposition of Martin Luther King speeches against Sal’s predicament. And the back and forth of the Henry Francis plotline is starting to bug me. But I cared what was happening on a character-level more than I have in a few weeks, and I think that’s significant. “Wee Small Hours” isn’t just social messages and 1960s set-pieces, which the show can sometimes devolve into. Rather it’s people in difficult situations trying to hold onto what they have. There was good humor tonight (Pete choking on the cigarette while the commercial filmed), but I’m still a bit haunted by the imagine of a disheveled Sal standing in a phone booth surrounded by hoodlums, telling his wife he’s not coming home.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Don’s relationship with Hilton will either be a life jacket or a set of concrete shoes. I’m not sure which yet, but I suspect we’ll know soon. Hilton thinks of Don as a son, but better because he doesn’t have what they have. I’m not sure what he’s saying about his real sons. Did anyone understand that? I do think that Don took quite a risk, however, sneaking off in the middle of the night under the pretense of catering to a request from Hilton, when Hilton is just as likely to call for real while Don’s out of the house.

As I began typing this review, it hit me suddenly that we are now about two-thirds of the way through the season. Can you believe that? I don’t know how I feel about these short-season series. They come and go like traveling salesmen in the night, tempting you with their exotic wares, only to abandon you before you’ve even turned the clocks back to standard time. I’m nursing a cold, so you’ll have to forgive me — that’s the most evocative simile I could conjure in my Mucinex-induced state.

This episode’s title, “Souvenir”, is evocative in its own right, even if it’s sort of stale. Upon seeing it in print, I immediately thought, Uh, oh. Someone is going to be bringing something unfortunate back with them from somewhere. It turned out to be not quite so simple.

There are essentially three stories at play in this episode. In the main plot, Betty and her colleagues with the Junior League of Tarrytown earn a reservoir victory with the city council, thanks to some bureaucratic intervention from Henry Francis. Henry makes it clear in the parking lot, however, that he’s done this feat in order to win favor with Betty. They share a kiss, and she leaves. That night, she asks Don — who has been working long days in various cities for Hilton — to take her with him to Rome. Although they’re only there for a few days and Don has to work much of the time, Betty takes every advantage of the time they do have together. It’s like a mini-second honeymoon. The couple especially enjoy showing off for a pair of sleazy Italian men who deride Don as old and ugly. The rest of us don’t stand a chance.

Once they return home, Carla confronts Betty with the second plot of the episode: Sally beat up Bobby after he made fun of her for kissing Ernie. To be fair, if you kiss someone named Ernie — fully clothed in a bathtub, no less — you probably deserve to be made fun of. But that’s beside the point. Sally gives Bobby a few cudgels, though it’s not nearly as out of control as Carla makes it out to be later. Sally’s game of make believe bathtub-driving with Ernie appears to have been a deliberate imitation of Betty and Don. Sally had earlier carefully observed Betty preening in the mirror. And when Betty tells Sally that she needs to learn to control her temper, you can almost hear Betty on the verge of losing her own.

So the romantic trip to Rome ends abruptly with the return of parental responsibilities. And it’s been even harder than usual lately, with Don having to work extra long hours. Betty tells Don she wants to go away, but she doesn’t mean another vacation. She wants to leave their life, and that no doubt includes her thankless, disobedient children. For an immature brat like Betty, they are the most unpleasant of souvenirs. She’d much rather life the life of a socialite. It’s not a fantasy for Betty; it’s a genuine desire.

There was a point in this series when it was easy to feel sorry for Betty. In fact, crazy as it was, she stuck up for Sally and the family dog by shooting the neighbor’s beloved homing pigeons out of the sky. And she had to endure the quackery of a psychiatrist who treated her like a child. In retrospect, he turns out to have been more or less correct. It’s unbelievable.

Pete, on the other hand, spends the week at home. Trudy is away for the week, and Pete is left to his own devices. He spends the first day watching children’s TV shows and passing out on the sofa. As he returns to his apartment that night after a trip to the store, he discovers a young woman trying to stuff a party dress down the incinerator chute. She introduces herself as Gudrun after Pete recognizes her as the au pair working for his neighbors, the Lawrences. She explains that she has accidentally spilled wine on the dress and is trying to dispose of the evidence. Pete, gentleman that he is, tells the German immigrant that this foolish plan will just lead to the Lawrences assuming she stole the dress, and offers to rectify the problem himself.

Pete takes the dress back to the store, dresses down a store associate who doesn’t share his optimism about the dress, and ends up talking to … Joan! Is she managing the dress department? The entire store? It’s not clear. But she does agree, despite Pete’s offer to pay for a new dress, to exchange it at no cost. A little quid pro quo, perhaps: I won’t tell Trudy that you’re swapping a dress that isn’t her size, and you won’t tell anyone I’m working at this store instead of sitting at home eating bon bons while my rich surgeon hubby pays the bills. Greg is apparently thinking of pursuing a specialty in psychiatry. Good luck with that.

Pete brings the new dress to Gudrun, who receives it with bafflement, but spurns Pete’s offer to “celebrate”. So Pete goes back to his apartment, gets good and hammered, then returns to the Lawrences’ place to he can have his way with Gudrun. She doesn’t resist him this time, but she has so much to lose: for one thing, Pete could tell Mrs. Lawrence about the dress. Even worse, he could inform immigration — one gets the impression Gudrun may not have all her papers in order. She she lets Pete kiss her, and presumably more.

One of the recurring themes of the series is power, and Henry Francis states a political truism early in the episode: “When you don’t have the power, delay.” Don tried his best to do this last week, but finally ran out of time when Cooper forced him to sign the contract. Pete, on the other hand, has a keen sense of when he has power, but terrible instincts about when to use it. His abuse of the nanny was repugnant, bordering on rape. But strictly from a self-interest standpoint, it was stupid. The following day, Mr. Lawrence comes by to put up a roadblock between Pete and Gudrun. We can only guess what she actually revealed, but it must have included his name. What kind of moron has his way with a girl who lives a few doors down from the apartment he shares with his wife?

So Pete has an unpleasant souvenir from Trudy’s trip away: a constant reminder of his inability to control himself, in the form of a neighbor’s au pair. So when he’s at work he can see Peggy — the mother of his child — and when he’s at home, walking through the hallway or riding the elevator, he can see Gudrun. How about that?

Before dinner, he begs Trudy never to leave town without him again.

But at the end of the episode, has anything changed? The city council has held a secret meeting, and is apparently going ahead with the development anyway. Mr. Lawrence has assured Pete that he’s not going to rat him out. Betty is back to being frosty with Don. Would Pete and Trudy have had a romantic time together if he’d gone with her? Who knows? But now, like Betty, he has something to get away from.

I’m not sure why Hilton called the Drapers’ room, seemed surprised to hear a woman’s voice, then never asked to speak to Don. But I’d like to see more scenes with Hilton. Chelcie Ross brings such an interesting energy to the show. And I’ll have to give a little shout-out to Mark Metcalf, who played the Master on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He was the mayor in this episode.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

Cooper’s in Montana. I won’t repeat where Sterling is.

The metaphor-rich seventh episode of the season begins with three striking images:

1. Peggy waking up naked in a hotel bed next to a man.
2. Betty lying prone on a sofa.
3. Don regaining consciousness on the floor, with his face beaten and bloody.

That last one really gave me a start, and then we’re immediately jolted into a flashback, with Don meticulously getting ready for work, giving Betty superfluous, flippant decorating advice to placate her. “Seven Twenty Three” — the meaning of which doesn’t become clear until one of the final shots of the episode, though it’s also a type of mortgage — is primarily about these three characters and the physical manifestations of what happens to them emotionally through the course of ninety-six hours or so, a weekend which features that most symbolic of celestial events: an eclipse.

It all revolves around Don and Conrad Hilton. Hilton shows up unannounced at Sterling-Cooper and offers Don the advertising for his New York operations. This earns him a round of applause from the troops, and a hearty congratulations from the brass. Unfortunately Hilton’s lawyers have a problem with the arrangement: Don isn’t under contract with Sterling-Cooper. Don is handed a contract and asked to go over it with his lawyer, but Don hesitates. His lack of a contract, after all, is how he was able to outmaneuver Duck at the end of last season. But now the top dogs are wondering why Don should get to play by a different set of rules. Don agrees to take the contract home over the weekend.

Betty has apparently joined the Junior League, and has been asked to use her brief acquaintance with Rockefeller aide Henry Francis to try to stop the construction of a water tank near the local reservoir. “Real estate,” says fellow member Francinse, “That’s scary.” Henry, you may recall, was the strange man at Roger’s party who put his hand on Betty’s pregnant abdomen. Both Henry and Betty show up for their meeting alone, and after making vague promises to do what he can, escorts Betty outside where she stares directly into the eclipse! Henry quickly and heroically shields her eyes lest she be blinded, then points out a “fainting couch” at the local Wentworth’s, explaining how Victorian ladies frequently needed to lie down. “That’s what you need,” he says.

Meanwhile, Peggy receives an expensive scarf from Duck, who is still trying to court her and Pete. Pete demands that she send the scarf back, but Peggy isn’t sure. Pete explains that Duck is just trying to use them to get back at Don. Peggy calls Duck and tells him she is going to return the scarf, but he sees through her reluctance and asks her to return the scarf in person.

At this point, everything blows up.

Don’s experience is the most dramatic, of course. He gets beaten up by Ms. Farrell for being a philanderer, which he denies (plausibly since he hasn’t actually propositioned her). He gets beaten up by Betty for not telling her about the contract. “It doesn’t concern you,” he says. “They want me, and they can’t have me.” “Why would I think that has anything to do with me,” is Betty’s icy reply. He gets beaten up by a hallucination of his dead father, who derides him for having a career where he doesn’t actually make anything. Then he gets literally beaten up by a hitchhiking draft dodger and his fiancee. The pair slip him two phenobarbital — which he takes willingly — knock him on the back of the head, and rob him. They’re nice enough to leave him his car. Finally he is beaten up by Bert Cooper, who blackmails him into signing the contract. “Would you say that I know something about you, Don?” he says. “After all, when it comes down to it, who’s really signing this contract anyway?” Don, black eyes and bandaged nose, signs the contract a broken man. The date: 7/23/63.

It’s also worth noting, incidentally, that the episode begins and ends with separate, powerful men both seated at Don’s desk. He has kind of made a deal with the devil. He has subjugated himself. He also seems more than willing to take any drug he’s ever offered, but that’s another matter.

Peggy, on the other hand, gets screwed. She’s already been screwed out of a well-deserved raise because of Lane Pryce’s penny-pinching, and now she’s screwed out of being on the team for the Hilton account because she asks Don when he’s in a bad mood. It’s a great scene, so I’ll quote it verbatim:

PEGGY: I’m sorry. I was excited. And I heard there was an amazing assignment –
DON: And you thought you’d come in here and ask for it because I never say no.
PEGGY: You say no all the time.
DON: What do I have to do for you, Peggy? Tell me. You were my secretary! And now you have an office and a job that a lot of full grown men would kill for. Every time I turn around, you’ve got your hand in my pocket. You want a raise. You want this account. Put your nose down and pay attention to your work, because there is not one thing that you’ve done here that I couldn’t live without.
PEGGY: I am … I am sorry, Don.
DON: You’re good. Get better. Stop asking for things

Witness the emphasis Don places on “full grown” men, as if Peggy’s not only guilty of being female, but also a child. It’s worth noting that Pete didn’t get this kind of treatment when he asked for a spot on the account. So Peggy takes the scarf back to Duck, tells him she doesn’t want a job, then proceeds to jump into bed with him. It’s an icky scene, capped off by the alcoholic Duck grunting, “I love the taste of whiskey on your breath.” And yet when morning comes, Peggy hardly seems horrified with what she’s done. In fact, it looks like she’s fully yprepared to do it all over again, but there’s no indication that she’s leaving Sterling-Cooper. Is Duck playing the role of surrogate Don to Peggy not as a boss but as a lover? How exactly does she feel about Don anyway?

Betty, meanwhile, is overwhelmed by interior design choices, overwhelmed by screaming children who can’t figure out when to hang up the phone, overwhelmed by a handsome man who might be interested in her, and overwhelmed by a husband that won’t share anything about himself or his work. We’ve seen all season that Betty wants to live a life of privilege and free of responsibility, so the fantasy of being a wealthy Victorian woman reclining on a “fainting couch” must appeal to her very much.

So what does it mean to stare into an eclipse, or, if you prefer, be told that you shouldn’t stare at an eclipse? Carlton has one of the funniest lines of the episode in asking Don why it matters: “I stare at the sun every day.” But from a symbolic standpoint, are our characters blind because they’ve stared for too long (the way everyone gapes at Hilton when he’s in the office), or are they blind because they’re afraid to look at all (Pete not even considering Duck’s offer)? I haven’t sorted all of that out yet. Also Don and Roger walk into the office at the start of the episode with everything seeming to be fine between them, but Don finishes the episode by demanding that Bert keep Roger away from him. So file that under “appearances can be deceiving”.

This was a very good episode with wonderful thematic depth and strong performances, especially the light touch Robert Morse gives his climactic scene with Jon Hamm in Don’s office. Morse also has the funniest line of the night, speaking of Conrad Hilton: “I met him once. He’s a bit of an eccentric, isn’t he?” The symbolism may be a little heavy-handed for some tastes, but I appreciated it.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

There goes my theory about Don leaving Sterling-Cooper to open his own firm.

I don’t think it’s possible to watch Ken Cosgrove burst into the office on a riding lawnmower without knowing that sooner or later, the lawnmower is going to cause havoc. And naturally that’s exactly what happens in the third act of “Guy Walks into an Advertising Agency”, though I have to admit, I never expected it to cut someone’s foot off.

This was the episode where the masterplot of the season really started to take shape. This is going to be a season about expectations: dreaming big, counting your chickens, taking chances, the grass is always greener, and be careful what you wish for. It will be a season about the loss of Camelot, and in larger terms the loss of one’s identity. Much of that was on display in this episode, right from the symbolic announcement that the Fourth of July has been canceled.

Let’s start with Roger, who has been left out in the cold since selling the company to the Brits (and left off the new organizational chart). What does he even do anymore? It’s not clear. But upon hearing that their British overlords are coming to check up on them, Bert sends Roger and Don to his barber for a shave. There’s something kind of emasculating about having another man remove one’s facial hair, but it doesn’t compare with Roger getting a manicure (which he seems to enjoy). The question for Roger is whether or not he can be satisfied just being rich without being relevant.

Lane, on the other hand, is defined more by his skills than his humanity. He’s done such a great job getting Sterling-Cooper’s books in order that the bosses are sending him to the office in Bombay, which he is encouraged to think of as a “reward and a challenge”. “I feel like I’ve just attended my own funeral,” he tells Don later. “And I didn’t like the eulogy.” It’s a bitter comeuppance for Lane, who sparred with Don over the price of the little things that make workers happy only to be treated the same way by his superiors.

Joan has come to be defined in two ways: as the efficient timekeeper of the Sterling-Cooper offices and as the wife of a successful doctor. Now it turns out her husband isn’t remotely successful, and she’s quit her job at Sterling-Cooper in anticipation of her husband’s never-received promotion. The scene between Joan and Greg after he comes home drunk is the high point of the episode. The performances in that scene are fantastic, and felt as real as anything on television this past year. It’s certainly hard to feel sorry for Greg — I can’t get past the fact that he’s a rapist — but it’s always good to see Joan out of the office. Christina Hendricks does a marvelous job keeping Joan in control even when she appears to be losing control.

And of course if Sally is to be believed, then Baby Gene’s identity is in question too. Sally — for reasons that seem hard to swallow — believes her baby brother is actually the reincarnated spirit of her recently deceased grandfather!

Only Bert and Don seem to be at peace with the constant string of unexpected developments. Bert, who sums up the turmoil at Sterling-Cooper by stating flatly, “We took their money. Now we have to do what they say,” seems as though he’d be more than content to spend the rest of his days shoeless in his office looking at Japanese art. And though Don allows himself to dream of a life in London, he eventually comes back to earth and explains his reserve to Conrad Hilton (aka “Connie”) by citing a metaphor about a hungry snake that suffocates on its food. Don wants the food, but he’s smart enough not to ask for too much at once. Contrast that with Peggy, who wants not only the “man’s job” but also the “man’s pay” to go with it. Contrast that with the civil rights battles about to heat up. Don wants the good stuff, but he’s ultimately passive. He’ll let things happen to him.

He thrives on that. Remember that Don is a man who is contemptuous of familiarity. That’s why he’s always cheating on his wife. That’s why he sneaks off to Palm Springs with a complete stranger. And he sums up this philosophy when talking to Sally about Baby Gene: “We don’t know who he is yet or who he’s going to be. And that is a wonderful thing.” Don would like to think that we don’t know who he is going to be a year or month or day from this time. And maybe we don’t. Don craves a blank canvas.

Ultimately that desire for “more” seems to be at the heart of this season. Peggy wants more money. Pete wants more responsibility (or respect). Don wants more surprises. Joan wants more life as a happy housewife. And next to this we see a desire to return to the way things used to be: Roger wants to be in charge again. Betty wants a life free of the duties of adulthood. Guy Mackendrick wants his foot back (presumably). Not everyone is troubled, of course. Harry, for example, is taking on more and more prominence at the agency, and John Hooker has just become the new office manager now that Joan is gone. But on the whole, it’s not a satisfied lot.

Speaking of Guy, I enjoyed him. He seemed phony for sure, but also seemed like a genuinely decent fellow underneath. A little too big for his britches perhaps. I must say that the joke about Guy never playing golf again struck me as too obvious by half. Where was the rimshot? The rest of the episode, however, killed. From Peggy’s greeting to the British delegation (“I was just writing copy.”), to the bosses telling Lane that his best attribute is that he always does as he’s told, to the janitor squeegeeing Guy’s blood off the office window, this was a hilarious episode from beginning to end.

Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

I don’t find it at all surprising that a budding feminist like Sally wouldn’t want a Barbie. Nor is it surprising that she’d scream when the Barbie mysteriously reappeared. It might as well be Gloria Steinem’s nightmare.

You know, it takes a certain amount of dedication to write these reviews every week. One, I have to watch the show, which is fine because I’d do that anyway, only I have to make sure I watch it pretty soon after it airs or anything I write will be stale. Two, I have to pay enough attention during the viewing so that I actually have something to write about when I sit down at the computer. When the episode is really good, like last week’s, the review is more likely to “write itself”. It doesn’t work that way, unfortunately, when the episode is a total mess like this week’s clunker “The Fog”. This descent into narrative madness was one of the worst episodes of Mad Men yet produced.

A statement like that carries with it the requisite caveat that, yes, the worst episode of Mad Men is still better than the best episode of CSI: Miami, and I appreciate that the most wonderful shows are going to occasionally swing and miss. But how did the producers not realize this was all going to go so wrong? They can’t even blame it on the disjointedness that sometimes plagues episodes with multiple writers, because Kater Gordon is the lone credited scribe on this one. I can’t make sense of it.

Before getting into what didn’t work, let me highlight a few things that did:

1. Pete Campbell’s outrage over being packaged with Peggy in their tandem meeting with Duck Phillips. “If you want to woo me, you’ll have to buy me my own lunch.”

2. Peggy’s directness when Don turns down her request for a raise, then moans, “What do you want me to say?” “I don’t believe I could have been more clear,” she responds. “You have everything and so much of it.” Then, outside his office, she lets Pete twist in the wind over how much information she shared with Don.

3. Pete trying to convince Hollis to tell him why he chose to buy an RCA television, and Hollis doing everything he can to avoid giving an answer that will commit him in any way. And for that matter, why would one ethnic group prefer a certain model of television over another anyway?

4. Betty rising from the bed in response to the sounds of crying Baby Eugene, and slowly walking toward the door while the music becomes suspenseful. Then she stops, and the music develops into the same theme heard previously throughout the episode. She’s not going to kill the baby; she’s just going to feed him.

5. Don bringing the kids to see Betty and the baby at the hospital. Not in the hospital, mind you; they apparently have to stand outside and wave.

6. Everyone’s general disinterest in the baby once he’s born. He doesn’t seem to be loved. What an intriguing development.

There were other nice moments I’ve since forgotten about, but on the whole, the rest of the episode was a failure. And part of the reason it was a failure is because it was all over the place, like they tried to pack three episodes into one. First we’re dealing with Sally’s and Betty’s grief. Then Betty is having the baby while Don has a trite conversation with a prison guard in the solarium. Then the baby is born, but Don has to deal with a penny-pinching British CFO who doesn’t understand creative types. Finally Don brings Betty home where the kids (and Frances) are waiting, delighted to see her. Remember how Sally was grief-stricken over Grandpa Gene? Apparently Don’s statement that “It’s not Grandpa Gene’s room; it’s the baby’s room,” set her straight enough to enjoy a midnight snack, though I imagine most kids would have been kind of upset with that answer.

The “fog” of the title applies specifically to Betty’s lack of awareness as things happen around her during Eugene’s birth. And through the episode, various characters are invited to wake up before it’s too late. Pryce sees financial ruin if the firm doesn’t start using less paper. Sterling and Cooper berate Campbell for not being aware that Admiral wouldn’t want to produce “colored” televisions. Duck tries to coax Peggy to leave Sterling-Cooper by labeling her a “free-wheeling career gal” who will never be appreciated where she is. And Don’s waiting room partner, the prison guard, declares that he will turn over a new leaf and be a better man, insisting that Don acknowledge his promise. “I heard you,” Don says.

But that’s just the kind of scene that didn’t work. It was too much. Don knows he’s an unfaithful bastard. He doesn’t need another man to berate himself with cliches to experience a moment of self-awareness. Don is the most aware person on the show! Likewise with Sally’s teacher. Having her call the house to apologize for being insensitive in the wake of Gene’s death is an unnecessary flashing red sign where the initial scene in the classroom provided more than enough seeds for whatever that plot is going to become — does anyone think there’s any chance Don won’t have an affair with the teacher? Don declining to tell Betty who was on the phone could be chalked up to not wanting her to become upset again about her dad, especially when she’s already in a highly emotional state (going into labor and all), but the cheating is mundane at this point.

But nothing fell with a harder thud in “The Fog” than the terrible, terrible, shockingly pointless dream sequence taking place in the Drapers’ kitchen and beyond. From the moment Betty arrived at the hospital to the moment the baby was born, we were treated to some of the most heavy-handed writing this side of a Paul Haggis movie. Maybe there are some mothers out there that will have a different perspective on it — yes, clearly it was different for women in the sixties — but I stand by my claim that it was a disaster.

Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

Look, I think I’m a pretty perceptive guy, and I like to give my favorite shows the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I missed some crucial, overarching theme that brought the episode together in a revelatory, satisfying way. But I don’t think so. Not this time. Only some good stuff from Peggy and Pete — as well as a cameo by Yeardley Smith — kept the episode from being a total loss.