This week's episode of Mad Men, entitled "Mystery Date," reeked of gender and violence in a surprisingly visceral way. Just a warning that the content of this blog may be both triggering and full of spoilers. This episode really played with the push/pull that viewers feel about sensationalized violence. As spectators, are we titillated by these types of representations? Sometimes. Do these images and stories repulse us? Often. These horrors often envelope us, ubiquitous and hard to avoid, saturating viewers' minds with images that resonate. Yet, this week's Mad Men makes clear that violence is experienced differently by everyone, and it haunts the show's women characters in important ways.
First, Peggy's cool lesbian best-bud Joyce pops by with some exclusive photographs of the crime scene everyone is talking about--Richard Speck's student nurse massacre circa Chicago, July 1966. I'm not going into details, but will mention that there was only one survivor, who hid under the bed during this one-man act of despicable carnage. The writers and artists of SCDP (Sterling Cooper Draper Price, Mad Men's ad agency) are not immune to this crime's push/pull attraction, and each grasp the photo magnifier to examine these images. Peggy, Joyce, Stan, and Meghan all register equal parts disgust and curiosity about these violent representations. Only copy-writing newbie Michael Ginsberg vocalizes his discomfort, storming out of the room AFTER looking at the evidence.
Momentary aside: Ginsberg is one of those verbally incontinent characters that I know are necessary to DRAMA on television, but that I already loathe after last week's introduction. Peggy is undeniably the heart and soul of this show, and this new loud-mouth copywriter might be threatening her already tenuous position at the agency. I thought this guy was only hired to work on the Mohawk Airlines account, and now he's having meetings and schilling women's shoes. What? Grrr.
Oh, and everyone keeps calling him a genius. Please. MG's blowhard ways are highlighted in his pitch scene with the Butler shoe company, attended by a flu-riddled Don, Ken Cosgrove, and a group of middle-aged white guy clients. I cannot even remember what the campaign is about, but on the client's agreeing to it, he keeps jabbering on about their former "Cinderella/fairy tale" scheme. This narrative is about a woman fleeing a dark, shadowed man in an alley. She's represented as "wounded prey," and she's hobbled by only having one shoe on, albeit a fabulous Butler shoe. She's frightened by this dark man, but he's too handsome to ignore and she wants to "be caught." This trio of white guys LOVES this pitch, and they run with it. And they call MG a genius, again.
What strikes me is the fantasy imagery here, and how it strikes a chord with the all around gendered violence theme of this episode. This imagery contains the standard women-in-jeopardy Gothic tropes that were exploding in horror films and popular culture at that time, and would continue to do so through the early seventies. Heroine fleeing from talk dark stranger in diaphanous nightgown, mouldering pile of real estate perched on cliff in the background? Check. Confusing sexual desires and tensions erupting from this environment? Check. I can see Annette Vadim from Blood and Roses (1960) already. While MG was just moments ago guilting everyone over their interest in the Speck massacre, he seems pretty clueless about his own complicity in perpetuating these same types of images of gendered violence and threat.
Thankfully, Don's not too happy with MG's verbal incontinence, yet his attitude speaks to his own feelings about aging and obsolescence more than MG's social awkwardness. I couldn't help thinking about Don's changing relationship to his career, and how his role as the "golden boy" and "genius" of advertising may be usurped by some young pup. Five years ago, Don was driving his colleagues to tears with his nostalgia-laden pitch for the Kodak carousel slide projector. Now, he's got a young hot (second) wife, a terrible cold, and this upstart is being called a "genius" by everyone else. He ALMOST fires MG. But doesn't. Boo.
While Don Draper is always a compellingly-flawed character, this episode really emphasizes his capacity for infidelity and violence, highlighting Don in the darkest way to date. The show continues to question whether Don has really changed, as many characters have suggested throughout season five. Don's a serial cheater, and his "reformed rake" persona, now that he's married to Zou Bisou Bisou, or Meghan, seemed tenuous at best. This guy has a ton of baggage and a girl or three in every borough. He was bound to bump into one of his former paramours sooner or later, and he ends up having an awkward encounter with "Andrea" in the elevator. This moment works because Meghan is clear on the other side of this metal box, trying not to get infected by Don's corruption (oops, I meant awful cold). Initially, Andrea thinks that Don's still a swinging single until he introduces her to his wife. Awkward moment ensues, yet one that will haunt Don in very bad ways.
Meghan forgives Don for his past indiscretions, more or less, but Don clearly does not forgive himself. After her insistence that he goes home and climb into bed, Don goes home and has some far too telling "fever dreams" that both resonate with this episode's violent themes and are still FREAKING ME OUT! Impressively, the show does not clearly indicate that these "dreams" are not really happening, and that they are all just manifestations of Don's damaged psyche. After he finally collapses on his bed, a knock on the door distracts him, and he rises to answer it. Peeking through the keyhole, he sees Andrea, who subsequently insists that they didn't get a chance to talk. She strong arms her way into the apartment, and Don, in his weakened state, seems powerless to resist. He tosses her out the back to the service elevator, but she turns up moments later, like the "bad penny" she accuses Don of being. She embodies the role of the "predatory female" that Don seems to enjoy; one only needs to recall his asking to be slapped in one episode, and Meghan and Don's more recent vanilla S & M scenario as reminders. The concern over whether Meghan will come home in the midst of all of this further adds to scene's forbidden tensions.
Don continues to weakly insist she leave, but then, suddenly, he gives in to her sexual wiles (eye roll) and surrenders. So much for new found marital fidelity. In the influenza afterglow, Don immediately regrets what just happened, and vows that it can never happen again. Andrea says something provocative (I cannot even remember), and before you can say oops, this event occurs:
And he kills her and shoves her body under his marital bed, with a lone red shoe peeking out from underneath. WTF!! I cannot fully express how utterly shocking and horrifying this moment is, and it drives home the violence of which even the show's conflicted hero is capable. Don subsequently passes out, and awakes to Meghan bringing him some OJ and her caring concern. Turns out that she's been home, next to him, the entire time and he dreamed all this sick stuff up. While this cliched solution to Don's troubled urges may appear too pat, the scene still resonates due to its lack of "dream imagery" clues. The fact that Don's fever caused these hallucinations does not let him off the hook. One cannot look at Don precisely the same way ever again.
On a different, but related, topic, Joan finally gave her husband, Greg, the heave-ho, and I'm certain that tons of Joan fans are cheering as loudly as I am. Greg is a lazy, talentless, domineering surgeon, just come back from Vietnam, where he is proud to be needed. Greg instantly achieved villain status in season two when he did not understand that "no means no" and forced himself on his fiancee, Joan, on the floor of Don's office. The scene is very gracefully done, framed through Joan's perspective, and not graphic, but still exceedingly disturbing--one of the most disturbing moments in this show's history. That Joan forgives this unforgivable act continues to shadow her character throughout subsequent seasons, and in this episode some of those issues are resolved, almost as a panacea for Don's criminal "dream behavior." That the show is willing to align Don's violent act with Greg's serves to hold the societal links between masculinity and violence under a glaring magnifier. When Joan tells Greg that "he's not a good man" and "you know what I'm talking about" her words not only put Greg in his place, but also shine a light on Don's character as well. Don will need a lot more scenes where he warmly engages with Peggy or his daughter, Sally, in order to be properly rehabilitated.
Speaking of Peggy, her wrangling with Roger over financial recompense was definitely one of the highlights of the episode. This season is so much about the old guard realizing they are about to be displaced, and Roger Stirling looks more and more like a dinosaur facing extinction. In light of MG's absence (he's the designated Mohawk Airlines copywriter), and Pete's demands that the MA campaign needs to be pitched on Monday, Roger looks to Peggy to save his ass. He offers her ten dollars to come up with something. She asks how much money he has, and he tells her $400, which she immediately demands from him. $10 for the work, and $390 for the lie she's willing to support regarding the last minute campaign. Roger's not in a position to say no to her. Way to go, Peggy!! She handles this exchange so smoothly, she inspires awe.
Her working late leads to the next wonderful set piece in this episode: her attempts at friendship with SCDP's only black employee, Don's new secretary, Dawn. Initially the scene continues the threatening vibe permeating the rest of the episode. Upon hearing a strange noise, Peggy exits her office to investigate. Cue all the standard horror movie tropes. Peggy's reaching for the door to Don's office is straight out of Hitchcock's Rebecca and countless other subsequent women-in-peril films. What will she find behind the door?! Dawn, rolled up in a blanket on the couch, and afraid to go home. Cabs will not take her above 90th Street, the subway's too dangerous, and there are riots in Harlem. Peggy invites Dawn to stay at her place for what becomes a bit of a drunken sleepover.
Peggy feels that she and Dawn are sisters in that they were both at one time "the only one of their kind" at the office and that they need to stick together. She drunkenly shares that she too was once Don's secretary, and then asks Dawn if she thinks that Peggy "acts like a man." Dawn diplomatically suggests that she probably has to behave in that way. This scene gives viewers a little more insight into Dawn's character, but not enough to satisfy. I'm much more interested in her than MG, and hoping that Mad Men devotes more time to Dawn's experiences. Peggy, like all of SCDP's characters, is not immune to the period's racism, but tries to rise above her prejudices, leaving her purse full of cash on the coffee table, and refusing to grab it when she cleans up their empty beer bottles. This moment emphasizes the serious differences between Peggy and Dawn, even if they share some feelings and experiences too.
Finally, a word regarding Sally Draper, evil grandmothers, and Seconal. As someone who will undoubtedly be part of the culture's burgeoning youth movement, Sally's characterization is increasingly multifaceted and fascinating. Her bored and unhappy phone call to her dad, Don, situates her unease and the gulf between generations. He wants to instill strictures on her upbringing, but ultimately cannot be bothered with how much television she watches, or how she entertains herself. Despite feeling seriously ill, Don listens to Sally's concerns; granted, he's pretty dismissive, but he sympathizes with her experiences in "the haunted mansion" (Betty's house), and tells her that she made him feel a little better. Not bad, Don, but there is still room for improvement.
Sally's on the cusp of womanhood, and is dealing with many issues common to that time period. Most adults want to treat her like a child, but she nestles between those liminal spaces. Grandma Pauline, Henry's mother, believes that Sally needs discipline, and threatens her with the usual strictures--sit at the table until your food is gone, go to your room and never be allowed out, etc. Pauline, like the majority of the country, is fascinated by the Speck massacre, and leaks little bits of the story; just enough to pique Sally's interest.
That night, Sally steals the paper from the garbage and subsequently freaks out, going to Pauline with her fears. Pauline proceeds to regale Sally with some of the harrowing details of the crime, and a lovely story about her father. Turns out that Grandma's Father kicked her across the room "for nothing" and that she learned a valuable lesson from that experience. Yikes. Pauline proceeds to gleefully paint the Speck massacre for Sally in vivid detail, validating her role as a miserable sadist. Here the episode comes full circle, as viewers are once again reminded that at a very early age, young women are meant to see the world through a lens of fear and dread. Yet these fears also produce curiosity and titillation. Pauline undeniably enjoys some of the more salacious parts of this crime, but that pleasure is coupled with acute fear. She is sitting in the living room with a giant butcher knife next to her after all. How does one cope with these unpleasant truths? Seconal!! When Sally complains that she will never be able to sleep now (thanks!), Pauline offers her a bit of her powerful prescription tranquilizer. Fast forward to the next morning, when Betty and Henry arrive back to find Pauline still out cold, and Sally nowhere in sight, even though they plaintively call her name. As the camera slowly pulls back, the scene shows Sally, under the couch, passed out cold on the floor. This image purposefully echoes the scene, verbally recounted many times in this episode, of Speck's nurse survivor hiding in terror under the bed.
This episode of Mad Men delved into so many dark places, I'm quite curious how the show will rise out of the muck next week. The show had more in common with American Horror Story than I could have ever expected. Here's hoping for some lightness to balance things out next week.
