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If You Were Me: Mad Men, Season 3


“I keep going to a lot of places and ending up somewhere I’ve already been,” Don Draper tells a sexy stewardess in the first episode of the season. From the start of season three, we know that the past will be encroaching more persistently than ever before. The first scene involves flashbacks to Dick Whitman’s birth with adult Dick/Don staring across a dark kitchen at the ugliness of his own conception. Born to a prostitute who died in childbirth, Dick was raised by a woman who never allowed him to forget his origins. Reinventing himself as Don Draper has taken him far, but he always returns to the reality of his self-loathing.

Given his background, there are certainly Freudian implications to Don’s interactions with women. Is he seeking the love and acceptance that he never received from a mother-figure? Or is his sporadic disregard for their feelings a way of getting back at the callous woman who raised him? Despite his hatred for his father, Don bears similarities to him in his drinking and philandering. The biggest difference is that Don’s misbehavior is usually controlled. In the seventh episode, a drug-induced stupor shows Don a vision of his father, who watches him with disgust. Fear of being his father’s son looms large in Don’s psyche.


After two precarious seasons, season three sees the final breakdown of the Drapers’ marriage. Don and Betty both conduct affairs, physical or emotional, that suggest what’s missing in their relationship with each other. Don is entranced by Sally’s teacher at the end of the second episode. As she dances barefoot in the grass, Miss Farrell seems to offer purity and renewal, but she resists Don’s advances until episode nine. She also calls him out for being a cliché of suburban boredom, saying that he wants her “because I’m new and different. Or maybe I’m exactly the same.” Despite pointing out the exhausting inevitability of Don’s affairs, he seems to appreciate that she isn’t fooled by him.

Betty loses her father early in the season—the man who indignantly told Don that his daughter is a princess. There are paternal aspects to her relationship with Henry Francis, who promises that he wants to take care of her. Don made similar attempts, but his care was usually financial rather than emotional. In Henry she finds someone who will treat her delicately while being direct about his intentions. Henry tells her, “I’m not in love with the tragedy of this thing. It’s not Romeo and Juliet. I want it to happen.” After years of marriage to Don, Betty is tired of playing the tragic heroine and ready to be revered again.


There are several lines of dialogue in the final episodes that are reminiscent of meaningful moments from the previous season. Most heartbreaking, when Betty confronts Don about his true identity, she asks, “What would you do if you were me? Would you love you?” I was reminded of Pete going to Don for guidance after his father’s death, skeptical to believe that Don would follow his own advice. Both scenes emphasize the unknowable facets of other people. Another callback comes in Don’s speech to recruit Peggy for the new agency. He tells her that she understands this concept: “There are people out there who buy things, people like you and me, and something happened—something terrible. And the way they saw themselves is gone.” This echoes Peggy’s speech to Pete in the season two finale, explaining to him that she feels a part of herself is gone and won’t come back. Don sees this in Peggy and considers her a kindred spirit because of it.

Want is a central theme of the show, and the final episode of season three gives us a direct articulation of what Don Draper wants. Furious that Bert Cooper is willing to let the agency disappear without a fight, Don declares, “I want to work. I want to build something of my own. How can you not understand that?” It’s a simple statement, but also one of the truest things his character has ever said. The dogged determination to create something out of nothing is Don’s greatest virtue. Roger tells Don, “You’re not good at relationships because you don’t value them,” to which Don replies, “I value my relationship with you.” If this is true, it’s because Roger understands The Work, and The Work is everything to Don.


The gleeful creation of Sterling Cooper Draper Price is a high point of the series. When Don looks around the hotel suite bustling with the members of his fledgling agency, he actually appears content. He’s ready to let go of his marriage and start anew. It just so happens, the next season is my absolute favorite.


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This Never Happened: Mad Men, Season 2


Don Draper’s life is all about moving forward, or so he would like to believe. In the first season of Mad Men, two women ask him how he goes from work and affairs to an outwardly normal home life, and his response is “I don’t even think about it.” Don and several other characters try to live by his philosophy in season two, but the results are often less successful than they first appear.

Episode five, “The New Girl,” has several flashbacks to Peggy’s time in the hospital after giving birth. Peggy is in deep denial, but she doesn’t extract herself from the situation until receiving a visit from Don. After giving his patented advice to move forward, Don tells her, “This never happened. It will shock you how much it never happened.” As we see throughout the season, Peggy is trying to live by his advice, yet Don seems to be cracking under the pressure of his own secrets and self-denials. By the third episode, he’s returned to his old pattern, entering into an affair with a comedian’s wife. However, unlike his affairs in the first season, his interactions with Bobbie Barrett have no warmth or affection. Their liaisons are about a fleeting moment of domination and oblivion.


In episode six, “Maidenform,” Don becomes uncomfortable under his daughter’s loving gaze on two occasions. After the first time he runs to Bobbie, and the second time he just asks Sally to leave him alone. Both instances prove that for all his talk about forgetting the past, Don feels like a fraud when faced with his daughter’s blind admiration. By mid-season, when Betty is tipped off to his most recent affair, Don’s self-loathing must be reaching maximum capacity. Jimmy Barrett tells Don, “You’re garbage and you know it,” and we believe him. As Don escapes to California for a business trip, we see a more drastic attempt to either forget the past or find a place where he is truly known.

And where Don feels truly known is not in a stranger’s mansion with a group of cosmopolitan nomads. The companionship of a young, carefree woman would seem to offer everything his philandering heart desires, but he ultimately rejects her as well. Instead he goes to Anna Draper, the widow of the man whose identity he stole. In her presence he can be plain old Dick Whitman again. During this visit, Anna delivers one of the most important lines of the entire series: “The only thing keeping you from being happy is the belief that you are alone.”


The desire to be known also creeps into Pete and Peggy’s conversation in the season finale. I’ve long contended that “Meditations in an Emergency” is one of the best television episodes ever. The backdrop of the Cuban Missile Crisis gives everyone an “end of the world” mentality, which befits Sterling Cooper’s looming merger with another ad agency. In the case of Pete Campbell, it leads him to wonder who would care if he was gone. “I mean, Trudy would care,” he tells Peggy, “but she doesn’t know me. But you do. And I know you.” The scene is tragic because Pete really doesn’t know Peggy, a fact that she makes clear by telling him about her pregnancy. It’s an end to innocence for both characters.

If season one asks, “What do I want?” then season two asks, “Who am I now?” When Pete learns of his father’s death, he goes to Don with the news. A rather bewildering choice, given their contentious history, but Pete still looks up to Don. As Pete talks over what to do next, it amounts to asking, Don, how do I be a person? Pete knows that Don won’t make a scene, not to mention Don is familiar with lacking the proper emotional responses to situations. Yet there’s something very sad about turning to Don Draper, Human Cipher, for reassurance. When Don tells him to be with his family, Pete skeptically asks, “Is that what you would do?” It’s as if he believes that Don has the key but won’t give it to him.


In season two, Peggy continues her transformation into a career woman, eventually rejecting the earnest confession of love that her earlier self probably craved. Don tests the limits of his dual lives before ending up back at the kitchen table with Betty. In the midst of an emergency, Don goes home to his family, just as he told Pete he would, but he hardly seems less alone than the season before.

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Inventing Want: Mad Men, Season 1

In which I rewatch Mad Men from the beginning and analyze it for your reading pleasure. I’m attempting to do one post per season, but we’ll see how it goes.


“You make the lie,” a Greenwich Village hipster tells Don Draper. “You invent want.” In the post-war heyday of consumer culture, an ad man’s job is to tell people what they want. Yet the men and women of Mad Men are constantly struggling to understand what they themselves want or need. This central theme can be found in every episode of the first season, sometimes very explicitly stated, but always there under the surface.

“Ladies Room,” the second episode, finds Don asking, “What do women want?” He poses the question in a creative meeting about spray deodorant, but the idea clearly derives from trouble at home. His wife Betty is suffering from unexplained nerves and might need to see a psychiatrist. Apart from his disdain for psychiatry, Don can’t understand why Betty could be unhappy when she has “all of this.” All of this is the picturesque suburban home and two children to occupy her days. He later tells her, “It’s my job to give you what you want.” Of course, for Don this means the material proof of success and respectability, which his own childhood utterly lacked.


Undefined want is not limited to the show’s female characters. “New Amsterdam,” episode four, feels like it’s asking, “What do men want?” Or perhaps more broadly, “What makes you a man?” The episode follows Pete Campbell’s conflict with his new wife over buying an apartment that they can’t afford on their own. Accustomed to always getting what she wants, Trudy happily turns to her parents for money. Pete, in typical Pete fashion, is feeling emasculated at every turn. With most of his achievements coming on the back of his family connections, Pete craves nothing more than respect and control. Don likes to undermine these efforts at work, while Trudy does so at home. All he has are small rebellions like trading in a duplicate wedding present for an air rifle.

Some characters’ desires are easier to define than others. As the central enigma of the show, Don’s are arguably given the most attention and complexity. For a character like Betty, I would venture to say that she wants the substance of her life to match the facade. The culture of Mad Men is all about presenting the most attractive image to the world, while the show delights in revealing the unflattering truth behind it. Betty wants her picture perfect life to actually be perfect, with the devoted husband and well-behaved children. In her bizarre interactions with Glenn Bishop, he says she’s beautiful and compares her to a princess. Betty wants Don to put her on that same pedestal, as he may have done at the beginning of their relationship before the mundanities of life crept in.


Betty’s world is shaken whenever she sees the truth behind someone else’s facade. The most potent example is divorced Helen Bishop, whose presence in the neighborhood is a specter to Betty, the embodiment of her worst nightmare. Mad Men is obsessed with doubling characters like this. At turns the characters emulate or recoil from each other, but always provide juxtaposition. Don and Pete are my favorite example. Pete wants to be like Don from the first episode, but he lacks the natural charisma. Besides which, Don is (quite literally) a self-made man, giving him no patience for the old money that has smoothed Pete’s path in life. However, Don doesn’t always have the upper hand, particularly when he can’t fire Pete due to the social connections he brings to the agency.

The season finale contains Don’s famous pitch to Kodak for their new projector wheel. Using photos of his own family in the presentation, Don talks about nostalgia as “a twinge in your heart” and “the pain from an old wound.” He says the projector can bring them back “to a place where we know we are loved.” During his affair with Rachel, Don wants to believe that she knows everything about him, but she won’t consent to be with him in the all-consuming way that he craves. His family doesn’t know the whole truth about him, but they have shown a willingness to love him blindly. Don wants to return to the facade and perhaps make it real. Instead he returns home to an empty house, his family already gone away for Thanksgiving, leaving him to face the reality that he is alone.


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A Befuddling Farewell to Don Draper

The final season of Mad Men wasn’t particularly satisfying to me, and I don’t think it would hurt Matthew Weiner’s feelings to read that. After seven seasons of subtle storytelling, it would take a very naive viewer to expect a finale that ties up every loose end. If anything, the show’s creator takes pride in frustrating his audience’s expectations for narrative closure. Let’s discuss! All the Mad Men spoilers ahead. Consider yourself warned.

Mad Men Don

I just can’t get behind separating Don from every established character for the final episodes of the show. I understand the metaphorical significance of California in the American psyche—hey Weiner, I took American lit too—but Don’s forays to the West Coast have never done much for me. Why would I want to watch him hang out with hippies whose worldview he clearly disdains? I will roll my eyes forever that he spent the final episode at some sort of New Age retreat. The only redeeming quality is that he apparently channels the experience into a Coca-Cola ad. Now that’s the Don Draper I know. In the end, all those incremental reveals of Dick Whitman didn’t amount to much, did they?

Season four was the pinnacle of Mad Men for me. It provided a refreshing reboot for both Don’s personal life and Sterling Cooper as a company. When Don married Megan at the end of the season, my interest in his character instantly waned. It was clear that she wasn’t the right match for him, and I didn’t look forward to watching another marriage unravel at an excruciatingly slow pace. I understand that repeating the same mistakes is one of Don’s fatal flaws or whatever, but I don’t find it very compelling after seven years.

Truth be told, I found myself less invested in the show as a whole in the later seasons. Rainbow Rowell said that she had to stop watching the show when no one was trying to be good anymore, and I can appreciate that sentiment. Not perfect, mind you, but trying. When I see a character like Peggy, who has hardened almost beyond recognition over the course of the series, I feel a little defeated myself.

Aside from Don, the other major characters got more traditional wrap-ups to their stories. The only one that really irked me was Pete reconciling with Trudy, particularly his claim that he’s never loved anyone but her. Okay, that statement happens to fly in the face of my favorite Pete-Peggy scene in the entire series, so I may be sore. Then again, I’ve always loved the idea of Pete as a poor man’s version of Don, never quite able to pull off the deception. If I carry that analogy into Pete’s hypothetical future, his second attempt at marital bliss could fail as spectacularly as Don’s.

Mad Men Steggy

On the subject of romantic resolutions, I had mixed feelings about the big Peggy and Stan moment. The show has thoroughly established the connection between the two, so it wasn’t completely unexpected. However, the phone call antics were a bit Friends-finale-esque, which I can’t imagine was Weiner’s intention. At least Peggy ends up with someone who a) isn’t already married and b) respects the importance of work in her life.

I’ve often said that I find Mad Men more satisfying when viewed in larger chunks. Maybe the same will hold true for the final season if I eventually feel compelled to watch it again. For now I can say that the finale was roughly in line with my expectations, if not my hopes.

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Mad Women (and Men)

Last Sunday was the season five finale of Mad Men. Well, that was quick. I guess when a season consists of only thirteen episodes, they’re always going to feel short. I’ve been intending to write a post about this much-anticipated (by me) season for a few weeks. If you aren’t completely caught up with Mad Men, please avert your eyes.

I have always admired the way that Mad Men handles controversial topics. When people complain that the characters are misogynist or racist, I feel like they’re missing the point. Instead of hitting the audience over the head with a “message,” the show presents the realities of 1960s society matter-of-factly. When these moments go by without comment from the characters, they become all the more jarring to a modern audience. Instead of being told how to feel, we must draw our only conclusions about the characters and the world in which they live.

Then season five happened. And for the first time, I felt that the show wasn’t living up to the standard set by four wonderful seasons. Instead of being given credit as an audience member, I was being led by the hand. And most importantly, I didn’t feel that unspoken moral compass that prevented me from being uncomfortable with the characters’ more questionable behavior.

In short, the ladies took a beating this season. Not literally, thank goodness, but they suffered almost every other indignity you can imagine. Life has never been easy for women in the Mad Men universe. Yet somehow they have always managed to be among the show’s most compelling characters, finding creative ways to get satisfaction in a man’s world. Because the show portrayed them as such well-rounded characters, I never felt protective of them, even in moments of blatant sexism.

That changed in Episode 11 when Joan was asked to prostitute herself in order to win a big account. It was a storyline so conspicuously sensational, with little of the emotional subtlety that I’ve come to expect from Mad Men. Then, in the very next episode, Lane Pryce’s suicide plays out in a similarly blunt manner. For the first time, when characters were being exploited on the show, I also felt that they were being exploited by the show. I was not being asked to draw my own conclusions about these horrible moments. Their purpose seemed to be shock value, and that did not sit well with me.

I have always said that Pete and Peggy are my favorite characters. Perhaps this stems from the scene between them in the season two finale. This season took both of their characters to a much darker place, and I found it hard to follow them. Even though Pete is a weasel, he fascinates me. He has always been ambitious, but also strangely naive. His key role in the “let’s make Joan a prostitute” scheme seemed to signal his complete turn to the dark side. Peggy is another character who started off with that naive ambition, but years with the Sterling Cooper crowd have hardened her almost beyond recognition. Still, I hated seeing Don throw money in her face. Yet again, the ladies take one for the team.

There are two seasons of Mad Men left. I can only hope that the next thirteen episodes are a return to form.

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Come Back to Me, Mad Men

As I contemplated writing a post about Mad Men, I realized that I haven’t written any posts about TV. And it’s certainly not because I don’t watch TV or get excited about certain shows. The timing of the blog is partially to blame, I suppose, because summer isn’t always the best time for television. Normally there would be a new season of Mad Men to look forward to, but contract negotiations set back the production of season five. Perhaps the real reason is that TV is where a lot of my guilty pleasures lie.

Mad Men, however, does not fall into that category. I was reunited with my beloved Madison Avenue ad execs when all four seasons popped up on Netflix Instant a few days ago. I plan on switching to only DVDs when the price hike takes effect, so I have to take advantage while I can. For the last two days, I’ve been reliving the wonderful fourth season. Experiencing the show in marathon form reminds me of when I first started watching it. I caught some second season episodes as they aired on AMC. I wasn’t overly enthralled, but something kept me interested. Instead I rented the first season on DVD to see what I was missing.

As it turned out, the DVD experience was the perfect way to get me hooked. The show is slow-paced, and watching an episode in isolation can feel like nothing really happens. Sure, the costumes and set design are gorgeous, but what about emotional content? By watching several episodes at once, you can appreciate the slow build to the intense moments of drama or revelation. Even the small moments of change start to feel huge when you get to know the characters from the beginning.

What I admire most about Mad Men is that it’s not afraid of change. The show has a track record for jaw-dropping season finales. I’m not just using that as an expression — my mouth has been literally hanging open on multiple occasions. My personal favorite is the season two finale, set against the backdrop of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Point being that with every finale, I’m left with the feeling that next season will be completely different. And more importantly, I can’t wait to see what that will mean. Unlike some shows that tiptoe around changes, Mad Men embraces them, bringing fresh ideas to each 13-episode run. Dare I say that the fourth season, which featured the most drastic changes in its characters lives, was the best one yet?

And did I mention the fashion? If you’re making a show this understated, you better at least be giving the people some eye candy. And do they ever. As I probably made obvious in some of my movie reviews, I’m a sucker for 1950s and ’60s fashion. Really the whole aesthetic from clothes to hair styles to furniture just makes my eyes happy. Oh, and have no fear for season five. According to my sources, they start shooting next week.

Hello, Vertigo-inspired season four DVD cover.


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