Oh, snap! A myth. A farce. A tall tale. A lie. The lives of everyone on this show. Do I get bonus points?
This week’s Mad Men revealed to us that man’s true nature is often lying just below the surface. The facade we show others rarely reveals the person inside. Plus, on Mad Men, ones true identity is often the exact opposite of what we see.
Would you agree that I know a little bit about you?
-Bert Cooper
A little.
-Don Draper
Last week, symbolism was everywhere and apparent. The lost dog. Don Draper naked. A bra campaign. This week, for most of the episode, it seemed as if typewriters, artwork, and dinner invitations were nothing more than simple scenes meant to entertain us. Instead, by the end of “The Golden Violin”, we felt as if we had been tied to the bumper of a New York City taxi cab and dragged down a dark alley, all the while bumping our heads off of dumpsters, trash cans, water meters, and the occasional cardboard-box-home of a hobo (you can see I’m a fan of the action-adventure genre).
This episode took a while to get going, but once it did, we learned Ken Cosgrove doesn’t actually like being on the account side of the ad business, but is actually a creative and talented writer. Joan isn’t as strong, confident, and in control as she makes out, and her house of cards is easily toppled. Salvatore …oh, sweet Salvatore …is not a macho Italian from Manhattan, but a closeted homosexual desperately trying to fit in. Bert Cooper is a shallow, materialistic business man who is simply putting on a show and playing the character of a quirky, eccentric genius. Harry Crane is actually a weasel. Pete Campbell wasn’t in this episode, but we know his daily performance in the real-world masks a life unfulfilled. And let’s not forget Peggy, Betty, and Duck. And that brings us to Don Draper …well …his artificial facade is well documented and was further documented in this episode. He appears to be nothing more than a dressed-up used car salesman (thanks, flashback), but we’ll need the entire run of the series to unlock his crazy brain.
It’s time for the horse to catch the carrot.
-Bert Cooper
It is said that all great stories, and especially comedy, are “great” because they can identify a truth. Comedy, in particular, derives from truth in pain. Story tellers, authors, and writers make their living because they can easily spot that truth, and then express it. Comedians can see the pain, and the genius comes in showing it to you, the audience, and making you laugh through your tears. A brilliant, modern-day comedian, Steve Harvey, calls this his “third eye” that allows him to see things in this world that you and I cannot see. So it was fitting that Mad Men’s resident comedian, Jimmy Barret, could see the truth of Don Draper, Bobbie Barret, and even Betty herself.
And once again, a seemingly innocent, fun episode was brought crashing down, and each character’s world seems on the verge of collapse. Is it time for the horse to catch the carrot? Do our horses really want to catch the carrot? Would catching that carrot actually make them happier, or would it crush them? Are carrots tastier with a ranch-based dip, or sour cream-based? If Ken or Salvatore caught their “carrots” (a career in writing / meaningful relationships with men), both would probably be profoundly happy. Jimmy Barret has his carrot (his show, a career, and he even said, “I have everything I’ve always wanted”) and he’s not happy. Bert has bushels and bushels of carrots (money, possessions, fine-art, admirers) …but it turns out he doesn’t even like carrots and only sees them as good investments. Betty knew she didn’t want to catch her carrot (Don’s true nature), but Jimmy Barret gave it to her anyway.
