And then there’s Betty. She’s still simmering from last week, but she’s got a dinner party to plan, and it’s going to be good, dammit. Don must have figured that Jimmy’s accusations at the network party were a thing of the past, and he’d come through unscathed as usual. Not this time. It’s hard to know how long Betty has been suspecting Don’s infidelity, or if she thinks Bobbie Barrett is the first. Either way, really, her reaction makes sense. Things finally boil over when she feels publicly humiliated and somewhat marginalized as part of a demographic–rather than a person–at the dinner party. She’s mortified that Don was able to pigeon hole her into a category (an upwardly mobile housewife who would buy Heineken from a specially placed end aisle display), maybe because she feels she should transcend the role of suburban housewife. And with the revelation of Don’s cheating, she’s become a cliche, standing there in her pretty polka dotted dress, with her flip just so, throwing the perfect party. She’s nothing more than an accessory to him, not satisfying enough as a woman.
Duck, Crab. Crab, Duck.
– Don Draper (it’s like “Uma, Oprah”, only funnier and more delicious-sounding!)
The scenes that follow, where we watch her spend a solid 24 hours in that dress, the straps hanging off her shoulders, are excruciating. Her hair’s deflated, her make up is gone, and she’s passed out drunk after ransacking Don’s closet and desk looking for a shred of evidence to prove his guilt. All she can find are ad slogans scrawled on cocktail napkins, reminders that his job is his true love. And then, after she’s seemingly pulled herself back together and confronted Don again, she sees Jimmy, hamming it up in that Utz Nuts spot. She’s suddenly reminded of the very event that she must realize started it all. She calls Don and tells him not to come home, something not all women would be bold enough to do. Don’t cross a Nordic woman, apparently. They will cut you. The framing device involving Father Gil, Peggy, and Joan undressing/unwinding from the day was a very intimate and poignant one. Joan is clearly burdened by the stress and disappointment coming from multiple directions in her work and personal life. Father Gil, well, still not sure. And Peggy is symbolically sitting in a tub, which can only remind one of baptism when the character is surrounded by all that Catholic symbolism.
Don (not Draper, but my hair is nearly that perfect)
What is this? An Oprah production? Did Danielle Steele write this episode? Did I miss an article this week where they renamed this show “Mad Women?” Mad Men is slipping dangerously close to ruining this show, taking away the in-office affairs, Roger Sterling, men drinking and smoking, and women-who-know-their-place and who cry in the bathroom over their helplessness in a man’s world. The men are dreadful on this show. I’m going to need a solid dose of The Andy Griffith Show and Leave it to Beaver to wash away this guilt of being male.
Once again, amidst the fabulous stories and drama, Weiner and gang manage to put a layer of ‘1960s’ on top of it all. The series has been sprinkling little bits of 1960s culture and radical upheaval throughout its run, and we were treated to a healthy dose of the womens movement on Sunday. Now we know why Joan seems so bitter around Peggy. Mainly, she’s upset she didn’t think of injecting herself into the men’s world, herself. Hence her anger towards another young, bright receptionist over the last few weeks. Youth is not just being served in the men’s world, but also in Joan’s. And in the end, Joan is more frustrated than ever. She couldn’t scare off Don Draper’s new assistant, Jane; couldn’t control her. Younger secretaries are stealing the fawning attention once reserved only for Joan. Her fiancee also sees her as nothing more than his baby-maker. And, now, when she tried to “pull a Peggy” and put her knowledge on display in an attempt to elevate herself from the ranks of “secretary”, Harry Crane simply thanks her and sends her back to being pretty. Something tells me those big bras of hers are going to make for some fantastic kindling later in the decade.
Peggy is another gal on the verge of exploding. Everyone recognizes how smart and talented she is. They also recognize how cavalier and determined Peggy seems to be, and everyone wants to “save” her, it seems. But Peggy doesn’t want to be saved. In 1960, the dream was still manufactured by the ad men, and society is trying to convince Peggy she should want nothing more than a knight on a white horse to rescue her and sweep her away to Neverland. Yet Peggy’s gut instincts tell her otherwise, and her 2-day internship with Bobbie Barrett showed a glimpse of the world she wants. So what did make her ‘sigh’ in the bathtub at the end? Was it a sudden, overwhelming feeling of guilt for what she had done with her baby and to her mother? Or was it a muffled scream? A scream telling the world to leave her alone? And, finally, we have Betty, doing something women just didn’t do back then. Without actual proof, or photos from a private investigator, or answering Don’s cell phone, Betty is trusting her women’s intuition and sticking by her accusation of Don’s infidelity. She knows it. Women know it. Many times, as Betty has done for the two TV-years this show has been on, women deny it inside. Easier to avoid the truth than face it. But Betty knows. Betty knew in Season 1 when she found out her psychiatrist (or was he a psychologist) was relaying all her sessions right back to Don. Armed with that knowledge, you may recall, she told her ‘shrink’ that she knew Don wasn’t faithful. As if saying, “report that back to Don!” Now, with Jimmy Barret’s ability to cut to the truth, coupled with her own two eyes and seeing Don and Bobbie carrying on together, and knowing all along that Don was a cad, she made Don sleep on the couch and, ultimately, kicked him out.
