Season 5, Episode 3
“None of you want us to have a good time because you never did.”
I don't want to sound like a broken record with the show, but given the way these first three hours have broken down, it's not like I have much of a choice. There's always been a richness of subject matter to Mad Men, one that allows the show to tackle a lot of different themes week to week and keep things interesting. This was not one of those times, though that may be the point. The show turning into the tumultuous 60s and the fractured and disconnected relationships that it uses to display that may take more than just one night for the show to cover. So while I appreciate that the show would take the time to make sure it had a full grasp on the topic – especially by widening the focus to see how it affects all the characters – it also made for an episode that was a little tepid.
If the theme last week was about how all of the new voices of the 60s were seen as interlopers within the everyday lives of those that were seeing the world change around them, then “Tea Leaves” took that theme one step farther by using as a metaphor the ultimate of interlopers, cancer. As a narrative tool, cancer sort of sucks, and not just because it's the ultimate bummer. No, the main problem with introducing cancer into a narrative is that so few shows know what to do with, and often the characters become so mopey about the subject (or alternatively, so annoyingly cheerful in the face of probable death) that the whole thing becomes cloying and unwatchable.
“Leaves” was able to bury a lot of that sentiment under the aloofness of the show and constrained emotions of the character, so that wasn't really a problem. What was a problem was the fact that we spent so much time dealing with this crisis, when it was quite obvious from the outset that Betty didn't and wouldn't end up with cancer. Not only is that sort of soapy plot a bit too outrageous for the show's usual tone, but it conflicts with what the first appearance of Betty of the seasons tells us about the character.
And here's where things get interesting, for as much as it drags as a plot point, the idea of cancer actually works surprisingly well as a theme to the episode. Betty is, as she's always been, deeply unhappy with her life. In the first two seasons, Betty was unhappy because Don and the rest of society had been keeping her trapped within a rigidly defined role for such a long time. In seasons three and four, Betty was unhappy because Don had cheated on her, because the divorce proceedings made everyone snippy to her, and marrying someone else didn't work as the quick fix that she was hoping it was. So when we see that Betty has put on a good number of pounds tonight, it's clear that she's given up fighting to make her life better, and has settled for just wallowing in her unhappiness and filling that void with food.
To Betty, cancer might have presented her with an undignified end, but it also would have been an escape from the world that she hates, but one that doesn't require any outright action on her part. (Growing up when she did, is it any wonder the character lacks agency?) Instead, she just has to settle for the cancer that is her suburban existence, and apparently eating herself to death. The show had waxed and waned on what to do with Betty over the years (and mostly waned, if the last two seasons are any indication) but seeing Betty under the threat of cancer feels like some classic season one and two quality Betty storylines, one of those that seeks to explore the societal reasons for Betty's actions. Betty's childlike mind can make for a grating viewing experience without context, but within context, it works like gangbusters.
Betty's story ends with her eating the remainder of Sally's sundae, while “Sixteen, Going on Seventeen” plays over the shot, and as facepalmingly obvious as that is, it only points to the problems that plagued the rest of the episode. Yes, seeing reminders of Betty's childlike views on the world works with context, but “youth” perhaps isn't the best theme to build an episode around. Whereas last week made the contention between the new and old orders work as a battle between well-meaning optimism and well-earned cynicism, this week mostly just saw those same members of the new order react to the actions of the new with a sort “kids these days” grumbling. It's the sort of pithy response that doesn't really jive well with a show that usually practices such nuance.
That's not to say that there weren't some good moments here as well. Seeing Don pick the brain of a young concert goer was quite fun, as was seeing Harry straddle that line between youth and maturity. But when it comes down to it, there's still a lot of derision that the show seems to throw at the young, which is sort of antithetical to it's approach of showing the fall of the white man with a mixture of horror and patronization. Just look at what a little shit Pete is for taking all the credit for landing the Mohawk account, or how we're all supposed to laugh derisively at Harry for selfishly eating 20 sliders that he could have given to his family. “Leaves” tries to temper this a little bit with it's contrast of Megan and Henry's reactions to learning that Betty confided in Don first about the cancer scare, but that's mostly meant to be the exception that proves the rule, if Don's reaction to how well Megan took the news of his phone call with Betty is any indication.
It becomes especially clear with the entrance of shit-heel extraordinaire Michael Ginsburg, who appropriately helps to make Betty's cancer scare a metaphorical existence within SCDP. Like Betty's cancer, Michael very well may be the kick in the pants that SCDP needs in order to embrace the changes of the decade. Yet much like Roger regrets hiring Pete (and tries to make Peggy take back hiring Michael) and the Heinz people are wrong to go after the youth market so aggressively by courting the Rolling Stones, youth is also something of a cancer to the lives of the old guard, the way it destroys everything they used to know and seeks to put something else in its place. Right now, Michael is a Schrodinger's Cat to SCDP, and whether he changes (and possibly sinks) the place or not will ultimately depend on whether he chooses to conform, or stays the same and opens up the eyes of his co-workers.
Quotes and Other Thoughts:
Tonight's episode was directed by Jon Hamm. So, do with that what you will, but I'll admit it's hard to tell how much of the ham-handedness tonight was the director's doing (pardon the pun) and how much was already in the script. Wiener and Co. have been known to include the occasional heavy-handedness in their scripts over the years, but tonight's was also co-written by Erin Levy, who is also responsible for the awesome “Shut the Door. Have a Seat” in season one and “The Chrysanthemum and the Sword” in season four.
Apparently Lane was serious when he took those African-American women's resumes at the end of last week's episode, as Don received the best among them, Dawn, as a new secretary. Of course, it may just be that Dawn is the token black employee for the company, and that she's stuck with Don for the same reason his last few secretary's have been stuck with him – as punishment to him.
Add this episode to the “Can January Jones act?” query file. It takes a significant lack of hubris to wear a fat suit in a non-comedic manner, and even better acting chops to pull it of in a realistic manner. Yet Jones sold the pain of the character, and the mask that was used to cover that pain, so well tonight, that I was reminded that her supposed wooden performance is really her trying to capture Betty's molded existence. (That fat suit also explains why we only heard Betty's name in last week's teaser, which in turn just highlights the pointlessness of said teasers.)
“Mohawak is going to insist on a regular copywriter.” “Somebody with a penis.” “I'll get right on that.”
“That's what they said about Mein Kampf. 'It really does have a voice.'”
“Did he smell like pee?” “Who smells like pee?” “Writers. Just hire him.”
“Leaves” was able to bury a lot of that sentiment under the aloofness of the show and constrained emotions of the character, so that wasn't really a problem. What was a problem was the fact that we spent so much time dealing with this crisis, when it was quite obvious from the outset that Betty didn't and wouldn't end up with cancer. Not only is that sort of soapy plot a bit too outrageous for the show's usual tone, but it conflicts with what the first appearance of Betty of the seasons tells us about the character.
And here's where things get interesting, for as much as it drags as a plot point, the idea of cancer actually works surprisingly well as a theme to the episode. Betty is, as she's always been, deeply unhappy with her life. In the first two seasons, Betty was unhappy because Don and the rest of society had been keeping her trapped within a rigidly defined role for such a long time. In seasons three and four, Betty was unhappy because Don had cheated on her, because the divorce proceedings made everyone snippy to her, and marrying someone else didn't work as the quick fix that she was hoping it was. So when we see that Betty has put on a good number of pounds tonight, it's clear that she's given up fighting to make her life better, and has settled for just wallowing in her unhappiness and filling that void with food.
To Betty, cancer might have presented her with an undignified end, but it also would have been an escape from the world that she hates, but one that doesn't require any outright action on her part. (Growing up when she did, is it any wonder the character lacks agency?) Instead, she just has to settle for the cancer that is her suburban existence, and apparently eating herself to death. The show had waxed and waned on what to do with Betty over the years (and mostly waned, if the last two seasons are any indication) but seeing Betty under the threat of cancer feels like some classic season one and two quality Betty storylines, one of those that seeks to explore the societal reasons for Betty's actions. Betty's childlike mind can make for a grating viewing experience without context, but within context, it works like gangbusters.
Betty's story ends with her eating the remainder of Sally's sundae, while “Sixteen, Going on Seventeen” plays over the shot, and as facepalmingly obvious as that is, it only points to the problems that plagued the rest of the episode. Yes, seeing reminders of Betty's childlike views on the world works with context, but “youth” perhaps isn't the best theme to build an episode around. Whereas last week made the contention between the new and old orders work as a battle between well-meaning optimism and well-earned cynicism, this week mostly just saw those same members of the new order react to the actions of the new with a sort “kids these days” grumbling. It's the sort of pithy response that doesn't really jive well with a show that usually practices such nuance.
That's not to say that there weren't some good moments here as well. Seeing Don pick the brain of a young concert goer was quite fun, as was seeing Harry straddle that line between youth and maturity. But when it comes down to it, there's still a lot of derision that the show seems to throw at the young, which is sort of antithetical to it's approach of showing the fall of the white man with a mixture of horror and patronization. Just look at what a little shit Pete is for taking all the credit for landing the Mohawk account, or how we're all supposed to laugh derisively at Harry for selfishly eating 20 sliders that he could have given to his family. “Leaves” tries to temper this a little bit with it's contrast of Megan and Henry's reactions to learning that Betty confided in Don first about the cancer scare, but that's mostly meant to be the exception that proves the rule, if Don's reaction to how well Megan took the news of his phone call with Betty is any indication.
It becomes especially clear with the entrance of shit-heel extraordinaire Michael Ginsburg, who appropriately helps to make Betty's cancer scare a metaphorical existence within SCDP. Like Betty's cancer, Michael very well may be the kick in the pants that SCDP needs in order to embrace the changes of the decade. Yet much like Roger regrets hiring Pete (and tries to make Peggy take back hiring Michael) and the Heinz people are wrong to go after the youth market so aggressively by courting the Rolling Stones, youth is also something of a cancer to the lives of the old guard, the way it destroys everything they used to know and seeks to put something else in its place. Right now, Michael is a Schrodinger's Cat to SCDP, and whether he changes (and possibly sinks) the place or not will ultimately depend on whether he chooses to conform, or stays the same and opens up the eyes of his co-workers.
Quotes and Other Thoughts:
Tonight's episode was directed by Jon Hamm. So, do with that what you will, but I'll admit it's hard to tell how much of the ham-handedness tonight was the director's doing (pardon the pun) and how much was already in the script. Wiener and Co. have been known to include the occasional heavy-handedness in their scripts over the years, but tonight's was also co-written by Erin Levy, who is also responsible for the awesome “Shut the Door. Have a Seat” in season one and “The Chrysanthemum and the Sword” in season four.
Apparently Lane was serious when he took those African-American women's resumes at the end of last week's episode, as Don received the best among them, Dawn, as a new secretary. Of course, it may just be that Dawn is the token black employee for the company, and that she's stuck with Don for the same reason his last few secretary's have been stuck with him – as punishment to him.
Add this episode to the “Can January Jones act?” query file. It takes a significant lack of hubris to wear a fat suit in a non-comedic manner, and even better acting chops to pull it of in a realistic manner. Yet Jones sold the pain of the character, and the mask that was used to cover that pain, so well tonight, that I was reminded that her supposed wooden performance is really her trying to capture Betty's molded existence. (That fat suit also explains why we only heard Betty's name in last week's teaser, which in turn just highlights the pointlessness of said teasers.)
“Mohawak is going to insist on a regular copywriter.” “Somebody with a penis.” “I'll get right on that.”
“That's what they said about Mein Kampf. 'It really does have a voice.'”
“Did he smell like pee?” “Who smells like pee?” “Writers. Just hire him.”
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