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All of the wild theories were wrong but still: He's like another Don (I'm not convinced he actually "got hired" at the agency, I reckon he kinda walked in with a cup of coffee and reminded a secretary that she forgot to add him to the payroll), with a perhaps much darker history, especially with the implied murder of Pete's mother.
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Feb 21, 2022 19:34
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i sometimes wonder if Jerusalem accidentally moused over some of the spoilers would he just assume we were loving with him or jokingly exaggerating when in fact no, this just such a strange show when you try to write it out or sum it up
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Feb 21, 2022 20:33
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Lady Radia posted:TVIV can be really bad sometimes lol These weren't exactly limited to around here.
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Feb 21, 2022 21:00
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Sash! posted:These weren't exactly limited to around here. Oh yes, seemingly every entertainment blog began to dabble in wild soap opera speculation during the later seasons - though whether they were earnest theories or simply click-bait material is anybody's guess. Doing a quick Google just now to remind myself of when exactly Pete finally gets the dirt on Bob, I found multiple old posts talking about a theory that Bob Benson was the REAL Don Draper; I missed out on that discussion at the time but I have so many questions about it now.
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Feb 21, 2022 21:38
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JethroMcB posted:
well that's just completely ridiculous he's the real Bobby draper
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Feb 21, 2022 21:42
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Thinking about how Boardwalk Empire ended perhaps people were right to guess the dumbest possible bullshit at all times
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Feb 21, 2022 21:45
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Gaius Marius posted:Thinking about how Boardwalk Empire ended perhaps people were right to guess the dumbest possible bullshit at all times haven't seen it. what's your verdict: is the series worth watching or no?
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Feb 21, 2022 21:56
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kalel posted:haven't seen it. what's your verdict: is the series worth watching or no? I enjoyed Boardwalk Empire, but it absolutely gets dumber and crazier the longer it goes on. I'd say it's worth watching, but if you start thinking, "this kinda sucks," bail. It won't get better.
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Feb 21, 2022 22:32
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kalel posted:haven't seen it. what's your verdict: is the series worth watching or no? It's a bit like dexter where it has a natural ending that is great, near perfect. but then instead of stopping they kept making more. the show shambles on, zombie like, with no real reason to exist and suffers for it.
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Feb 21, 2022 22:34
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kalel posted:haven't seen it. what's your verdict: is the series worth watching or no? Boardwalk is not exactly highbrow television - the first season in particular feels like it was somebody's job on staff to pencil in extra nudity and graphic violence into each episode - but it's solid. A little rocky to start, but it eventually finds its lane and becomes a fun action-crime drama for a few years....and then there's the fifth season, which jumps ahead in time to the end of prohibition (While also doing some extended flashback stuff) that's a disappointment overall. Showrunner Terence Winter was the guy who wanted David Chase to revisit the Russian from "Pine Barrens" in the final season of The Sopranos, and with the ending of his own show nobody was there to stop him from indulging in that "Let's check off all the boxes" mentality. The highest compliment I think I can give the show is that I loved watching it, because it looks gorgeous. They had HBO money to play with, so you get top-notch production design and costuming that really bring the period to life in addition to some great digital effects (Particularly the outdoor stuff; they built an actual boardwalk set that was a decent size, but they utilized really good digital composite work to make it seem so much larger and more vibrant.)
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Feb 21, 2022 22:45
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TheAwfulWaffle posted:I enjoyed Boardwalk Empire, but it absolutely gets dumber and crazier the longer it goes on. I'd say it's worth watching, but if you start thinking, "this kinda sucks," bail. It won't get better. Basically everything after the fantastic Bobby Cannavale season (3 I think?) is diminishing returns though it still has its strong moments. But it really, really, really does not stick the landing. I was extremely disappointed in how they wrapped things up.
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Feb 21, 2022 22:54
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It's an okay show that always manages to be less than the sum of it's parts.
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Feb 21, 2022 23:10
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stop at the mother/son incest imho
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Feb 22, 2022 00:53
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if you really like gangster stuff or steve buscemi being a prohibition kingpin then its worth a watch but if it starts to lose your attention let it go, it is not a show worth watching all the way through there are some real fun high points and then stretches where you wonder "why is this character still in the show" or "was this sequence of events really the best the writers could think of" i liked the great war vet as dumb muscle and every time michael shannon showed up i smiled in expectation of watching his trainwreck life
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Feb 22, 2022 02:52
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Mr. Fall Down Terror posted:every time michael shannon showed up i smiled in expectation of watching his trainwreck life Michael Shannon's character was a great example of the "why is this character still in the show" thing you mentioned. It felt like there was a definite arc for him in mind, but as they were approaching the end of it the producers realized "Oh poo poo, Michael Shannon is still having a field day playing this nutjob and chewing scenery, we can't let this guy leave now, give him an out." And they did, again, and again.
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Feb 22, 2022 03:34
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JethroMcB posted:Michael Shannon's character was a great example of the "why is this character still in the show" thing you mentioned. It felt like there was a definite arc for him in mind, but as they were approaching the end of it the producers realized "Oh poo poo, Michael Shannon is still having a field day playing this nutjob and chewing scenery, we can't let this guy leave now, give him an out." And they did, again, and again. the fine art of door to door salesmanship
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Feb 22, 2022 04:19
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bobby cannavale is fun to watch as always but the show really should have died with jimmy darmody
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Feb 22, 2022 09:28
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you should really spoiler poo poo like that, one of the posters j ust said they're considering watching it.
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Feb 24, 2022 01:40
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How can you tell if someone is a pilot? Don't worry, they'll let you know!
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Feb 24, 2022 01:52
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Lady Radia posted:you should really spoiler poo poo like that, one of the posters j ust said they're considering watching it. that's tviv for you
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Feb 24, 2022 02:05
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Season 6, Episode 8 - The Crash Written by Jason Grote & Matthew Weiner, Directed by Michael Uppendahl Peggy Olson posted:You have to let yourself feel it. In a rather awkward, not particularly convincing scene, a terrified Ken Cosgrove drives a car down the road apparently against oncoming traffic, goaded along by drunk and/or high Chevy execs who harangue him to go faster and do more dangerous things. One, Jack, pulls out a gun and roars for Ken to drive close to a sign so he can shoot it, and another - who likened driving the car to driving "a hard-on" - claps his hands over Ken's eyes and cackles as Ken yelps in a panic, the screen goes black and the sound of skidding and a crash is heard. As warned many times in the past, and seen to some degree in prior episodes, it appears that the people who work (on the executive level at least) in the Automobile Industry are all depraved lunatics. They put the so-called "Mad Men" of the advertising industry to shame, and Ken himself clearly is out of his element trying to cater to their tastes. These aren't guys he can simply distract with booze and hookers while he stays sober and gets to slip home for a quiet night in with his wife. Ken finally got what he wanted: he's the Account Man for one of the giants of advertising clients... and he clearly hates it. If he's even still alive after that crash. He's not the only one crashing though. A sad and pathetic sight is Don Draper, a far cry from his domineering persona now as he stands in back corridors of his building on the 16th floor. Lurking outside the Rosens' back door, he listens with a mixture of fascination and depression to the murmurs of Arnie and Sylvia having apparently reconciled and back to living a normal domestic life. Perhaps Arnie still intends for them to move to Minnesota, or he relented and is staying in New York, but whatever the case Sylvia is with HIM again, and not Don. So Don finally shuffles on, leaving behind multiple cigarette butts. He has not been standing there for a short amount of time. Things aren't looking all that more bright at work than they are at home for him either. He sits with Ted, Roger and Jim Cutler in the conference room, where Roger and Jim are playing checkers while a bored Ted sniffs his lunch and tries to figure out if it is chicken salad or tuna. Don simply stares at the ceiling, he and Ted both looking exhausted, Roger bored but at least active, and Cutler seemingly the most alert and attentive of them all. Ted isn't happy with Roger and Jim having no real sympathy for his complaints that they should just hire more people, Roger simply telling him to take a nap and get some rest. He complains that it is easy for him to say, gesturing to himself and Don and pointing out that THEY have to think and be creative, while Roger and Jim simply wait to schmooze clients when necessary. Ken arrives, presumably the person they've been waiting for, limping and using a cane, rather miraculously the only injuries he suffered in the crash. He apologizes for being late, but tensions are high for the exhausted Ted, who snaps that he could have at least called to let them know. When a confused Ken points out he DID call to let them know, Roger agrees that he did and points out that he told them all that. Except he didn't, he simply told them that he had "no news", a fact Cutler calmly points out as he jumps multiple of Roger's pieces to win the game. Understandably a little upset himself at this welcome, Ken notes that he did almost die just recently! None of them acknowledge that at all, simply asking what Chevy's response was to their latest work. Just like the last work they put together, it seems the answer was no.... but that was ALL the answer Ken was given. No. This infuriates Don, especially when the best that Ken can offer is that they didn't like what was on offer. He snaps that it is Ken's job to MAKE them life their ideas, savagely asking if he's not up to that task? Roger, mindful of the pressures an Account Man faces and the fact Ken is part of HIS department, offers him a warning,"Don," but now that he's wound up Don continues to vent, while all Jim can offer is a mild annoyance that they didn't get the Impala account after Ken mentions that was the car he crashed in. It seems that the Agency have managed to produce what they thought were seven different winning strategies to Chevy over the last 6 weeks... and all of them have been rejected, none were given an explanation, and the exhausting toll all that Creative Energy has taken on Don and Ted is obvious, let alone what the others in Creative must be struggling with trying to keep THEM happy. "We have to rely on THIS cripple?" Don snaps, which is a spectacularly thoughtless and cruel thing to say. Ken takes it sullenly, then complains that he can't stand much longer and prepares to take a seat, but insists first that he isn't going to do so if it just means copping more abuse. Neither Ted nor Don apologize to him for lashing out, but Ted does grumpily tell him to sit as a tacit acknowledgement that they're done taking out their frustration on him... or at least Ted is, anyway.   He has more bad news, mentioning he was finally given a calendar, complaining he can't even show it to them... before passing it directly to Ted! It's Chevy's expected schedule of work for the Agency (I still don't know if they have a new name or are working as SCDP still?) and it's packed, with 3 years of monthly deadlines to be met, broken down into - in a best case scenario - six months of strategy statements, copy tests, and if they come up with something that Chevy decides they want to run with... it has to then proceed all the way through the rest of General Motors till it ends up at God.... who will then run it past his wife! With a sigh, Ken explains that they're expecting another package of proposed strategies by Tuesday AND they want Ken back by Sunday (Not to go to Church, offers Roger wryly). If it ends up anything like the last 7, they'll reject it and then Ken will have to take them out for drinks and entertainment again, a never-ending exhausting treadmill that he can clearly see is going to destroy him well before the 3 years are up. While the others moan over the idea of another worked weekend and long hours trying to produce high quality work knowing it is likely to be thrown out, Jim Cutler offers another philosophy: this is Chevy's clock, not theirs, and Chevy are REALLY paying the merged Agencies for all the time and work they're forcing on them. As Ted complained earlier to Roger, it's easy enough for him to say that when he's not the one being forced to tax his creative juices without respite... but he does have a point: this IS the job, and they wanted a seat at the big boy's tables. For better or worse, no matter how exhausting and even physically dangerous dealing with the Chevy Executives can be... it's exactly what all the big Agencies have been doing all this time, and they wanted a piece of that. Moira pops her head apologetically through the door, telling Ted he has a phone call. He waves that off, telling her to take a message, until she tells him it is "about that matter". He immediately makes his exit, and then Dawn follows up to let Don know he has a call too, from Dr. Rosen. It takes a second for Don to process that, and Dawn sees his hesitation and asks if she should take a message. Relieved to avoid this unpleasant task, he agrees, but as she starts to leave saying she'll ask what it is regarding, his usually quick mind FINALLY grasps just WHY Arnie might be calling. With a start he halts her, telling her that he'll take the call after all. He heads out of the Conference Room, and a suddenly chipper Jim Cutler remarks that Don just gave him a great idea... he's going to call HIS doctor and get Ken fixed up.... hell he's going to get EVERYBODY in the office fixed up. Why does this seem oddly portentous? Speaking of which, Don stands in his office over the phone, dreading what may be coming. Has his friend called to (justly!) accuse him of sleeping with his wife? Of making a mockery of their friendship, betraying his own wife and wrecking TWO households to boot? He gathers up his courage, picks up the phone and puts on a false cheer as he asks Arnold how he's doing. It's Sylvia. For a moment Don just lets the wave of relief wash over him, but his guard comes back up when she spits at him that she wanted him to know what the fear felt like. Because of course she's figured out that he was lurking around her back door, she saw the cigarette butts, and beyond the horror and pity she feels about him not knowing when its over is the fear that Arnie might put two and two together. At the moment, he simply thinks she has started smoking again, but what if he notices the lack of lipstick? What if he recognizes Don's brand? What if he starts to suspect? But of course it's Don, and he's barely listening as she lays out her fears and paranoia (and justifiable anger), because SHE called him and now that he's got her on the phone a mixture of denial, hope and confidence in his own ability to sell anybody on anything has him smiling as he tells her sincerely that he needs to talk to her. The only moment he seems to actually be listening to her is when she snaps that Arnie would kill her AND Don if he found out, latching onto that in his mind as his chance to somehow be the good guy in all this, asking her dramatically and seriously if she is afraid of him. "No, I'm afraid of YOU!" she hits back, and THAT he hears as well. Taking a moment to control herself, she offers a still hard but less aggressive explanation: she's too old to say their affair was a mistake... but it IS over, and he should be happy. Confused, he asks about what, and reacts as if the idea had literally never occurred to him when she points out that... well, he got away with it! Because of course to Don, it wasn't about "getting away with it". Because to him this wasn't something for him to feel guilty about. It was his due, something he deserved or had somehow earned. If he thinks of Megan at all, he thinks of her in terms of how it is HER fault for not being the all-encompassing EVERYTHING he wanted her to be so long as it fit neatly in with his concept of what function she should serve - wife, lover, colleague, fellow Creative etc. She points out that starting an affair likes this takes a lot of convincing on both sides, and the only way it works is if you can trust that the other person has as much to lose as you do if you were to be discovered. The trouble for Sylvia now is that she isn't sure if she can trust him not to gently caress it all up, especially now that the actual "fun" part of the affair is over. Don though still thinks this is just a matter of getting his foot in the door, wedging into the frame with a shoe and then nailing her with the sales pitch to change her mind and sweep her off her feet again... and thus get Don back to having what he wants. "You loved Megan once," she notes, and that stabs him in the heart. He tells her,"Don't," but she points out it is the only thing that can get through to him. Again, I suspect, not because he feels guilty about Megan but because he doesn't like being reminded of the marriage he clearly now feels trapped in: the whole point of the affair with Sylvia, beyond the obvious pleasure and the thrill of their liaisons, was that he was able to forget and be with somebody he could convince himself could help him fill that hole inside of him. Instead she's gone, and reminding him of the woman who remains who also doesn't make him feel whole. Ignoring his pleas that he just needs to talk to her, that she just needs to listen, she ends the call. They both hang awkwardly on the line and finally she tells him in an almost horrified tone not to force her to have to hang up on him, offering him the chance to depart with some dignity. Instead he says and does nothing, so she tells him she is hanging up and does so, and he doesn't even get to have the illusion of playing any part in this ending, a passive observer to his own failure. For a moment he simply stands, quietly hanging up the now disconnected call.... and then grabs the entire phone and hurls it away from him, smashes the glasses on his drinks cabinet. He sinks his head into his hand, not initially hearing (or acknowledging) Dawn buzzing in to ask if everything is okay, finally answering when he hears from outside the door her say to somebody else she is going to go in to check on him. He answers on the intercom, insisting he is fine and means to take a nap, wanting if just for the moment to be alone in his misery.   As Don coughs into his handkerchief in the present, in the past young Dick Whitman does the same. It's another flashback, to sometime after he and Abigail went to live in the brothel. Now he sits at the breakfast table, Abigail - who it seems has given birth to Adam by this point - listening to his back through a glass, warning the prostitutes they should probably back away in case he is infectious. The blonde who mocked him for peeking on Abigail and Uncle Mack watches with interest and some mild concern (for Dick), asking if he has a fever. Abigail, in her typical businesslike way, simply ignores her then informs Dick that he must fetch his bedroll, he'll be sleeping in the cellar tonight. If his fever doesn't break, they'll call a doctor, but for now she simply means to put him out of the way so he doesn't get anybody else sick and wait to see what happens. Dutifully doing as he is told as he is his entire life, Dick starts to leave while Abigail asserts her authority in the room by pointedly asking the blonde - Aimèe - if she left her plate in the lounge. With a sour look Abigail's way, Aimèe heads back in to fetch it, while Dick is momentarily confused by a buzzing noise and a voice calling for a Mr. Draper... and then we are back in the present, gangly and cowed Dick Whitman replaced by the seemingly (but far from) perfect Don Draper. The sound-bridge is a neat way of transitioning between the scenes, though it does beg the question.... why does Dick Whitman hear Dawn in the present? It suggests that the flashback we are seeing is an active memory Don is having in that moment... but why? What is it about Sylvia telling him (again!) that their affair is over that makes him recall the time he was sick as a poor teenager in a brothel? Presumably context will be provided, because otherwise this is a framing device that, while clever, doesn't actually make any sense. In the present, it has seemingly only been a moment since he started coughing, as Dawn asks him if he needs water. He insists he is fine, but once finally free of her questions he sinks down against the edge of the desk, almost a slow-motion collapse. Creatively he's exhausted, physically he's ill, emotionally he's wrung out... the man needs a proper break. At the Francis' monstrously, absurdly large home, Sally is doing up Gene's shoe straps in the kitchen, telling Bobby to go get his suitcase. Bobby points out he already has it, so she tells him to get Gene's, and when he complains he won't pack Gene's suitcase she points out she already has, she just wants him to get it. That's it, that's the only thing he is being asked, to collect a suitcase. "I have to do everything!" he sighs with long suffering, irritated at the travesty of being asked to do <ONE THING>, already well on his way to being an entitled rich white guy! Betty - blonde once more - returns and Sally asking where daddy is, and Betty explains she is taking them to Manhattan rather than Don coming to pick them up. Sally, now firmly ensconced in her bratty teen years, asks if she was sitting under her hair dryer when she remembered that, which Betty chooses to ignore, more focused on the decidedly too short skirt that her daughter is wearing, asking where she got it. She bought it, she replies, managing to make it sound like the stupidest question ever asked, and takes exception to Betty guessing she means Megan bought it for her, insisting she earned it. "On what street corner?" Betty asks acidly, hitting her daughter with some snark of her own, not happy to hear that she gets paid to look after the boys when Don and Megan aren't there, pointing out she's their sister and not their sitter. Sally simply ignores that, calling out to her brothers that it is time to go, and Betty decides not to push any harder. After all, they'll soon be gone to spend time with their father instead, and she and Henry can enjoy some time together... why sour that dreading what you'll have to deal with upon the kids' return? Don has actually managed to get some sleep in when he's woken by Dawn entering with a knock, apologetically explaining that Mr. Cutler wants to see him. In the slightly bewildered state between being asleep and fully awake, Don is confused, and Dawn has to explain he has been sleeping for over 2 and a half hours now, gently asking if he would like MORE time. Gathering himself, he stands and says no, and proving Peggy right Dawn simply asks if he would like her to "clean that up" without asking any questions or making any judgements about the shattered glasses on the drinks cabinet. Don simply agrees as if it is the most natural thing in the world, tells her to put the Chevy materials on his coffee table, then heads out to see Cutler. A lot has happened in that time though. Cutler is standing with some assembled staff from the former CGC, explaining when the funeral will be held and that the family wishes donations to be made to the American Cancer Society in lieu of flowers. Most of the staff are in tears, Ted standing amongst them beside a grim-faced Peggy as, keeping himself as best together as he can, he gives a heartfelt eulogy about Gleason's greatness as both artist and friend. Even a barely woken Don can figure out what has happened here, Frank Gleason has died. Ted explains that he won't be able to work through the weekend with them on Chevy, this funeral has to take precedence. Peggy agrees, offering to attend the funeral herself but assuring them that she will still make herself available the rest of the weekend to work on Chevy with them. Cutler acknowledges this as helpful, and a less sure of himself than normal Don offers his sincere condolences for their loss. "He's a piece that can't be replaced," Ted declares, then retreats into his office, unable to handle putting up his front any longer. The moment he is, Cutler tells Don he wants him to see his doctor. When Don tries to beg off, Cutler can barely contain his excitement, his grief for his dead friend and Partner apparently forgotten in a moment as he promises Don that this will fix him right up. Mathis, there to remember Frank with sadness, is suddenly all excitement too, asking if he can also take part, claiming he did it last time. The other CGC Copywriter (if we've had his name, I don't recall it) quickly chimes in to say they're a team and he'll need to get it too. The more the merrier as far as Cutler is concerned, it seems, as he excitedly declares,"Age before beauty!" and then races up the stairs at a remarkable pace for a man his age. Everybody grieves in their own way, but.... well.   Upstairs, Stan and Roger wait outside the doctor's temporary "office" for their turn to be "fixed up" - the name on the door says Roger Sterling but it's upstairs, while Roger's office is downstairs... unless he has TWO offices now? Which would really make Peggy happy to have that loving column in hers! Stan, pondering mortality, asks how old Frank was, and Roger's only reply is that he was older than Stan but younger than Roger himself, suggesting that Stan either "get used to it or stop thinking about it" when he recognizes what Stan is fixating on. Cutler arrives at a jog, Don and the other copywriters behind him, and Roger offers condolences for Cutler's recently deceased friend. "Yeah... it's tragic..." agrees Cutler, obviously not all that cut up about it but knowing he has to observe certain social niceties... then promptly moves on to muse that he hopes they don't lose Ted for too long since "he doesn't know how to deal with these things." I'm starting to get the mild suspicion that Cutler isn't a particularly nice guy! Friendly, sure.... but not nice! Ken emerges from the office, tucking his shirt into his pants. Stan leaps up, asking Ken if he feels anything, complaining that he has been waiting but doesn't feel any different yet himself... maybe he needs another one? Roger isn't going to let Stan double-dip though, insisting he go next... then begrudgingly stepping aside when Cutler - who perhaps took to heart the complaint that Ted and Don were more exhausted than Roger and Jim - suggests Don should go next. So Don steps into the lion's den, still absolutely none the wise for what he has been signed up for. The doctor inside seems charming enough, though he's a far cry from the usual look for a doctor, certainly very different from the Arnie Rosen's of the world. His name is Dr. Hecht, a heavyset man in a plain looking suit with an ungroomed beard and hair that is far from the meticulous display of Don's own. Still, he is a doctor, so Don gives him due deference, asking where he is wanted, answering the brief questions about his own medical history when prompted. He doesn't even object to being asked to drop his pants to take the shot in the rear end, more curious about WHAT the shot is. That Hecht chuckles is proprietary knowledge, but assures him it is an energy serum made up of a complex vitamin super-dose of B Vitamins and a mild stimulant that will give him 24-72 hours of uninterrupted creative focus, energy and confidence. Oh my God he's going to shoot him up with Speed! For Don though, he takes it all at face value, mostly just having mild consternation that nobody told him about this before! Without a hint of anything possibly being awry, almost seeming bored with the whole thing as he goes through the motions of a doctor's visit, he drops his pants and takes the shot in the rear end while Hecht ponders what he is going to call the newly merged Agency.... SCDPCGC? Now that's a mouthful! Don emerges, watching with amused confusion as Cutler and Stan race across the floor to the doorway, a bored Roger declaring Stan the winner. Breathing hard but exhilarated, Stan celebrates, while Cutler complains that he changed course so he wants a repeat.... before the two of them both start laughing. Roger tells Hecht he's next and lets him know he has a heart condition, Don giving a little double-take when Hecht says that is nothing to worry about in spite of asking Don if he had one earlier! But still, everybody seems happy, Stan is certainly energized, so he moves on, the voices behind him becoming distorted as Stan challenges Mathis to arm-wrestling and promises they can do a "before and after" comparison once Mathis has his shot. None of this behavior alarms Don at all. He heads down the stairs, stopping halfway down to cough, but as he does he realizes that he has an unintended view directly into Ted Chaough's office through the open door. Ted is standing, clearly distraught, while Peggy Olson - the woman who cradled Don's head in her lap on one of the darkest nights of his life - stands beside him offering a comforting hand on his arm. Like his earlier conversation with Sylvia brought to mind being banished by Abigail to the cellar, seeing Peggy offering comfort to a man in need brings back another memory of that same day (forget what I said earlier, there are clear triggers to get Don's mind back in time) and he returns to being sick young Dick Whitman in the whorehouse. As he carries his bedroll towards the cellar door, Aimèe steps out of her bedroom and asks him where he is going. He simply stares, she was there when he was told where to go, but she just smiles and tells him to come here, and lets him into her bedroom. She closes the door behind her, sitting him down on the bed and placing her ear against his back, making direct contact rather than through a glass like Abigail did. He breathes deep when told, but notices a photo on the mirror and asks if the baby in it is her. "No," she simply says, a word heavy with meaning: presumably she has or had a child, perhaps still somewhere in her life (with family perhaps, raised by her mother or one of her sisters or cousins) or perhaps long gone and this the only memento she left. She offers nothing more than that no, returning to checking his breathing and insisting that he simply has a chest cold, offering another tidbit heavy with meaning as she notes she has seen plenty of consumption in her time and this isn't it. She has him lay down on the bed, admonishing his mama for not knowing how to take care of everybody, and Dick bitterly responds that she isn't his mother... something he's probably had drilled into him by Abigail many times in his young life. In the present, Moira closes Ted's door and casts a suspicious look Don's way, asking pointedly if she can help him. His response catches her off-guard, perhaps she thought he would be startled or at least look guilty, but instead he turns his fascinated gaze to her and asks if the know each other. A little unsure how to react, she says she'd like to think so and asks again if she help him. The amphetamine starting to kick in, Don offers that little smile and sparkle in his eye and tells her he meant from somewhere other than THIS moment. "I don't think so," she returns, and moves to her desk. She was polite and then moved on, but for Don it was something else, his gaze was locked in on her lips, her nervous smile was a charmed one in his eyes. He finds himself fascinated by her... not so much because of her, but because suddenly ALL his senses feel heightened, his emotions charged, everything feels new and real and so much more than before. The sound of her typing, laughing from upstairs, people moving by, the rustle of clothing, a ringing phone. It all rises to a crescendo... and then is normal again, and a slightly baffled Don moves on and returns to his desk. https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AccurateTautGossamerwingedbutterfly-mobile.mp4 In the Creative Lounge, Stan and Mathis are ready and willing to channel their newfound energy into creative output. Ed - Mathis' constant partner - was taken to the hospital by Roger because Ed "said his heart stopped" which is always a good sign! Mathis reassures Peggy and Ginsberg - also there though neither got the "energy serum" (the thought of Ginsberg on Speed is terrifying) - both Roger and Ed were laughing when they left though, so who knows what adventures those two are getting into right this moment, tweaking out of their minds on amphetamines. Peggy takes notes as Michael considers out loud their newest strategy - the transaction between parent and child of the greatest gift of all: the new Chevy. They both ignore Stan and Mathis' attempts to add in helpful notes like "four score and 7 years ago some memorable happenings occurred!", Michael's question about whether the subject is the parent or the child giving Peggy two potential taglines they can use... now they just need 15 more! Pete passes through, saying goodnight to them all and missing the joke cracked about him coming from an incredibly privileged family. He does stop to ask if they heard about Frank Gleason, and is offended and a little disgusted when Mathis laughs that it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Defending himself, Mathis assures Pete that Peggy will back him that Frank was a son of a bitch, but Peggy insists she liked him. That leads Mathis to bemoan that death turns people into saints, and Peggy can't help but smile appreciatively when Pete rolls his eyes and notes that clearly Frank Gleason is in a better place NOW. He leaves wishing them all a good weekend, either unknowing or not grasping the significance of the need for new strategies to present on Tuesday means NONE of them will be having a weekend. But Stan feels like he's hit his groove now, and begins snapping out potential taglines to use. Amused by the energy, Michael chimes in with a sarcastic tagline of his own about dying in Vietnam so deserving a Chevy before that, and this immediately derails Stan, who whines that Ginsberg has thrown him out of his groove and now he's lost the 80 he had ready to go! "I got nothing interesting to say 'cause I'm not on drugs?" complains Michael, while Peggy continues taking notes, willing to write down anything to try and sort the wheat from the chaff later. Mathis tries to chime in but gets silly, and when Michael complains he wants to be the one writing things down now so HE looks busy, Peggy tries throwing out a tagline of her own. Stan immediately likes it - "the child is the father of the man" - which makes Peggy immediately second-guess herself... how can it have been good if Stan, all hosed up on drugs, thinks it was? As it gets darker outside, Don works feverishly in his office, feeling the same burning energy as Stan and Mathis are and getting about as much use out of it. He's tearing pages out of magazines, grabbing anything that triggers some thought or inspiration in his head for review later (when it will probably all seem like complete gibberish... because it is!). Dawn buzzes to let him know Mr. Cosgrove is here to see him, and he steps out and REALLY showcases he must be high by actually making the first thing he says something nice and thoughtful, as he asks Kenny how he is feeling! Yes, the man who complained about relying on "this cripple" earlier in the day is now (intensely!) thoughtful about how he feels, and luckily... Ken feels great! "My foot's like new!" insists Ken, lifting his cane and putting all his weight on the bad leg. He asks if they'll have something new by Monday, and Don promises without a moment's hesitation that he'll have FIFTEEN new campaigns by then... but he insists that Ken MUST figure out a way to get him in a room with the Chevy people to pitch in person. Admitting he doesn't know if he'll be forceful or submissive, he insists that the most important thing is that he is there in the flesh, where the timbre of his voice will be just as important as the quality of the work. Ken is so impressed he starts tap dancing. Don watches, fascinated as Ken performs an elaborate tap routine including using his cane as a prop, also watched by a startled Dawn, as he recounts the various humiliating and difficult aspects of his job kowtowing to the whims of the Chevy execs. He finishes with a flourish, and instead of asking what the hell he was just doing, a fascinated Don asks WHERE he learned to do that. "My mother!" gasps a panting Ken, then considers for a second,"No, my first girlfriend." Probably don't want to mix those two up! Turning on his ankle, Ken taps his way out, watched by a wide-eyed Don who has no idea what is going on but finds it all incredibly significant and meaningful in some way he can't articulate. Dawn is just stunned. In the Creative Lounge, an alarmed Stan is struggling to follow the logic of Mathis explaining the he isn't actually himself. Peggy and Michael largely ignore them to consider an Alice in Wonderland reference they can use as inspiration, about it ultimately not mattering where you're going. Suddenly Ken taps by followed by a racing Don who can't seem to take his eyes off the "6-foot-tall Alan Ladd".... until he realizes he passed the Creative Lounge and skids to a top, then strides in red-faced and trying to contain his breathing, looking around and asking them how it's going. Don has a new subject of interest now, Ken forgotten as he suddenly loudly proclaims what he assumes they've all been feeling, projecting his own concerns onto them as he promises them that while they're all feeling the darkness there is no reason to give in... there is an answer that will open the door, they CAN come up with a winning strategy for Chevy, and it will NOT take years! "There is a way around this system," he insists, Stan nodding intensely and feeling everything he is saying,"This is a test of our patience and commitment.... one great idea CAN win someone over." "Dear Lord," gasps an impressed Mathis, getting his first experience of the Don Draper "timbre" as he goes into full pitch mode,"You're as good as they say!" For Peggy though, she's heard a great many of these speeches, so she simply smiles, acknowledges that this was very inspiring... and then asks him if HE has any idea what this perfect single idea actually is? "No," admits Don, but insists he isn't going to stop looking. He storms out of the room with great resolve, declaring that they should do what they have to when Peggy considers ordering dinner and Stan opines that he may never need to eat again. Don's speech was, of course, more about shoring up his own concerns, but as he leaves he feels he has rallied the troops and given them real leadership and inspiration.... from which he builds on his own desperate need to believe in himself and his ability to solve this problem.   But as he walks the corridor back towards his office, he hears a cough. Once again he flashes back in time to when he was Dick Whitman, lying feverish and coughing in Aimèe's bed. She checks his temperature and tells him he has to eat something, and he insists he can't (there's the connection, Stan's insistence he would never need to eat again) so she has him sit up, telling him to call her Aimèe and not "Ms. Swenson", then sits down on the edge of the bed and starts to feed him soup herself, spoonful by spoonful. In the present, Don stands and considers this moment.... and a smile crosses his face. Inspiration has struck! Turning, he marches back into the Creative Lounge to tell them all he's cracked it, he's found the one idea... and walks into Peggy, Michael, Cutler and Harry Crane watching a strange woman toss foreign coins onto the coffee table! It's daylight, the floor is full again, everybody is in different clothes (including Peggy in her funeral-wear), and Don has lost an entire evening and has no idea where it went. Bewildered, he asks what is going on, ignoring Peggy noting his appearance and asking if he has slept. The woman is casting her coins so she can develop a reading to answer questions for Peggy, Michael, Jim and Harry. It's the I Ching... which doesn't answer anything, what the hell is going on!?! Mathis suddenly appears, also wearing the same clothes as the night before, and immediately grasps that he has also lost time somewhere, gasping and asking if he missed the funeral, and how it was. "It was.... rough," notes Cutler, but the woman who apparently was also somehow there insists it was beautiful. Don doesn't care about the funeral though, he wants to know who this complete stranger performing Divination here in his Creative Lounge is! Harry, laying on the couch apparently as exhausted as any of them despite not being involved in Creative, mutters introductions to the two: her name is Wendy, his name is Don. Wendy, all smiles, asks him to ask a question, alarming Ginsberg who has been waiting for his turn, and Peggy who hasn't had an answer to hers yet either. Wendy ignores them, promising Don warmly that he only needs to think of the question, he doesn't need to say it out loud. He simply stares, fascinated and alarmed and frightened that perhaps she really can do what she says, she certainly seems confident enough. "Perfect," she smiles, as if she has plucked a question from his head, and returns to her coins. Don snaps free of his trance, remembering that he came in here with a purpose. Turning to Peggy, he asks if she remembers when they had soup? Confused, she asks if he can be more specific, Mathis offering helpfully that Carnegie Deli has great soup (Cutler nods in confirmation, taking this soup business seriously!), and it's only Ginsberg who understands what he really means. He isn't asking Peggy about a time they ate soup together, but about an Account, one that Don was asking him about yesterday... except Michael doesn't think it exists. Yes, during those lost hours Don actually did tell somebody at least part of what he was thinking, apparently ordering Michael to go and find information on work the Agency did years earlier on a soup account. He explains it dates back to the Sterling Cooper years, but Peggy notes that if it did, it was before her time there. Don, who insists that he did NOT tell Michael to go looking, asking her to check the Archives, outraging Michael who points out that he already went and looked there! Rather than grasp that Don's entire mind is as hosed as Stan and Mathis' by the drugs, he assumes Don is calling him incompetent.... and then Stan emerges triumphantly into the room holding a legal pad high and declaring that he has done it! He has... come up with 666 ideas! "I'm wasting my Saturday with lunatics," sighs Michael, and for the first time Don actually grasps... it's Saturday!?! Yes, apparently even up to this point he HADN'T realized he'd lost multiple hours, or that the funeral didn't just randomly take place in the middle of Friday night mere hours after Frank died. Peggy gently suggests that he go take a lie down, while Stan in the background eyes up Wendy and is torn between appreciation and utter confusion as to who she is. Don though insists that he can't because he's cracked the case! He tells her again to go to the Archives, to look around 1958 and 1959 for soup and that she'll know it when she sees it... because it is going to unlock everything for them! He marches out with a purpose, and Peggy turns and glares at Cutler, asking if he sees what trouble he has caused. But Don has places to go and things to do, striding back towards his office, a trip he may have taken multiple times last night without realizing. Dawn isn't at her desk of course, and Don checks his watch, seemingly confused, having perhaps forgotten again that it is Saturday and Dawn isn't going to be back till Monday. He enters the office, starting to look for something to collect his thoughts... and Wendy notes that this was fast. Shocked, he discovers her sitting cross-legged on his couch, and utterly bewildered he asks what she is doing here. Grinning cheekily, she reminds him that he said he was going out to get some ice so they could have a drink and watch the sun set. The sun... set? Oh my God he's lost the entire day! Again! Wendy finds his confusion hilarious, laughing that he's so uptight when he complains he has work to do and insists she stop tossing the coins. As she stands, giggling, he notices she has a stethoscope around her neck and asks where she got it. "It was upstairs in one of the offices," she explains (is it Hecht's?), approaching him, asking him if he wants to "get it on". Completely lost, not knowing what he's said and done... not even knowing that he doesn't know what he's said and done... Don just wants her out so he can get back to work. But when she asks,"Does someone love me?" and tells him THAT was his question, he's horrified, demanding to know why she would say that. "That's everyone's question," she smiles. Don doesn't tell her if she was right, but he didn't have to, it's clear as day that at the heart of it this is the question he constantly asks, and has constantly asked since he was a child... does someone love me? Or, perhaps more depressingly...."Why doesn't someone love me?" Made all the more depressing by the fact that Betty did love him and Megan DOES love him, but he sabotaged one marriage and is actively ruining the current, all because at the heart of it that question is followed/answered by his obvious belief: "No one can love me." She presses the stethoscope against his heart, saying she wants to hear it. She listens for a moment, the remarks she thinks is broken. A devastated Don asks if she can hear that, and she points out she can't hear anything... the stethoscope is broken! In that moment the spell is broken. There was an air of something mystic about her, a dreamy confidence perhaps born from drugs or just a enraptured belief in the new age movement... but the moment she slipped out of her confident, hazy seduction into remarking the stethoscope was broken, only to then close her eyes and start to press forward for a kiss like nothing had happened, Don realized she had no real insight or spiritual connection. She's just a very nice, very forward but also very young woman that he doesn't actually have time for right now. So he asks her again to leave, and this time she can see he means it... and it doesn't bother her, if he doesn't want to "get it on" then she won't push him, she'll just go and do her own thing somewhere else. She leaves, Don having gone through a roller-coaster in what to him feels like a few minutes that have actually been an entire night and day... time in which he has done and said things, had interactions, hit on a strange woman, and become obsessed with finding an old soup campaign that has the key to unlocking the new Chevy! It's been a hell of a ride!  
Jerusalem fucked around with this message at 04:04 on Feb 26, 2022 |
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Feb 25, 2022 05:21
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At the Draper residence, the kids are sitting on Don and Megan's bed watching television when the phone rings. Sally answers, Don sounding surprised to hear her... does he even remember they're there this weekend? He ignores her asking when he is coming home to ask to speak with Megan, but Megan has much the same question as she takes the receiver, all dressed up to go out and wanting to know where he is too. She's not pleased when he tells her he is still at work, reminding him (he absolutely did NOT recall) that she has to go out and that she looked after the kids last night so he could work late (again, something he has no recollection of). Don promises that he is close to cracking what he needs for this campaign, he's just waiting on the research to come in, but a pissed off Megan doesn't care about that, she has a life that needs living too. But she controls herself, mindful if nothing else of the fact Don's children are right there in the room with her. He did promise he would be home "soon", so she chooses to accept this at face value and move on, simply telling him she doesn't like that he's working so hard, and that he must be exhausted. "Actually I'm getting a second wind," he remarks, hanging up without a goodbye or an "I love you", already back to considering his mess of an office with no more thought for her or the children. Megan meanwhile has no choice now, asking Sally if she'd like to earn the cash to get some boots to go with that skirt. Bobby is disgruntled, realizing that Megan is going to leave Sally in charge, but Megan assures him that the three of them will have fun alone in the apartment (God that's depressing, three kids travel all the way into Manhattan to spend the night alone because their dad doesn't bother showing up). She has to go, because this isn't just a night out. Her Agent is taking her to see a Play, but also to meet the people who organized it in the hopes that she can also be in one of their Plays. This concept confuses Bobby AND Sally... why would she want to be in a Play when she's already on television every day!?! Amused by this, she offers to make them spaghetti before she goes (her standby meal), but the two older kids want to wait for Don to return, so they say they're not hungry (Gene is in his own world) which she accepts easily enough given she has to go, simply asking Sally to make Gene a sandwich. With that she's on her way, leaving the kids home alone, enjoying their weekend with their father... without their father, or even his current wife. As for the important work happening at the Agency? Well it's.... Stan blindfolded with a tie, egging on the other copywriters - including a returned Ed - to throw craft knives at the cartoon apple slapped on the wall above his head! Nothing could POSSIBLY go wrong! Michael insists he will throw first after everybody clamors for a shot, pointing out that he's the only person there not out of their mind, though a giggling Peggy - who has been drinking as it is now after hours - points out that he does "hate" Stan. Ginsberg simply shrugs but points out... well, he hates apples more! Stan, now wearing the tie like a headband so he face his firing line with dignity, is smoking and seeming unconcerned... until he realizes it is actually going to happen. Michael makes his throw, wildly off-target, and Stan throws his arm up protectively... and the blade jams right into his arm! Peggy is horrified, giving a little squeal of horror, while Stan simply stares at the blade now sticking out of his arm, muttering,"Crap," but apparently otherwise unfazed. Mathis notes he has done this before and it won't be a problem, while Michael - sober as a judge - simply asks who wants the next throw. Peggy, drunk though she is, doesn't want to just pretend this didn't happen, racing over as Stan casually tears the blade out of his arm and declares that it doesn't hurt at all. She quickly takes his arm and dabs away the blood with a page of copy, telling him to keep pressure on it and insisting they at least go and wash it. They leave the lounge and Michael decides to take another shot at the now lone apple... and makes an even worse throw, almost missing the wall entirely, giving both Mathis and Ed - whose heart "stopped" yesterday, remember! - a fright.   True to his word, Don has headed home.... except instead of going to 17, he has gone straight to 16, using the cargo elevator again. He stands at the Rosens' back door, gently knocking, hoping that Sylvia will answer, that he will be able to be face to face with her again and use his powers of persuasion to convince her to renew their incredibly dangerous and foolhardy affair. She doesn't answer though, she doesn't even hear him. She isn't anywhere near the back door, and even if she was she wouldn't hear his gentle knocking over the sound of the radio in the kitchen playing music. Leaning closer, Don listens through the door, the words to the rather on-the-nose music playing drifting him into as close to sleep as he has gotten since his brief nap before he got shot up with amphetamines. Back at the Agency, Peggy has gotten Stan into an office so she can clean and bandage his wound. Enjoying her attention, he comments that she has a lovely bedside manner and nuzzles and kisses her cheek. She waves it off as silliness at first, joking that he's lucky she doesn't like beards, but he proclaims that all women say that but don't act like it before pulling her up against him. Taking this poo poo a little more seriously now, Peggy reminds him that she thinks of him like a brother, to which he gives what seems to him the logical reply that she doesn't have a brother! "I have a boyfriend," she points out, but he kisses her anyway, and when she tells him she wants him to stop he happily tells her that no, she doesn't. Oof. He kisses her again, and for a moment she kisses him back... but then she pulls away, telling him no once more, and this time (thank God) the message seems to sink in. Now his gentle persuasiveness is replaced by exasperation, as he whines,"Come onnnnn" like that will overwhelm her with passion and make her strip her clothes off. He tells her he "needs" this and she rolls her eyes at that, sarcastically noting that yeah she knows he's in "pain". "My cousin Robbie was killed in action," he tells her. She's floored by this revelation, bringing a hand to her mouth in shock. This is the poor bastard who attended Don's surprise party and got caught in the middle of an argument between Abe and Cooper over the fate of young American soldiers in Vietnam, somebody she met even if she didn't know. Stan doesn't even have the details, all he knows is WHEN it happened, and even that was a kick in the teeth because it was 3 months ago. 3 months before he found out his cousin died, before his Aunt found out the 16 letters she'd sent her son had never reached him or been read because she'd been writing to a corpse the entire time. He muses on the insanity of mail being delivered right up to the front lines and how terrible a job that must be, while Peggy takes a seat on the edge of the desk beside him, offering her commiseration. Stan reaches out and places a hand on her thigh, and though she does remove it she doesn't let go of the hand itself: she's here to offer him comfort, but as a friend and "sister", not as a lover or even just a one-time casual sexual partner. Drugs and sex are just a way of avoiding his grief, something Don Draper really needs to learn too, and she lets him know that she has had loss in her life too. She could be referring to finding her father dead, or letting go of the child she never even knew she was pregnant with, or both, or that and other moments in her life. The important thing is, you can't run away or avoid dealing with it... you have to let yourself feel it. She suggests he go home but he says he can't actually bring himself to stand up to just now, which she puts down to the effects of the shot (or maybe he just wants to avoid revealing an erection, though it's nothing she hasn't seen from here before). She stands up and walks to the door, and Stan - being Stan - can't avoid one last swipe at the prize, informing her she has a great rear end. "Thank you," she simply notes, and leaves. Could people please stop kissing Peggy at work! At the Draper's apartment, Sally is lying in bed reading Rosemary's Baby when she hears a noise from elsewhere in the apartment. Assuming it is Don come home at last, she heads out to see him.... and finds a large black woman rummaging around. What the gently caress? Startled by Sally's appearance, the woman is kind and genial, explaining that she didn't know that anybody was home but encouraging Sally to go back to bed. Sally is confused but also off-balance by the woman's complete lack of alarm, she's acting like it is perfectly normal for her to be here but hasn't answered any of Sally's questions as to why she is here or what she is doing. "I'm visiting," the woman tells her at last,"Didn't nobody tell you?" and when Sally says that no, nobody did, and asks who she is, the woman seems confused that Sally couldn't possibly know... after all, she's her grandma! What the gently caress? Sally may be young and she may be sleepy but she's not stupid. She points out that is impossible, and the woman acknowledges the difference in the color of their skin but insists that she did raise her daddy, remarking how much Sally looks like him. When Sally, still suspicious, points out that nobody told her that "Grandma" was coming to visit, the woman has an answer for that too: she was supposed to be a surprise, Sally's daddy gave her a key so she could let herself in, but she didn't know anybody was at home. She even insists her rummaging was because she was looking for a serving plate so she could make her daddy's favorite meal: fried chicken. Sally is at a loss, because the woman just drips confidence and has an easy answer for everything, and though everything in her is screaming - especially after reading Rosemary's Baby - that something is wrong, the woman IS an adult, and her story is possible if not probable. After all, Sally herself was largely raised by Carla for a long time.... might this woman be Don's version of Carla? How else would she have got into the house if she didn't have a key? Maybe her father really does love fried chicken? When Sally still balks to come and give her "Grandma Ida" a hug, Ida even gets aggressive about it, glaring at the young girl and warning her not to be rude, is this how she was raised to treat her betters? Going into full mom mode, Ida announces she is going to make Sally some eggs, insisting firmly that Sally is going to eat them all up... but first she wants to know who else is in the house? Sally was wavering, but this question puts her guard back up, asking how come Ida doesn't know. Ida of course has an answer, she hasn't seen Sally's daddy in a long time and he wanted to surprise her too, and when Sally still seems reluctant Ida hits her with the coup de grace: her daddy IS Mr. Donald Draper, right? This is real horror movie poo poo, but just like in a horror movie Sally feels trapped and obligated to play out her part in spite of her obvious fear. She slowly trudges forward and allows the stranger to hug her, still not believing her but also not NOT believing her too, uncertain enough that the natural hierarchy of adult authority over a child has taken hold. Ida leads her into the kitchen to start making the eggs, and in spite of herself Sally finds her guard dropping as Ida asks if her daddy is still handsome and her mother is still a piece of work. They're questions designed perfectly to appeal to Sally, who Ida has clearly pigeonholed as a young teen girl likely to worship her father and detest her mother. It works well enough, because Sally doesn't even register how strange it is when Ida asks Sally what they call her, giving her name in return and thus another weapon in Ida's arsenal to present as anything other than a stranger who has somehow broken into the apartment. As an aside, I'm assuming she's a burglar. The fact is, even with our privileged position as viewers of the show, we know so little about Don's childhood that it is possible - if HIGHLY unlikely - that she actually is somebody from his past. I doubt it though. She's just a very accomplished con-woman/burglar who is quick on her feet and savvy enough to know how to work people when confronted.   Where is Don? He's returned to the Agency, having apparently never made it as far as the 17th floor and leaving his kids alone and - unknown to him - at the mercy of a complete stranger. Still obsessed with the soup campaign he is positive holds all the answers to his woes, Don is in the archives, reviewing prior work dating back to the Sterling Cooper days: the failed (but spectacular) Hilton pitch; Peggy's dancing beans idea for Heinz; and then finally.... he finds it. It's Oatmeal. Granger's Oatmeal. Not soup. He stares at drawn artwork (presumably by the lamentably lost Sal Romano) of a mother standing lovingly over a small boy eating oatmeal and drinking milk, beaming down on him with perfect maternal affection. "Because you know what he needs" is the tagline, and Don is carried away by the vision, the beauty mark on the mother's face drifting him once more back in time to Dick Whitman, the brothel, and Aimèe. Dick Whitman wakes in bed to see Aimèe sitting at in front of her trifold mirror applying her make-up. Noticing he is awake, she tells him his fever finally broke, and corrects him again when he calls her Ms. Swenson, but this time saying to just call her Amy, admitting she just liked the way Aimèe was spelled. He agrees it is a nice name and she is amused, choosing to read this as flirtatious or at least charming and noting that he obviously IS better if he can act like that. She applies her beauty mark and asks if he likes it, and he tells he does happily enough... but becomes far more subdued when she suddenly stands and approaches him, asking if he likes girls. Oh no. Amused by his discomfort, she giggles that he doesn't know what to do and lifts the bed-sheet, eying up his crotch and pointing out that obviously he does like this. He pulls the sheet back down, scandalized, telling her to stop it, but she ignores his protests, crawling into the bed beside him and pressing her breasts close to his face, stating (not asking) if he likes her bosom. "....I dunno..." is all the nervous, frightened and confused (and yes, aroused) boy can respond. She strokes his hair and asks if he wants to know what all the fuss is about, and when he responds no she again ignores him, telling him that she will do all the work, pressing up tighter against him before blessedly we return to the present. This was abuse, pure and simple. Rape, to really boil it down. A long existing double-standard suggests this was actually the kind of thing young boys dreamed of and fantasized about, something to brag about or reminisce fondly on as an adult. Even to the actual present day of 2022, young males abused by women is often sidelined or reduced in the minds of many as not being particularly severe or problematic. But imagine the reverse scenario, imagine Sally waking in a stranger's bed, a grown man peeking at her crotch, climbing into bed with her, asking her if she wants him to "show you what all the fuss is about" and ignore her frequent protests of no. Amy herself is clearly not without issue, as a young prostitute with a child of her own somewhere in her past, she's probably been the victim of abuse herself, and sadly probably multiple times. But that doesn't excuse her actions here, regardless of the perceived wisdom that she simply gave him a treat other boys his age would kill to have. In the present, Don simply stands and stares at the woman in the artwork, smoking, his feelings on his memories of Amy not entirely clear.... though I have a hell of a lot to say about that at the end of this write-up, because boy loving howdy does this explain A LOT about Don Draper. Sally meanwhile is eating the eggs Ida made for her, watching as her "Grandma" hunts around looking in cupboards and drawers. She asks what Ida is looking for, who grumpily tells her not to ask silly questions or she won't "let" her eat in the living room. When Sally suggest she might know where what Ida is looking for is, the very savvy woman muses quietly that she is just looking for a place to hide the presents she bought for them all. A very nice story, one designed to appeal to a child... though it ignores the fact she already told Sally that Don hadn't told her about ALL the children. She grabs at the tv set into the wall, commenting on how well it is set in, as if she planned to hide behind there as opposed to stealing it. All her hunting though has attracted somebody else's attention, as Bobby emerges from his bedroom and stares in utter confusion at the scene: Sally eating eggs and a strange black woman pulling on the edges of the television. "Is that little Bobby?" Ida asks in delight, making use of information gained from Sally to pretend she knows him, commenting on how big he has grown to suggest she last saw him at a young age where he wouldn't necessarily remember her. Bobby though has no subtlety, simply declaring he doesn't know her and rejecting the idea she is "Grandma Ida" when Sally identifies her, saying they don't have a grandma. Ida though is all charm, explaining that she's brought candy and toys as presents for him and he can have them... but only in the morning, so he better go back to sleep. He's a kid though, so he declares he isn't tired, and Ida sees a new avenue and points out that Sally can't remember but she hopes HE can: where is that gold watch she bought for his daddy? She wants to replace the band on it as a surprise for him. Bobby without a hint of suspicion points out that his father has FOUR watches, but she promises she'll know the one when she sees it. So he directs her to the drawer besides Don's bed, and immediately she turns on her heel, her pleasant grandmotherly face transformed into all business as she marches to claim her plunder. Bobby though simply joins Sally on the couch to eagerly ask if they're allowed to watch television now!?! Sally, finally parted from the stranger, tells him she thinks Idea is lying and picks up the phone to call the police, while Bobby considers things and asks the most pertinent question he can think of... are they Negroes now? Sally dials 911, quietly asking for the police and insisting it is an emergency when questioned, explaining a stranger has come into the house and giving the address. But she's too late, Ida has returned and snatches the phone from her hand, demanding to know who the person on the other end is. Listening to the operator identify themselves, Ida immediately turns on the charm, with just the right mixture of irritation and deference as she explains the children are supposed to be in bed but have played a joke on BOTH her and the police with this bad behavior. Seemingly convincing the operator this was purely a prank call, Ida smiles and says goodnight, then slams the receiver down and glares with fury at Sally and Bobby. "You hurt my feelings," she snarls, then warns them that she is going out for some fresh air and they best be sleeping when she comes back. She marches to the rear exit and out that door, with zero intention to return: she knows that even if she convinced the operator the jig is up, and the police are likely to be sent just on the off-chance. Sally, terrified now, leaps up and rushes to the door to lock it, and presumably she will call the police again in a moment to insist that they come. As for Bobby? Well with no adult left in the room, all alone in the apartment with nobody to tell him what to do... he scoops up the remote and eagerly turns on the television!   Unaware of the trauma his children (well, okay, ONE of his children) are going through, Don is using the oatmeal work as a source for inspiration as he types away madly in his office, finally ready to articulate the idea he is sure is the key to all their problems. Pulling the sheet of paper out, he reads it silently, smiling with relief that it's as good as he thought it was. Leaping up, he paces back and forth reading out excerpts about not ignoring history and not wasting time... then rushes to his door and calls for Peggy to join him, wanting her to hear this. She arrives, Ginsberg with her, and he declares they need to get everyone to hear this... then changes his mind, not willing to wait any more, now he just wants an audience. They enter the room, Peggy excited, Michael intrigued, and he passes the oatmeal art to her. She has never seen it before, but it's the key to everything! He has figured out the message, and he begins to read, both listening in anticipation. At first that old Don Draper magic is there. The timbre of his voice is as important as the quality of the work, and the timbre is there even if his voice is hoarse. It's the delivery, the presence, the gravitas he gives his work... except the work is.... gibberish? Peggy becomes increasingly more stone-faced as she grasps this isn't going anywhere, while Michael allows himself to get carried away and let his own Creative Energy flow... until he too becomes confused by it failing to fall into lockstep with Don's own vision. Because Don starts talking about history, about the basics of advertising, about the issues where the customer doesn't want to buy your product even if you're entertaining them at the same time.... but then he veers away, leaving a confused Michael behind as he grabs hold of Michael's idea about getting the foot in the door, talking in a mad, drug-fueled and exhaustion addled frenzy about only needing a couple of sentences to convince "her". He's not talking about Chevy. He's not talking about oatmeal. He's talking about Sylvia. "What have you been doing the last three days?" asks a horrified Peggy, only now realizing her manic Boss doesn't even have the benefit of his usual creative drive this time,"Have you been working on Chevy at all?" He announced he has to go, dismissing Michael's suggestion they get in somebody to work on art, saying he doesn't have time for it. Because this is a pitch. That is what has obsessed Don since he remembered the soup from long ago childhood days. He has obsessed for the two days about how to break through Sylvia's resolve, treating her and their affair like a client relationship: she's rejecting his pitches and he just needed to find the right idea and tagline to convince her otherwise. Michael shrugs, noting that if Don is happy then at least it means THEY can relax. Peggy ignores him asking if he can nap in Don's office, meaning to chase after him... only to find Jim Cutler standing further down the corridor staring mouth agape through the open door of Stan's office. He gestures to her to join him, and when she does he gleefully motions to her to look through the door. She does... and there's Stan, seated on the couch, Wendy riding him as they "get it on" and Stan finds a temporary escape from his feelings through sex (and drugs!). Revolted, with just a tinge of jealousy after she turned him down only for him to apparently immediately find somebody else, she glares at Cutler, considers the Don debacle, and announces loud enough for everybody including Stan and Wendy to hear that she's going home. She marches away, Cutler irritated that he might be seen now and having to escape instead of standing to get his voyeuristic thrills. Don arrives on 17, a sweaty, crumpled mess but one with a plan. He just needs to get home, freshen up a little, then pop down to 16 and get his foot in the door and convince Sylvia that they're... what? Meant to be together? That he'll divorce Megan and she can divorce Arnie and they'll marry? No, I think the thing he is trying to "sell" her is that they just continue their affair while still remaining married to their significant others, as if nothing has changed apart from Don getting his own way. But when he steps through the front door of his apartment, what he finds is even more of a shock than walking in on the I Ching earlier in the day. The police are in the apartment, along with the children and Megan... and Henry Francis and Betty too.   Baffled, he asks what is going on, and a furious Betty is only too glad to tell him: an elderly Negro woman held his children hostage and robbed him blind! Henry offers a warning,"Betty..." to her, while Megan gives further context, the woman had robbed a number of apartments in the building before arriving there, coming through the back door which was open. Don is horrified, confused, guilty and bewildered. Somebody broke into the house? With the kids? Through the door? Did HE leave the door open? Did he actually come home briefly to 17 earlier before going down to 16 to listen at the door to the sounds of Sylvia's radio? Is this his fault? Has he put his children at risk? One of the policemen explains they think they caught the woman as she was boarding the IRT, so they'll need him to come down to the station in the next 24 hours to identify his things. But Betty isn't done being furious, snarling that this happened because nobody was here to look after the children, gesturing to Megan and claiming she was "off on the casting couch" (Jesus, Betty) while Don was "at work", asking Megan bitterly if that is what he tells everybody. Megan lets that pass, not wanting to get into a screaming match with Betty at this moment when emotions are so high, despite the crude insults. Henry though calmly and firmly tells Betty this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation, and one of the police officers even comes to Megan and Don's defense, noting that this could have happened to anybody. That just further proves Betty's point in her mind though, her own recent experience in the city coloring things even further, as she says it could only happen to anyone who lived in "this disgusting city" and leaves three children alone.... then glares at Don and loudly demands to know if he is aware Henry is running for office! Really Betty? Now? Megan simply apologizes to Sally, who stands up and turns to look at her father, perhaps the first sight of him she has had all weekend, and tells him she wants to go home. Finally that is the tipping point, and after 24-72 hours of "creative focus" Don finally has his crash. Unlike Ken, this is mostly self-inflicted, and he simply collapses to the floor unconscious, his body no longer able to keep going with his overworked mind. In the past, it's Amy who has her crash, as Dick Whitman and the other prostitutes at the table being served by Abigail hear a commotion and see Amy shoved stumbling down the hall by a furious Uncle Mack, accusing her of holding out on him. Defiant, Amy growls back that he doesn't know anything, and Mack goes straight to the nuclear option, grabbing her coat and demanding she go "peddle that rear end out on the street" because she doesn't deserve him or a home. Enraged at her treatment, wanting to get back at Mack, she taunts him that actually he owes HER money.... because she took Dick's "cherry" and never got paid for it, so she wants $5. Dick is horrified at this casual revelation, Mack shoving Amy out the front door and hurling her suitcase after her. But Dick isn't worried about her, he's worried about himself, snapping his head back to look at a seething Abigail who quietly demands to know if this is true. "No," he insists, and somehow that denial is the worst of all for Abigail, who simply snaps. She begins wailing on him with the wooden spoon, screaming that he's disgusting and filthy, that he's filth and he KNOWS that he is filth. The saddest thing is... he's probably heard this from her before, many times, either spoken out loud or made clear through her actions. Like Amy, her own trauma makes her actions/reactions understandable if not forgivable: her husband betrayed her with a prostitute and Dick is the living reminder of that betrayal even beyond Archibald's own life. Now here he is, not even a full grown man and apparently with the same "weakness" as his father. Never mind that he's barely a teenager, never mind that a grown woman essentially raped him... for Abigail, Dick Whitman is a disgusting, perverted abomination. It doesn't matter that she herself compromised her morals to live in the brothel, or that she sleeps with Mack, her anger and loathing and contempt and rage for everything wrong in her life is personified in the whipping boy that is Dick Whitman.   In the present, Don sits on the edge of his bed miserably remembering this low moment in his life. Megan sits up, seeing he is troubled, and leans up against him, offering him what reassurance she can, admitting that she felt like fainting too when she first walked into all of that. Worst of all, she takes the blame, apologizing to him for not being there, admitting that she sometimes forgets Sally really is still just a child herself. Don simply sits, saying nothing, racked by guilt and self-loathing, remembering the horrible things Abigail screamed at him and thinking not for the first time that they are all true, that he really is a horrible abomination. Monday morning arrives and Don, at least partially recovered from the Amphetamine bender, steps into the elevator looking a little closer to his normal pristine self. The elevator stops on 16, of course, and Sylvia steps on after a moment's hesitation and Don shuffling to the side to give her room. The doors close and they ride down together in silence, their only dialogue exchange a short,"How are you?" "Busy" response. Sylvia is a little uneasy at first, but Don has locked in his poker face. He came home on Sunday night ready to throw himself at her at her door and pitch his heart out to reignite their affair. Now, finally, he has accepted that it must be over even if he doesn't want it to be. His actions had consequences even beyond those he normally ignores: now the stability of his marriage, which he seems more than willing to risk, but the safety of his children. So the elevator arrives at the lobby, and Don steps out first without hesitation and walks away without another look. Sylvia watches him go, surprised, a little sad... but also relieved. Maybe she can trust him after all, and they really did get away with it. Now they're just a man and a woman who happen to live in the same building. In Rye, Henry sighs and extends the phone out to Sally, telling her she really should talk to her father. She takes the receiver, and Don - now in his office - lets her know that he's okay and promises that he didn't have a heart attack, he was just overworked. For a moment she says nothing, and then she tells him what SHE has been thinking, and she is her father's daughter after all.... because SHE feels embarrassed. She admits that she suspected something was wrong but she still ended up letting Ida fool her like a stupid kid. Don promises her she didn't and that she's probably fooled plenty of adults. It has to pain him when Sally admits she tried to catch Ida out by asking her things about Don's life.... only to realize that she herself knows very little about her own father's life. He sits silently for a moment considering that, and Dawn buzzes in to let him know Mr. Chaough wants to see him. "You did everything right," he assures Sally, and then after a moment admits a truth of his own: he was the one who didn't lock the back door, it is HIS fault that Ida was able to get inside. Not hers. His. He is to blame, not her. That is something he can give to his daughter, and a sign that he is finally accepting her as an adult, because he can admit that he doesn't know everything and that he has flaws (boy does he!). With the call over, he heads into Ted's office, but preempts whatever Ted might want to say by saying that HE needs to talk to him. Before either can though, Jim Cutler slips in behind Don and closes the door, greeting them both, and now Ted has a bone to pick with him. Noting grumpily that he is fine after neither asks how he is following the death and funeral of his friend, he demands to know how Jim could bring Frank's little girl into the building? Jim promises that he kept an eye on her, asking Don to confirm that... but Don is confused? Frank's little girl? Who? "Wendy," Jim explains, and holy loving gently caress that throws everything into a horrifying next context. The woman who said the funeral was beautiful and offered to divine the future and answer spiritual questions was the daughter of the recently deceased Frank Gleason? The woman who Don almost had sex with? The woman Stan DID have sex with? The woman Jim Cutler was happily perving at having sex? Jesus Christ. To make matters worse, Jim insists that letting her hang out at the Agency was a lot better than setting her loose in The Village like she wanted. An irritated Ted notes Wendy's mother (and Frank's widow) doesn't see it that way, then turns his attention back to Don, asking what the hell happened over the weekend? Because he's got piles of proposed work from the Creatives tasked with coming up with a new strategy for Chevy.... and it's almost all complete gibberish! Chevy is spelled wrong! But this is what Don wanted to talk to Ted about. Now firmly back in (the veneer of) control of himself, Don with great authority explains that he is going back to his proper role of Creative Director in regards to the Chevy Account: reviewing and evaluating the creative work of others. In other words, he isn't dedicating his Creative energy to coming up with ideas, just looking at what others do. He isn't going to march to the beat of their drum (or Ken's tap-dancing)... Ted can lead it, Ted can bring him work and he can consider it, but he isn't going to burn himself out chasing that dragon himself. This news is, quite obviously, NOT what Ted wants to hear OR accept. He can't run Chevy all by himself, that's the entire point of this merger.... neither of them were big or powerful enough to do this alone! But Don wasn't asking, he was telling. "Call me around 1970 when they're ready to make an ad," he declares, and as he leaves to Ted's protests, he stops to complain that every time they get a car, this place becomes a whorehouse. Those words leave Ted and Jim stunned, simply watching as Don walks away with renewed purpose. He knows whorehouses, of course, he spent his formative years in one, but at least unlike then now he actually does have some power. But he also fears that he simply doesn't have the strength or moral clarity to deny the urges that come with the opportunity, that on some level he is the filth that Abigail screeched he knew he was. So he disguises his fear as resolve, his weakness as purpose, and his lack of control as total mastery of himself.   So ends one of the weirdest, simultaneously funny AND horror-laden episodes of Mad Men. And I wanna talk about a revelation that gives us so, so, so much context for why the fascinating lead character of Mad Men is the way he is. And I want to do that... by considering a line said by somebody else entirely. "My mother. No, my first girlfriend." Those were the words spoken by Ken, a kind of odd faux-pas mostly played for humor. But they strike at the heart of a horrible truth revealed by this episode. Here we learned about Dick Whitman losing his virginity, and the circumstances were appalling, effectively a rape though he probably wouldn't ever consciously consider it as such, associating a more negative connotation to Abigail's abuse of him when she found out. "Because you know what he needs." Those are the words on the Oatmeal campaign that so struck Don. The image in the art was of a loving mother feeding her son, beaming uncomplicated maternal love down on him. The beauty mark on her face reminded him of Amy, and that reminded him of his first time... but I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about motherly love. Because as depressing and horrifying as it is, I believe that Amy feeding Dick the soup was perhaps the first time in his ENTIRE life to that point that a woman lavished maternal affection on him. He never had it from Abigail, a severe and disappointed woman who begrudged his existence and made no bones about how she felt about him even if she felt duty-bound to raise him. What happens the morning after he is treated to his kind, lavishing, maternal affection? She has sex with him. Young, immature and vulnerable, Dick's first sexual experience is forever mixed in with the confusing memory of his first experience of maternal love. That heady mixture will pursue him through the decades and a complete change of identity. Suddenly so much makes sense, even if it doesn't excuse it. Why he both craves women and yet fears them, why he constantly finds the love he is given somehow lacking or unable to fill the gulf inside of him. Why he pursues complicated, fascinating women but also dangerous ones that put his relationships at risk. Because at its heart is the memory of that first time, that care and love he was given mixed with sex, followed by the guilt, recrimination and physical abuse. It's an old chestnut that psychiatrists say that all men want to have sex with their mothers. In Don's case though, motherhood and sexual intimacy are mixed up together as a result of this experience. The lack of love from Abigail, mixed with the confusion of seeing her together with Mack, followed by the care of Amy mixed with the sex that followed, coming back to Abigail attacking him and screaming about his inherent foulness. In short, Don Draper has a shitload of issues with women. You didn't need these flashbacks to tell you this, but this episode did help to show HOW he got like this. It's depressing, it's sad, it's horrible. It also doesn't excuse his actions, many of which are often taken with eyes wide open, but it does somewhat explain them. I feel like I know Don Draper better after this episode, and that puts me one up on most of the women in his life... including sadly his daughter.   Episode Index
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Feb 25, 2022 05:21
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Feb 25, 2022 05:51
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Text to speech, listen while you play
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Feb 25, 2022 05:52
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Haha, I wrote it so I could play Elden Ring guilt free 
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Feb 25, 2022 06:08
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haven't even read the post yet but just gotta say Hell Yes I'm So Glad You Finally Watched The Crash
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Feb 25, 2022 06:19
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"I'm sorry, Ted; but every time we get a car, this place turns into a whorehouse." is one of the funniest scenes in the show to me. The reaction from Ted and Cutler, the jaunty music as he walks to his office.
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Feb 25, 2022 07:24
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Jerusalem posted:Haha, I wrote it so I could play Elden Ring guilt free 
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Feb 25, 2022 14:43
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Farmer Crack-rear end posted:"I'm sorry, Ted; but every time we get a car, this place turns into a whorehouse." is one of the funniest scenes in the show to me. The reaction from Ted and Cutler, the jaunty music as he walks to his office. I enjoy the music choices in this episode, despite op calling "Going out of my head" "on-the-nose" the most striking is the juxtaposition of Amy's rape of Don with "dream a little dream of me." it's a soft, nostalgic-sounding lullaby that contrasts sharply with the horror on screen. there are many examples of this phenomenon in film—where the tone of the music is the opposite of the tone of the scene—but for some reason the one I always think of is that of Kurosawa's "Drunken Angel" and "Cuckoo Waltz" (spoilers for a 74yo film (that you should really see if you haven't yet (it's Kurosawa ffs!))) Wikipedia posted:During filming, Kurosawa's father died. While he was in a sad state, he heard The Cuckoo Waltz playing in the background, and the whimsical music made him even more depressed. Kurosawa decided to use this same effect in the film, at the low point in the life of Matsunaga, when the character realizes that he was being used all along by the crime boss. Kurosawa had the sound crew find the exact recording of The Cuckoo Waltz that he had heard after his father died, and had them play the instrumental beginning of the song repeatedly for the scene in which Matsunaga walks down the street after leaving the crime boss. kalel fucked around with this message at 17:49 on Feb 25, 2022 |
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Feb 25, 2022 17:46
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6nDsLx98SI Aaron Staton is so good in this scene. The little flourish at the end on "because it's my job!" is 
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Feb 25, 2022 19:25
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WampaLord posted:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6nDsLx98SI Hard pressed to identify a single favorite moment from this episode, but this might be it. Their discussion is largely congenial and collaborative, but they're both speaking with the speed and intensity of men who are very mad at each other as Don lays out that - loath as he is to admit it - his presence sells pitches just as much as the work itself, and he knows it. Fantastic performances on top of everything. Runner-up is "...you can hear that?" which is simultaneously riotously funny and terrifically sad. In that hazy, drugged out moment, this strange girl says something that puts Don at the precipice of making a truly revelatory bit of self-discovery. The second he realizes she's not speaking to his spiritual needs, though, the magic is gone.
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Feb 25, 2022 19:34
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it’s funny, in my memory of this scene Ken already had the eyepatch. I do appreciate how he’s wearing a green suit like some kind of drat leprechaun
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Feb 25, 2022 19:40
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JethroMcB posted:Hard pressed to identify a single favorite moment from this episode, but this might be it. Their discussion is largely congenial and collaborative, but they're both speaking with the speed and intensity of men who are very mad at each other as Don lays out that - loath as he is to admit it - his presence sells pitches just as much as the work itself, and he knows it. Fantastic performances on top of everything. Yeah, Don's part is also hilarious, and the cherry on top is watching Dawn reacting to all of this insanity happening right in front of her. I know this episode got mixed reviews at the time it aired but "let's have our characters hopped up on speed" was a great concept for an episode.
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Feb 25, 2022 19:45
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I think just about every show that runs long enough has some episode where everyone is high. And they're usually pretty good episodes, you get a built-in reason to deconstruct your characters for an hour and then rein them back in like nothing happened.
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Feb 25, 2022 21:32
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Yeah this is technically the second go around with that, when you get Peggy getting high in season 3. Very different vibe, though.
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Feb 25, 2022 23:58
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This episode is especially important for me. I was late to the Mad Men game and watched the first couple episodes... And just did not get it. I couldn't put my finger on why, but I thought "eh." A year or so later, I thought that I should give it another try, as I was short on stuff to watch. I just put this one on as it aired for the first time. Holy cow. I was super lost and, honestly, pretty confused about fake grandma because it seemed weirdly possible when you only had bits of things like Don isn't Don and grew up in whorehouse? I think? to go on. But, I did see that maybe I'd judged the show poorly at first. The "every time we get a car" line jumped out at me as a major "OK you have to see what the hell that's about."
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Feb 26, 2022 00:51
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The whole Grandma Ida sequence is real horror movie stuff, there were times I actually was wondering if this was some hosed up dream Sally was having or something. Ida's adaptation on the fly and the way she weaponized both the "friendly old black woman" routine as well as the typical adult/child dynamic, on top of those moments where the mask slipped and you saw how mean she could be were really great. The actor knocked it out of the park, she was terrifying.
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Feb 26, 2022 01:41
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WampaLord posted:Yeah, Don's part is also hilarious, and the cherry on top is watching Dawn reacting to all of this insanity happening right in front of her. I know this episode got mixed reviews at the time it aired but "let's have our characters hopped up on speed" was a great concept for an episode. I actually didn't believe this when you posted it (I wasn't following the show during its original run) so I read a summary of the reviews on Wikipedia and, wow,
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Feb 26, 2022 02:59
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The old black lady was really the part that stuck in a lot of people's craws. That and the entire premise is a little more unmoored then a lot of the stuff in the show
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Feb 26, 2022 03:06
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kalel posted:I actually didn't believe this when you posted it (I wasn't following the show during its original run) so I read a summary of the reviews on Wikipedia and, wow, I don't generally follow along with reviews of episodes of a show I'm watching. I followed Mad Men as it came out, this episode worked great for me.
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Feb 26, 2022 03:16
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