by Jillian Leigh, Ampersandology
*if you're not caught up with Season Three of Mad Men but care to do so on your own--do NOT read on. Spoilers up to 3.11 "The Gypsy and the Hobo."
Now, folks, when it comes to fictional characters, I don't mind imperfection. Actually, truth be told, I sort dislike characters without it (see: Kent, Clark, Jill's dislike of). And I'm not choosy, either: Psychologically damaged? Gee, who isn't these days? Obstinate to the point of rudeness? Join the club! Creepy close with your mother? Er, ah, well, okay, I guess.
But this season, Draper pushed it too far, as usual; what was once alluring iciness hardened into hardcore cruelty. I understood the root--he'd tried so hard after the estrangement of his marriage to be good, doting on his pregnant wife and being the bright little solider even as Sterling Cooper crumbled under the British invasion. But his efforts fixed nothing like it was supposed to: Betty remained aloof and vaguely dissatisfied, his golden status around the office was under question, and moreover, he was still not happy. It was like plugging 2 + 2 into a calculator and getting an answer of 5; something was inexplicably absent from the equation but from Draper's self-centered design and secretive nature, he would miss it every time.
I compared Don once to a granite statue: cool, calculated and manufactured to present the world with his best version of himself. That was the whole motivation behind the name-swap, after all.
And then came "The Gypsy and the Hobo," otherwise known as "The Day Don Draper Stood Still." His little box of secrets was dragged into the light and he was forced to confront a whole mess of truths that being the gatekeeper lets you smother. When you don't have a Greek chorus aware of your every transgression, I'm sure your conscience would sleep a whole lot sounder.
I bring up Greek tragedy because the entire confrontation scene brought that old (as in ancient) literary trope to mind. Betty becomes Don's Greek chorus, in turns horrified and heartbroken by the convoluted mess that is Don/Dick's past. Seeing Betty react to something we've all had seasons to process was a real treat, and a subtle reminder of how ludicrous yet ingenious the whole assumed identity plotline is. And the fact that most of it took place in the kitchen and bedroom of the Draper residence-- mundane snapshots of domesticity that has kept Don grounded all these years--really makes me think that this may be the turning point (for keeps this time) for ol' Dick. Note how he referred to the life they'd built that now seemed in ruins: he reminds Betty that this is "our children....OUR home." Would the Don Draper of season one, ready to run away to places unknown with his mistress, ever made such a statement? The home that once trapped him is now the place of his confession and possible release.
And speaking of Betty....she may still be a housecat--as her mother insinuated during her drug-induced labour dreams--but damn, this kitty's got claws. Having once been in Betty's position myself, I was tickled pink by her cool head and relentless barrage of questions. "You don't get to ask questions." Me-OW. I loved every minute of it, though I go back and forth in my actual evaluation of Betty's depth as a character. I'm sure the Stasi couldn't have player it cooler than Betty did during her long overdue interrogation.
Anyway, to sum up? I saw Don Draper's granite crack this week, and I liked it. I hope that this is the sign of change on the horizon, because Don was quickly running himself into a place even my fractured idea of affection couldn't follow. Go Team Draper, I hope. At least until I catch Don in either flared jeans or tie-dye.
*if you're not caught up with Season Three of Mad Men but care to do so on your own--do NOT read on. Spoilers up to 3.11 "The Gypsy and the Hobo."
It's been a losing battle for Don Draper this year. My affections have waned considerably alongside the cruelty he's been proudly boasting for the majority of Season Three-- look no farther than his snaps at Peggy or curt dismissal of Salvatore. For me, his slow descent into cruelty is a pretty good barometer on his slipping grasp on the once-enviable Draper charisma: the threadbare quality of his once unflappable cool has caused the undereducated and outmatched Dick Whitman (or worse, father Archibald) to lash out like a cat cornered from all sides. Don has been downright mean.
Now, folks, when it comes to fictional characters, I don't mind imperfection. Actually, truth be told, I sort dislike characters without it (see: Kent, Clark, Jill's dislike of). And I'm not choosy, either: Psychologically damaged? Gee, who isn't these days? Obstinate to the point of rudeness? Join the club! Creepy close with your mother? Er, ah, well, okay, I guess.
But this season, Draper pushed it too far, as usual; what was once alluring iciness hardened into hardcore cruelty. I understood the root--he'd tried so hard after the estrangement of his marriage to be good, doting on his pregnant wife and being the bright little solider even as Sterling Cooper crumbled under the British invasion. But his efforts fixed nothing like it was supposed to: Betty remained aloof and vaguely dissatisfied, his golden status around the office was under question, and moreover, he was still not happy. It was like plugging 2 + 2 into a calculator and getting an answer of 5; something was inexplicably absent from the equation but from Draper's self-centered design and secretive nature, he would miss it every time.
I compared Don once to a granite statue: cool, calculated and manufactured to present the world with his best version of himself. That was the whole motivation behind the name-swap, after all.
And then came "The Gypsy and the Hobo," otherwise known as "The Day Don Draper Stood Still." His little box of secrets was dragged into the light and he was forced to confront a whole mess of truths that being the gatekeeper lets you smother. When you don't have a Greek chorus aware of your every transgression, I'm sure your conscience would sleep a whole lot sounder.
I bring up Greek tragedy because the entire confrontation scene brought that old (as in ancient) literary trope to mind. Betty becomes Don's Greek chorus, in turns horrified and heartbroken by the convoluted mess that is Don/Dick's past. Seeing Betty react to something we've all had seasons to process was a real treat, and a subtle reminder of how ludicrous yet ingenious the whole assumed identity plotline is. And the fact that most of it took place in the kitchen and bedroom of the Draper residence-- mundane snapshots of domesticity that has kept Don grounded all these years--really makes me think that this may be the turning point (for keeps this time) for ol' Dick. Note how he referred to the life they'd built that now seemed in ruins: he reminds Betty that this is "our children....OUR home." Would the Don Draper of season one, ready to run away to places unknown with his mistress, ever made such a statement? The home that once trapped him is now the place of his confession and possible release.
And speaking of Betty....she may still be a housecat--as her mother insinuated during her drug-induced labour dreams--but damn, this kitty's got claws. Having once been in Betty's position myself, I was tickled pink by her cool head and relentless barrage of questions. "You don't get to ask questions." Me-OW. I loved every minute of it, though I go back and forth in my actual evaluation of Betty's depth as a character. I'm sure the Stasi couldn't have player it cooler than Betty did during her long overdue interrogation.
Anyway, to sum up? I saw Don Draper's granite crack this week, and I liked it. I hope that this is the sign of change on the horizon, because Don was quickly running himself into a place even my fractured idea of affection couldn't follow. Go Team Draper, I hope. At least until I catch Don in either flared jeans or tie-dye.
9 comments:
Remember Don's trip to California. I grew up in Los Angeles, and a number of friends had washed up Draper's as parents. My bet is the great Don ends up face down in the mud at Woodstock, founds a cult in California, checks into cocaine re-hab around '83 and then founds an evangelical church. But wait . . . that's not Don Draper's story . . . its Rick . . . never mind.
Ha! I'd love to see Don at Woodstock...but I think it's more likely he'll be rescuing his errant daughter Sally from the hippies than indulging himself.
Hmm, let's see, Don was born in what, 1926, or thereabouts? That'll put him at age 45/46 when Watergate happens. That's what I want to see.
I think he'll be facing the last vestiges of the advertising world he knew, as suddenly the public doesn't trust rhetoric whatsoever. He's already almost out of touch; I think the shockwave of Watergate could really hit Don where he lives.
Seriously though, if they force poor Jon Hamm into any kind of unusual sideburn...I am out. OUT I SAY.
Yeah, you're right, he'd be too old for Woodstock. But I do see that in his daughter too - do you recall her watching the monk burn himself on the news right after Betty's dad died?
Warhol's factory, that's it! If the show makes it to '65, I sense side burn issues. The thing I see is that Don Draper tries to get back to being Dick Whitman by smoking pot with Beats and picking-up hitchhikers. I do think Matthew Weiner is setting him up to "drop out" in some way. I know -- Don ends up dropping acid and finds himself in a Warhol film with Salvatore -- there's just desserts.
God I love this show!! So when do you think this season ends? Kenneday assassination or Beatles on Ed Sullivan?
I'd bet money on the Kennedy assassination. It was quick, but the invitation made it clear that Roger's daughter's wedding falls on the 23rd of November. Most notably known as the day AFTER Camelot was lost.
I think there's going to handle the Beatles the same way they did Marilyn Monroe dying...no overt plot-action, but people around the office are going to be affected. I think Sterling Cooper's going to find they went to sleep in 1963 and woke up in the future.
On the other hand, I can just see the chipmunks (Paul, Harry Ken and Pete) watching the Beatles...and Pete is tapping his feet along to the beat while the others look confused.
I didn't catch that about the wedding. Damn! Just wiki'd. There's only two episodes left, so it's gotta be Kennedy. But . . . Barbet Shroeder is directing this Sunday's, and that's a real heavy gun to bring out, so it could be this week. Gives me an excuse to watch More and Barfly again without feeling dated.
I love that about the "chipmunks"!
Thanks, but I can't take credit for "chipmunks." I think it was first coined over at Alan Sepinwall's blog, What's Alan Watching. It is brilliant, though.
I can't wait for this Sunday. I have every confidence that Weiner can pull off the zeitgeist of the post-Kennedy assasination---from what I understand of the man, I don't think he'd forgive himself if he didn't.
"The bars are closed" - well, there's Don Draper's future. So does he sink into becoming a useless drunk, or does teacher-girl come to the rescue?
btw, I don't think Rockefeller aide is looking to marry Betty.
that was me above, Jillian. posted from my other blog account.
Well, Don Draper does seem to have one mean case of dipsomania.
See, I think Henry really does want to marry Betty, on some level. After all, working for Nelson Rockefeller, he'd just be aping his boss. Rockefeller and Happy (his second wife) scandalized the nation by leaving their spouses for each other.
Besides, if he's in the market for a political wife, who else in the Ossing district fits this neater than Betty Draper--beautiful, cultured and a damn fine treat for your arm.
So far, I love this plot development. Henry has been upfront with her about who he is, and isn't disposed to put up with her childish nonsense. I'm thinking of the time she threw a coin box at him and he calmly explained his reasoning. Henry is awesome.
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