Media Platforms Design Team
Season 5, Episode 4: "Mystery Date"
I don't know when we started paying such close attention to the episode titles of television shows. To my mind, it was Friends, a show that put a patent on the phrase "The one with..." But that could be generational bias. If I Love Lucy's "Lucy's Italian Movie" came out now, it might be called "The One with the Grapes." Certainly with better shows, better television, we've started to tune into the title as we would with a short story or a painting, looking for clues. Sometimes the titles are overarching and thematic, as I thought might be the case when I checked just after watching this fourth episode of Mad Men's fifth season. I thought it might even be called "Sick" (tabloid-tribute exclamation point optional). After all, Don is very ill with the flu and running a fever when the show opens (new character Michael Ginsberg, ever one of the light touch and "regional accent," offhandedly suggests he's contracted tuberculosis). Ah, but Don's psychical ailment is but a frame for the show, used to diagnose a much deeper ailment: American perversion. He is but the Kleenex upon which all the other plot mucus rests. Sound gross? It is, though not as gross as the Time magazine photo negatives Peggy's friend Joyce brings into the office ("not suitable for publication"). Anyway, this is the second episode in a row that isn't really about our leading man — or, rather, it is, but Don's inner turmoil ends up being a hell of a lot less rewarding than the actions Joan takes by the end of the show. With so many rich characters, this is bound to happen, but still I found it surprising. So, who is this show really about? Who is the "Mystery Date" we're promised in the title?
On Sunday night, Don and Megan's relationship was significantly more normal this time around, even bland. It reminded me of the end of season four, with everyone falling into his or her respective roles, and Don getting the dutiful-but-delightful companion he never had and his mother never was. When the episode opens, Don is having a coughing fit in the elevator, and so Megan moves away with a smile, telling Don he sounds terrible. "You even look terrible," she says. One of Don's old flames (he's a one-man menorah, this one), a freelance writer named Andrea, shows up in the elevator for a quick second, long enough to naturally mistake Megan and Don's body language for two strangers on a train. Andrea stands within kissing distance of Don and calls him her "bad penny." He just keeps turning up! Don, despite being on his way to a delusional state, is still quick enough to back away and introduce Megan, whose French Canadian-ness this time around has, thank God, been whittled down to a word: "Incroyable," she says, after Andrea gets off at her floor.
Meanwhile, Stan is in the office wearing pantyhose around his head like a bank robber — a brilliantly handled bit with some physical comedy, in which Stan proves one can smoke a cigarette with pantyhose over one's head. The show gets this in under the wire before we know why it may not be so funny, and all the men are put on Awkwardness Alert in figuring out how to react to the headlines. And the headlines are this: Richard Speck (who would go on to attempt suicide, fail, and intentionally grow man-boobs in order to make himself more desirable in prison) has just committed one of the more gruesomely misogynistic mass murders in the country's history. As Megan ogles the photos Joyce brought in, Joyce couldn't be happier, telling her and us about the gory details — the knock at the door, the student nurses bound and locked in a room. And the sodomy cherry on top: the one out of nine that survived. Speck had so many victims at once, he lost track (a fact that will later be lauded as a sign of virility by Pauline Francis), and this one girl managed to squirm under a bed, praying to be forgotten as her friend and roommate was raped and killed on the mattress above her.
Like everyone in that office, I was waiting to see what Megan's reaction would be. Overall, it's neither here nor there. So the personal humiliation of singing a French song at your husband's birthday party is cause to storm out of the office, but a bunch of women dying in the worst way one can imagine is kind of just fine? Actually, that makes sense. Truthfully, it's how I would have reacted in an office setting when tragedy strikes across the nation, but if X project doesn't get done by Y p.m., I'm going to have an unhappy client on my hands. But I am not Megan (fortunately in some ways, unfortunately in others). Basically, I was a little sad that Sal Romano wasn't around to appear in this scene, as I can think of no better character in Mad Men's history who would have had such a complicated reaction to the rubber-necking perversity of women being tortured somewhere across the country, all set against the backdrop of a conversation about pantyhose and shoes. In place of Sal, we get Ginsberg, who, being the good, secretly orthodox Jew he is, does not find this titillating in the least, and wishes he had never seen the photos. It's one thing to talk about "killer legs" in regards to pantyhose; it's another thing to talk about defiling and killing the body attached to said stems. Joyce leans over and quotes the Book of Job to Ginsberg, no stranger to scripture: "... and I only am escaped alone to tell thee." (She might find this poem applicable.) Ginsberg, of course, books it out of there as if being chased by a pack of locusts.
Meanwhile, there is a larger historical event taking place in Chicago: Race riots (largely between the Puerto Rican community and the police) have broken out in Chicago. I admit to looking that one up, as the only Chicago riots with which I was dialogue-reference-familiar with were much later. This got me thinking: If Mad Men stays on the air, proportionately, until 1968, will it devote a whole episode to the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.? Or Bobby Kennedy? But those mystery guests have yet to arrive.
Who has arrived is Greg. He's back from the war, and Joan is ever the poster child for The One Who Tries to Make the Relationship Work. Her mother is her daughter's accomplice in this endeavor and volunteers to go out and get a cake and Greg's favorite beer, Schaefer. She later volunteers to run errands so that Greg and Joan can have sex, an act both considerate and creepy. Having just come after a scene about rape, it's a little uncomfortable when Joan's mother talks about Greg needing to be able "to stick his elbow" back into "a hole in his life." Yes, this is Joan's mom being Joan's mom. But I may or may not have had the thought: Can you elbow-bang someone? I don't think you can.
Still, it's great to have Joan back, and this is, in many ways, her episode. It was a nice balance on the show's part to give the major plot twist at the end to Joan, a walking sexual fantasy for most men in the best way possible, as opposed to the Speck murders, a sexual fantasy of the worst kind possible.
The episode also features more Sally Draper, who makes for the most interesting mix of history and character. I can't wait for her to grow up, move to Greenwich, sit at her kitchen table, and talk about how she remembers the Speck murders. Sally is turning more into her mother every day, and when she calls an on-death's-door Don at his office, it's amazing to watch her complain to and manipulate her father, tacking on a "How are you feeling?" as an afterthought, once he coughs up a lung. Just like Betty might. Betty and Henry and Baby Gene are out of the picture this time, waylaid upstate, and Pauline is watching Sally in the "haunted mansion" Don suggests will give Sally rickets. Bobby is off at sleep-away camp, presumably oblivious to all of this. And Pauline? Pauline is just the worst! She makes Sally take out the trash, and she wears too much perfume, and she puts relish in her tuna sandwiches and makes Sally eat them. Which, admittedly, is gross. Who does that to tuna when there are capers in the world? Pauline has her moments, however, apologizing to Sally for smacking her on the hand and explaining her beliefs in regards to discipline. A strange bond forms between these two generations. Out of the trash Sally has to take out, she digs out the newspaper that Pauline has forbidden her to see, the one splashed with news of the rapes and murders in Chicago.
Media Platforms Design Team
An illustration of a quote from Sunday night's Mad Men, by Chris Piascik for Unlikely Words.
Meanwhile, Ginsberg and Stan try out their pantyhose pitch for Don. They have already discounted Sleeping Beauty and Snow White campaigns as "they're more about necrophilia." Convinced Ginsberg won't make a total ass of himself during the client meeting, Don gives them the green light.
As for Megan, she is turning out to be a little fountain of observations. She is embarrassed by the elevator interaction with Andrea and all the many woman she doesn't even know Don's slept with. But the only reason she can express this is, in fact, because Don keeps bringing it up. She notes that his feeling guilty about his "careless appetite" exacerbates the problem. This is, notably, one of the last interactions Don will have with a female this episode (he makes it though the meeting, in which Ginsberg pulls an accidental shell game with the pantyhose pitches, turning the Cinderella story dark and enticing enough that the client goes for it). But after the meeting and drinks, in which Don barely has the energy to chastise Ginsberg, he goes home per Megan's instructions. There, he collapses on top of the bed (again, fully-clothed, as is the show's wont, but at least this time he doesn't face-plant) and proceeds to have a series of fever dreams that combine the last awkward conversation he had (Megan accusing him of feeling guilty about his past affairs) with the last awkward interaction he had (Andrea in the elevator that morning). All doused with Don's fears that he won't be able to suppress his appetite for other women in the long run. In the dreams, which, unlike normal TV dreams, seem absolutely real to both Don and us, Andrea keeps barging into the apartment and insisting that Don do her. "It's just sex — it doesn't mean anything..." Don tries valiantly to shoo her away before Megan catches them ("Why won't you leave me alone?") but eventually succumbs. Then he strangles Andrea, her panty-hosed legs and red heels kicking beneath him in desperation. Then he kicks her limp body under the bed and crawls between the sheets to pass out. Even taking into account the headlines, and even for a fever dream and even for Don, this is pretty extreme. I know I rarely get sick enough to think I strangled some chick and kicked her under the bed the way I do my winter clothes when spring rolls around.
And speaking of things we push under the bed/carpet and try desperately to pretend don't exist: Guess what? Neither Joan nor Greg wants to be married to the other. Joan is a gin fizz; Greg is a Schaefer. Joan is not the worshiping wallflower Greg signed up for (though, really, was he blind that day?), and Greg is not the stable, successful surgeon Joan signed up for (though, really, was she blind that day?). To make another mention of Sal, their marriage is as doomed as his was. Anyway, Greg drops the bomb on Joan that he has to go back to Vietnam not for another 40 days but for an entire year. Joan is upset but manages to defend his "bravery" in public later, only to be told by Greg's mother that this next tour of duty is voluntary. Joan flips her shit, finally screaming at Greg about what he has never understood — that this is a partnership. He, in turn, screams at her about what she has never understood: "I have my orders, and you have yours." "I'm glad the army makes you feel like a man," she says, "because I'm sick of trying to do it." I have to say, I hadn't realized quite how sleepy the first two episodes of this season have been until Joan wakes up the morning after the fight and refuses her mother's scrambled eggs and flapjacks in favor of telling Greg that he should go to Vietnam... and never come back.
Because this is the episode it is, she also calls him out on the fact that he was "never a good man," even before they were married. This is her referencing that time Greg raped her in the old Sterling Cooper offices. Oh right, that. Greg, who had been strongly holding onto his wife's wrist during this conversation, releases it at this. He, too, is ashamed of his past, though not quite Don-ashamed, even though Greg has a whole lot more for which to be sorry. Happily, Joan's mother does not pop her head back in to highlight the point with a "You know, Greg raped my daughter once!" Instead, Greg storms out, and Joan has some coffee, and, well, it's all so great.
Also great? Remember when Peggy said she should never drink? Not true, Pegs! You are the best drunk ever. And, boy, has she earned a couple beers. She banters lovably with Roger Sterling, who has forgotten to do his homework for Mohawk Airlines and now has to pay Peggy $400 to stay late and cover him. "You're being very demanding for someone who has no other choice," Peggy points out. Later, Peggy hears a noise in the office. I'm not sure how else to say this, but: Rape is in the air. It just is. Intruders, violation, men's secret desires, women's secret desires, morality. Joyce had it right: It's goddamn biblical. I'm surprised the mystery guest wasn't Elijah, given the date the episode aired. Anyway, Peggy is frightened, and it turns out the noise is Don's new secretary Dawn, who was attempting to crash for the night. Dawn (who I at first thought wouldn't leave because Lane Pryce was under the desk) doesn't want to go out into the streets late at night. Her parents and brother worry for her safety. Peggy misjudges Dawn's fear as if it were her own ("Oh, you're not a nurse!") but corrects herself, realizing Dawn's more afraid of what it means to be a black woman than a woman right now. There are riots in Harlem, too, and no cab is going to take her north of 96th Street. It's unclear if this is a general problem for Dawn or a problem tonight. Either way, Dawn and Peggy sleep at Peggy's apartment (her boyfriend is in Chicago covering the riots), and Peggy expresses concern that she behaves too much like a man while Dawn expresses concern that the entire office drinks too much. Both valid points. Before bed, Peggy has an intensely awkward moment wherein she must decide if she wants to leave her purse and all its $400 alone with Dawn (and thus decide if she should act like a racist or not). If Dawn were white, she might have taken the purse into the bedroom with her — that much is clear. It's a purse, not a tuba. In the end, Peggy does leave the purse, but still feels guiltier about it the next morning than someone who's just kicked a dead slut under the bed.
But at least she regains consciousness come sunrise, which is more than I can say for little Sally Draper, whom Pauline has given half a Seconal — the overdosing choice of many an actress of the day — to get Sally to sleep. Pauline, for all her vocal beliefs about corporal punishment and structure, is essentially about as selective in her sense of child-appropriateness as Betty. Sally was wide-awake and frightened after reading about the Chicago case (under her covers and by flashlight). Plus, she is basically living in the house from the movie Clue but not funny. She seeks comfort in Pauline, who is reading a romance novel and holding a kitchen knife in the sitting room (normal). If the men in this episode are floating down a shame spiral and the women in this episode are floating down a parallel fear-and-shock spiral, Pauline alone is zooming up in the opposite direction. She is so psyched about this horrible group rape and murder situation, she doesn't know what to do with herself. She talks about the "short uniforms" of the nurses "stirring the desire" of Richard Speck. She talks about this to Sally. If I were Sally, I'd need the whole pill.
Earlier in the day, she had spoken about the murders on the phone when Sally was within earshot, watching a commercial for the game Mystery Date. Ah, yes, we get it now, the title of the episode. Innocence lost and all that. But this show is about so much more than that. And it wraps up so perfectly, so symbolically (even if it's heavy at times). See the theme of women under furniture. See the visual, finally of two-on-one, with Joan and her mother on the bed and the tiny baby boy squirming between them, the one they now have to raise into a man. See the pitch-perfect music supervision with the choice of this at the credits, which puts this to serious shame. The real Mystery Date here, the real surprise, is that after two pretty-good-but-not-mind-blowing episodes, the Mad Men we love is back.
ALL THINGS MAD MEN ON ESQUIRE.COM:
• The Season 5 Preview from Stephen Marche
• The A-Z Guide to Seasons 1-4
• The Style Blog on Why Mad Men's Look Is Dead
• The Roger Sterling Diet: An Experiment in Drinking and Stairs
• Tom Junod on the Season 5 Poster, 9/11, and the Falling Man
• How to Make an Old-Fashioned Like Don Draper Makes One
• How to Wear Suits Like Jon Hamm Does (Which Is Better Than Draper)
• Elisabeth Moss (You Know, Peggy) in Her House, Not a Lot of Clothes
• EARLIER: Stephen Marche on Draper's Double Life and Class Reality
• PLUS: The 100 Best TV Shows for Men (with Mad Men)
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