Mad Men took its soapiest turn in a while during last night's episode, eschewing lawnmower hijinx and child psychology in favor of the more conventional sexual and political crises that have long pervaded Don Draper's immediate orbit. For once, it was our difficult hero himself who wasn't getting lucky. Anything but, in fact. Needless to say, spoilers follow the jump.
I knew viewers were in for a treat of some sort as soon as Daisy Von Scherler Mayer was introduced as the episode's director; after all, who hasn't wondered what Mad Men might look and feel like through the eyes of the woman who brought us Party Girl and Woo? The results: Not much different than the rest, though she took nifty advantage of her non-linear intro: Peggy Olson in bed with an unidentified man; Don prone on a strange floor, bleeding from the bridge of his nose; Betty supine and sweat-beaded on a lush vintage couch. Three stages of repose in the honeydew light of morning, three threads braided over the next hour into a tight weave of sex, power and guilt.
In other words, the good old days. Grandpa Gene, Baby Gene, and Freaky Sally all but vanished -- though, alas, so did sorely missed Sterling Cooper resignee Joan Holloway. Von Scherler Mayer leaps back to the beginning of her arcs, with Don mostly deferring to Betty's interior designer on the look of their new living room ("Move the end table and the lamp to the other end of the couch," he suggests before exiting; of course he's right). He'll face a little stiffer challenge upon arriving at his office, where Conrad Hilton has dropped by unannounced with talk of his wandering eye, "significant needs," and, most importantly, an ad man for his New York hotels. Don's presumed to be that guy despite the lack of a Bible or family photos, but not despite the lack of a contract, which both Hilton's lawyers and Sterling Cooper's principals demand before a deal can be consummated.
Naturally that won't wash with Don, who spends the rest of the episode volleying one identity versus another versus another. Maybe its just that weekend's solar eclipse making him edgier than usual. He not alone: Pete Campbell is paranoid when Duck Phillips sends Peggy a Hermès scarf as an enticement to join him at the competition. "Send it back!" Pete mutters. I have to say, these two get along awfully well for accidental parents, one of whom gave their child away.
But business is business! Sort of. Actually, not at all, because having felt Don's wrath when inquiring about the Hilton contract ("You're good. Get better. Stop asking for things."), Peggy returns the scarf to Duck in person. At a hotel suite. She once again declines his job offer, but she can't quite resist his offer to "take your clothes off with my teeth [and] give you a go-around like you've never had." Duck! You rascal! We all knew he was good at abandoning dogs and engineering international mergers, but a silver-tongued swordsman? Amazing.
Anyway, he's got a far better pick-up line than Miss Farrell, the teacher-in-heat who gathers her children in a park for a bit of camera-obscura construction, eclipse viewing and father-seducing. "You're all the same -- the drinking, the philandering..." she mews to Don. He's clearly miffed that he can't even take his kid to a goddamn solar eclipse without some sexy young thing purring around his leg. Betty, meanwhile, has her own eyes shielded by Henry Francis, the Rockefeller aide who had her so hot and bothered after their meeting five episodes ago. They reconvene at Swanson's Diner, where Betty's political appeal on behalf of the Junior League of Tarrytown falls short. They still have time for coffee and a big, thick slice of sexual tension, however, followed by Henry's expert recommendation for the new Draper living room: An antique fainting couch.
Indeed, it'll look great in the hearth -- "the soul of your home," the Drapers' designer calls it. And that's right where Betty puts it, thus filling in the first leg of the opening-montage mystery. Peggy resolves the second, accepting Duck's offer to linger with him the morning after. (Duck Phillips! I still can't believe it.) But what of Don's busted nose? You might say he had it coming: Frustrated with Roger Sterling's contract meddling and Betty's nagging ("What's the matter? You don't know where you'll be in three years?"), he takes his drink for a drive, picking up a young couple of hitchhikers en route to Niagara Falls to get married/cheat the encroaching military draft. A few phenobarbitals later, Don's dancing, hallucinating and... getting pummeled in a motel room. Dumb luck there.
"We left you your car," the couple writes. It also left him wounded enough to put his name on the dotted line, humbly if dejectedly gripping the last strand of security he has left. But! At least he'll never have to pay to stay at a Hilton again. "Having me in your life is going to change things," the hotelier tells him early on. At this rate, for Don's sake, let's hope so.