We've finally reached October on Mad Men, that beloved time of year when temperatures and colors swing radically with the seasons. And that's just referring to Betty Draper, whose mild fuming over the years escalated to near-meltdown levels in last night's episode. Read on and recollect (with plenty of spoilers, as usual).
School has started (just don't ask Bobby about it; his answers are too long), Halloween is coming up, and Don's not sleeping much at the house these days. As usual, Betty seems to believe he's at work, subsumed with Conrad Hilton dealings. That's partly true, but he's mostly been going to Miss Farrell's for regular teacher nookie and what's developing as a serious love affair. When her troubled younger brother arrives at her place in the middle of their lovemaking, she wants to introduce Don (who balks at first, saying, "I don't want to ruin this"). He takes her date nut bread to work one morning after rising in her apartment; the smile on his face as he unwraps it is not simply one of private knowing, but also sincere affection. He believes in the purity of her work ("No one can feel as good about what they do as you do"). When she accosts Don the train the morning after a mysterious caller to the Draper residence hung up in Sally's ear, he trusts her denial and furtively holds her hand. Panic is no longer Don's default mode of dealing with awkward paramours, even one who appears unannounced and says things like, "I don't care about your marriage, your work, as long as I know you're with me."
He's kind of over-the-moon about her, not so unlike the way we saw him only a few weeks back with Betty in Rome. But that's literally months ago in Mad Men terms, and if the second honeymoon isn't long gone, it's certainly forgotten. While Don dallies at work and with Miss Farrell, Betty reads in the tub, does laundry and ruminates over what's happening with Henry Francis. After all, maybe it was he who called and hung up on Sally, prompting her niggling curiosity and Betty's own snapping, classic rejoinder, "My goodness, Sally Draper, don't take everything so personally!" (That will likely cost the girl a few spots in today's forthcoming Power Rankings.) Betty calls Henry despite herself; she's not the kind of lady who'll go to a motel or probably anywhere with him, but she'll dwell and seethe and hint away that nothing less than his presence will satisfy her. It's as infuriating for the audience as it is for Henry, but he handles it a little more diplomatically, telling her not to make excuses to call him before gently nudging her off the phone.
This only amplifies her ennui until one day a tinny racket clicks in the dryer. It's a set of keys -- yes, that set of keys, the one Don left in his robe a few nights earlier after stashing his $5,000 contract bonus in his Desk Drawer of Deep, Dark Secrets. Or make that "Former Secrets": Betty's been trying to get in that drawer forever, and now that she can, she takes full advantage. Her introduction to "Dick" seems merely to confuse Betty, but the property deed and divorce papers citing Don and Anna Draper floor her. She drops the box as the Carla and the children reenter the house -- Carla is basically Zelig these days to Betty's major arc developments -- and then plots her confrontation for Don's return.
Except he won't be returning -- not any time soon, anyway, and not because he's doing anything smarter than keeping his most valuable personal information in a locked desk at home as opposed to an off-site safe or other depository. No, Don is now taking Miss Farrell's epileptic, generally ne'er-do-well younger brother to his new job she's secured for him in Bedford, Mass. Rather than cut the stroppy brat out when he asks for it, complaining of "affliction" and unemployability, Don assures him of Miss Farrell's faith in him, then bequeaths his business card in case the young man ever needs anything. Thus a new blackmail subplot is no doubt born in the episodes and/or seasons to come. And it's all because Don developed the conscience accompanying romantic love. Idiot.
But what do you prefer: The good-hearted, sincere, yet utterly sloppy and stupid Don, or the lying, skirt-chasing, "you people"-excoriating power-predator of previous years? Moreover, since it's the mega-smart, calculating Don Draper we're talking about here, why are these personalities required to be mutually exclusive? At least the Farrell affair has softened him a bit at work: When Paul Kinsey drunkenly forgets his epiphany for the Western Union campaign without writing it down, Don relates. And when Peggy (whom Paul had chewed up in a type of Draperian rage earlier) picks up her colleague's slack, Don reassures him: "See? It all works out."
At least one part of Don's psychology hasn't changed: The one that underestimates Betty, who calls him the morning after her discovery to inquire of his whereabouts the night before. She's pissed, but no matter: That night's 40th anniversary bash for Sterling Cooper demands her ship-shape attendance, Don says, and he'll be home to pick her up later. We get barely anything from it, except for Don's glowing face at the sight of his begowned blond beauty. He really is so deep into his double life that his future with Miss Farrell has overtaken his past as Dick Whitman. Through Betty's succession of broiling stares, it's easy to imagine her head melting at the compounded knowledge of his new affair as well.
Anyway, the party also has huge implications for Lane Pryce, whose wife wants out of New York and just may get it when they discover together that after cutting staff and raising revenue -- wait for it -- the Brits are flipping Sterling Cooper. Always the good trouper, Lane straightens up and ropes the aloof Bert Cooper into attending his own celebration; they need "all the flowers in the vase," after all, if they're going to offload the company to a suitor in attendance that night. This is where Duck Phillips drops back in, right? His new company takes over and he spends next season chewing Peggy's clothes off while tormenting Don, who's under contract for another three years? In any case, get ready for ugly.