'And Who Are You Supposed to Be?': Mad Men Recapped

I'm only going through all this to develop what's supposed to provide perspective for the real power struggle of the episode -- the one to which Mad Men has seemingly built for two-and-a-half years only to have this one shot at a payoff. Yet in the end, the best thing about Don vs. Betty is how utterly unprepared he is for all of it. For starters, he had planned a Connecticut getaway with Miss Farrell, who has spent the last three weeks dropping hints like bombs that she's in it to win it. "I wanted more than I thought I would want, but it will pass," she tells Don. "I know for a fact it will." He encourages her ("I don't want it to pass") and even has the sack to drive up to his house with her to pack some stuff for their journey.

Too bad Betty didn't stay at her father's place as promised. ""Get it later," she tells Don when he attempts to retrieve his hat and, of course, expel Miss Farrell from his car. "I need to talk to you." I couldn't believe it, but not necessarily for the right reasons. I mean, this is it? With two episodes left in the season? They're going to do this now? Next thing you know they're at the corner of Don's desk, and the only preoccupation you can have after all this time is that Don's mistress is sitting outside with her suitcase. The whole Draper relationship dynamic is about to rock off its axis, and all I care about is how Miss Farrell is going to get home. Betty's demanding him to unlock his drawer, where his past as Dick Whitman and the groundwork for the future of his family will take shape. Jon Hamm wears a marvelous mask of shock. January Jones finally gets to do something more than mope through Betty's ennui. All of this, and it's like, well, come on. Why don't I care?

Perhaps because I've been through his back story, and I want to rescue poor Miss Farrell more than I want to observe poor, credulous Betty playing catch-up. Betty has finally wrested control, though, for what it's worth -- the umpteenth Don Draper associate/confidante in three seasons to seemingly have the goods on the dude, and the one least least likely to exercise that leverage in the future. "What would you do if you were me?" she asks him, squandering her first burst of power. "Would you love you?" It's not rhetorical. And so the balance of pity shifts, even in the moment, back to Don. He sobs through the memories of his late brother, his poor upbringing, and his post-Korea strategizing to keep the Draper name. And like that, everything's back to... normal?

Pretty much. The only thing I could figure is that maybe it's all a big MacGuffin to distract from the volatile dirt Miss Farrell has on him; indeed, that confrontation's a ways off. Don calls her from the office the morning after she finally gave up and walked home. They've got to cool it for a while. "Are you OK?" she asks him. "Only you would ask about me right now," he replies. She's either as sincere as she sounds or is getting ready to nuke him back to the Bachelor Age. But first! Halloween! What started ambitiously for Sally and Bobby as Minnie Mouse and and an astronaut has degraded into a gypsy and a hobo. How fitting. "And who are you supposed to be?" a candygiver jokingly asks Don. Please. If I wanted my TV this on-the-nose I'd watch Crash.

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