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Smaller points first: Peggy and Ken are working together on the radio spots for the sex belt, and Peggy wins the argument about which girl to cast. However, the girl goes to pieces at the actual taping, prompting Ken to give Peggy some pointed lessons in the reality of certain women's psyches. Bertram calls Don in for a confab; Rachel is taking a three-month cruise, and Bertram isn't pleased by the implication that her leaving had something to do with Don. Also, Harry apparently told his wife about sleeping with Hildy, and she kicked him out, but they're still talking.
Big stuff: Don doesn't want to go away for Thanksgiving to see Betty's family, as he claims that 80% of his accounts are being rolled out the week. Francine then comes to Betty in a state; she's deduced, by sort of accidentally examining her phone bill, that Carlton has been having an affair. Betty, in full-on projection mode, steadfastly refuses to believe it at first, and as such offers Francine little comfort. However, she gets the idea to examine her own phone bill. She tells Don about Francine, seemingly to gauge his reaction, and pointedly wonders how "Carlton" could treat marriage and fidelity so cavalierly. Don offers some platitudes, but Betty doesn't seem impressed. She eventually checks out the phone bill and learns of Don's numerous calls to Dr. Wayne. By chance, she runs into Glen, Helen's kid of LockOfHairGate, and confesses to him how horribly sad she is and how adults don't know anything, and he offers her his hand as she cries. In her therapy session, she talks about how stressful Thanksgiving is, but also how grateful she is for things, including these sessions. However, she tells him that she knows about Don's many infidelities. Ooh, I was not expecting that. It's probably partially expecting that Wayne will relay this to Don, and partially the need to unburden herself of her recent epiphany, and she presumably mixes in some more truth as she goes on that sometimes the way he makes love is what she wants, but sometimes it's clearly what someone else wants. If Don does hear about this, we'll have to wait until season to find out.
Pete is trying to land Trudy's dad as a client; Trudy's dad in turn wants Pete to plant his seed in Trudy's soil. Meanwhile, Duck has started working, and offers a hundred-dollar bonus to the first person who brings him a "decision-maker." Pete, twisted as usual, gets Trudy to have sex with him without birth control, seemingly in the hope that once she's pregnant, her dad will sign on with him as a means of supporting his future grandchild. This gambit succeeds, and as Pete later tells Don, Bertram gives Pete the Ayn Rand book, seemingly symbolically cementing Pete's and Don's roles as the future left and right hands of the company. However, Don attaches Peggy to Pete's new Clearasil account, promoting her to junior copywriter in the process, about which Pete is not pleased. Joan congratulates Peggy as she escorts her to her new office; however, the bad news is that, after all the speculation back and forth this season, Peggy is pregnant, goes to the hospital with severe pain, and drops the kid right there. Well, at least they didn't drag things out. Peggy declines even to hold her child, and given the father, if she's thinking adoption I can't say as I blame her.
Don, undoubtedly relieved from last week's "Who cares" revelation, takes another look at the pictures Pete intercepted; he calls for Adam and learns of his suicide, which seems to crush him, as you might suspect it would. He stays in the office that night, catching Harry there (totally in his underwear, heh), and the two of them have a brainstorming session about the Kodak carousel slide projector (referred to as "the wheel" for now), for which Duck had earlier learned Kodak was still looking for a satisfactory campaign. Harry tells Don a nostalgic story that gives him inspiration; he gives a poignant pitch for the "Carousel" name over slides of him and his family from seemingly happier times. This lands the account immediately, and everyone's in a celebratory mood. However, Don has a wishful dream sequence in which he goes with Betty and the kids to Thanksgiving, but in reality, when he gets home, they've already left. Oh, the humanity. The season ends with Don sitting on the stairs to his house, as alone as he's ever been in his life. Man. What an unbelievable television experience this season was. Back to talk about it in the full recap soon. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
There's a certain irony in the season finale of a show about advertising containing not a single commercial. But I've got fifty-one uninterrupted minutes to get through here, so I might as well not sit around gabbing about it, don't you think?
We start on Trudy and who we'll soon learn is her mother. They're discussing design ideas, ostensibly for Trudy and Pete's apartment; we then pan over to Trudy's dad, who's telling Pete that Nixon never stood a chance, as the Browns trounced the Redskins, and the result of that game has correctly predicted the last six elections. Not clear why Cleveland stands for the Dems in this scenario, but I never placed much stock in Wednesday-morning quarterbacking anyway. ["Actually, the determinant is simply whether or not the Redskins win their last home game before the election, so the Browns in and of themselves aren't significant. This is a real thing, and it held true up until the '04 election, and now I will return to my fortress of nosy know-it-alls. Carry on." -- Joe R] Trudy's dad tells Pete that he wants to treat him like a son, which is a nice sentiment if you forget for a moment that Pete's screwing his daughter. Trudy's dad goes on that Trudy told him about Pete getting passed over for promotion, and suggests that maybe that's a sign that Pete should take some focus off his work. Pete jokes that that's a strange sentiment coming from one of the top salesmen at Vicks Chemical, and adds that Vicks just acquired Clearasil. (This is historically accurate, if you're wondering.) Pete wants to bring in Trudy's dad as a client, but Trudy's dad thinks that Pete should be more concerned with knocking his daughter up. Well, after this episode there will be no doubt that he possesses that ability. The women join them, and Trudy's dad says giving him and his wife a grandchild would be a great Christmas present. "And hell, Thanksgiving's Thursday!" Well, if you do try to conceive on Thanksgiving, I'd suggest doing so before eating yams and Brussels sprouts. Those things will stimulate you in exactly the wrong place for what you're trying to accomplish.
Don and Betty are sitting up in bed, and she babbles briefly about Thanksgiving before telling him she wishes he'd come with her. He lectures her that he's a partner, and eighty percent of his business rolls out week, so it's silly for him to go only to have to turn right around and come back. Nice that the promotion came through in time to supply that excuse. It's like he got an early Christmas bonus! Betty points out that it would be great for the kids if he came, and he counters that they could have done the celebration at their house. Betty: "You know my brother's kids are animals. They can't make the trip up here." Betty, since this show is about advertising I hope you'll take this as constructive criticism, but I think your hard sell could use some work. She adds that she doesn't want her dad to be alone, and I wonder if that means he and Gloria broke up, or if Betty's simply refusing to acknowledge her existence at this point. This could be an attitude borne of us being at the end of the season, but if I don't have to see it, I don't really care which it is. She tries to get a reaction from him by saying she'll take a cab to the train in a "No no, it's FINE" voice, but when that doesn't work, she accuses him of not wanting to go. Don: "I'm sorry, was I unclear about that?" It strikes me that it would be really ironic and poignant if by the end of this episode, Don is longing for a closer connection with his family. But I've got a lot of work ahead of me here, so I'm going to stop wasting time talking crazy. Betty says she doesn't know why he can't make her family his, and Don responds by simply turning out the light.
And on a note just as upbeat, Harry is on the phone with his wife, Jennifer; apparently he told her about his escapade with Hildy, as he assures her that Ken is happy to have him stay at his place. I could imagine it would be handy for Ken to have someone to prevent him from choking on his own vomit, anyway. But as we pan back, we see that Harry's in fact in his office, and we only hear his side of the conversation, but his failed entreaties that she let him come home certainly meet the scene's quota of desperate sadness. He hangs up and looks forlorn.
The day, Don comes in to see Bertram, who's uncharacteristically cold to him. He informs Don that he just got a call from Abraham Menken, who told him that Rachel will be away for three months on an ocean voyage to Paris. Don does not say "Zut alors!", but I kind of wish he had. But if the reminder that he lost Rachel over what ended up being a completely unnecessary panic over his secret is at all painful, he does a good job of hiding it. I know that will come as a surprise. Bertram lets Don know that he could tell from the tone of Menken's voice that it had something to do with Don, and tells him not to let his "personal preferences" get in the way of their business. "That's it, cowboy." Given that this is the last we see of him, he's not kidding. I'm willing to take all of this at face value, by the way, since when we met Mr. Menken, he seemed tuned in to Don's charms. Also, Barbara may have filled him in as well.
Betty's doorbell rings, and it's a freezing Francine, who Betty notes is wearing her slippers. Francine is upset and discombobulated in a way we've never seen from her, and she sits on the couch and berates herself for being stupid. She babbles about how her mind hasn't been so sharp since she had the baby, and she accidentally threw away some bills, resulting in the phone being cut off and forcing her to go to the phone company and pay in person. When she did, they gave her the bill, and there was almost eighteen dollars in long-distance charges to Manhattan. She goes on that she "called one," implying, I guess, that Carlton has more than one city port, and a woman answered, so she told her she was calling from Carlton's office. "I said, 'He wants to have dinner tonight at the usual place.'" Well, if she thought of that on the fly, her mind hasn't dulled that much. Betty, however, insists on not getting it, so Francine cries and asks what woman he could have been calling who answers her own phone. Betty: "Maybe it's a caterer. Maybe he's throwing you a surprise party." Well, Betty, your pitches may need work, but you've certainly got some imagination. Francine laughs the laugh of Those Who Are Disappearing Around The Bend, and tells Betty that Carlton spends two nights a week at the Waldorf. Betty says that Francine is assuming the worst. Francine: "The worst is that I'll poison him. He's so stupid, he'd drink anything. I'm gonna have a house full of people. I'll poison them all." Anne Dudek, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you House viewers truly appreciate what you're getting. And only now, at the end, have I come to the realization that she was the lead in The Book Group, which was one of my favorite shows when I was living in England. (If you're not familiar, think of a much, much, much better written Footballers' Wives.) No wonder I love her insanely.
Betty tries to calm her down, but Francine blurts that she knows everything, and she came over because she thought Betty would know what to do. Betty asks why, and there's an amazing, long moment of silence in which Francine is clearly thinking, "Because Don's getting a significant secondary income from royalties off his book Philandering For Dummies." She refrains from verbalizing that, however, opting instead to say she doesn't know; after another long pause, she cries that she's so embarrassed. Betty hugs her, and FINALLY admits the truth of the situation by pointing out that Carlton doesn't know she knows. They then hear the noise of the kids returning home, and Francine seems to come back to her senses and makes herself scarce. A black woman named "Carla" enters and apologizes for being late; she offers to unpack the groceries, but Betty says she'll do it, and dismisses her. I don't know, Betty, but I think you should have taken her up on her offer. With everything that's on your mind, you're going to end up putting the booze away in the wrong place, and that will be a tragedy for everyone involved. When Carla's gone, Betty stands still for a long time, and then disappears into a room off the hallway. When she reemerges, she's got the phone bill in hand, and she considers for a moment before putting it away in her pocket.
Duck has started at SC, and is telling all the boys in the conference room that when he calls a meeting, whoever arrives after him is late. That's not much of a threat, unless he means that they'll be "late" in the sense that he'll dispatch them from this Earth. Seems extreme, but it could explain why he had to flee England. He then goes over their current accounts, and notes that the automobile, airline, and pharmaceutical industries are sadly underrepresented. After some talk about the sex belt (called the "Relax-a-Cizer" now), Duck offers a hundred-dollar bonus to the first man who brings him a meeting with a "decision-maker." He hands out a list of targets, and suggests they make an effort to run into those people. As an example, he says that he was in a steam room somewhere for an hour and a half earlier that day, and in addition to losing four pounds, he learned that Kodak is still unhappy with the ad campaign for their new slide projector. "Is any of this sinking in?" Considering that most of the guys look like they're trying to figure out if Duck is calling them fat, I'd have to give that a no.
Ken and Peggy are auditioning women to read the radio spots for the sex belt, and it comes down to "Annie," a pretty young thing, and "Rita," who looks to be in her early forties and more of a career girl. Peggy thinks Annie is the obvious choice, and is surprised when Ken picks the less-attractive Rita, as he likes her "randy and knowing" voice, which he thinks is a perfect fit for the product, given its, um, bonus feature. "Annie belongs on TV with Rita's voice dubbed in." It's the ad-man's version of "Can you picture her face on her body?" Peggy thinks that they're selling confidence, a better you. "That woman isn't a better anything." Ouch. Ken expresses disbelief that he's in this argument, but accedes, turning on the intercom and dismissing Rita. He informs Annie they'll do the real McCoy the day, and then tells Peggy that if he catches shit for this, he's telling people it was her idea. Peggy, somewhat smugly: "It was my idea." Don't judge her too harshly -- she'll see the error of her ways. Like she did with Pete, EVENTUALLY.
Speaking of whom, he's engaged in foreplay with his wife. She goes to take certain precautions, if you will, but he stops her. He pointedly tells her that he can't provide for a child on what he makes, but she firmly orders him not to worry about that. Having been subtextually reassured that the necessary money will find its way to them, he tells her to stay there. In case it isn't clear, as far as she can tell, he's checking with her to be sure that trying for a child is what she wants and that it's financially feasible, as evidenced by her joyful, "Oh, Peter!" Of course, what she doesn't know is that this is part of his plot to get her father's business, which would elicit an "Oh, Peter" in an entirely different tone of voice.
Betty's sitting at the kitchen table smoking and drinking when Don arrives home. He greets her as "Birdy," and she asks why he didn't stay in the city, given that it's 9:30 already. The irony, of course, is that now that she suspects him of cheating on her, all his side action has completely dried up. He doesn't quite tell her that, though, saying he has work to do at home and asking where the slide projector is. Not without bitterness, she notes that he's not going to spend any time with his family on the eve of not seeing them at all for four days, but she then apologizes and said she had a terrible day. She asks him to sit with her, and he complies and inquires what happened, so she relates the news about Francine, and Don's surprised that Francine even told Betty. Don of course is simply thinking Francine wouldn't want to tell anyone, but Betty takes it personally and says that Francine is like a sister to her. Don takes her hand as she bitterly says that Francine should poison Carlton, and asks how someone could do that to the person he or she loves and has children with. She pointedly asks, "Doesn't this all mean anything?" Don rhetorically asks who knows why people do what they do, but this isn't the answer Betty was looking for, as she regards him with a face dark and bitter with suspicion. He flinches first, getting up and telling her to bring the wine. Don, she said that she had a bad day, not that she had a sudden onset of amnesia.
At the office, Duck is showing Don the new slide projector (called the "Doughnut" or the "Wheel"), saying that it's "continuous and doesn't jam." Given some of the slide presentations I was subjected to in my youth, those aren't necessarily selling points, but I've seen enough of this show to know that Don will have no trouble spinning that straw into gold. Duck as much as asks him to do that, not that I blame him.
Annie's returned to record her spot, and it's not going great, as Peggy tells her to hang on a minute. She observes that Annie doesn't sound very confident, so Ken suggests Peggy give her a direction, and Peggy asks her for, well, more confidence. Honey, you want to test actors on taking direction in the audition, and if you're wondering why, check out the lost kitty look on Annie right after you said that. She gives it another shot, and Peggy interrupts her again, this time talking at length about how Annie should imagine she's married -- she has everything and is the prize of a handsome man. When she's done, Ken snarks, "It's too bad your voice is so annoying." Heh. The try still sucks, though, and Peggy asks Ken to say something to Annie to make her feel more beautiful and increase her confidence. Ken, however, opines that a woman who looks like Annie will never sound confident. "It's God's gift to bachelors. The juiciest gazelle is the easiest to catch." Since "bachelor" will always apply to him, I have to opine that Sal wouldn't see it as quite such a blessing. Anyway, Annie keeps being a disaster, and Peggy gets more and more impatient, causing Annie to cry, and it's as painful to watch as you might expect. Peggy unceremoniously fires Annie, and even Ken is appalled at her lack of tact. When Annie rushes out in tears, Peggy suggests Ken go after her and console her. "And after you make plans or whatever you need to do, call Rita, the older lady you liked? She's probably at home with the Relax-A-Cizer right now." Well, you can't accuse Peggy of being inflexible. Ken hilariously pats her on the head and leaves.
Don's looking through some slides in his office. Probably influenced by the nostalgia, as well as by the fact that his secret no longer seems so terrible, he takes out the box Adam sent him and starts looking through the pictures. After a minute, he picks up the phone and calls the Brighton Hotel, and the guy at the desk picks up. Don asks if he has a forwarding address for Adam, and the guy tells him he's sorry, but one of the only remaining connections between Don and humanity is gone...I mean, "Adam killed himself." Don is stunned, and the guy goes on that he left the building a bunch of money, which I don't really think was his intention. Don hangs up the phone and buries his head in his hands. To paraphrase Bart Simpson, he can't help but feel partially responsible...
...and speaking of Don-inflicted emotional distress, Betty turns on her bedside light, opens the phone bill, and examines it...
...and then she's making a call. Dr. Wayne answers, and Betty doesn't recognize his voice, but Wayne, thinking it's someone else, identifies himself. Betty disconnects and lets the receiver drop in shock. That's certainly not who she thought Don was having an affair with!
Don is actually sleeping alone, on the couch in his office. He seems to hear something and gets up groggily, no doubt having drunk several toasts to his dead brother. Coming to the door of his office, he sees Harry, in a t-shirt and tighty-whities (which are really endearing on him) heading back to his office with a wastebasket under his arm. Don beckons Harry into his office, and Harry, desperate for any kind of companionship, almost literally skips in and takes the drink Don offers him. Don, a little slurry, asks Harry what the benefit of the Wheel is; this leads to a discussion of how Harry used to take pictures in college. He talks about how he did a whole series of photographs that consisted solely of handprints on glass, and then goes on about how he's always been fascinated by the cave paintings at Lascaux. "The bison get all the attention, but there are also all of these handprints, tiny by today's standards, with paint blown all around them." He goes on that he thought it was "like someone reaching through the stone and right to us. 'I was here. And stop looking at those stupid bison.'" I may have inferred that last part. Don then does the head-lolling thing that signals it's time for bed, again, and he rudely dismisses Harry. Not that you have to stand on ceremony with someone who's currently showering in the bathroom sink, but given that Harry's setting his campaign wheels in motion, he could at least have said goodnight. Don puts out his cigarette, and we get an overhead view of him going back to sleep...
...and then we cross-fade into a parking lot that's flecked with snow. Betty gets out of her car and is walking toward the bank, I think, when she pauses and makes for another automobile. In it, we see Glen, Helen's kid who was the catalyst for the special on slapped divorcees in Aisle Five. Glen rolls down the window and tells Betty that he's not supposed to talk to her. She looks kind of surprised, and asks who told him that. Glen: "My mother and my father." Ouch. It's not like she should be surprised, but it can't make Betty feel too great that the divorced couple has gotten together on the issue of her being a freak. After a moment, though, Betty says she doesn't care, and tells him that she can't talk to anyone, and how sad she is. Thank GOD she's finally acknowledging this and breaking free of her mother's sweetness-and-light training -- realizing to what degree following society's conventions feels like prison, as so artfully shown in "Shoot." Now if she'll only admit it to someone who's hit puberty. Glen holds out his mittened hand for her, and she takes it as she begins to cry. He asks her not to, but she can't oblige him as she begs him to tell her she'll be okay. He says he doesn't know if that's the case, and that he wishes he were older, presumably so he'd be better placed to give her advice and solace. Betty: "Adults don't know anything, Glen." I'll back her up on that. Glen implies that his mom will be returning soon, and Betty wipes her eyes and leaves him.
Pete comes in to Don and announces that, without having had to crack his Deerfield yearbook, he's brought in an account. Don gives faint congratulations, but perks up when he hears the Clearasil name. As well he should, given that this is before Stridex came along. When Pete tells Don that his father-in-law is an executive there, Don opines that him giving Pete the account was generous. Pete: "He's interested in my future." Leave it to Pete to regard the situation that favorably. Personally, I think if Pete were revealed to be sterile, Trudy's dad would arrange for him to overdose on cough medicine. Don notes that Pete will probably get the bonus. Pete: "I got the bonus. And Cooper gave me some book by Ayn Rand." HA! So Bertram is in fact counting on Pete to be loyal to Don, to the point where he now sees the two of them as the future of SC. This isn't lost on Don, and he notes that Pete now has real investment in the company. Pete: "It matters to me that you're impressed." Really, Pete? Because you certainly played that one close to the vest all season. Don concedes that he is in fact impressed. Pete smiles: "Self-worth and status. You said it." He leaves, and Don's like, "For a taciturn guy, I need to shut up more."
Hey, Betty's at Dr. Wayne's! This should go well. She takes her usual place on the couch and says how nerve-wracking getting the family together is. "My mother didn't cook last year because she was so sick." She adds that now she's going to have to deal with Gloria, so apparently she does still exist. At least for the moment, but I think Francine might have put too good an idea to pass up in Betty's head. However, Betty says, she has things for which to be grateful, such as the therapy sessions, which have helped, despite the fact that Don doesn't think so. "Still, I can't help but think that I would be happy if my husband was faithful to me." Ooh, nice. I mean, this makes perfect sense. I think there have been a number of indications along the way that below the surface, Betty unconsciously suspected Don of infidelity, and her cries for his attention both conscious and unknowing are evidence of that. And Francine's revelation was the impetus for Betty's epiphany here, but it's the therapy sessions that really enabled her to get to the truth. But I love the touch that she's also discussing this because she thinks it might be relayed back to Don -- it's a power play, and it'll be fascinating to see the ramifications. Anyway, Dr. Wayne starts writing furiously as Betty talks about how her brother spanks his children, but Don has never laid a hand on the kids. "He's kind inside. But outside...it's all there in my face, every day. The hotel rooms, sometimes perfume, or worse." Leaving aside the fact that Don never actually conducted his assignations in hotel rooms, I think she's embellishing here to make it sound good for both Wayne and Don -- I'm not sure I believe that she's vividly recalling all this evidence now -- but regardless, she tells some truth as she says that Don doesn't know what family is -- he doesn't even have one. "It makes me sorry for him, when in fact I should be angry, very angry, you know? But I put up with it, like some ostrich." She notes that it's interesting, and sits up and fixes Wayne with a look, and unlike last time, it's appraising and calm, while Wayne just looks the tiniest bit intimidated by her newfound handle on the truth. She lies back down with a cigarette and says that when Don makes love to her, sometimes it's what she wants. "But sometimes it's obviously what someone else wants." She speculates that it could mean that she's not enough. "But maybe it's just him." That was such an amazing scene, I don't even know what more to say about it, and I don't envy Dr. Wayne having to capture everything that happened on that little tiny pad.
And, in one of those bittersweet ironies this show never tires of doling out, just as Betty is declaring Don devoid of any feelings of family, he's about to make the most sentimental and family-nostalgic pitch of his lifetime. Yes, the Kodak people are coming into the conference room, along with Sal, Harry, Duck, and Don. The rather geeky Kodak guys are expecting a pitch that emphasizes the technology of the Wheel, but Don suggests trying to make a sentimental bond between the public and the product. He talks about his first job at that fur company (where he and Betty met, as you'll remember) where an old Greek copywriter named "Teddy" talked about how nostalgia can bring that deeper bond. He has the lights turned off and starts his slide presentation, saying that Teddy told him that in Greek, "nostalgia" literally means "the pain from an old wound." He displays slides of his family -- the kids playing, him and Betty eating from opposite sides of the same hot dog. He goes on, "It's a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone." It's actually my throat that's feeling the twinge, and damn, Don Draper, I didn't want to cry here but you are good. Don pushing his son on a swing, Don with his head in Betty's lap. "This device isn't a spaceship; it's a time machine. It goes backwards. Forwards." The kids playing with a red wagon. "It takes us to a place where we ache to go again." Sally on Don's shoulders. "It's not called the Wheel. It's called the Carousel. It lets us travel the way a child travels, around and around and back home again." Don kissing Betty in bed as she holds one of the kids. "To a place where we know we are loved." Don carrying Betty, who's in her wedding dress, on the steps of the church. Don's eyes glisten as he smiles mournfully; we get a card advertising the Carousel, and then a shot of Don and Betty kissing each other, blissfully happy. It's so interesting -- I see some strong similarities between Don and the title character of Dexter. They both are awfully good at faking how they think normal people behave. And they both seem privately to think that they're devoid of real human feelings. Yet underneath that self-perception, there are actual, genuine emotions of which they're unaware, but come out in many of their actions. I'm not saying Don is quite as extreme an example of this as Dexter Morgan, but I think the parallel exists. I will add that on the heels of Betty epitomizing the obligations and strife attendant to adulthood, we have Don pitching the appeal of the Carousel as a childlike escape from the present. God, this show is amazing. Harry, in tears undoubtedly related to his current situation, has to excuse himself, and everyone else is too overwhelmed at the awesomeness to speak. This isn't meant as a complaint by any means, but I know the feeling. Duck is right there, though: "Good luck at your meeting." Heh. There's a reason he got the job.
Duck comes into Don's office with the boys in tow. Well, except for Harry, who's presumably rinsing out his handkerchief in the men's room sink. Duck says that the Kodak people called from the lobby and announced that they'd canceled their other meetings, so congratulations are in order. And there's more good news: Pete's father-in-law called and said he'll be in for a meeting before Christmas. Drinks go all around, but Duck refuses his, which I'm guessing will be Important Later. Much, much later, thankfully -- I'm worn out here! After everyone (except Duck) raises their glasses for a toast, Don gets An Idea and says he knows how Pete can parlay his good fortune into a home run -- since Clearasil appeals to young girls, they should take advantage of the fact that they have a female writer in Peggy. Pete tries to kibosh this thought by playing the dismissive card, but he's quite predictably alone here -- while the boys may or may not like her, they certainly respect her work. Pete opines that his father-in-law will walk away if they give him "some little girl." Don: "You'll have to give back that copy of Ayn Rand." Heh. It's the proto-"Make it work." Pete should concede this battle, but he's too worked up, spitting that Peggy's not even a copywriter, so Don summons her and promotes her to junior copywriter on the spot. I'm not convinced that Don knew how Pete would react in advance, but once Pete started bleeding all over the water you could hardly expect a shark like Don to act otherwise. Peggy at first is disbelieving, prompting Paul to snit, "Don't act surprised." I think we've got a topic for Paul's one-act play. Of course, once the shock wears off, Peggy's thrilled, and she promises to do her best as she shakes Don's hand like, well, a man. Don says that Pete will brief Peggy after the holidays. And given the way Pete stomps out of the room, maybe he's the one that should be writing the C
learasil copy. What a pissypantsed little baby. Peggy seems unfazed by Pete's attitude, thankfully. Although given imminent events, if that outlook changes you'll hardly be able to blame her.
Joan is walking Peggy to her new station; she reiterates her sincere congratulations but warns that sometimes when people get what they want, "they realize how limited their goals were." Heh. She muses that she'll put Peggy in with some guy named "Victor," as his office mate got fired. Peggy asks if she'll get business cards, and Joan smiles. "Please make all your requests through Bridget." I'm starting to wonder if Joan has minced a word in her entire life. No wonder I love her. She cautions Peggy not to forget where she came from in the company. "Think of the other girls, or they won't think of you." They reach the office, and when Joan introduces Peggy to Victor, Peggy immediately says she feels sick. Peggy, the guy is clearly a goober, but there's no need for quite that strong a reaction. Joan makes a joke at Victor's expense and then bids them a Happy Thanksgiving and withdraws, leaving Victor to inform Peggy that he and his former office mate had a deal as far as their shared space was concerned -- no meetings and no music. Peggy still looks indisposed...
...and then she's in the hospital, telling a doctor that her stomach hurts terribly. He prods her, and when she doubles over in pain, he chides her for not mentioning she's pregnant. Peggy: "That's impossible." I see she posts on the boards. No, the show did a good job with the is-she-or-isn't-she question, and while I'm not sure I'm a big fan of this development plot-wise, I certainly am aware that this sort of thing happens all the time even these days, so I'm not going to make a big deal strictly over believability here. I do wonder how the birth control got botched, but on the other hand, you'll forgive me if I don't actually want to hear the details. The doctor tells Peggy it's time to get her up to Maternity, and when she continues to protest that she can't be pregnant, he gets a resigned look on his face, takes her hand, and presses it to her abdomen. Elisabeth Moss does some great work here as the denial horribly fades away, and she tries to get up and flee the scene but keels over in excruciating pain.
And the indirect cause of said pain is just now arriving home and unexpectedly finding his in-laws there. Trudy comes over and gives him a kiss, and then stiffens and asks in an artificial voice, "Oh, were they having a party at the office?" Translation: Stay away from open flames for a while, Jim Beam. But really, Pete is so discomfited by the prospect of working with Peggy that he went on a noticeably big bender? What a wuss. It seems pretty clear that the gathering was meant to celebrate Trudy's newly-pregnant status (although they never mention it explicitly), but while Pete is aware enough to go along with the "party at the office" story, him staggering to the bedroom like a Bowery denizen still seems to put a damper on the whole thing. Well, this is bound to be followed by an uplifting scene, right?
Sorry, I forgot you've seen this show before. A nurse comes into the maternity ward with Peggy's son and a bottle in her arms and asks if Peggy would like to try to feed him. Peggy just stares at her, so she asks if she doesn't want to hold him. Peggy just looks away despairingly, and the nurse resignedly leaves. Oh, man. At least one of Dick Whitman's parents was willing to take him.
Don's on the train home, and people are in a festive mood, but he just looks pensive...
...and when he opens the door, he calls out, and Betty answers from the kitchen. He goes to her and tells her he's coming with them, and says he'll pack the car and they'll get there before midnight. They kiss, and then he announces the good news to the kids, who jump excitedly into his arms. Aw! The other storylines may have ended bleakly, but at least the presentation stirred something in Don, and after a season of trying to escape any sense of obligation or even of identity, he's going to end the season with his family.
I'm sorry, what did you say?
Sigh. The above bit was a dream sequence -- when Don arrives home, the house is empty, and he sits on the stairs forlornly. Look, I'm not saying I didn't love this across-the-board down ending -- Babel is one of my favorite movies of the last few years -- but I'm looking forward to a nice break here in which I don't necessarily have to contemplate the futility of human existence week in and week out. Maybe I just need someone to tell me I'm okay. Anyway, Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" anachronistically plays as we pull away from Don. Will he get in the car and follow his family? Maybe we'll find out in summer 2008.
Sorry, I forgot you've seen this show before. A nurse comes into the maternity ward with Peggy's son and a bottle in her arms and asks if Peggy would like to try to feed him. Peggy just stares at her, so she asks if she doesn't want to hold him. Peggy just looks away despairingly, and the nurse resignedly leaves. Oh, man. At least one of Dick Whitman's parents was willing to take him.
Don's on the train home, and people are in a festive mood, but he just looks pensive...
...and when he opens the door, he calls out, and Betty answers from the kitchen. He goes to her and tells her he's coming with them, and says he'll pack the car and they'll get there before midnight. They kiss, and then he announces the good news to the kids, who jump excitedly into his arms. Aw! The other storylines may have ended bleakly, but at least the presentation stirred something in Don, and after a season of trying to escape any sense of obligation or even of identity, he's going to end the season with his family.
I'm sorry, what did you say?
Sigh. The above bit was a dream sequence -- when Don arrives home, the house is empty, and he sits on the stairs forlornly. Look, I'm not saying I didn't love this across-the-board down ending -- Babel is one of my favorite movies of the last few years -- but I'm looking forward to a nice break here in which I don't necessarily have to contemplate the futility of human existence week in and week out. Maybe I just need someone to tell me I'm okay. Anyway, Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" anachronistically plays as we pull away from Don. Will he get in the car and follow his family? Maybe we'll find out in summer 2008.