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Good Lord, what a series of events, many of them unfortunate. Pete is taking a Driver's Ed class, finally, and his discontent with suburban life is demonstrated by his inappropriate crush on a teenage girl and a leaky sink, metaphorically dripping the moments of his life away. In an effort to make it seem like suburban life isn't hell, Trudy invites the Drapers out to Cos Cob on a Saturday night, and although there's probably nowhere Don would less rather be with the possible exception of the Rye Town Francis Spookhouse, he's nowhere near equal to Trudy's powers of persuasion, and it's worth it when Trudy seductively sings "Zou Bisou Bisou" and… oh, wait. The Cosgroves attend as well, and when the women head off to the kitchen, Pete fawns over Don like a schoolgirl, with talk of an ex-Marine shooting at a pregnant lady and Don fixing the sink that Pete thought he had under control hardly serving to diminish his enthusiasm.
Rebecca Pryce wants to hang out with her English friends, drinking English beer in English pubs and watching English soccer, and Pryce gives it game go as England wins the World Cup. This leads to Edwin Baker, SVP of Jaguar, letting Pryce know that they're in search of a new agency, so surely downing a pint of two of Sam Smith was worth the sacrifice. When Pryce comes back to SCDP crowing about the new business he might be landing, Pete gets old-school pissy with him. Roger, for his part, tries to help, but when Pryce's British friend turns out to be a but of a supahfreak, it's up to Roger to bring the client, with Don and Pete in tow, to a drunk whore party, and soon Pete's in the bedroom, surrounded by some girl with a great body and lots of trashy décor. Later, Pete lashes out at Don for apparently judging him, saying he was just doing his job, but Don earnestly wants Pete to think about what he's doing before he does something that might cause him to lose Trudy. Things come to a head when Pete mouths off to Pryce, and Pryce challenges him to a fisticuffs duel, like he practically slaps him with a glove, and he ends up knocking Pete to the floor. In the aftermath, Joan comes in to see Pryce with some ice to get the story, and Pryce confesses that he feels like he doesn't fit in, and right there, he kisses her. I thought that would take longer, but although Joan doesn't reciprocate, it doesn't ruin anything, which might mean it will actually lead somewhere.
My head is spinning like I just took Lane Pryce's fist to my face; what else? Oh, Ken blows Peggy off while with an apparent client, breaking their "pact" of going everywhere together when SCDP business is concerned, but Ken later confesses that the dude is from Farrar Strauss and is looking for Ken to get published in the fantasy/sci-fi-hybrid arena. All well and good, but when word gets around, Roger lectures Ken on his divided attentions, and Ken claims he's giving up his second career, to Peggy's mild disappointment. She'll be happy to know that he doesn't actually do so, especially since his writing is used as a closing voice-over.
In case you just decided to skip to the end, PRYCE PUNCHED PETE IN THE FACE!
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Well, women certainly took it on the chin last episode. Let's see if we can find someone else to do so this week, shall we?
We open with audio only, on the screech of brakes followed by a thudding crash, but we don't have to worry about the lives of any of our show's characters -- yet. Instead, the video shows a Driver's Ed class watching the cautionary and episode-eponymous film Signal 30. Everyone is sitting with apple-polishing grave looks on their faces, save one Pete Campbell, who looks amused as an audience member at an above-average Catskills show. And it might seem inappropriate for him to be giggling at such tragic violence, but while I wouldn't put it past him, I feel compelled to give him the benefit of the doubt and theorize that he's actually laughing at the production values, which are so bad that the real film actually has a disclaimer about them. Would that many other films I've seen were so honest. Pete's amusement causes a comely young (like, high school young) blonde to turn around, but far from being offended she seems taken with his levity. And he seems taken with her... takeness (among other things) as John Slattery's direction takes us allllll the way down her leg, to the point where I wonder if Pete's really into women's footwear. If you'll remember, the esteemed Mr. Slattery also directed "The Rejected," an episode that featured some other indulgent camerawork of which I was not a fan, but as I noted at the time, his efforts with "Blowing Smoke" were a huge improvement. Don't reverse the trend, Silver Fox. But speaking of directorial touches, the tapping of her foot soon is matched by a repeating sound...
...and then that night, presumably, Pete and Trudy lie in bed in the dark, with Pete's eyes wide open as he listens to the same sound, which is that of a dripping faucet. He asks Trudy if it goes on like that all day and she sleepily murmurs that she supposes it does, "but I don't hear it." Of course, the idea that Trudy dragged Pete out to the suburbs kicking and screaming is rather well-developed, so you probably don't need me to tell you how their differing level of sensitivity to this nuisance underscores that notion. Then again, I don't have anything better to do.
Rather than lie in bed and stew about it, however, we cut to Pete checking out the sink and then opening a tool box and the look on his face is so determined that even the tool box doesn't have the heart to be like, "Really?" A quick shot of Pete's legs stretching out from under the sink leads to him checking it again... and the leak is apparently fixed. Pete smiles, apparently unconcerned with what Chekov would have to say about the early introduction of the faucet.
Lane (I don't know why I've stuck to calling him by his surname these many episodes, but uncle!) appears in the Pryce living room in his dressing-gown, causing Rebecca consternation, as she's dressed to go out and is literally hopping up and down with anticipation. Lane assures her that the first half of a soccer (he says "football," of course, but let's use our native lingo) game is "just flirting," as if that isn't fun, but Rebecca tells him that she'd like to get to the pub and enjoy an afternoon with their friends, adding an implication that he could stand to socialize more. He counters that the friends in question are hers -- and recent ones at that -- and adds that he's not a big football or pub person "and I hate this business of bringing England over in pieces! It's strictly for the homesick." Well, I'm not going to judge that sentiment on its merits, but given how miserable Rebecca was when she first came to New York and the fact that she left him to return to England, Lane, I think you're being a little unfair in begrudging her a social outing with some other Brits. But this episode is partly about women ruining men's fun, so I suppose we have to accept this conflict as fair and genuine. Rebecca -- who by the way is sticking to expressing enthusiasm for the idea of going out without letting any pissiness at Lane leak into the sentiment -- counters that everyone there will be immigrants, like them, prompting Lane to sigh, "How lovely your face becomes when you tell me you need something." To be fair, the words are said with a conciliatory smile, but I still can't say I find that comment particularly complimentary. She's not offended, though, merely countering in the same tone that she'd be happy if he'd merely pretend to have a good time and he agrees to that bargain...
...at which point we get an ironic smash cut to him whooping it up at the top of his lungs. It's because England just won the World Cup, but still: Hee. Also, as esteemed reader @shegunner pointed out to me, Lane and his friend with whom he shares a celebratory embrace are wearing hats decorated with the UK flag, but it was actually England alone that won the Cup (you can see it in this write-up of the '66 World Cup); however, her further research reveals that the UK flag was used almost exclusively among English people in the '60s. Anyway, the point is that no one is faking having a good time here and they all break into a rousing, beery rendition of "God Save The Queen"...
...and then later, everyone has calmed down and the Pryces are having a pub lunch in a booth with the hugger from earlier, who looks even more of a casting-agency Englishman than Jared Harris and his wife. After some talk between the wives about their husbands' relative love of soccer, the other chap (we'll come to know his name is "Edwin Baker") tells Lane he's not sure if he caught it in all the din, but is Lane an account man at his firm? Lane says no, he's the financial chief, so Hunt tells him to have one give him a call. You'd think a situation like this would be easily anticipated and, as such, Lane would know the protocol, but instead of following the lesson that even Don had to learn the hard way, which is to let account people handle account activity, Lane protests that his name is on the door. The wives chat a bit about how much they love New York, with Mrs. Hunt expressing the wish to retire to a lovely Eastern farm at some point. Hunt adds that it's her dream to raise hogs and given how early we are, it's probably premature to make a joke about her marriage being good training, but I have to take what's given to me. Also, as my great friend Ali Arikan pointed out, this entire scene doesn't much resemble how Brits would celebrate a World Cup win, but there are some things you can't show on unrestricted television even at ten o'clock at night.
Peggy's sitting at the counter in a coffee shop (haha, remember those?) when she spies Ken walking by her with an elderly gentleman in tow. Peggy greets him warmly, but he's not his usual gregarious self with her, acting vaguely like she's an old girlfriend he doesn't want to introduce to his current date. Peggy's obviously offended by his uncharacteristic standoffishness, so Ken makes an excuse about how it's Cynthia's uncle and he's "painfully shy" and whatever the guy thinks is going on, it did seem a bit rude for him to look at Ken impatiently and repair to a table without even acknowledging Peggy's existence, but anyway. Ken awkwardly heads off as well, leaving Peggy with her trademark face that looks like she just swallowed barium.
Cut to a partner's meeting, in which Don is sketching a noose on a pad and that seems juvenile in an oddly uncharacteristic way for him, yet it's absolutely hilarious coming off Peggy's Amanda Clarke Revenge Face, so I'm going to allow it. Anyway, Joan asks for new business from each of the partners save Lane, which is probably standard procedure and yet, given her pointed "We're done here" gathering of her things, seems a bit on the nose for this show. And the way everyone looks at Lane as if he's just sprouted a second head when he pipes up that he has some new business is a bit much as well. Pete, rather snottily, asks if Lane is taking leave again and given how many points Pete has been scoring at Roger's expense lately, this hardly seems necessary and also makes his later whine about how they're all supposed to be friends ring false. I mean, I know he's not a big fan of Lane's penny-pinching and certainly he was resentful that Ken was made Head of Accounts way back when, but that was a long time ago and this still seems beyond. However, Lane is unfazed as he continues that he's struck up a friendship with Edwin and the big deal is that he's the SVP of PR for Jaguar and -- without any solicitation -- made it clear that in advance of their impending merger with BMC, they're on the lookout for a new agency to break them into the American market, and they've got a dinner set. Everyone gives their kudos -- except Pete, who practically spits that he can't believe Lane is excited about new business, since they'll have to hire new people to service it and look, he's often a little worm, but a significant amount of time in this series has been spent on him refining his business image and yet here he is, behaving in the least mature manner when it comes to matters of business than I can easily recall. This isn't playing for me, quite. Lane, finally starting to get offended, frostily offers that if Pete were to bring in an account of equal stature, he might be more receptive to new hires. Pete, rocketing past condescension all the way to disbelief, sneers that the account would be three million in billings at the outside and at this point his position has gotten so ridiculous that Don feels compelled to intervene: "It's a car and you know it." Roger, not that I blame him, takes advantage of Pete's inexplicable attitude to offer to "ride shotgun," and as useless as Roger often is, I'll never not want him around as long as he can churn out bad product-related puns at the drop of a hat. Lane, however, thinks he and Edwin can relate to each other just fine Englishman to Englishman, and heads off to bask in the glow of his little coup, for which he can thank his wife I'M JUST SAYING. When he's gone, Don wonders if someone shouldn't give Lane some pointers and when Pete sniffs that he's "terribly busy," Roger's only too happy to volunteer. And really, on top of everything I said above, does it make sense from a character standpoint for Pete to provide Roger an opportunity for relevance?
As if to underscore how bizarre his behavior just was, when they get out of the conference room, Pete is all smiles with Don, as he's under the impression that he and Megan are coming out to the Campbell Cos Cob Cottage -- Trudy even dictated directions to Clara, directions which are now typed and which he hands proudly to Don. Don tries to tell him he and Megan are away that weekend, but Pete says he doesn't think so: "Trudy will only act on a certainty." Nice. Sensing that there's no more to be done here, Don thanks Pete and then learns from Dawn that Megan is in his office; he heads in and instructs her to inform her "new best friend" (heh) Trudy Campbell that they're busy that weekend. Megan replies that Trudy told her Don had already said yes, which makes me love Trudy even more, but Don's not impressed with her "subterfuge." Megan, however, tells him she likes Trudy and now that I think of it, she may be the most popular character on the show (among the other characters, that is, not the audience); I can't think of anyone who doesn't genuinely like her, even -- by his own admission here -- Don. However, said like doesn't extend to spending a Saturday night in the suburbs, which he says could make you want to "blow your brains out," and Don really is great with the inappropriate references to real-life tragedies here, especially when they tie into an episode's theme. Megan, her breeziness as effective a weapon as any against Don's commanding personality, informs him that if he wants to back out of their engagement, he can do the dirty work himself and leaves him to script that conversation, when we all know he might as well not bother.
Ken enters the copywriters' room and asks where Stan and Ginzo are and Peggy's like, "Why? Do you have something you want to tell them?" Hee. Ken closes the door, whereupon Peggy lights into him for betraying their PACT and Ken says it wasn't about the PACT, the PACT still stands, and it can't be the one where they'll get together by age thirty if they haven't found anyone by them, since Ken's already hitched to... oh, what is her name? I'm sure it'll come to me. Anyway, Peggy wonders why he didn't introduce her, so I guess the PACT has to do with them doing business things together, but after Ken complains that he'd love just a shred of privacy, he locks the door and reluctantly confesses that he's still writing under a pen name and he's had quite a bit of success in "a certain genre." Given that, from the way he's telling the story, said genre is a source of embarrassment for him, I was thinking we were going to discover he's been churning out bodice-rippers, which aside from being hilarious would be interesting in that his nom de plume would probably be female in that case. But we'll get back to that -- Ken goes on to explain that the rude non-speaking extra was from Farrar Straus and Cynthia is trying to talk him into taking Ken's best twenty stories and publishing them as a collection. Peggy can't believe Ken has been so prolific and wonders when he's had time, but Ken explains that he's been doing client drinks instead of dinner and if he has only one, he's in good shape to write when he gets home. I love Ken and am all for his hobby, but it's worth remembering that, by his own admission, he is cutting into his account servicing when Roger lights into him later. Ken goes on to reveal the genre, which is "between fantasy and science fiction -- robots and planets and things," and I can only imagine how popular/reviled "Ben Hargrove" would be in the Internet age. Oh, yes, that's Ken's pseudonym and I'd crack on this writer for such a lack of imagination if his sheepish look didn't reveal he already knows how lame it is. Anyway, Peggy's both mollified and full of congratulations and Ken tells her the PACT still stands -- if he goes anywhere, she goes with him. Well, he can't be talking about work functions, since he just had to explain how he's been operating, so I guess he means he'd take her with him to another agency if he were to leave and the mere fact that they've had this conversation is interesting indeed. Ken opens the door...
...and then Lane opens his door for Roger, which is a silly little transition -- you're supposed to cut out from Ken with his hand on the knob to Lane opening up if you're going for something clever. I mean, even that would be tired, but at least it'd show you understand the concept. Anyway, Roger is there not just to sanction odd editing choices, but because he heard Lane got an RFP (Request For Proposal) from Jaguar; Roger looks at it and notes the first question asks if they've ever been fired off an account and given what they went through with Lucky Strike (punctuated by the non-LS cigarette in Roger's mouth), it's no wonder that Lane's tone is ominous when he reveals, "There are worse ones than that." And I'm curious what they could be, unless they deal with workplace accidents involving client merchandise. You can see where they'd want to be sure no one's going to be driving a Jaguar around the office. Roger asks Lane if he'd take a bit of unsolicited advice and Lane tells him he knows Roger is skilled in the arena into which he's headed. Roger: "I was. Now I guess I'm Professor Emeritus of Accounts." Hee... and also hard to argue. However, he goes on, in a subdued and kindly manner -- you can actually see him being a mentor here, it's insane -- that the beauty of the dinner is that Lane will be able to get Edwin to tell him all the answers to the form's questions if he plays it correctly. He needs to stay relatively sober (and gives a tip on how to do that while appearing to keep up), and beyond that, it's like being on a date -- he should let the other person talk until he says something revealing and then admit to the same issue of importance and commiserate about it. I'm not saying this won't work, but I find it hard to believe Roger ever employed anything like this as a dating tactic, starting with the relative sobriety. Lane asks what happens if Edwin should prove to be more reserved and Roger says he should simply reverse the process, throwing out his own problems until one lands. Roger leaves with this advice: "Get your answers, be nice to the waiter and don't let him near the check." That one, I'll believe Roger has employed. Roger also tells Lane to find out everything he can about Edwin and when Lane says that part's already done, Roger asks if he still likes him; when the answer is yes, Roger counsels, "Let it show." He doesn't add, "as far as you can within the confines of being British," but I'm sure Lane knows that part already.
Dawn buzzes Don with the news that she "finally" has Trudy on the line and Don picks up and tells her he's got bad news, to which he gets this sunny reply: "No, you don't." HA HA HA! How I love her. She adds that they're building the whole evening around him, which I guess is as neat an explanation as any of why Harry isn't invited and he's welcome to run down his list of excuses so she can individually refute them, but if he's really going to cancel, they'll just reschedule. "It's going to happen. And I promise you'll have a good time." Having met his match, Don can only get off a crack about Pete ("It's too bad your husband can't close a deal like this") before Trudy tells him seven-thirty and goes back to feeding the baby, not even aware how impressive a feat she just pulled off. Don's wry, resigned grin, however, tells all.
In the (apparent) high school in which the Driver's Ed class is being held, Pete is admiring the trophy case (probably recalling his days as a coxswain, heh) when that girl from earlier joins him. After some talk about how the scare movies they're forced to watch are "gruesome," she wonders why Pete doesn't have a license (the "at your age" is so obvious it's impossible to take offense) and he smiles with nostalgia as he says he grew up in Manhattan and it never seemed necessary. As someone who only got his license at 35, I'll stand up for Pete here, but they don't dwell on that topic, instead moving on to how the girl's parents might not even let her go to college, what with the sniper attack that day at the University of Texas, a mere two weeks after the student-nurse thing in Chicago. "Things seem so random all of a sudden and time feels like it's speeding up." Pete agrees with that assessment, as well he might given how seasonally thematic it is, but when the girl mentions she used to enjoy going to the Botanical Gardens, Pete oh-by-the-ways that his family donated some of that land and they should go sometime. "We'd be VIPs." Thinking she's playing along, the girl asks who would drive, but when Pete says they'd take turns and "give each other lessons," the realization that he might be serious hits her like, if you'll forgive me, a car crash. Fortunately, the unseen instructor calls an end to their break, so she heads back to class, with Pete watching her go. Pete, don't you already have a child?
Don is pouring himself a finger or four of rye, possibly to deal with the new addition of a rainbow-colored lampshade to their living room, as he calls to Megan inquiring as to Ken's wife's first name. Megan can't remember, even though Mrs. Hargrove sent her "the nicest thank-you card" after the party, which I take to mean it included no reference to the entertainment. She then asks why Don never wears the sport coat she got him, but Don's too busy draining his bar to answer and when Megan suggests he slow down, Don tells her he's timing it for when they arrive. "I want to hit the doorbell with my chin." Heh. As usual, Megan puts a playful spin on a subject about which she actually cares, wondering if there's any chance Don could have a good time with another couple as friends. While Don isn't overly interested in the discussion, he does give up his drink upon being told that he's driving. Probably for the best, if he doesn't want to end up watching Signal 30 with Pete.
Pete and Ken are admiring (well, Pete is; Ken seems more puzzled) Pete's new stereo cabinet and I swear, I talk about this all the time but Kartheiser is SO GOOD; even before Don, the Chivas Regal of invited guests, has appeared, he's acting like a kid having a birthday party -- proud, solicitous and happy all at once. He remarks that the hi-fi is like having a tiny orchestra and then Mrs. Hargrove comes in with drinks and a request from Trudy to turn down the stereo lest they wake the baby and then there's a knock at the door and Pete actually says out loud "Terrific, that's him!" Forget the sport coat, it's too bad Don couldn't have dressed like Arthur Fonzarelli the way he's being played up here. Anyway, speaking of, Don has consented to wear the rather loud plaid coat Megan bought him (don't worry, he makes it look good) and hellos are exchanged, with no one helping the Drapers out on Mrs. Hargrove's first name (Don's "Hello, you makes me wish I'd been calling her "Mulva" this whole time). Trudy joins them and after celebrating with Megan about how they finally "got them together," Pete holds up the bakery tin Megan brought and VERY SUBTLY asks Trudy if it doesn't make her homesick. I'd beg that he give it a rest, but Trudy's "Um, yeah, it's too bad they don't have bakeries up here" does a better job of making the same request. Trudy then invites the women into the kitchen with her, leaving Pete to fawn further over Don, saying what a big deal it is to "us" that he came out. Don, at least, feigns graciousness, being all "pshaw" at the sentiment and saying they're long overdue. They all sit and Pete recalls how he invited Don for dinner when he and Trudy first were married and adds that it was another lifetime. Don: "Well, at least for me." Given what Pete knows about Don's history, that line is unintentionally hilarious, but if Pete grasps that, he doesn't let on in front of Ben. (Pen names: The lowest form of humor.)
The dinner date is in full swing and it's not going great; Lane tries to apply Roger's teachings, but Edwin is proving to be conversationally inscrutable, zigging when Lane thinks he's zagging. Edwin does ask about Lane's service in, I presume, World War II, but Lane confesses that while he volunteered for combat on numerous occasions, he spent most of the war as a supply assistant. After a lot of effort, just when Lane thinks Edwin's coming to a revelation, Edwin tells him he hasn't a complaint in the world, leaving Lane with nothing to do but signal the waiter for another round. I know things look grim, Lane, but Roger's probably already passed out so unless you want to crash a party in Cos Cob, you're going to have to stick it out here.
And speaking of, it's also dinnertime in Cos Cob, which in addition to food comes replete with talk about the origins of the town's name (originally named after the Coe family, which I only mention because it's referenced later). Megan asks Ken "where you and... where you two have made your home," and come on, everyone can't be that drunk that they don't realize the Drapers have forgotten Mulva's name. Ken tells them they're in Jackson Heights; Trudy says she keeps trying to get them to move out where they are, but Mulva replies that she and Ken both work in the city and "my parents aren't like Trudy's. Help from them comes with a lot of strings attached." You'd think this would be a fraught topic for casual conversation, but as I've mentioned we do know Trudy and Mulva are close and besides this is a roomful of people who watched Megan sing "Zou Bisou Bisou," so maybe they feel like boundaries are over. Megan does sigh that it's beautiful out there, with all the fresh air and grass, but Ken laughs that he grew up in rural Vermont and kids tossing their bikes on the front lawn isn't exactly the country to him. Don asks if Ken misses the horseshit and although everyone laughs, Trudy does add a reproving "Don!" so Don explains that he grew up in a rural area too (again, he's a lot freer with this information now) and he doesn't miss trudging to an outhouse in the middle of winter. Pete tells him that where they are is more civilized than that, but as his face falls a bit, he adds, "But there are a lot of varmints." Hee. Ken suggests he bring his rifle home and I don't remember Pete carrying it out of the old SCDP in "Shut The Door, Have A Seat," but logistics aside, Trudy is aghast that he still has it and informs him that there will be no guns in their house. Mulva pipes up that she doesn't like them either, and references the UT shooter, "Charles... Whitmore?" which Don hilariously corrects to "Whitman," probably thinking it's not such a stretch for the culprit to be a relation of his adoptive family.
Ken outs himself as an advocate for gun control, which given his rural upbringing seems like less of a slam-dunk than I first thought; Trudy tries to put a moratorium on the subject, but Pete demurs, saying it bears discussion before opining that one little gopher-shooting rifle is hardly the same thing as an ex-Marine firing at pregnant women. Mulva tells the table that Ken predicted the occurrence in a story he wrote and you can see Ken clench as he warns, "Don't, Cynthia." At the unexpected announcement of Mulva's name, Megan bursts out, "Cynthia!" and it's so over the top that it revolves right around to being awesome, especially since when Cynthia asks her what's up, she can't even blurt out a word of explanation. Hee. Anyway, Cynthia won't be deterred, explaining that she met Ken because of his writing, as she works in publishing; her editor turned Ken down "and I thought it was all he could handle." Don and Megan ask what the story's about and Ken's still reluctant to share, but Cynthia pipes up that it's called "The Punishment of X4," in which there's a bridge between two planets used every day by thousands of people. On it, there's a robot that does maintenance and one day, he removes a bolt from it, causing its collapse and the death of everyone on it. Everyone sits in silence for a moment and Ken misinterprets the pause as lack of interest, but it seems obvious how related the concept is to the random acts of violence that are being felt all throughout American society of the time. One act, understood by none but felt by all, causes a collapse both literal and metaphorical; no wonder it feels like time is accelerating toward some awful conclusion. After a moment, Don asks why the robot did it and Ken simply explains that it was the only thing over which he had the power to make a decision. Pete lightens things up with a joke, but Megan's still interested in Ken's writing, so he explains that he started in high school and figured the bug would go away when he came to adulthood, "and it mostly has." Don muses that no one grows up wanting to be in advertising, which leads to talk about how Megan came to New York to pursue acting; after a few casting calls at ad agencies, she liked what she saw and imagined a future for herself in the industry. No one even looks tempted to make a comment about nepotism, which makes me think this dinner is just too polite to be true. Rather than press their luck, the women retire to the kitchen, leaving Pete to announce that people talk about how unsafe the city is, but his lawn boy ripped him off. Don recalls that kids in Ossining used to steal his beer from the garage refrigerator and that concept gets Pete in "I wish to subscribe to your newsletter" mode. Before we can get that far, however, there's an outcry of giggles from the kitchen and the men rush in to find the faucet that once merely dripped is gushing up like a geyser. Pete rushes to get the tool box while Don shields the flow with a pot; he then puts Ken on duty holding it, removes his dress shirt (Cynthia: "Look, it's Superman!) and opens the cabinet below and kills the water. Pete returns with the tools and Don gets to work as Trudy heads off to deal with her now-crying child and the Cosgroves watch the show with interest. Don fixes the problem in five seconds flat and then reports that the supply was turned all the way up, which forced the valve. Pete protests that it stopped the leak, but Don informs him that was a coincidence. Aw, poor Pete, but to his credit, he manages not to show how emasculated he must feel. And with Trudy holding the baby, Ken asks if they aren't supposed to say something about how adorable she is, and soon everyone's grinning like a fool -- except Megan, whose enthusiasm seems a bit more reserved...
...and then in the car later, she's asking a rather drunk Don (she's driving, thankfully) to admit he had a good time. He, however, is more interested in having a good time now, telling her to pull over, slurringly adding, "Let's make a baby." She replies that that's impossible and it seems like a throwaway line, but it is oddly specific phrasing; given her subtle reaction when the baby appeared, I wonder if there's something there. It's true she never seemed to have a problem around Gene, but maybe something's happened since. Probably not, I'm sure, just as I'm sure that if I'm right, I'll be obnoxious about it. Megan does consent to pull over, for two reasons; 1) "Pete scared the shit out of me with his car-accident statistics" (hee), and 2) "I can't believe how much I loved watching you fix that sink." No argument on that second half. They make out and then we get a crane-pull out of the car, which, John Slattery, I hope you don't mind me saying is A BIT MUCH. Plus, haven't you heard the statistics on how many crane accidents there are in any given year?
Anyway, the crane cross-fades into a shot coming up from an SCDP desk and once it's no longer blocking our view, we see Pete telling Roger that due to a recent plane crash, they should pull Mohawk ads for a week and then hope that no one notices that the airline has ten planes of the same model. Roger doesn't see the big deal, but defers to Pete before asking Lane (well, he calls him "Heathcliff"), at whose office they've arrived, how his date was. Lane confesses that Edwin's reticence to share forced him to employ Stratagem Number Two and even though he offered that Rebecca was "unbalanced" (I wonder how far he was stretching his own view of things, if at all), that got him nowhere. He does say that he has another dinner on the books with Edwin, but Roger isn't thrilled and Pete, his hostility now temporarily forgotten, suggests that he, Roger and possibly Don take Edwin out to dinner and ask the tough questions while propping Lane up as Edwin's new best friend. Lane isn't sure about the whole thing, but Pete assures him that staying a pure friend is the way to go and Roger is forced to agree. Sure, Pete's got a bit of smarmy condescension in there, but at heart he's being his usual practical businessman, which again, makes his behavior from earlier clank even louder. I know I keep going on about it, but it's rare for a moment of characterization on this show to hit me so false. Anyway, Lane is reluctant to give up his prize, but agrees, so Pete and Roger take their leave. When they've closed the door, Roger snarks that that was generous and Pete replies that Lane couldn't close a car door. Roger: "I mean inviting me along." Heh. I like that Pete and Roger have graduated from the open hostility of the beginning of the season to this grumpily tolerant pairing. Pete counters that Roger is invited to the dinner, "not the wedding night," and Roger stalks off, possibly to calculate what honorarium he should charge for the appearance.
Pete's face fades into... Pete's face, as he's sitting in Driver's Ed when Unnamed Blonde joins him and confesses that she thinks she's hung over. Pete's like, I know that game and then presses her about going to the Gardens again and I hope for this girl's sake she never has to rely on Pete to get a dress cleaned. Fortunately, the girl is rescued by the appearance of an impossibly hunky dude, who first mistakes Pete for the instructor (ouch, and hee) before finally getting a name from Unnamed Blonde -- Jenny Gunther. She calls him handsome, or, as it happens, Handsome -- his real surname is Hanson, but everyone calls him Handsome and it's not a far journey to figure out why. (The actor, Parker Young, was literally a model, a triathlete and the captain of his high school football team. Also, he's now on Suburgatory, which given the episode theme, I can't believe is a coincidence.) Anyway, Pete knows this game too and I take the look on his face to mean he's realizing that if he's going to take any jailbait to the Dyckman Ancestral Botanical Gardens, it's going to be one that appreciates him.
The dinner Pete and Roger proposed is happening and Don is pitching the idea that the Jaguar is so sexy as to be pornographic, which is made hilariously incongruous by the fact that the four men are all wearing neat little lobster bibs. The talk of sex is not completely in vain, however, as Edwin tells them that he appreciates their all-hands-on-deck approach, but opines that their "friendship" would best be advanced by them having some fun. Roger's like, "Fun! That's my department!" and Edwin goes on that he has every intention of giving them his business -- he just wants to make sure he enjoys the people he works with. Roger's down with that and wonders if Lane didn't offer, but Edwin muses that he expects Lane and he don't have the same taste in this area and it does seem like Lane gave off a less-than-fun impression, but I wonder what Edwin would say if he knew about Lane's whoring it up with Don, his Playboy Cub membership, and his Texas belt buckle. Anyway, Pete's idea is shot down, so he defers to Roger, who gleefully tells the table that he's got a friend who's having a party right around the corner...
...and then they are in, not to put too fine a point on it, a Manhattan brothel. Pete and Roger are both slurry and dazzled by all the wares in front of them, but Don just sits with a fairly bored and disapproving look on his face and I'm starting to see how part of the change in his behavior has come from the fact that he's less compartmentalized now. He's not distinguishing between work behavior and home behavior, he's not keeping Dick Whitman a secret -- it's not that he doesn't love Megan, because it's evident he does, but we know he loved Betty too, at least at one point. But I'm sensing he also wouldn't be able to look Megan in the eye and lie to her, which I think has more to do with his development as a person than anything else, even if she was the catalyst for it. Contrast that with Pete, who's heading in the other direction and all this math seems clearly to add up to the episode theme being that the suburbs are evil. Matt Weiner wouldn't be the first person to think so. Some blonde employee tells Pete exactly what his bruised masculinity needs to hear by opining that he's probably "stronger than he looks," and invites him to come have some rum in her room. Don, again showing how the parts of him are coming together, finds it difficult to watch this after just having been in Trudy's home and as such can't suppress a disparaging eye-roll, which Pete returns in kind before heading off...
...to the girl's room. She quickly strips down to leopard-print bra and panties, lies on the bed with its gold lamé spread and tries out a few role-playing scenarios; Pete shoots her down when she tries wife and virginal schoolgirl (the latter probably bringing Handsome to his mind), but when she tries, "You're my king," he's like, Bingo! And now you'll excuse me while I take a shower. Preferably with bleach.
Outside, the madam surveys her domain and sees one little boy who is not having fun and goes to check in with him, first mistakenly making him as a cop and then asking if he's waiting for a girl who's otherwise engaged, like there's a client any of them wouldn't bring to climax in three seconds flat if they could move on to Don Draper. The madam then goes to the gay place and Don Draper with another man is a puzzle my brain is not equipped to solve, so I'm glad when he explains he grew up in a place like this, the implication being that he's immune to its charms. The madam relaxes at the realization of shared experience, even picking up his drinks and Roger mentioned this before, but man -- even when he doesn't try.
Later, in a cab, Don and Pete drop a very pleased Edwin off and then Don directs the cab to 72nd Street, so we know something more about where he lives now, for you fictional 1966 stalkers. On the way, Pete lights into Don for his disapproval -- "you of all people" -- and Don doesn't defend himself, but Pete isn't done, sneering that he can't believe he has to explain he was doing his job "to a man who just pulled his pants up on the world," and adds that he didn't see any stern looks directed Roger's way. You could nitpick that Don isn't usually involved in Accounts bacchanalia, but Don doesn't bother splitting that hair, instead telling Pete in one of their weirdly familial moments that Roger is miserable. "I didn't think you were." He adds that he knows who he is and what he's done, but "you don't get another chance at what you have." Pete scoffs that those are brave words coming from a man on his second go-round, but Don has the last word: "Yeah. And if I'd met her first, I would have known not to throw it away." I don't really believe that, but he's trying to give advice here...
...and when Pete gets home, he takes a long, guilty look at his sleeping wife before heading off to take a shower. God, Pete Campbell, it's been five years -- can you stop making it so difficult?
Roger's in his office when Ken enters in answer to his summons and Roger wastes no time in telling Ken that "a little birdy" informed him about his side career. Ken, knowing where this is going, says he loves being an Accounts man, but Roger, probably already having bookmarked the time that Ken balked at using his familial connections to bring in an account, says he knows why Ken kept it a secret -- it's clear his attentions are divided. Ken doesn't put up a fight, saying he gets it, but before Roger heads off to a partners' meeting, he adds this: "As a fellow unappreciated author [HAAAAAAAAA HA HA] and a friend, let me tell you: When this job is good, it satisfies every need. Believe me, I remember." He walks out leaving that confirmation of Don's assessment of his happiness level alone with Ken, who does not look too jazzed himself.
Lane's just headed to the partners' meeting himself when he gets a frantic call from his wife and he takes the agitation along with him into the conference room, wherein, after unceremoniously excusing Joan, he announces that "your activities" cost them the account and him his friend, as Rebecca just got off the phone with an hysterical Mrs. Hunt. Roger wonders why Edwin would have said anything, to which Lane barks, "Because he was caught with chewing gum on his pubis!" And... she had occasion to see it? I mean, at his age, I wouldn't have thought Edwin would have even attempted another go-round without some serious rest. Everyone (save Bertram, natch) cracks up, which only serves to make Lane hotter under the collar, but Pete ignores any warning signs and takes great pleasure in informing Lane that the whole excursion was Edwin's idea: "He didn't ask you because he thinks you're a homo." Hmm, I didn't jump to that conclusion -- I thought it more likely that he just thought Lane was too much of a stuffed shirt for brothels -- but maybe Edwin said something during the off-screen time his mouth happened to be free. Lane seethes that he can't believe he's put in the hours helping Pete "become the monster you've become," but Pete, back in his scoring-points-off-Lane mode, laughs that he doesn't even know what Lane does around there: "As far as I can tell, our need for you disappeared the day after you fired us." What can I say, I don't buy him stepping this far out of line, but I've said my piece and now I can enjoy what this all has been in aid of. For you see, Lane removes his jacket, prompting Roger and Don both to lean forward in possibly unwitting anticipation and then Lane informs "Mr. Campbell" that they are going to "address that insult." My god, how amazing this was on first viewing. Still is, but the thrill of anticipation was pretty much unparalleled on this show. Pete asks Lane if he's kidding, but Lane informs him that he's a "grimy little pimp" (hee) and when he raises his fists, it'll be too late to run. Pete throws a look that's part disbelief, part "help me out here," but the other three partners know that this is going to have to play out, even Bertram, although he predictably looks the least happy about it. With no respite in sight, Pete angrily gets to his feet, as do Don and Roger, the latter saying he supposes they should do something, "but am I the only one who wants to see this?" Roger, we don't have time to count up millions of no votes, so please shut up and let them get on with it. Don helpfully draws the conference-room draperies as dukes go into the air; both of them, unsurprisingly given their origins, have learned something about pugilism and while Pete lands the first couple punches, Lane's height and weight advantage result in him being the first to draw blood and Pete looks positively shaken at how real shit just got. Nonetheless, no quarter is asked or given...
...as door, Peggy comes in to see Joan, who shushes her and beckons her to listen; she whispers that Lane and Pete are fighting and then something hits the wall hard enough to jostle a table. Through the wall, we hear Pete seethe, "You want some more? Mr. Toad?" Heh...
...but Lane soon gets the last laugh with a couple of well-placed hits to the face, he sends Pete tumbling to the floor. Roger rushes over to check on him, but he claims he's fine and Lane strides out, head held high with these words: "Consider that my last piece of advice." It's starting to be hard to remember what this show was like without Jared Harris and a higher compliment I don't think I can bestow. Pete disgustedly shoves Roger's helping hand away and gets to his feet with embarrassment, betrayal and anger all over his face, but Don offers, "You'll be fine," and at least he knows of what he speaks, given the drunken ass-kicking Duck gave him last season. Pete stares uncomprehendingly before exiting with a handkerchief over his nose and Roger knows a set-up when he sees one: "I don't know about you two, but I had Lane." Hee. Joan and Peggy judge it safe to stick their heads in, at which point Bertram intones, "Reschedule the meeting." And let Vegas know when! Joan quickly withdraws, while Peggy hilariously looks around for answers and then apparently decides there are none to be had. Girl, at least you can say you were there.
Lane is lying on his couch, not looking as triumphant now that he's alone, when there's a knock on the door. He calls that he's busy, but when Joan announces herself, he gets up and lets her in and she gingerly enters, ice bucket clutched to her chest, and asks what happened. He gratefully sticks his hand in the ice and takes a moment before wondering what he does at SCDP and of course it makes sense that Pete's words hit him so hard because he fears they're true, as he expressed in different words to Joan the last time they were sitting here. Joan, however, firmly tells him he does something essential and "if they've tried to make you feel like you're different than them, you are. That's a good way to be." An interesting statement, given that the "they" in question includes Don, for whom she has great affection and Roger, whom she certainly once loved. Lane, his brain possibly not functioning properly, takes Joan's kindness as something else and unceremoniously kisses her; she doesn't pull back, but she does that thing with her hands where it looks like she doesn't know where to put them, which is all you need to know that she's not reciprocating. When they break apart, they regard each other for a moment and Joan's face is so inscrutable that when she gets up from the couch, I really did think on first viewing she might be locking the door, as I wasn't sure how they left it. But instead, she opens it and Lane's face collapses, thinking he's ruined things, but he underestimates Joan's humanity and sympathy for his state of mind, as she turns and sits down once again. Lane sighs that there's no end to his humiliation today and says he's sorry, but Joan is ready to erase it from history: "About what? Everyone in this office has wanted to do that to Pete Campbell." Truer words, I'm sure. Lane nods in comprehension...
...while Peggy marches into the break room and asks Ken if he heard what happened. Ken only remarks that he's sorry Lane beat him to it and he doesn't know what Pete did to Lane, but he knows he's the one that told Roger about his writing. Still pissed about your talking-bear story, eh Pete? Peggy sincerely says he can't blame Cynthia for bragging on his behalf, as she read the story he wrote about "the girl who lays eggs," and it was great. Ken's sincerely touched, but tells her Ben Hargrove is no more -- he's going to leave the writing to the writers. He leaves, and Peggy looks disappointed. I would be, too, if I hadn't seen the end.
Pete's drunkenly brooding in his office, and then gets up to leave; cut to him trudging defeatedly out to the elevator, where he sees Don holding the door for him. Warily, but surely lacking the energy to argue, he boards; once inside, Don tells him he's meeting Megan for lunch. Man, hard to believe all that awesomeness happened and there's still half a day to go. Pete, whose face is really looking done up, bitterly reproaches Don for "cut[ting] [him] loose," and wonders how they could even be having a fight at work. "This is an office. We're supposed to be friends." Yeah, Pete may be a lot of things, but I never thought of him as straight-up delusional; that said, I can't understand how he considers the things he said to Lane in the same hemisphere as "friendly." Pete tells Don he has nothing and gets sniffly and despite my issues with some of the characterization, from an acting standpoint, this episode is such Emmy-reel stuff from Kartheiser. A VO from Ken then kicks In; he's writing under a new pseudonym (Dave Algonquin -- getting better, Ken). And the story, "The Man with The Miniature Orchestra," is about a man named Coe (gee, with those two references, who could that be) who cried at parts of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. He first thought it might be due to the sad circumstances under which Beethoven composed the piece, but as we see Pete, now devoid of any amusement, watching Handsome and Jenny flirt in class, Ken goes on in VO that Coe realized, "It might have been living in the country that was making him cry; it was killing him with its silence, and loneliness; making everything ordinary; too beautiful to bear." Suburban hell -- Betty talked about it, Don's talking about it and now Pete is living it. As the music fades, we hear the dripping faucet again, inexorably marking the moments of Pete's life ticking away and then go to black as a particularly dark part of Beethoven's Ninth kicks up. See you week!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His current film, "The Trouble With Bliss," starring Michael C. Hall, Lucy Liu, Brie Larson, and Peter Fonda, can be seen this coming week in theaters in Portland and Salt Lake City/Ogden, as well as on iTunes and other digital platforms and cable VOD everywhere. (Facebook and Twitter here.) You can email him at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.
Think you've got game? Prove it! Check out Games Without Pity, our new area featuring trivia, puzzle, card, strategy, action and word games -- all free to play and guaranteed to help pass the time until your show starts.
What are people saying about your favorite shows and stars right now? Find out with Talk Without Pity, the social media site for real TV fans. See Tweets and Facebook comments in real time and add your own -- all without leaving TWoP. Join the conversation now!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His current film, "The Trouble With Bliss," starring Michael C. Hall, Lucy Liu, Brie Larson, and Peter Fonda, can be seen this coming week in theaters in Portland and Salt Lake City/Ogden, as well as on iTunes and other digital platforms and cable VOD everywhere. (Facebook and Twitter here.) You can email him at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.
Think you've got game? Prove it! Check out Games Without Pity, our new area featuring trivia, puzzle, card, strategy, action and word games -- all free to play and guaranteed to help pass the time until your show starts.
What are people saying about your favorite shows and stars right now? Find out with Talk Without Pity, the social media site for real TV fans. See Tweets and Facebook comments in real time and add your own -- all without leaving TWoP. Join the conversation now!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His current film, "The Trouble With Bliss," starring Michael C. Hall, Lucy Liu, Brie Larson, and Peter Fonda, can be seen this coming week in theaters in Portland and Salt Lake City/Ogden, as well as on iTunes and other digital platforms and cable VOD everywhere. (Facebook and Twitter here.) You can email him at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.
Think you've got game? Prove it! Check out Games Without Pity, our new area featuring trivia, puzzle, card, strategy, action and word games -- all free to play and guaranteed to help pass the time until your show starts.
What are people saying about your favorite shows and stars right now? Find out with Talk Without Pity, the social media site for real TV fans. See Tweets and Facebook comments in real time and add your own -- all without leaving TWoP. Join the conversation now!
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His current film, "The Trouble With Bliss," starring Michael C. Hall, Lucy Liu, Brie Larson, and Peter Fonda, can be seen this coming week in theaters in Portland and Salt Lake City/Ogden, as well as on iTunes and other digital platforms and cable VOD everywhere. (Facebook and Twitter here.) You can email him at couchbaron@gmail.com, follow him on Twitter at https://twitter.com/couchbaron, or check out his blog, "Pull Up A Chair," which he'd just love for you to stop by.
Think you've got game? Prove it! Check out Games Without Pity, our new area featuring trivia, puzzle, card, strategy, action and word games -- all free to play and guaranteed to help pass the time until your show starts.
What are people saying about your favorite shows and stars right now? Find out with Talk Without Pity, the social media site for real TV fans. See Tweets and Facebook comments in real time and add your own -- all without leaving TWoP. Join the conversation now!