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Finally, we get one of those historical-tragedy episodes the show does so well. At the outset, it's all about the white people and their little dramas. Peggy and Abe are considering moving on up to a deluxe-ish apartment in the extreme Upper Eastern part of the sky; Don and Megan run into Sylvia and Rosen, who are on their way to a weekend in D.C., and Don is squirrely and weird about the whole thing; Ginzo's dad tries to match-make him with the schoolteacher daughter of a chess buddy of his, and Ginzo isn't thrilled about it; Megan's up for an ad award from her days as a copywriter, and Peggy is too, so all the major players from SCDP and CGC are on hand for the ceremony, not to mention some of the whitest character actors around, Harry Hamlin (as the other C in CGC) and William Mapother, playing a weirdo (surprise) insurance guy. "Paul Newman" emcees, and he's just about as white can be in telling the room that he prefers Gene McCarthy to Bobby Kennedy.
And then the news breaks that Martin Luther King Jr. has been killed.
What happens from here is a bunch of white people acting inappropriately and/or awkwardly – there are not one but two embraces of black women that are executed with exquisite clumsiness -- which is, no matter what else you might say about it, believable. Henry goes running to the city to help Mayor Lindsay, and in the aftermath, he announces that he would have handled the whole situation differently – i.e., with much less racial sympathy – and decides he wants to run for an open State Senate seat as a Republican. Betty's thrilled, but does realize she's going to have to drop some weight if she's going to be in the public eye.
In the office, it's kind of JFK-assassination redux as Harry complains about the tragedy screwing up his media sales, which causes Pete to verbally eviscerate him despite Bertram's attempts to play peacemaker. Later, Pete calls Trudy and asks to come home, but despite their progressive leanings being about the only thing they ever had in common, she tells him to stay away. Peggy's broker tries to use the assassination-fueled riots to play some icky games with the apartment's asking price, but Peggy ends up not getting the place, which only results in the revelation that Abe didn't want to live over there anyway, as it's not a diverse enough neighborhood. Oh, and to cap all the white weirdness, Mapother comes in and pitches a fearmongering concept that I've mostly blocked out already but I can tell you was like politically offensive performance art.
And then there's Don. After spending a significant amount of time obsessing over the fact that Sylvia is down in racially-torn D.C., he comes to his senses when Betty blasts him for failing to pick the kids up like he always does, so he brings them home surrounded by the noises of the sirens. Megan takes the kids to a park vigil, but Bobby stays behind with Don, and father and son end up bonding over Planet Of The Apes. Despite this, Megan chews Don out for failing to be a father and succeeding at being a drunk in this difficult period, and he admits that, essentially, he always thought his childhood had rendered him unable to love his kids, but somehow, he does now. He then crawls into bed with Bobby, who confesses he's worried about someone shooting Henry. Don assures him that's not going to happen, but he seems less confident when he goes out onto the terrace and listens to the sirens. I wish it hadn't taken a national tragedy, but to me, this is the most interesting Don Draper's been in some time.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!Peggy is standing in an unfurnished apartment as a woman's voice tells her it's just about 1300 square feet, and having lived in many New York apartments not nearly that size, you'll forgive me if I take a moment to steady myself. The broker, after ticking off all the apartment's features, says that she thinks it has everything on Peggy's list, and although Peggy thinks it's quite a bit farther east than is ideal, the broker assures her she'll love it. "And believe me, when they finish the Second Avenue Subway, this apartment will quadruple in value." For those of you who aren't aware, the Second Avenue Subway has been a punch line for New Yorkers for decades, so much so that the first event that stalled its construction was the Great Depression. But, and I realize this is "fool me fifty times" territory, it appears like its opening is imminent in the grand scheme of things, so whoever's got Peggy's prospective apartment in 2013 should be sitting pretty.
The doorbell rings, and the broker thinks it's going to be a "Barbara" (co-op board member, perhaps?), but it's actually Abe, who looks like he hasn't washed his hair in a week, which isn't a great look given the lengths that are fashionable in this era. The realtor, after casting an appraising (sorry) eye over him, makes that standard pitch about there being another buyer so Abe better act now, but Abe is like, that's great, but Moneybags over here is going to be making the actual decision. The broker, who is hitting that "brittle with a smile" note that so many people in this profession default to like a pro, takes in this information and replies that she misunderstood the situation before going off to busy herself with the toilet, whereupon Abe whispers to Peggy: "She didn't know I wasn't the buyer? So all this time she was just being rude." Heh. Peggy tells him to forget about her, and then asks him if the place is too far east. Considering Abe hasn't yet recovered his breath from hucking his ass over from the Lexington line, I'm guessing his answer is going to be "yes."
Bobby notices a spot on his wall where the paper is lined up unevenly and starts picking at it. This may seem OCD, but the wallpaper pattern is so boring I'd imagine he'd take any excuse. He gets a decent-sized piece off before Betty's voice calls him for dinner, whereupon he slides the bed over to cover his handiwork. All well and good, Bobby, but you might want to get that impulse under control. You don't have much more furniture to work with here.
Megan and Don, both dressed to the nines, get off the elevator to find Sylvia and Rosen in the lobby. After the requisite greetings, Rosen explains that they're headed to D.C. "if Jonesy can ever find a cab," and after Don and Sylvia exchange looks that make Henry and Betty's behavior back in the day seem subtle, Sylvia explains that Rosen got a last-minute invitation to give a keynote address for an unspecified event. Don replies by informing the couple that Megan's up for an award - not for acting, as they guess, but for her time in advertising, and Megan excitedly tells them that Paul Newman will be in attendance at the Ad Club of New York. Sylvia's like, Megan, you're good at everything, and of course given the affair going on under her nose it's hard not to speculate that she's not that great at perhaps one important thing, but Don and Megan's car arrives, so Sylvia tells Megan to break a leg SEE HOW THAT WORKS DON. They leave, and I'm surprised Don doesn't offer to drop Sylvia and Rosen off. He could probably score a handie in the time it takes to get to Grand Central and apparently no one would notice.
Finally, a Ginzo storyline! He comes home and starts to say something to his "Pop," only to discover that said Pop isn't alone, as he and a young woman rise to greet him. Papa Ginzo tells him that the woman is a "Beverly Farber," the daughter of one of his chess buddies, and Ginzo's reply is to flail about a little before figuring out to shake her hand. Also, this might just be me, but from her first word I thought Beverly's voice sounded eerily like Peggy's. If she ends up critiquing one of Ginzo's ads, I'll have to close my eyes and see if I can tell the difference. Papa Ginzo takes out his wallet and is like, why don't you kids go out and have a good time, if you know what I mean, but Ginzo tries to beg off, and Beverly smiles that she was "led to believe" he knew about the arrangement in advance. This goes on for a bit, but the look on Ginzo's face as he regards Beverly suggests that he's going to take her out before he turns the situation irredeemably weird.
It's the cocktail hour, and with drinks in their hands, Don and Megan check out their table, which in terms of location has a lot in common with the apartment Peggy saw. Megan commiserates with Don that it isn't fair they put all the big agencies up front, but she brightens when she sees Peggy across the room. Don tells her he's going to wait for the group, and he must still be pretty sore about her pitch if he's declining an organic chance to evade Pete. Megan points out that he can't avoid her forever, but Don says he's not. "Tell her that no matter what, her laxative radio spot is the sentimental favorite." Heh. Megan gives him a faux-dirty look...
...and then she's over greeting Peggy, who's delighted to see her. After some talk about Megan's show - Peggy tells her that her mother and sister both watch, and then funnily declines to answer when Megan asks if they hate her - Peggy introduces the president of CGC, "Jim Cutler," who as I mentioned in the recaplet is being played by Harry Hamlin, whom I haven't seen on my TV since the halcyon days of Veronica Mars. And it could be the tuxedo, but as then, he's looking impossibly good for his age. Cutler gives Megan a compliment that would be skeevy coming from someone worse dressed, and after he sits down, Peggy explains that Cutler's the head of accounts; dropping her voice, she adds, "He's like Roger with bad breath." Aw.
Peggy goes on that she just wants to do well because CGC has no finalists, while Megan confesses that she only came because it seemed important to Don. Peggy agrees that it must be, as the two of them are the only finalists for SCDP, and they don't even work there anymore; Megan adds that the campaign for which she's there was for Beans, which isn't even a client anymore. Poor Ginzo - if his work had been better, maybe he'd be here instead of fending off match-made dates from his father. Peggy turns the subject to her apartment, saying that it might work out that they're "neighbors," although as a practical matter I'd put the chances of Don ever walking from Park over to York as about as good as Beans returning to SCDP. Megan asks if Peggy's really buying a place, so Peggy reflexively explains that after paying off her debts and helping her mother out, she still has a tax problem. Megan, however, tells her not to apologize - it's a nice moment that illustrates how ingrained it is even for career women to disclaim their own success - and tells her she deserves it. She then heads back to the SCDP table...
...at which everyone's now seated: Don, Harry, Pete, Joan, Ken, Stan, and Roger. Joan whispers that they're at the worst table in the room as far as the ability to see goes, and then Roger introduces Don to a "Randall Walsh," a bow-tied, bespectacled guy who screams "quiet serial killer," although the fact that he's being played by William Mapother could be a contributing factor there. Roger explains that Walsh is in insurance and wants to come in for an official meeting, and Walsh "hey, man"s some déjà-vu nonsense before Roger shoos him away. When he's gone, Don asks what the hell that was, and Roger, with a smile both wry and dismissive, tells him not to worry about it. Well, it's kind of hard not to, Roger, but a flicker of the lights lets us know it's time to sit down...
...while at the CGC table, Chaough shows up with his wife Nan, seen briefly at Benihana back in the episode "The Chrysanthemum And The Sword," in tow. After being dismissive to her, Chaough turns his attention to Peggy and tells her she's probably figured out by now that she didn't win. The way Peggy tries to control her look of horror suggests that she wasn't quite aware of that, actually, but Chaough takes no notice and goes on that she'll prevail year. After the third time Nan barks his name, he turns around to see what's up, and a wider shot reveals that Abe is standing there waiting for Chaough to vacate his seat, and it's good timing anyway, because no sooner have Chaough and Abe settled into their assigned positions than do the lights go down. The emcee welcomes them all to the Advertising Club of New York as Chaough kisses his wife's hand - and then fixes Peggy with a look that's maybe juuuust a little too adoring. Nothing may come of it, but still something to file away mentally.
Ginzo and Beverly are having a burger and soup in a diner - Papa Ginzo's generosity only goes so far - and Ginzo asks Beverly, who earlier mentioned she's a teacher, if she likes kids. Still, Beverly's reaction is to tense up like he just proposed marriage, but when that little misunderstanding is cleared up, Beverly clarifies that she's actually a student teacher, and she's getting her Master's at Hunter. "And yes, I like kids. Some kids." Hee. Beverly's got an easy charm about her, but Ginzo is working up a head of steam about how Papa Ginzo shouldn't have brought her to the apartment, since it's kind of early in the proceedings for them to be seeing where the other one lives. Beverly smiles and agrees, leaving Ginzo to just nervously babble about the Old World and how "you're a sexy girl and you smell great" (hee) and his father probably told her Ginzo's a "Lothario" but it's not true - he's a virgin. I'd blame the women of his Brooklyn neighborhood for not realizing what they have, but if he's prone to giving speeches like that whenever a girl shows an interest, it explains a lot.
Beverly's stock, not low to begin with, rises ever higher as she simply replies "Okay!" with a WTF smile, leaving Ginzo to berate himself not only for the confession but for ordering soup, which makes me realize this character could walk straight into an episode of Seinfeld and no one would bat an eye. Beverly, for her part, mercifully throws some cold water onto this overheating spectacle as she tells him she's merely doing a favor for her parents. "Tonight will not be the night." Ginzo forlornly nods, probably thinking that no night will be the night as far as Beverly's concerned, but she gives him hope when she tells him she saw his photo in advance and found him very handsome. "And I'm obviously very shallow." Heh. Ginzo's still a sentence behind as he asks if he really is handsome, and instead of holding up a mirror, she tells him he must have heard that before. Satisfied with that conversational topic, Ginzo asks if she makes a lot of money teaching, and Beverly continues to soar as she gives a disbelieving laugh followed by a serious "No." Ginzo, however annoyed you may have been, I think your dad did you a solid here.
The emcee introduces "Paul Newman," and while it's kind of easy, I admit I'm reasonably entertained by the choice to film him entirely from the SCDP cheap seats. Maybe it's the part where everyone at the table is squinting like they can't tell if it's him either that sells it for me. "Paul Newman" tells the crowd that he's not there as an actor, and hilariously, Cutler asides to Peggy, "We invited him because he's an actor." Hee. "Paul Newman" goes on that he's there because he has six kids, and he's worried about their future; as such, he's supporting Gene McCarthy, who he says stood up to Lyndon Johnson before it was politically expedient to do so. The crowd gives this some polite applause, but over it, a man's voice asks "Paul Newman" if he's aware that Martin Luther King is dead. A horrible gasp travels throughout the room, after which Abe gets to his feet and demands to know who said that. He's obviously hoping it's a joke, in as poor taste as it would be, but the emcee retakes the podium and confirms the worst by telling the room that they were hoping to keep the news quiet until the event ended, but now that the cat's out of the bag, they're going to take ten minutes for everyone to process "this terrible event." We get some shots of privileged, exclusively white people looking stricken...
...which is then contrasted with a cut back to the diner. Beverly and Ginzo are still obliviously exchanging small talk when the news comes in over the establishment's radio. All the customers kind of absorb it at the same time, and after a crash comes from the kitchen, we see the African-American workers looking stunned and despondent. Ginzo, fiery as ever, barks that "they" just had to do it, and after another shot of the inconsolable employees...
...we cut to Rye, where Sally and Bobby are looking despondent as Betty stares bleakly into space, her tapping hand betraying her anxiety. Henry enters and wonders why they're not all crowded around the TV, but Sally tells him Betty won't let them watch. Betty shoots back that, essentially, they might show something kids shouldn't see before telling Henry he doesn't have to go. Henry, however, heatedly replies that "they" are going to burn down the city; seeing the kids' worried expressions, he tells them more calmly that everything's fine - he just has to go help the mayor. Betty asks him to be careful and to call, and Henry acknowledges that with a wave of his hand...
...and then we're back at the awards ceremony, where Pete barks at the line for the pay phones that other people are waiting to make calls. Abe gets off his conversation and tells Peggy that Dr. King was shot in the face before saying that he's got a chance to do coverage for The New York Times if he can get uptown. Peggy's worried for his safety, and the sirens wailing in the background make her point for her, but of course Abe's not going to be dissuaded, so she reluctantly tells him not to do anything stupid. Abe: "It's too late. I'm going to Harlem in a tuxedo." It's nice of him to spare me having to make a joke at a time like this. When he's gone, Peggy looks lost and afraid, but then Don and Megan join her, and she confesses that she's sick and she doesn't even know how she's going to get home. Don offers a ride, after which Pete stops by to tell them he's going home, as he's tired of waiting for a phone. The lights then flicker again, and Peggy's flabbergasted that they're actually still having the awards, but Don's like, "What else are we gonna do?" I feel like Sterling Archer answering a rhetorical question, but: Not have them? Megan collapses onto Don while Peggy looks uncomfortable, and Peggy, I know there's been weirdness with Don lately, but everyone's in mourning and he's got one free shoulder.
When we return, Bobby is picking (up) where he left off with the wallpaper, but this time Betty catches him in the act, and whatever greater meaning there may be about people trying to bring order to chaos is lost on Betty as she asks why he's "destroying this house." She covers her eyes and tells him he can't do "this," but when he denies having done anything wrong, she doesn't have the energy for any further confrontation and leaves, simply asking him please to go to sleep. God, remember when Betty would rather have lost an arm than an argument with one of her kids?
With the TV on, Pete calls Trudy, who to some degree is happy to hear his voice - you remember their interaction after JFK's death. When asked, she confesses that she's not good, adding that what's happened is "shameful." Pete hesitates for a moment, but then tells Trudy that he doesn't want her and Tammy to be alone, and he could come sleep at the house. Despite the fact that the tragedy has obviously only enhanced Pete's feeling of loneliness, it's a genuine offer, and Trudy is momentarily tempted, but she steels herself and declines, assuring him they'll be fine. Pete replies that he wants to see Tammy and wonders if she's all right, but Trudy, in a voice that suggests she's envious of her child's naïveté, tells him she doesn't know what's going on. Pete realizes the truth of that and gives up, saying he'll see her Saturday, but Trudy decides she'll just tell her parents that he couldn't make it to whatever they have scheduled, or cancel it altogether. Pete casts about for something to say and tells Trudy he doesn't want her to be worried, and whether he's referring to himself, the tragedy, or, as seems likely, both, Trudy whispers, "Okay." The TV continuing to talk about the assassination emphasizes the weight of their emotion, but it's Trudy who recovers first, as in a more normal voice she tells Pete good night. They hang up as President Johnson urges everyone to reject violence in Dr. King's name...
...and then Ginzo is waking his father up and telling him the news. In a silent gesture I loved, Papa Ginzo wordlessly pulls his blanket up over his face, and I'd imagine that he's seen enough tragedies in his life to have hoped not to have to witness too many more. Ginzo puts the TV on - it comes to life with that dot expanding into a line and then into a full picture, which I remember from when I was a kid...
...and then we cut to a different TV, which announces the spread of violence between cops and "Negroes," and Don looks especially stricken when he hears about incidents in D.C. Meanwhile, via the telephone, Megan sort of chews her father out before hanging up and telling Don that he "said he applauded the escalation of decay," and she's so sick of his "Marxist bullshit." Hear, hear. Megan wonders if "your secretary" is okay, but Don doesn't answer, instead pointing out that Sylvia and Rosen are in D.C., like I don't know if this is meant to be touching, but you'd think in the face of this tragedy Don could stop thinking about his side action for five minutes. Megan complains that her father hides behind his intellect so he won't have to feel anything, and when Don suggests they withdraw to the bedroom to watch, Megan silently agrees. When she puts the phone down on the couch, a close-up reveals her award sitting there, and boy, I hope they exempted the winners from having to give speeches this year.
Don enters his office, bringing his Rolodex in with him to let us know Dawn isn't present. He picks up the phone, but Roger enters and offers, "The man knew how to talk. I don't know why, but I thought that would save him. I thought it would solve the whole thing." You can see where that point of view would be appealing to Roger. Don doesn't have an answer to that, so Roger starts to leave, but turns back to tell him that Walsh wants to come in that afternoon. Don doesn't react at all, so focused is he on calling Rosen's service and asking if they have any news of him. The answer appears to be negative, and after Don hems and haws a bit, he declines to leave a message. I know the world is going to be off its game today, Don, but still: Real smooth, there.
Peggy enters her office and is surprised to find Phyllis, who apologizes for not being out doing reception. Peggy's like, it's not that - I just didn't expect you to come in at all. She goes on that she kept calling her number but no one answered, so Phyllis explains that she, her mother, and their family went out to her sister's in Newark. Peggy tentatively offers, referring to the violence, that Abe told her things could have been a lot worse, but then, realizing how inadequate that sounds, adds a heartfelt "I'm so sorry." Phyllis's face starts to break, so Peggy stretches out and embraces her in as heartfelt a gesture as I've seen on this show in some time. Still in Peggy's arms, Phyllis says she knew it was going to happen, and so did Dr. King, "but it's not gonna stop anything." Her own words giving her some strength, she breaks the embrace and adds that "these fools running in the streets - it's exactly what he didn't want." Peggy tells her she should go home. "In fact, none of us should be working." Phyllis thanks her and leaves, but Peggy still looks rather shaken.
In Rye, Betty, referring to the paper, asks Henry "if this is really what happened." Henry tells her the account is correct, "except that it was terrifying, walking into that angry, crazy crowd and Mayor Lindsay smiling like he was going to a pancake breakfast." Betty replies that it sounds like the tactic worked, but Henry scoffs that what worked was "cutting deals with all the militants last year." I think I want to go back to hanging out with Peggy. Henry tells Betty he's got to go back, but she informs him he's going to eat something first...
...while, in contrast, Pete isn't being taken care of, as he stomps out of his office to find that Clara has abandoned her post. Across the way, Harry is annoyed that Scarlett has similarly disappeared, and they suppose the girls are off watching TV somewhere. They then start to talk, but when Harry tries to get Pete to commiserate about all the ad buyers being worried about preemption, Pete snits that it's disgusting. Oblivious to Pete's liberal slant, Harry goes on that he's had enough of special broadcasts cutting into primetime, to which Pete snaps that the situation "cannot be made good. It's shameful. It's a shameful, shameful day!" Harry fires a salvo back at Pete, prompting Bertram to come out of his office and ask what's going on. Pete barks that they're in the presence of a "bona fide racist," but Harry isn't intimidated, saying that sure, now everyone's a racist these days. On the one hand, Harry's got a point about the zeitgeist being such that people are getting accused of racism like women in The Crucible got accused of witchcraft. On the other hand, Harry's still being a tin-eared idiot. Bertram calls for them to shake "in the spirit of erasing these remarks," so they grasp each other's hand - whereupon Harry says he's sorry because "I mistook this for a workday." Ah, the apology fake-out. It never loses its charm. Pete, hilariously still shaking Harry's hand, snarls that he's sure Harry can make his money back on some Movie of the Week "about the death of a great man." Harry's face falls at that one - hard to blame it, that line went through him like a rapier - and Bertram literally is like, "That is not what I meant!" Hee. Pete's not done, though, as he tells Harry he'll put it in terms he'll understand: "That man had a wife and four children!" Clearly having won, he turns on his heel and stomps off, and even Bertram looks like, "Well, I'll give him that one."
Dawn enters Don's office and apologizes for being late, but Don tells her he's just glad she's okay, adding that Joan was trying to reach her. Dawn explains that the phone was out for a bit the night before, but Don and then the entering Joan both tell her she shouldn't be working. Dawn, however, replies that her mother suggested she do so; not quite knowing how to respond to that, Joan pauses for a moment before saying that Bertram announced that they're closing early out of respect, but Roger still wants to have the three o'clock meeting. Don, exasperated: "Well, are we closed or not?" Dawn tells him it's fine, as she'd "really rather be here today," so Don, looking like he hadn't considered the idea that Dawn might have had reason to want to get out of her neighborhood, assents. Joan then moves forward to put her arms around Dawn from the side, and you can blame Joan for not being as natural as Peggy was with Phyllis, but the fact that Dawn looks like Joan might squeeze the life force from her body isn't helping. Joan tells Dawn everyone is so sorry, but Dawn only looks flummoxed, and she then collects Don's Rolodex and follows Joan out. If she'd known the white people would be acting so weird, she might have argued the point of staying home more strongly with her mother.
Peggy's reading The New York Times (you can see the TV listings on the back, remember those?) when the realtor calls about the offer. After a bit more brittleness from her (the words "May I speak?" are uttered), she tells Peggy that she realized with "trouble" only ten blocks away, the seller is probably on pins and needles, so since "the other buyer" didn't come in (they never do), why don't they make an offer at $5,000 under the asking price? Considering that number is twenty-eight grand, she's proposing an awfully big discount, but Peggy balks not because of that but because she's worried about the neighborhood now too. The broker, however, tells her it's the only apartment for her, and she won't want to regret not getting it. "And of course I'll wait until tomorrow to present." Peggy's face looks like this whole scenario isn't sitting well with her, but her conscience doesn't find her voice, and the realtor takes her silence as assent: "Good girl." If nothing else, Peggy, this experience is going to make you more assertive with brokers. It's a valuable addition to your toolbox.
Good Lord, this Walsh walks like a freak - he keeps his hands clasped in front of him and practically glides. After some awkwardness where Walsh gives Don a little wave rather than shake his hand, they sit down with Roger, Stan, and Ginzo - whereupon Walsh informs the room that he doesn't drink and he doesn't really even want to talk. "I was trying to communicate without words, but it's not working." Roger snaps, "[Walsh], it NEVER works!" Hee. I don't know how Roger got saddled with this guy, but I have the feeling I could find out in the pages of Sterling's Gold. Roger explains to the room that Walsh has an idea his ad director refuses to take a chance on, and after we get clarification that Walsh's particular field is property insurance, he announces that he's after "a no-bullshit approach to why I got into this business. People say they care. I really care." He then lapses into silence, and everyone's all "..." until Roger is like, "We're waiting for you." I love how Roger has to be the weirdo translator here; it oddly suits him.
Walsh says he envisions his company's name and a Molotov cocktail being lit with a match, and then a coupon at the bottom, and he's got his eyes closed during this little spiel, so he doesn't see the amazing look of disbelief Don throws Roger's way. Ginzo, bless him, is able to pull off a straight read of this line: "The ad sales guy didn't like that?" Hee. To drive the point home, the show has been careful not to mention an affiliation for Walsh; they probably could defend it from a legal standpoint, but it's just common courtesy not to put a company's name to something this out there. Walsh at least says he knows what the proposal looks like - "fearmongering" - but it's actually "a coded message that came to me when I was visited by the spirit of Dr. King last night. He said that I should question the whole property thing, man." Don's face is running out of expressions, while Stan can't take it any longer and just busts out in a huge grin. Walsh mistakes this to mean the pitch is making him happy, but Don cuts in to, evenly enough given the circumstances, say that the whole thing is in poor taste. Walsh replies that that's because he'd rather not think about it, and he may have a point, but it's lost in the follow-up about "all the tears in the world, all the animals crying," so Don gives up, leaving Roger once again to intermediate as he says that "despite what we believe to be good intentions," Walsh is allowing recent events "and whatever else you've got in your system" (hee) to influence him.
In response, Walsh claims to be quoting Tecumseh when he starts chanting - my closed captioning reads "Heya howa howa" - to which Roger replies, "I had forgotten that." Hee. Everyone rises, and after Walsh tells them this is an opportunity - "the heavens are telling us to change" - and Roger makes a wink-wink reference to Mapother's time on Lost, the meeting breaks up. Ginzo trails behind Walsh and asks if he really talked to Dr. King's ghost - he actually sounds genuinely interested - and Stan follows along to see the show, leaving Roger to explain that he owed Walsh, as he talked Roger "off a roof" once. If he's being literal, I'd imagine acid was involved, which makes sense from every angle. Don says he just wants to go home, and when Roger tells him someone's going to do Walsh's idea, Don's not playing: "Not us." Roger exits, and Don packs up quickly...
...because he's got an urgent date with some booze and his TV, the latter of which is showing grim scenes from D.C. with commentary that the firefighters haven't been able to handle the sheer volume of calls. The phone then rings, and Megan calls from the other room that it's Betty, and Don's supposed to pick up the kids. Don winces, but grabs the phone and asks if Betty really wants the kids in the city at the moment. Betty's unimpressed, though, and tells him that Don gets out of every opportunity to see them. "You don't even know how strange they're acting." Don points out that the news is very upsetting, but Betty replies that Don forgetting about them is too before finishing with this whopper: "I guarantee you'd go to Canada on your knees to pick up your girlfriend." Extra points for "forgetting" that Don and Megan are married, and Don bitterly puts the phone down before announcing that he's going to get the kids. Considering he downs the rest of his drink in one gulp, Betty, you might have done better to leave him be. Megan emerges in a bathrobe and remarks that Betty's a piece of work, and Don gives her a look that's like, no argument here...
...but we're spared the frosty greeting the parents surely had as we cut to Don driving the kids home; they're all piled in the front seat, which is just as well, since at that age I would have been scared to be in the back with sirens wailing all around me. Even Don looks discomfited by what he's seeing, so I hope Megan didn't put away the bar. (Good one, right?)
Cross-fade into Papa Ginzo coming into the kitchen to find his son at the sewing machine in a wifebeater and boxers, and I wish we'd gotten this welcome sight in a merrier episode, but I'll take what I can get. Not so Papa Ginzo, who, after explaining he's going to work on a Saturday because he doesn't want to be in front of the TV, berates his son for his lack of stitching ability before adding that he also can't cook or clean. "You don't think there's a reason you have all these flaws?" He's not the easiest to like, but his point that Ginzo needs a girlfriend is valid enough, even if he follows up by basically being all "Unless you're a fagola?" Ginzo assures his father he likes girls, but Papa Ginzo tells him that if that were true, he'd be in bed with Beverly right now, and when Ginzo tells him no one's in the mood, Papa Ginzo demurs: "Now's the time when a man and a woman need to be together the most!" He gets in a good one (and the episode title!) about the animals going two by two in the flood: "You, you gonna get on the ark with your father?" Heh. Ginzo assures his father that he can find his own girls, which I hope doesn't mean he's rejecting Beverly just because of how she came to him, although now that I think of it, you couldn't really blame either of them for thinking a first date on the night of an assassination is a bad omen. Anyway, Papa Ginzo gives up, grumbling that he'll bring Ginzo a sandwich when he returns. I hope he's talking about food, because in the other arena I think it would be best for Ginzo to go one at a time first.
Don wakes up/comes to in bed, a bottle of Canadian Club sitting tellingly on the nightstand, and takes a long moment to contemplate his existence/hangover before we cut to him trudging into the living room, wherein he sees Megan, Sally, and Gene dressed to go out. Sally, after tattling that Bobby's not supposed to be watching TV, tells Don they're going to a park vigil, and Megan mentions that a "Troy and Bridget," whoever they may be, are going to meet them there before Bobby clutches his stomach and claims that he's not feeling well. Hilariously, he then "furtively" looks around to see if anyone's buying what he's selling, but even though the answer is obviously "no," Don sighs and tells Megan Bobby can stay with him. Megan, taking a conciliatory tack, tells Don she feels like she has to get out of the house, while Sally is just a shade less understanding: "I knew you wouldn't go." The three of them leave, and they're not even out the door before Bobby vaults over the couch; not only that, when Don asks if he wants some aspirin, he's practically like, "For what?" Not the most solid planner, this one. Don has him turn off the TV and tell him exactly what Betty said, so Bobby confesses that he's not allowed to watch TV for a week. Don nods thoughtfully...
...and then we cut to the two of them in a movie. HA! You did say "TV," Betty. Hee. This is exactly the sort of workaround a child would have no problem doing, but the fact that Don's spearheading it makes it hilarious. They're watching Planet Of The Apes, and Drs. Zaius and Zira are discussing their captive's mental abilities, with Zaius claiming that humans are inferior to them. The racial commentary is obvious, which is just as well, because I'm not going to be able to delve too deeply into it with the "Dr. Zaius" song from the "A Fish Called Selma" episode of The Simpsons inevitably running through my head. (What's wrong with me? I think you're crazy. Want a second opinion! You're also lazy.) Don asks Bobby why Betty punished him, so Bobby cryptically (to Don) tells him the wallpaper didn't match up. Don figures the issue isn't worth pressing, so he goes back to eating popcorn...
...and then we cross-fade to the end of the movie ("You blew it up!"). The credits roll, and father and son both look fairly blown away before Bobby asks if [SPOILER] the humans blew up New York. Don corrects him that it was "all of America," and that what they saw happened in the future. Bobby: "Jesus." That's what I would have said at his age! Don asks if Bobby wants to see it again, and the answer is basically, "Hell, yes!" I'm glad Bobby's this grateful, because Don's going an awfully long time without a drink here.
Abe, in a T-shirt, is typing away when the phone rings. He picks it up and says he needs another half hour, but it's actually the realtor calling for Peggy with the news that they didn't get the place. Peggy's crestfallen and asks what happened, and the realtor breezes that someone came in a little higher, and it wasn't meant to be. Of course, if they'd paid the price Peggy was prepared to, they would have gotten it, and the realtor does admit that the winning bid was under asking as well, but her reiteration that it wasn't meant to be and that "there's no other way to think about it" has merit from a mental-health point of view. After she hangs up, Peggy glumly tells Abe that someone else got the place, and when he gives a reaction easily described as "cursory," she asks if he even gives a damn. He tells her he's working on an emotional story, but she nails him good: "Stop being such a martyr. You're having the time of your life." Heh. She tells him that she feels alone in this, but that's kind of the point for him - he doesn't feel right expressing an opinion, since he's not going in on the place with her. She invites him to regardless, so he tells her he doesn't want to live on the UES, and goes on to opine that it's not diverse enough, not that he needs a reason in my book. He then tells Peggy about a photographer who was trailing him the other night and lives in the West 80's, which he admits is more rundown, but "that's why it's so cheap." You'll forgive me if I cringe a bit here. Peggy looks intrigued and then charmed by the idea of getting their own fixer-upper, and then comes over to stand by him and say she didn't realize he felt that way about the UES, and he apologizes again, reiterating that he didn't feel comfortable in having a say. Peggy, however, beams at him: "You're in my life. You're a part of my life." Sorry, Peggy's mom, but I think this turned out better than getting a cat.
Waiting for the show, Don's reading what I'm guessing is a movie-promotional paper, given that it's titled The Ape and bears the headline "Big Round-Up Of Human Beasts." Even as people are starting to file in, an African-American theater employee sweeps up near Don's feet when Bobby returns from the concession stand and asks the man if he's seen the film. The guy tells him not yet, but he will get to see it for free. Bobby says it's really good, and they're seeing it again, and that's probably not something I'd announce to someone working for the theater, but I also remember doing that in a Pink Panther movie when I was a kid, so maybe things were just more lax back then. Bobby philosophically offers, "Everybody likes to go to the movies when they're sad," and the guy doesn't respond, but he looks thrown by the tacit expression of camaraderie, poignant as it is given the current circumstances. He'd be even more so if he'd known Bobby as long as we have.
Henry enters the bedroom and tells Betty she left the TV on, but she's in a similar headspace as her son: "I don't feel right turning it off. But I don't want to watch it." After saying he thinks the violence has died down for the duration, he tells Betty she'll never have to worry about money, and given that that's the second time we've seen him tell her that, I wonder if she's going to live to regret not taking Don for what she could have. She asks why he'd bring that up, and by way of answering, he wonders what he's doing - he keeps thinking about walking through Harlem behind Lindsay. And while he admits that was exhilarating, "what was the cost of avoiding that riot? Police corruption, disrespect for authority, negotiating with hoodlums?" He tells her he wants to do things differently, and all this is in aid of the news that he's been offered the seat of a dead state senator, and since he was a Republican, he would be "basically unopposed." Betty's delighted, especially when she hears that the position could be a stepping stone to the state Attorney General position, but from how quickly her face falls when he says he can't wait for people to really meet her, you'd think he mooed in her face.
Don is sitting on his bed, and he looks so unsteady I'm surprised he hasn't been drinking straight out of that bottle on the nightstand instead of bothering with a glass. Megan enters, dressed in her nightgown, and after she tells him the kids are in bed, she's like, hey Drunky, how about letting me in on what's in your brain besides a BAC of somewhere over 2? She goes on that she didn't know what to say to Sally, but Don sighs that she's better with the kids than he is, and she doesn't understand. Megan: "I do. You don't have Marx; you've got a bottle." Don doesn't even acknowledge the burn, excellent though it was, so Megan sits with him and asks if "this" is what he wants to be to the kids when they need him. He admits that it isn't, and then takes a long moment before going on that he always wanted to be "the man who loves children." But he always faked it - from the moment the kids were born, he acted proud and excited, but he didn't feel anything. (He's using the second person, which adds to the effect, but it's easier to recap this way.) He goes on that his inability to love was exacerbated by his difficult childhood, and Megan looks concerned in a different way as he goes on, "You want to love them, but you don't. And the fact that you're faking that feeling makes you wonder if your own father had the same problem." It's been too long since Don's given us anything identifiable to work with, but this scene is the best he's offered in a long time precisely because the things he's saying are so difficult even to think, let alone to say. He goes on that suddenly, the kids are older and "you see them do something, and you feel that feeling that you were pretending to have. And it feels like your heart is going to explode." Is he that proud that Bobby bought Milk Duds all by himself? More seriously, if I were Megan, I'd wonder if this genuine feeling of love makes Don's infatuation with her pale in comparison, but I suppose it's a good sign overall for him to feel something human, and she puts a comforting arm around him. I feel you on the tender moment, Megan, but you might also want to get him some Alka-Seltzer.
Pete answers the door for an Asian deliveryman and tries to chat him up a bit about the situation outside, only to realize that the guy doesn't understand a word he's saying. Inside, he looks super-bummed, but it's his fault for not ordering fish and chips.
In the mirror, Betty holds up an old couture dress of hers and sees just how far away it is from fitting. She strokes her hair for a bit, possibly wondering if she can change the rest of her like she changed her locks, and then walks off...
...while Don, also in the dark, walks into Bobby's room, apparently having heard something. It must be pretty damn late given how much soberer Don sounds, so his admonition to Bobby that he needs to go to sleep is no surprise. Bobby, however, says he can't, so Don climbs into bed with him, and they face each other as Bobby tells him he's scared - he keeps worrying that someone's going to shoot Henry. Although it's hard to see his face in the dim light, the long pause Don takes probably means that that one hurt a little, but he recovers to tell Bobby that no one's going to do that. "Henry's not that important." Hee. I wonder if, years from now, Bobby will remember this comment and be like, "Hey!" For now, though, he nods, so Don puts an arm around him and tells him to go to sleep. Bobby closes his eyes, but Don keeps his open...
...and then he's walking out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette as sirens wail, belying Henry's claim that the violence is over. Don looks contemplatively out over the city, maybe wondering if things will ever be the same, and we go to credits. A difficult event to which to do justice and hardly a perfect episode - it does show how far the show has to go really to engage with any African-American characters. But for a few characters, it's the first real sign of life this season. See you week.
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His new film, a documentary on online privacy and the sale of personal data called Terms And Conditions May Apply, recently premiered at the Slamdance Film Festival in January. You can get news on it from the film's Twitter account. Also, you can email John 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.
Pete answers the door for an Asian deliveryman and tries to chat him up a bit about the situation outside, only to realize that the guy doesn't understand a word he's saying. Inside, he looks super-bummed, but it's his fault for not ordering fish and chips.
In the mirror, Betty holds up an old couture dress of hers and sees just how far away it is from fitting. She strokes her hair for a bit, possibly wondering if she can change the rest of her like she changed her locks, and then walks off...
...while Don, also in the dark, walks into Bobby's room, apparently having heard something. It must be pretty damn late given how much soberer Don sounds, so his admonition to Bobby that he needs to go to sleep is no surprise. Bobby, however, says he can't, so Don climbs into bed with him, and they face each other as Bobby tells him he's scared - he keeps worrying that someone's going to shoot Henry. Although it's hard to see his face in the dim light, the long pause Don takes probably means that that one hurt a little, but he recovers to tell Bobby that no one's going to do that. "Henry's not that important." Hee. I wonder if, years from now, Bobby will remember this comment and be like, "Hey!" For now, though, he nods, so Don puts an arm around him and tells him to go to sleep. Bobby closes his eyes, but Don keeps his open...
...and then he's walking out onto the balcony, lighting a cigarette as sirens wail, belying Henry's claim that the violence is over. Don looks contemplatively out over the city, maybe wondering if things will ever be the same, and we go to credits. A difficult event to which to do justice and hardly a perfect episode - it does show how far the show has to go really to engage with any African-American characters. But for a few characters, it's the first real sign of life this season. See you week.
John Ramos is a writer and film producer living in Los Angeles. His new film, a documentary on online privacy and the sale of personal data called Terms And Conditions May Apply, recently premiered at the Slamdance Film Festival in January. You can get news on it from the film's Twitter account. Also, you can email John 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.