Sorry.
Since season one, one of the most interesting – and most important – themes of Mad Men has been the changing relationship between the sexes. The show began in the twilight hours of the patriarchy, when men were men and women were objects. Remember, all the way back in the pilot, Peggy is introduced to the world of Sterling Cooper when a wolf pack of bachelors proposition her on an elevator. Even good old Ken Cosgrove wasn’t above an ogling.
But the days when casual sexual harassment was the rule are just about over. Joan is a partner, Megan is pursuing a career that involves simulated sex and Peggy, in a moment that’s nearly eight years coming (in show time), finally, finally bests Don in a competitive pitch. She’s earned it.
The message of “To Have and to Hold” is simple: Women’s lib is coming, and you can either accept it or throw yourself under the steamroller of history. Men like Don Draper and Harry Crane (which is probably the first time those two have been lumped together), who are used to thinking of women as props – a well-dressed wife to go with a well-appointed home; a helpful and sexy secretary who might also be good for a little fun on the side – are suddenly confronted with the idea that there’s going to have to be more equality both in their working and personal relationships. Simply put, they can’t take women for granted any more.
And that pisses a lot of dudes off. No one likes relinquishing power, least of all a control freak like Don or the lord of a petty fiefdom like Harry. But this isn’t an episode about men. It’s about women taking advantage of their newfound agency – and taking note of the price of power – and men standing aside and grimacing. You can’t stop progress, much as some might want to.
The episode focuses on four women: Joan, Dawn, Megan and – in the final but rewarding act – Peggy, too. My favorite storyline of the four is Dawn’s, not only because she’s finally receiving some much-needed shading but also because it features the first (to the best of my memory) interaction between two black characters Mad Men has ever done.
And, thankfully, Matthew Weiner and his staff handle their first scene without a single white person rather well. So many white writers, even talented ones, fall into the trap of reducing black characters to signifiers of a monolithic “Black Community” that never has and never will exist. But writer Erin Levy gives Dawn and her bride-to-be friend different priorities and ways of looking at the world. They see SCDP in fundamentally different ways – for Dawn, it’s a flawed and often-uncomfortable job, but a job nonetheless, and a starting point on the road to someplace better. For her friend, it’s the cornerstone of the old, white, repressive order. They’re both probably right, but their different views are related to their divergent goals: Dawn is an upwardly mobile professional, focused on her career – possibly a Peggy in the making – while her friend is taking a more traditional path towards marriage and domesticity.
The episode is full of women torn between the traditional roles they were raised to believe they should inhabit – obedient servant for Dawn, party girl for Joan, wife for all – and the independent, career-driven lives they’re just now finding out they can have. The division is especially stark for Joan, whose new position as a partner garners her as much indignation (particularly from the endlessly incompetent Harry Crane, who’s in rare form) as respect.
And, just as she’s dealing with rumor and open disrespect at work, she gets a taste of the life of domesticity she gave up in the form of a visit from her Midwestern friend Kate. (Kate, it should be mentioned, also gets a taste of the Manhattan working-girl lifestyle of long hours, hard drinks and casual sex she gave up to get married and take a steady but unexciting job at Mary Kay.) Joan has wealth, power and success, but she doesn’t have the respect of her coworkers and she’s raising a child on her own. She gets to be a trailblazer, but being the first woman to fight her way up the corporate ladder doesn’t lend itself to a fulfilling personal life.
Megan is also clawing her way to the top of a cutthroat, male-dominated industry – television – but she’s also doing that while married to the worst possible husband for a career-minded woman, Donald Francis Draper. She’s being pulled towards the more sexually liberated world of California – or at least as close as she can get, working on a titillating soap run by a couple with an open marriage and no qualms about inviting new friends over for weed and an orgy. She’s talented enough to earn herself a romantic subplot on the show, complete with steamy faux-sex (with a character who’s betraying his wife, no less – Megan certainly has a type).
And Don, of course, wants none of it. He’s a man who’s used to putting up a front of rectitude, playing the part of the loyal husband while discreetly indulging his impulses on the side. His scene with Sylvia is full of symbolism that suggests Don wants his sexuality to be anything but liberated – the penny hidden under the rug, the crucifix pushed behind Sylvia’s neck during lovemaking. Sex is something to be covered up, reserved for darkened bedrooms with locked doors, not engaged in freely, in the open – say, on TV, for money.
But Don is the past. Peggy is the future. Confident, self-possessed, and good enough at her job to best even a very good Draper pitch, she’s a beacon of how much better life can get for women. Don can try and fight the future, but he’s just going to end up with his ear pressed to a closed door, eavesdropping on a world that has passed him by.
Tidbits:
–“If he wants people to stop hating him, he should stop dropping napalm on children.” I loved seeing Ken express some righteous indignation, but his solution isn’t to confront Dow Chemical about their policies – it’s to pitch a terrible-sounding TV special (“John Wayne in a sketch version of Camelot!”) sponsored by Dow to clean up their image. (Reframing a problem without fixing it is a very Mad Men thing to do.)
–Speaking of which, I really loved the scene where Ken and Harry pitch the Joe Namath TV special to Dow. It doesn’t really go anywhere (at least not yet), but it’s a hilarious satire of how most crap ends on TV: It’s pitched by an ad man, not an artist. The priority isn’t good TV, but helping the PR of a company that makes napalm – “Family products for the American family.”
–“Project Kill Machine!” I enjoy the vibe of the new, younger creative team and the cipher that is Bob Benson (who I really hope we learn more about soon).
–Don and Stan’s “Pass the Heinz” campaign is definitely the kind of ad two dudes with the munchies would come up with.
–“If I wasn’t your husband, I would be happy for you…I can tolerate this.” –Don. “You’re perfect.” –Megan. She has an odd idea of perfect.
–“It’s either me or her!” –Harry Crane. “I think you mean, ‘If she goes, I go.’” –Burt Cooper.
–Don thinks satire is “the most dangerous form of humor.” He also uses “open-minded” as an insult.
–“He thinks he’s running against the ghost of Kennedy.” –Cooper on Nixon.
–Don’s ketchup ad is very good, but Peggy has both the better ad and the better pitch. She’s pitching right to Mr. Ketchup’s massive ego.
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