Is Mad Men Turning Into Watered-Down, Flavourless Sauce?

Mad Men is in full swing (wink, 1960s joke). Each week we’ll take a look at who’s shilling what to who; follow our recaps here.

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MAD MEN CLIENT MEETING:

6.4 — ‘To Have And To Hold’

THE PRODUCT:

Heinz Ketchup. Dow Chemical. Subterfuge. Dissatisfaction.

THE PITCH:

Don Draper declares his Ketchup campaign “Tantalisingly incomplete”. Uh, ain’t that just another way of saying half-baked? Ketchup may be the Coca-Cola of condiments, but when does tomato sauce really come into play? You throw it on reheated leftovers and starch heavy junk to give it some zing; meanwhile, the unhappy Draper marriage continues, without anything new to spice it up.

Don may think that anything to do with marriage is practically Palaeolithic, but his current take on relationships has fossilised alongside his wardrobe. No play-acting for you, Megan, because Don can’t see the difference between pretending as a job, and the pretending he’s done throughout his life.

Megan’s co-worker is right: Don plays many roles. Unfortunately, we’ve only seen him play one this season. Don’s life, right now, is skeezy betrayal, 24-7, all clandestine hotel meetings and fake-out emergency elevator stops, and he doesn’t need the keys to Pete’s fuckpad: “I live here, Pete.”

Remember how Don’s unhappiness used to drive him on towards California soul journeys, tussling with Beatniks and writing renegade op-eds? Let’s try something new buddy, because trotting downstairs for a quickie just isn’t cutting it. This is getting bland, and I’m crying out for mustard.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for an episode of Gab Gals.

Has your office job got you down? Is your best friend’s wedding giving you the blues? Well guess what, Dawn: you’re a young African American living in New York in 1968, only a few months away from the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr — without wanting your race and culture to become your complete identity, please talk about anything other than the fact that you have to work until 6:30pm every day. Here are some options for the modern day working girl: have a craving to bite into meat, be fantastic at reading television scripts, write terrible poetry, marry a gay man, run over people with a lawn mower, have cataract surgery, be Quebecois and dream of acting, sleep with your boss. All of these are tried and true ways to becoming an interesting character on Mad Men. Being late to supper, twice, is not. Give it a shake, run it under hot water; just get something in this character flowing.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the Gab Gals line, Joan’s friend is in town, so they go to a soda fountain with telephone service, kiss a 14-year-old and let it all hang loose at a bar with one couch and two lava lamp projectors. Drama! Sometimes it’s hard being a woman in a man’s world. Joan’s got the title, and the money, and the responsibility, but no one will let her fire secretaries willy-nilly. We know that she knows that they know that she knows she slept with that guy and got a partnership. If only Don would pipe up and remind everyone that the company only had the Utz Nutz business in Season Two because he finger-banged Bobby Barrett. That might even the playing floor.

Joan shouldn’t care how they make her feel – but what is she doing for herself? Bring in some business, Joan! Get Mary K to co-sponsor Harry’s quarterback sing-a-long special. Shape the female perspective in this joint, now that Peggy’s jumped ship. Relinquish all the keys to all the cupboards and make a new job for yourself. Joan’s already an iconic, strong, curvy bottle of red sauce; they should really stop having her act like vinegar.

At least Joan and Dawn have an ideal they’re angling at, something other than a blank space they’ve assigned to someone else’s imagination. For everyone else, it’s the same story as last week. This soap opera is bleeding into my soap opera. Megan’s not an Oldsmobile, she’s not beans; Don’s just too stubborn to reframe the fantasy of his marriage around its new realities. If you don’t like the one you brung to the dance, then try changing the tune; and if you don’t like what they’re saying, change the conversation. Don’t start the conversation again and again and until you’re completely disgusted by the dialogue. There are other ways to wallow in guilt and shame than schtupping the Catholic downstairs.

THE TAGLINE:

“If he wants people to stop hating him, he should stop dropping napalm on children.”

OLD BUSINESS:

Bert Cooper and Roger Sterling, last of the white haired titans. Looks like Coop dug his Japanese tentacle rape etchings out of storage now that he’s got an office, and the old guard has settled in for a cup of tea. But oldies like to see energy, and these guys like gung-ho. They respect it. They put up with Pete, after all.

Peggy and Stan hit a slight bump.

Ray Wise continues to be an absolute pleasure playing Ken’s father-in-law. Wouldn’t you want to go golfing with this guy? Eat dinner with him? You can just picture him biting the head off a bat, mussing a toddler’s hair, and then singing at a high school football half-time show. What a treasure.

NEW BUSINESS:

Harry Crane is solving problems. Just imagine Joe Namath in a straw hat. Now, imagine Muhammad Ali in a large pair of Wellingtons. Also, imagine Joe Dimaggio in with a freshly baked tray rhubarb crumble. This is the future of advertising, you guys. Keep up!

Meanwhile, Megan’s boss and co-star are swingers. And apparently make good coffee. Sounds perfect, Megan – good luck with your new family!

ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF MAD MEN:

Pete is unsure of his own reactions. Harry would like you to “Shh.” Ginsberg sure as hell didn’t arrange something. Did you? Oh god, did we leave the Cavalier cologne account running?

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Matt Roden helps kids tell stories by day at the Sydney Story Factory, and by night assists adults in admitting to stupidity by co-running Confession Booth and TOD Talks. He also illustrates for Junkee; you can find more of his work here – and follow Mad Men with him here.