She knows she's not safe. But she doesn't care. I guess we
know in the end, she wants to be caught. - Michael Ginsberg
At one point in Mystery Date, Sally Draper watches a TV
commercial for the Milton Bradley board game by the same name. The objective of
the game is to acquire cards to assemble an outfit in order to go on a date
with the "mystery date" behind the plastic door. But you don't know
who will be on the other side of that door and if your date doesn't match your
outfit, you lose (thanks Wikipedia!).
This episode fittingly focused on doors
- the doors we open, the ones we close, and the people we expect and don't
expect to find on the other side. It's a clever analogy for the
compartmentalization of the characters, the unexpected revelations that often
come when we truly see people, and an
apt framing device to graft against the Richard Speck murders in Chicago.
Speaking of which, the Speck serial
murders looms over this entire episode like a dark cloud, reminding us that
strangers do sometimes come knocking at our door. As Pauline, Sally's
step-grandmother, tells it, "The girls got ready for bed and there was a
handsome man there. And someone probably knew him, or not." The reality of
it was that Speck raped and murdered eight nurses in July 1966.
At first, I found the inclusion of
this device awkward. But the more I thought about it, the clearer it became. The
fifth season is running full steam ahead with the empowerment motif -
empowerment of African Americans as depicted through the Civil Rights riots and
empowerment of women through this episode. A number of characters - notably the
female ones - open doors only to find shades of the person they thought would
be there. These characters are then subjected to varying degrees of oppression
by their "mystery date" but instead of becoming a victim, end up turning
the tables on the aggressor. It's a subtle motif that runs throughout, but an
intoxicatingly rich and damn good one.
If you like Mad Men, then you love Joan; and I've been waiting for this episode
ever since Greg raped her back in season 2. He's returned from Vietnam; and she
gleefully opens the door to reveal a dashingly uniformed man. She introduces
him to his (read: Roger's) son. Then they close the bedroom door and
"catch up." But eventually, the truth comes out that Greg is not only
returning to Vietnam in 10 days, but that he actually volunteered to go back. "They need me," he argues, begging the response from Joan that
I was expecting but never got. "But I need you," Joan shoulda,
woulda, coulda said. But her smoldering look at that exact moment already said
it all. So after a good night's sleep, Joan tells her husband she wants him to
go. For good. "I'm glad the Army makes you feel like a man," Joan
scolds, "because I'm sick of trying to do it." Score one for the
Joanster!
In other news, Peggy upends Roger
when he waltzes through her door demanding an emergency Mohawk Airlines pitch.
"How much [money] you got?" Peggy asks coolly, relishing this rare
leverage she has over her boss. So after pocketing an extra $400 bucks, Peggy
stays late to work at the office. But more interestingly, Peggy opens the door
to Don's office and discovers Dawn (Don's new black secretary) sleeping there.
Scared of the increasing riots on the streets, Dawn doesn't want to go home. So
Peggy invites her over for an impromptu sleepover. After a few drinks (and an
intriguing Peggy foreshadow for events to come?), the truest moment of the
episode revealed itself when Peggy, about to head to bed, notices her purse on the coffee table in front of Dawn and freezes. It's a moment of
inherent prejudice and subconscious racism; and it's played perfectly. The next
morning, Peggy is greeted with an empty couch and a note on her purse. "Thank you for your hospitality," it reads.
Peggy's reaction was priceless; this might be my favorite fuck you yet.
And lastly, Don opens his own door only
to find a pseudo-sexual nightmare. After running into Andrea, a former conquest
of his, in the SCDP elevator - and in the process, offending Megan - Don goes
home to sleep off his cold. It's at this point where the show takes an odd Stephen
King-esque twist. Andrea pays him a visit. At home. Don swiftly shows her the
door and goes back to sleep. This is a changed man, we're led believe. Or
rather, Don would like to believe. But later on, Don wakes up to
Andrea's soft touch. She seduces him outright, "It's just sex."
There's a quiet moment of tension,
of will-he-or-won't-he bed this dame right now? And inevitably, he does. But then he goes on to strangle her and hide her dead body
under the bed, leaving a red stiletto heel poking out (side note: the episode does a great job of playing up a motif of missing shoes. Andrea's red stiletto represents Don's lingering past. Ginsberg's dark Cinderella pitch for the shoe client mirrors Don's own internal tug of war. And Joan's dismissal of her husband is the proverbial shoe that I've been waiting to drop since season 2).
Ultimately, this fever dream subplot was a peculiar,
if not altogether cheap, way of illustrating Don's thoughts. I'm assuming Matt Weiner wants us to understand that Don's subconscious is either telling him to get rid of his past or that he can't get rid of his past. So when he wakes in the morning to Megan, strolling into the bedroom bathed in white light, I can't help but wonder: Does Don really know this woman? This seems to be the driving question of the season so far: Is Don a changed man? Is he satisfied and by extension, happy now? But as in classic Don Draper form, he calmly reassures Megan, "You don't have to worry about me." Hm, we'll see about that...
