Fetters: Chris, I think I can speak for both of us: That was a lot to handle.
I guess we did have fair warning. This episode, “The Runaways,” was prefaced by the “Viewer Discretion Advised” banner—and sure enough, Mad Men delivered the most bluntly sexual episode I can remember since Don’s day-long domination-submission game with Sylvia last season.
Tension is palpable when Megan dances with her acting classmate; Megan’s friend Amy makes repeated advances toward Don, until finally and to the collective delight of Twitter, Don and Megan have a threesome with her. Elsewhere, Lou Avery and Jim Cutler get spotted in what Ginsberg perceives to be a quasi-erotic weekend meeting. Ginsberg comes onto Peggy in her apartment—well, as much as “If there were a way to do this without having sex, I’d do it” counts as coming onto someone—and later expresses his feelings for Peggy by presenting her with his bloody, severed nipple in a box, like something from a less terrifying, more botched-rom-commy Seven.
That last part was decidedly unsexy, to say the least. What struck me about all the swirling erotic energy in this episode, though, is that almost none of it served to advance the plotlines whatsoever. After all, it’s Ginsberg’s psychological instability that finally gets him escorted out of SC&P, not his infatuation with Peggy. The oddly intimate conversation between Lou Avery and Jim Cutler, it seems later on, is probably just a clandestine meeting about Philip Morris. And did you catch Megan’s frustrated reaction once she’s alone again in the kitchen after her night with Amy and Don? Amy departs awkwardly; Don says he has to go take a shower and then get back to New York to act on what Harry Crane told him. Suddenly Megan’s alone once again, any connection she had fleetingly rekindled with her husband now snuffed out. Sex and sensuality, it seems, are distractions from—or obfuscations of—more powerful forces at work.
Heller: Ginsberg's breakdown was the big moment in this week’s episode—it even upstaged Don and Megan’s threesome, which is no small feat—and it felt downright sterile. Sterile, manic, and oh-so-very creepy. That seemed to be by design: He’s a homophobic lunatic in this episode, ranting and twitching and slicing himself like a mad man. No, not that kind of mad man.
The question is... why? What's the purpose of his madness? (Aside from joining Game of Thrones as the only show to televise a nipplectomy, that is.) I haven’t figured it out yet, but I'm certain it won’t bode well for Peggy. Ginsberg lost his mind—and yes, some of his body—to an imaginary, incredible threat. The pressure that compelled his mania, though, is very real. He predicted it, in a Cassandra-like fit: “That machine came for us, and one by one…” One by one, he thinks it will take them down. He’s the first. Will anyone else fall?
That’s where the saner minds of Sterling Cooper come in. Peggy’s last appearance in the episode all but set the battle lines for the agency’s future. She's eyeing the IBM computer, warily, while a reflection of the machine's blinking lights superimposes her. You can almost see the idea turning over in her head: “This thing is the enemy, and it could ruin this place.” I’d put Peggy up against anybody in the agency. I’m not so sure she can beat technology.
Let’s talk about something that isn’t nipple-related now. (Please.) Ashley, what did you think about the fights between Betty and Henry Francis? Do you see trouble in buttoned-up WASP paradise?
Fetters: Indeed, I do.
For most of this episode, Betty continued with the decidedly old-fashioned housewife act we discussed a few weeks back. She expressed some predictably unfashionable views on the Vietnam War, to Henry’s embarrassment, for example—and I couldn’t help but snicker when she 100-percent took the bait of Sally’s snide comment about how Betty would be more upset about Sally ruining her perfect nose than injuring herself. “It was a perfect nose!” Betty sputters. “And I gave it to you!”
But at the end of the episode, Betty surprised me. Henry’s comments that she “shouldn’t be talking about” things like Vietnam—and that she should “leave the thinking to me” and instead stick to conversation topics like how much she hates getting bread crumbs in the butter—it seems, get to her. “I’m tired of everybody telling me to shut up,” she says.