It's Not Just An Affair (Part 1)
Don Draper and Suzanne Farrell: there was a pair. Yes? Suzanne was the woman in whom Don found comfort, sustenance, and rest, when those things eluded him elsewhere. The writers thought they were telling this story; but onscreen, it left many viewers cold.
Why?
Things started out fine. We got sweet, occasional tension between a concerned parent and a teacher. But then things took a turn. Don drove past a jogging Suzanne on a summer night, picked her up, and their encounters dissolved into the predictable. Silences filled with knowing banter. In a few scenes, a couple of people became types.
The man: cornered, tired, looking for an escape from his life. The woman: young but wise, a teacher who stays up late. They negotiate the terms in her apartment. Boom: an affair?
In a real relationship “ one that grows into something that feels and moves and fills the air around and inside two people “ what connects those two to each other is not a list (why we should, why we shouldn’t). It’s a moment. In that moment, the two see each other clearly. Each stands apart from all others, from past and future “ but slightly closer to one another.
And yet it’s about comprehension, not sex.
Remember?
DON: The reason you haven’t felt it is because it doesn’t exist. What you call “love” was invented by guys like me to sell nylons.
RACHEL: Is that right?
DON: I’m pretty sure about it. You’re born alone, you die alone, and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts. But I never forget. I’m living like there’s no tomorrow, because there isn’t one.
(pause)
RACHEL: I don’t think I realized it until this moment, but it must be hard being a man, too.
DON: Excuse me?
RACHEL: Mr. Draper-
DON: Don.
RACHEL: Mr. Draper, I don’t know what it is you really believe in, but I know what it feels like to be out of place. To be disconnected. To see the world laid out in front of you the way other people live it. And there is something about you that tells me you know it too.
DON: I don’t know if that’s true. (pause) You want another drink?
Rachel Menken seemed real: she had a good story and authentic feelings. We could understand her, whether or not we were Jewish, whether or not our fathers founded department stores. She was a woman with a job, a point of view and an edge, facing a number of obstacles in her world. She and Don Draper met on well-lit ground, and what they discussed was not originally “ or obviously “ personal. Clearly it was the beginning of something. They might have been about to do many things: start an account, and service it. Be friends, or not. Whatever: their original context was not sex.
The late-night encounter between Don and Suzanne doesn’t have the Don-and-Rachel freshness. It’s missing the discovery: and something else. What woman says to her lover in the beginning, “I know just how this ends”? How hopeful is that?
For me, the painful line is this: “I don’t think you’ve done this before this way.”
There she is: the single woman with a married-man habit. That is such a chestnut now. Why bother reheating it? Why not create an authentic character from the beginning?
A new element could have helped tell Don and Suzanne’s story: doubt, surprise, especially silence. In any of these, a viewer can find empathy with Suzanne, understanding for Don or himself, or herself. Viewers need silences. We fill them fast enough, with all our own stuff.
Try imagining the night at Suzanne’s, starting this way instead:
SUZANNE (opening door): Mr. Draper?
DON: Let me in.
SUZANNE: Is something wrong? Is it Sally?
DON: Sally’s fine. Please.
SUZANNE: Are you hurt? Where’s your car?
DON: Down the street. (pause) I need to talk to you.
(SUZANNE opens the door, standing aside to let DON in)
From this point “ the wary young teacher, the open door, the man who’s not at all sure he’ll get what he came for “ we don’t know what direction things will take. Hell, I wrote that, and I can’t wait to see what happens.
Mad Men lost nothing in Season 3. It gained plenty of new fans. But when you’re at the top of the pyramid of television excellence, you can leave the writing-by-committee to the networks. You can take all you know of human beings and pull it into your characters — even the minor ones. Make them pesky as lint, loyal as elephants, fractured as the inside of a kaleidoscope. Let them grow as naturally as bad haircuts. Write them just like you.
Other TV shows have taken risks like this, and won as you’ll see in part 2.
Basket of Kisses: The unofficial blog of AMC's Mad Men. Where all the cool kids meet & greet to talk about Don Draper, Janie Bryant, Christina Hendricks, Jon Hamm, Matthew Weiner, & subtexty things.
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December 3rd, 2009 at 11:29 am
Anne B, I am speechless . . . and not in the writer-by-committee-cliched-adoring kind of way.
Gobsmacked be I. I always read your stuff anticipating to like it. I sense you have a quirky, dry sense of humor and your phrasing flows and it's usually accessible.
But here I realize we are way out on opposite ends of the universe, looking away from each other even, about everything after, appropriately, "Things started out fine."
I will count to five and re-read the comment policy again I guess before choosing to or, perhaps best, not choosing to comment further.
My gobsmackedness is only partially hyperbole-ized, fine woman.
December 3rd, 2009 at 4:10 pm
Anne B, I think you’ve touched on something that explains in part what bothered me about this affair. Suzanne announced that it was over before it ever began, even as far back as the eclipse scene — the writing for which I really disliked. After every line of dialog between them I went “Wait — WHAT? Huh? Where’s that coming from?” I couldn’t find the transition between Maypole Girl and Cynical Mistress. Was Drunk-Dialing-Bra-Strap-Hanging Teach supposed to take me there?
Their whole relationship was so jaded and flooded with cynicism right from the start, and then it tried to inch towards innocence and tenderness. That didn’t feel real to me.
Plus, as I’ve mentioned (no doubt ad nauseum) before, every scene with her after the maypole scene was drenched in Depression-era color and lighting. If that was supposed to make me equally depressed about their affair, well, mission accomplished.
(How did I miss this post a few days ago? It just showed up for me.)
December 3rd, 2009 at 4:30 pm
less of me,
I delight in even your disagreement. We are in opposing places when it comes to Suzanne, it's true. Still, I would invite her return … if only there were something different about her when she came back.
More generosity, sensitivity, humor, on the part of whoever is charged with writing her: that'd be a start.
And gypsy, there was a glitch in the date of the post. I fixed it. It top-posted, this time (I posted much earlier today, after final edit). Many apologies for the accidental stealth.
December 3rd, 2009 at 5:39 pm
I think for the most part I hated the Suzanne/Don relationship because they at first painted her as this sylphlike psychopomp (Don's line "Who ARE you?" only adding to her mythlike air) but that interpretation got lost after an episode or two….so she never really felt fleshed out as a "real" character
Also, I wanted Don to stop philandering with ladies so things could get resolved or ended with Betty faster. I feel like the show really languished for awhile during her swoony hot and cold fits over Henry…so you had lag with Suzanne and Don and lag with Betty (& Henry sorta) and it was just unbearable.
December 3rd, 2009 at 5:51 pm
#1 – Well, this requires a ruling from a Lipp, but I would think that if a contribution from a reader is elevated to a *post*, not a comment, then it is probably open to discussion. In any case, I'm pretty sure that the rule is meant to keep people from insulting and characterizing other *people* (commenters), not from disagreeing with their *opinions* and thoughts in a civil manner.
December 3rd, 2009 at 6:08 pm
The Suzanne/Don story line I was waiting for was: Don — after he sees Suzanne dance with the maypole — decides she has the perfect freshness the Patio people are looking for. Don convinces Suzanne to come in to the Sterling Cooper offices to audition; she gets to know Don on his turf; affair to follow.
December 3rd, 2009 at 7:35 pm
Anna B, I totally agree with you about using silence. Holding things back sometimes work better than throwing everything at us. Suzanne to me was like a bad TV show host: she didn't know when to stop talking. A lot of lines Suzanne got were supposed to make her look enlightened (about her affair) or progressive (MLK's speech) but she seemed so fake because it was exaggerated. It made her the stereotypical "woman ahead of the curve in the olden days" who opens the eyes of our main character. Sometimes, silence speaks louder than dialogue (bad writing), just like a good actor knows how to use to absence of expression to convey emotions (bad acting).
December 3rd, 2009 at 7:37 pm
#6: Exactly correct.
Anne, I posted how disappointed I was when the affair began, and this helps crystallize it. At the maypole, it seemed spiritual, and the affair made it tawdry.
Reading your post I realize, it could have stayed spiritual and become sexual. But the introduction of Suzanne's dark cynicism happened without a connective thread. Who is she to be both of these things? We never learned.
December 3rd, 2009 at 8:37 pm
I never had any of these problems w/ the affair. What people saw as 'crazy' I just lumped in with her reluctance to start a relationship w/ a married, older parent of a student. She knew how that ended.
I'll admit some uneven moments early on and I too had the glimpse that Don could end up with a bunny in the pot, but I think a lot of the complaints here are the result of viewers not being able to let that go. By the meeting w/ Don while jogging, I was over that and saw her as wise beyond her years and eventually the caregiver he wasn't finding in Betty (or his step mother).
DL – I think Don saw her as "spiritual" at the maypole. In realty she was just a teacher. [I didn't read spiritual @ the maypole, I got youthful, virginal] From that point forward, she seemed a caring teacher who was reluctant to start an affair w/ a married parent of a student. I'm not sure that's "dark cynicism". Then when we saw her in bed w/ Don, and then w/ her brother, the picture was a little more fully painted.
In the end, when she left the car to walk home and then talked to Don the next day she showed herself to not be synical, but astute. Maternal instinct perhaps.
December 3rd, 2009 at 9:40 pm
Anne B – excellently written I cannot wait for part 2. I agree with you and Gypsy completely.
Less of me – I am dying of curiosity regarding your rebuttal
Oh my how happy I am that BoK is here to get us through the off season!
December 3rd, 2009 at 10:02 pm
Suzanne failed to get me on her wavelength.
I love the series for its realized cameo portraits of minor characters. Do you not have a sense of the Greek-American janitor as a person whose capsule life story interrupts Paul’s train of thought and results in the loss of his inspired idea? Hollis has few spoken lines and we feel Hollis and want to know more of his story.
Yet for all the screen time devoted to Suzanne, I have no idea who she is, and so I have no feelings for or about her. She made a lovely May Queen but once she left the symbolic realm she didn’t equate to any mortal I’ve ever known.
“I want you. … Doesn’t that mean anything to someone like you?,” Don Draper says, and Suzanne should reply, “What do you mean by ‘someone like’ me? There is no one in the world like me. What ‘type’ am I? Does your wanting usually matter to such a person? It has nothing to do with me.”
But no. She buys the nylons. Just another depersonalized consumer. It’s as if they just couldn’t be bothered to give Suzanne a personality, and they couldn’t give us one more snip of dialogue to develop the relationship. It’s the only unsatisfying part of Season 3 in my book, and I’d be happy if this is the end of it.
December 3rd, 2009 at 10:51 pm
Such a great post, Anne!
I felt as if there were two Suzannes: first the affected, annoying, possible-bunny-boiler that drunk-dialed the father of a student and accused him of coming on to her when he was just making small talk. I wanted her gone.
And second, the warm, caring, unaffected woman that appeared as soon as the affair started (with a brief reappearance of the bunny-boiler on the train). Don fell for her, I thought, when she abandoned their conversation to duck under the box with Sally, putting her arm around her as she did. Someone that looked out for her younger brother. Once I dissociated her from Suzanne #1, I wanted Don to end up with her. He’s never had that warmth and comfort and unconditional love in his life, and that’s what he’s looking for.
Big writer’s error, I think, making those two characters one.
December 4th, 2009 at 5:33 am
I never understood the 'bunny-boiler' comments, never seeing her as crazy. I agree with BornIn50 @ #7: "I have no idea who she is, and so I have no feelings for or about her." Watching her leave the car after waiting for Don for who-knows-how-long, beginning the long trudge home, was the first time I got any kind of feeling for her. Thanks to AnneB and the other commenters for zeroing in on the flaws in the writing. I always feel unsatisfied with the explanation of "lack of chemistry" between the performers, even if it's sometimes true (But who could lack chemistry wih Jon Hamm?
)
December 4th, 2009 at 6:06 am
To me, Suzanne subliminally suggests Don's whore mother. She's injured, wary, economically alone, albeit a working woman of another era (teacher, nurse, librarian, take your pick…..I'm a proud librarian, btw). My heart bled for her when one of her initial responses when the affair was in danger of discovery, was, loosely paraphrased, "Is my job in danger"? The ne'er do well brother on whom she tries to lavish some of her carefully doled out affection and care uses her too. In short, I think it's hard for women now to realize just how vulnerable they were before the feminists helped sort out some of the money issues, fought for economic parity, and before second generation feminism devolved into personal fulfillment issues and the Betty Friedans were shown the door. For class reasons alone, I think Suzanne could be a perfectly viable option for Don. She could be a loving partner, and a street fighter who covers his back. I bet he wouldn't stray….after awhile.
December 4th, 2009 at 6:12 am
Forgot. #4 Dawn. Love the term "psychopomp". I will use it relentlessly from this moment forward. And at least once per sentence all the rest of today……
December 4th, 2009 at 9:33 am
I guess this is going to be the BOK version of nature/vs. nurture, until MM resumes and we see if Suzanne remains part of the landscape. The fascinating question for me, is why should a character who should resonate with me, for reasons Laura and Nyna described so well in their posts, have left me so cold? I mean that walk of shame from Don's car is heartbreaking, as is, her naked vulnerability on the phone to Don. Even now, for all the so-called advances feminism has wrought, it's tough to be a woman alone, let alone a poor one, and I don't think it's an accident that one of Suzanne's questions was about the security of her livlihood. Money talks, and for a woman to truly be independent, it's absolutely essential to have control of it. It's much more than dollars and cents—it's about power, control and self-determination. I've been Suzanne–and I think a lot of women have, too.
So why doesn't she "work?" Anne B., I think you really hit the nail on the head with this post. For the life of me, I've been trying to wrap my arms around if it's a question of bad writing, bad acting or both. The acting on MM has been so uniformly good, and the actress who plays Suzanne is very attractive, so I have to think that the writing is what made Suzanne such a deeply unsatisfying character for me. I honestly think it's a mixture of both, although this posting does such a great job of pointing out the flaws in the writing. You're absolutely right, Anne B., comprehension is the seed from which sexual sparks grow. And silences, those things left unsaid, are equally if not more important than what is; even for someone who loves words as much as I do, most meaningful conversation is overwhelmingly nonverbal. The pacing was all wrong; in their eagerness to explore the Don and Betty story arc–to the detriment of many others–the writers didn't set up how Suzanne and Don's attraction developed. A major mistake was that conversation between them during the eclipse. To me, Suzanne's remarks came totally out of left field and the fact she voiced them in front of school kids, who supposedly were "too young" to understand, gave her the aura of a loose cannon, that never vanished in subsequent episodes. To me it was all downhill from there.
The question is, would a better actress have been able to bridge the writing's disconnect? Don't really know. I think we'll be debating this for the rest of the off-season. Maybe if they'd sent the material to Anne for rewrite, we wouldn't be having this discussion
But the fact that the Suzanne character seems to have been yet another red herring in a season that was filled with them, is one of the reasons Season 3 was less than satisfying to me. Don't get me wrong , I still have faith in MW & Co., and I've learned how to watch MM and see both the forest and the trees.
Still, I think the writers really had a good opportunity to make Suzanne be more meaingful and alive to us, which they didn't use.
December 4th, 2009 at 9:58 am
SFC,
I don't really screenwrite. I could probably learn, in the way that writers learn to write every new form. I've just never tried my hand at that one.
Yes: in California there's one writer with no screenplay. I'm it.
Can I also say that I really didn't notice other flaws? What I love about Mad Men, what led to this post and will lead to the next one, is that this show is so excellent, so tightly constructed, that I can point to exactly one character in one season, and say out loud, "But THAT bugs the hell out of me."
Otherwise, I worship it.
December 4th, 2009 at 10:31 am
They lost me on Suzanne during the eclipse scene. She really was crazy in that scene. "Come here, get away" in the same sentences sometimes, with a decided accusatory edge in her voice. What in Don's history would lead us to believe that he would find that silly schoolgirl bullshit compelling? For the Don we know, that should have been the "moment" when he backed away slowly.
His previous lovers were all self-possessed, mature, strong and confident women. Suzanne is none of these things. She's soft, she vacillates, she allows herself to be blown by the wind and a victim of circumstance. Don's kind of woman? No way. I'm not buying that "he needed nuturing" bs, either. When he needs nuturing, he still looks for a strong woman, witness Anna.
December 4th, 2009 at 10:48 am
I honestly didn't find her all that nurturing, I guess. Certainly not enough to make up for all the other aspects that put me off her character. If you want nurturing, I thought Anna was much more nurturing, in terms of reaching out to him, telling him what he needed to hear and yet accepting of his flaws. Was it really just the date nut bread after all? (Is the way to a man's heart really just through his stomach?) I didn't take you for one of them, Don. Are you?
Reading through all your comments, I am starting to chalk it up more to uneven writing (perhaps as a result of a poorly thought-out character) rather than Abigail Spencer's acting. Maybe both, though, huh?
December 4th, 2009 at 11:03 am
I am one of those people who likes to say, “I don’t watch much TV,” but there are KINDS of television I watch. Know the type I am now?
So I watch True Blood. (Most of the time. Call it a guilty pleasure.) And one of the first things Bill said to Sookie — in fact, one of the first things anyone ever says to Sookie, upon meeting her — is this: “Who ARE you?”
In the context of that program, that line sets Sookie apart, cements her storyline as someone entirely different from the rest. So in this viewer’s mind, hearing the same line on another show, tossed from yet another male character to still another young, possibly-in-tune-with-natural-forces female, feels like just lazy writing.
You see? It’s been done.
I know the two shows are different. I know Don-and-Suzanne could not possibly be further, in fiction or in fact, from Vampire-and-whatever-the-hell-she-turns-out-to-be. I am merely saying that the use of that line felt like one more reheated element, to me.
Anyone else feel this?
December 4th, 2009 at 11:09 am
Anne B – You are exactly right about the MOMENT. Somehow it was missed, or lost in translation, but there is a moment where the flirtation becomes more. And it is most definitely is a silent moment.
I was a daily lurker from the earliest beginnings of this site. I managed to remain in the shadows for the first 2 seasons and then some – until Suzanne. I have told my story before, so I won’t reiterate it here, but the parallels with my reality are uncanny. As one who has lived the Suzanne storyline, I instantly understood the need, the want, no we can’t, yes we can from both Don’s and Suzanne’s perspectives. I am THAT woman who put the armor on and said “I know how this ends” (since you asked.) Not because I had been there before (so I still take issue with the prevailing thought that she must have done this before/all the time,) but because it’s reality. It almost never ends well . . . and yet sometimes it does.
So I have aligned with less of me to “Save Suzanne.” If MY story were to continue into S4, Don will not be able to forget and move on. In the “moment” in my life – and my husband and I recall it often – my Don admits that he was “shaken to the core.” From that moment, there is no going back and you stated it so eloquently, Anne. Each does stand apart from all others and it IS about comprehension, not sex. So for those who continue to wonder why the Don/Suzanne sex wasn’t turning you on – that’s why. If this is indeed the story that MW wanted to tell, he got it exactly right. It’s just not recognizable to many. If you haven’t walked in Suzanne’s dowdy shoes, in the dark of night, with your suitcase in your hand and summoning every ounce of strength you have to hold your head up high, then it will never resonate with you.
Because of the way the story was told, I am convinced someone in the writer’s room has been “Suzanne.” It’s a difficult (and immensely unpopular) story to tell, but the defining moment that the audience needed to see was absolutely missed. I’m thinking they were trying to go there in the eclipse scene, but there was way too much dialogue. Less would have definitely been more.
December 4th, 2009 at 11:16 am
#16 Anne – Don’t forget that Sal (?) also said the exact same thing to Jane before (or after?) their little B&E of Cooper’s office. The episode details are a little fuzzy, but the line was definitely “Who ARE you?”
December 4th, 2009 at 11:32 am
Laura Lynn, I really appreciate you sharing your story here — I think it gives some REALLY valuable insight into what the writers were after.
Reading the thought-provoking comments to this perfect post, I'll add to the not enough silence stance and suggest that perhaps Suzanne's words were just too scripted. I certainly believe that we can consciously say yes when we should be saying no even if we "know how it ends," but would anyone actually say "I know how this ends"? Going off of Anne B's alternate script, I can see Suzanne's downcast eyes right before they kiss, a strained pause as though she's internally begging herself not to go forward but does it anyway.
December 4th, 2009 at 11:38 am
Sarah M — And as we know from the Bobbie Barrett bondage scene, Don prefers women who don't talk too much.
December 4th, 2009 at 11:46 am
I don't think Don will ever top Rachel, as far as mistresses go. But now he'll actually be dating out in the open, I wonder if he will remarry quickly and she will be a carbon copy of Betty. Although Betty was much more than he ever bothered to get to know.
December 4th, 2009 at 12:18 pm
@ AnneB #16
I watched the first season of True Blood, but didn’t come back for the second. That reaction you point out that EVERYONE has to Sookie is exactly what put me off. Everyone who meets her either is crazed to protect her or take her to bed, sometimes both. It’s an adolescent princess fantasy. Which I don’t begrudge anyone. I was reminded of it in reading the article about the Twilight craze and the comments with it that Peggy Joan linked to at Comment #5 of the Mad News thread. I have my own adolescent fantasies which some may or may not share. I’m just left cold by that one.
Sorry to digress.
December 4th, 2009 at 12:23 pm
Wow! #17 Laura Lynn – That’s what I was trying to say! So….
“What she said!”
December 4th, 2009 at 12:32 pm
Laura! Welcome back!
I’d forgotten that Sal used that line, actually. I’d love to go back and see for myself, if my damn kid and her friends did not have the death grip on both seasons of my show on DVD. (“Her friends” include the FT student population of all UC campuses, far as I can see. Whippersnapper.)
As for the Save Suzanne drive, I think there is a definite argument for it — no matter how one feels about all the MM relationships. I find myself wondering if anyone in the bullpen has stood in those “dowdy shoes”, actually.
The teacher shoes. The young-woman-who’s-curious-about-everything shoes. The shoes that belong to the kind of person who is attracted to broken people (especially men), and longs to take care of them: no matter what that care might do to her.
The mistake we can make, on this thread and in other places, is in guessing that others here have never felt what those people feel. Suzannne, Peggy, Betty, Don: everyone.
I’ll say it again: there isn’t just one story. If you see yourself in Suzanne, that’s absolutely terrific.
But how do you know that I do not?
December 4th, 2009 at 12:34 pm
Can you hear that? It's the sound of awe. Fantastic … this is so great, Anne.
I never really took to their relationship. I think one reason is that Rachel and Don's tango was established right at the beginning, before we formed all our opinions about Don. Rachel was part of the formation of that relationship between Don and the audience, and probably always will be.
Suzanne never really heated up. I can accept that she played a role in the season, and moved the larger story forward. The acting was mostly good … but just no chemistry. Trite but true.
Waiting for Part II … is it here yet?
December 4th, 2009 at 1:37 pm
I just thought that Jon Hamm and Abigail Spencer lacked screen chemistry. Even worse, Weiner didn't really go anywhere with the Don/Suzanne story. At least Don's story with Rachel ended with fireworks or on an interesting note.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:17 pm
Great post. The most puzzling thing to me was that Jon Hamm, during his interview, said he was surprised by our puzzlement about Suzanne. Guess it proves the old saw that what the audience sees isn't what the actors see, at least not in all cases.
And I didn't really buy that someone like Suzanne, bright, cute, educated, wouldn't have a steady of her own, just get involved w married men. If they'd given her more of a backstory, like a history of abuse, alcoholic parents or something, something leading her to sabotage her life, then I may have been able to see it.
December 4th, 2009 at 2:45 pm
"I don’t really screenwrite. I could probably learn, in the way that writers learn to write every new form. I’ve just never tried my hand at that one."
Anne B.: No, but you could. And actually, there are 2 writers in California w/o screenplays
December 4th, 2009 at 3:06 pm
“Who ARE you?â€
I remember thinking that when I first met Anne B.
December 4th, 2009 at 3:15 pm
If they'd given her more of a backstory, like a history of abuse, alcoholic parents or something, something leading her to sabotage her life, then I may have been able to see it.
I think Adam was supposed to encapsulate something along that vein — a hard family life where the kids weren't cared for so Suzanne had to step in and be the mom.
I agree with previous comments that if there had been more of a build between the two Suzannes (we all have our light and dark, after all, as Anne B. has beautifully articulated elsewhere) the revelation might have been more universally effective.
Jim and Anne, given your renown around these parts I think I can call you my favorite celebrity couple!
December 4th, 2009 at 7:19 pm
I agree the relationship seemed dead and cliched, but I suspect that was precisely the point. Betty specifically says she doesn't want an affair with Henry, because it would be "tawdry". As soon as she said that, I immediately thought of Don and Suzanne. Don was sinking into the cliche of a 40ish successful businessman, with the SC contract, not supporting Peggy's and Pete's attempts to acknowledge social change, and the lifeless affair.
I also wonder if Suzanne might represent a transition period for women. The early-Hippie thing is there, and then there's this feeling that she's post-Betty Draper but pre-feminism (e.g. there's a big gulf between her and Peggy). She has this 60s openness and social conscience, but she cooks him dinner like Betty does and stays hiding in the car for what seems to be hours. I was struck by the contrast between Betty's emerging assertiveness and Suzanne's docility.
Back to lurking!
December 4th, 2009 at 7:23 pm
Here is another reason to those mentioned above why this pairing didn't work. Suzanne Farrell and Henry Francis are not characters, but plot devices. They were means to an end, which was bringing about the breakup. They lack the shadings, the intrigue and the thought required for us to embrace them as interesting pieces of the Mad Men puzzle.
I'll bet if you count the screen time that Rachel and Suzanne received in their respective episodes, it's about equal. Yet, we know much about Rachel, little about Suzanne. Likewise, Smitty and Kurt have probably been on screen as much as Henry. We consider them to be part of the "family" while Henry is still something of a blank slate.
December 5th, 2009 at 4:55 am
Presented as merely plot devices. Exactly.
December 5th, 2009 at 8:27 am
It's funny, because I never felt that way about Henry Francis, and I know a lot of people did. I mean, it's clear that he and Betty don't know each other well, and that her jumping into this is naive and foolhardy, but I get the attraction.
December 5th, 2009 at 10:51 am
Oh, Roberta, I'm totally on board with the attraction (both personally and abstractly) but I also agree with Brenda @36 that Henry's character at this point in our drama is just a sketch. (I also assume that Henry and Betty corresponded by mail and consequently know more about each other than the viewers know they know. After all, the only time in this series I can recall where we hear Betty's thoughts in a voice over is in her letter to Henry, saying that she has "thoughts.") Henry is real and reachable in that I can fill in the picture with my life experience, whereas Suzanne … ?
December 5th, 2009 at 11:19 am
Corresponding and knowing things about each other is so different from knowing each other. Anyone who has computer dated knows that one. And Anne's thoughts are quite compelling about the misses in the writing. However…
Henry is real and reachable in that I can fill in the picture with my life experience, whereas Suzanne … ?
… leads me back to the ultimate shortcoming being in her acting. Christopher Stanley fills in a lot of blanks.
December 5th, 2009 at 1:13 pm
Roberta did the same line-grab I was gonna do. I hate that.
I will turn this question to the Basket: where do silences happen? Are they the responsibility of the writer, the actor, or both? I don't notice silences in the dialogue of most scripted series, save for my great favorites (The Sopranos, The Wire), which leaves me with the same problem. Those are programs with great actors AND great writers.
So who is responsible for silence? Is it an actor thing or a writer thing? Anyone here know?
December 5th, 2009 at 1:15 pm
Oh doesn't he just?
He really is a wonderful actor.
I tend to agree with Artemisia @9, that it was a "Big writer’s error, …, making those two characters one." Not sure if the actress had too much to work with or not enough.
If I get my wish from Santa (MM 3-season set), this winter I will look at the whole season again with particular attention to Suzanne, and see if I change my mind.
December 5th, 2009 at 1:36 pm
Wow! I just discovered this web site and am blown away by the intelligence, erudition and thoughtfulness here. The post and the comments are so interesting that it's almost as compelling as watching what I believe is the greatest series ever on television.
As for Suzanne I was very sympathetic to her. I too have been in that situation. But a couple of incidents kind of threw me off. Eclipse day had to be just bad writing. The only way it could have happened like that is if Suzanne and/or Don had been tripping on acid or pot.
Then when Don first came to her apartment. It felt almost like date rape to me. He almost forced himself on her. And him saying "people like you" was so insulting. She succumbed yes and fell in love with him. But there was a certain amount of coercion involved.
As for Henry I can totally see Betty's attraction to him. Power is an aphrodisiac.
December 5th, 2009 at 1:44 pm
As for who is responsible for silences. I think it is mostly the director's job to bring out nuances like that in an actor.
December 5th, 2009 at 1:47 pm
It's as if Suzanne's character wasn't sketched out very well at the beginning, and so each writer just took a crack at it, and each writer came up with something different for her character. No continuity like we've seen with other characters.
…. Which would explain Don's "Who ARE You?" comment. Maybe the writers were asking themselves the same question, in which case it must have been tough for Abigail Spencer.
December 5th, 2009 at 2:17 pm
I asked about silences in the context of writing because (in part) of a class I took in grad school. We studied, among other things, the use of language as it relates to power. It was the only time I can remember doing a table read in a lit class as a way of exploring the subject.
The author we discussed that day was Caryl Churchill. She wrote her play, Top Girls, with explicit line prompts so that each actor interrupts another at exactly the right place. The result is a tumble of speech, undercuts and overlays — exactly the way we women often sound when we get together. We try to assume power by actually crowding out the silence.
That experience was so much fun, I can't even tell you. Read more about Churchill here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caryl_Churchill
December 5th, 2009 at 3:24 pm
I'm going to say that silences of the type you describe are 99%+ there due to the writer(s). I say this based on what I know about writers such as Mamet, Sorkin, and others. The actors are instruments. If they add something to the production, terrific, but the writing is not relying on them to complete the story.
Also, if we only noticed the silences of a single character, we might deduce it's that actor's style or intelligence in interpreting the work. But on MM, silence is a character of its own, present in every episode, if not nearly every scene.
December 5th, 2009 at 8:42 pm
#48 less of me (Useful Fool … whaaaa?),
Well, now. Who saw that coming?
Congratulations on one entirely slick move, dude.
And unflatter away — I love criticism. LOVE IT. I've paced out the distance from here to your place at the Pierre, and I can't wait to see what you've got planned for tomorrow.
Apologies: I underestimated your love for the overwritten (and underacted) Suzanne Farrell. I can see now that what you feel for her is true love. I'd still warn you to keep your valuables in the closet safe when she pops by for a visit …
Oh, wait. The Pierre doesn't have those yet, does it?
Whoopsie.
But you know that I love and respect you. These are durable things, l-o-m. And think of the Basketcases. You'll always be their … intergalactic court jester?
Something like that.
I'll stop by tomorrow with more wet sandwiches (every kind imaginable), and still another cake. If you can see bags under my eyes, ignore them: it's nothing. Nothing!
Have a lovely night. (sniffles). Dear.
December 5th, 2009 at 11:30 pm
My gob is sore. It might have been all the smacking. But my fingers aer wrekin g jist fime.
I play the Fool, it is my nature. I try to find humor wherever I am; it’s a useful tool in this universe I think. Coincidently, Useful Tool is also a pet name I used to respond to, but that is neither here nor there. My preface is to explain my first reaction to reading this post. I stopped to check the calendar, though I was almost certain Spring had not sprung, for it could not be April the First already. It isn’t, at least in my opinion but YMMV. So why publish a broad satirical swipe at the committed anti-Suzanne faction? Their numbers are legion. The indignation and the umbrage taken would provoke a deluge of response, swamping the server again and leaving each of us in our darkened caves alone, disconnected from the nurturing Basket.
Why tempt the gods to rain calamity and despair upon the many for a chuckle or two for the few?
Why indeed.
So LOM asks himself, Useful Tool, maybe you are mistaken. What if the article is to be taken seriously?
Whaaa?? Me, mistaken??
It’s clearly satire, the byline doesn’t match the writer’s usual style; the imagined re-write contradicts the understanding and savvy the author displayed in previous posts and commentary. Why would the unofficial Mad Men blog publish a critique that, if not intended in jest perhaps to stir some off season commentary action, would best be described as loosely edited and off-handedly dismissive of the craftsmanship employed (or more accurately suggested not employed) by the originator and creative team who produce the television program that is this blog’s very raison d’être? To disparage the same creatives who are reputed to read and endorse the blog? A thing like that; what does it accomplish?
I waited and tried it again.
I’m sorry but it still reads like misguided humor or half-baked criticism to me. I am puzzled and dismayed. A lot of other readers appear to like it from what I’ve seen above so it’s probably just less of me. Tell me it was some strange attempt to feed the discord of the Suzanne supporters, I guess that would have entertainment value maybe. It certainly brought a visceral reaction out of me, (see all the gob stuff earlier, it was the twooth) and I’m not yet purged of all that reaction; I have much more specifically to say dear author . . . but I won’t do it in your own house. That might be considered impolite, possibly a violation of the rules. I’m still having trouble seeing how to separate a writer from what they write in a discussion environment like this. So to colorfully criticize their typed opinion would be, by all logic, to colorfully criticize the person. I really don’t want to be tossed out of the place.
If anyone out in Basketland is curious to know why LOM is still perturbed, I will post a detailed deconstruction of the above at my own place – The Pre-Existential Suite – sometime Sunday morning. This link gets you to the recently established Suzanne Farrell Preservation Society, the SFPS (we started as Suzanne: Constant Delight and Pleasure but we changed the label so to speak, when we wished to project a more serious voice in the community and there was a threat of trademark litigation also) This consortium is designed to discuss a poorly understood, not badly acted or written, TV character and to provide the Save Suzanne Support Group(SSSG) a safe haven from the continued contempt of her detractors. Come by and say hello or swoop in and tell me to bang my head against the wall, all are welcome at least once. Don’t bring the Suzanne derangement syndrome though, that’s the whole point!
It is with a heavy cyber-heart, I will depart these environs and leave you all to your own devices. To paraphrase Carol Burnett, I’m so glad we had this time together. I tried to bring something different to the table, that’s also my nature. I hope some of you were amused at least some of the time, if not . . . well . . . I won’t fight you on this, Cases. I’ll be working out of the Pierre for now. I’ll still always be there, lurkin’ – (every other weekend and holidays designated by court order). Good-bye.
I never saw myself commenting in a place like BoK . . . but thanks, I’ve had fun.
Be well. Send me a bill for the Art Department door.
***Attention Anne B, the first draft of the post I intend to publish tomorrow isn’t very flattering. If you go to the site now, look for my email and let me hear your side of what you really intended to do with that article. If I misunderstood or missed something I’d like to know before I burn the bridge all the way down. I’d honestly like to understand. thanks.
December 6th, 2009 at 6:54 am
Here is another reason to those mentioned above why this pairing didn’t work. Suzanne Farrell and Henry Francis are not characters, but plot devices. They were means to an end, which was bringing about the breakup. They lack the shadings, the intrigue and the thought required for us to embrace them as interesting pieces of the Mad Men puzzle.
I never had a problem with the Henry Francis character. Hell, I learned more about his character in "Seven Twenty-Three" than I did about the Suzanne Farrell character. And at least Season 4 will give viewers a chance to learn more about Henry. I cannot say the same about Suzanne.
December 6th, 2009 at 9:06 am
less of me, you need to take the pom-pom frame off the picture of Suzanne. right now. and the one with the construction paper hearts. and stop writing her name in your notebook. "Mrs. Suzanne Useful Tool." Yeah, I saw that.
as Pete said so nicely about his college chum in the chip and dip scene: Suzanne has the clap.
(insert maniacal laugh here)
j/k and smooches all around. AnneB, I loved this line: Let them grow naturally as bad haircuts. great in all sorts of ways.
I cannot expend my vital essence on date nut bread, punkin.
December 6th, 2009 at 5:22 pm
esme!
Thank you, thank you very much. I am the proud owner of a new (not drastic) haircut, circa yesterday. A terrific one. But the memories of years of bad ones — so many! — haunt me still.
I try to drop in over at the Pierre now and then. He's in a mood, which I hope will pass. I'm leaving all the lights on, just in case.
So it looks welcoming, and on account of the neighbors …
December 6th, 2009 at 8:26 pm
[...] brings me in a roundabout way to this post at Basket of Kisses, the unofficial Mad Men blog; a blog that I like to read and comment at. I became aware of the [...]
December 7th, 2009 at 3:43 am
I posted early on in this blog, but I feel compelled to say again that Don and Suzanne recognize themselves in each other, most specifically their hardscrabble younger lives. I think that we have the luxury in 2009 of feeling disdain for the not fully liberated (whatever that means….) woman of that era. I understand Suzanne pretty well, and the writing in her episodes didn't impede that at all. I'm not a writer and probably shouldn't have been posting here, but, nonetheless, it is clear to me that she:
1) Is a working woman in one of the few professions open to her at the time.
2) Needs the money merely to live; not an middle/upper class protectee like Betty Draper.
3) Has dysfunctional family like we all do, including Betty Draper, but has to share limited resources with them.
4) Has a form of what we often see today in single women approaching a certain age: physical fitness neuroses, crushes on men they can't have or might be wounded by (Nickel Freud again…..) borne of low self-esteem.
5) And she drinks in an unhealthy manner, rather than going out to "the bar" with the girls which, only stewardesses and other loose women did then, certainly not school teachers.
I could go on, but the point is that her behavior is her own acting out of the same repressions that all of the characters deal with in their own ways; she's just not appealing because of her fears and vulnerabilities. Don picked up on it right away and that's where the "People like you" comment comes from – she's going to be an easy lay, but he gets surprised instead. I say again, perhaps coming down on LOM's side, we just don't like what she represents, and the twist is that Don sees all of the terrifying obstacles he had to overcome in his background in her situation, understands it, and feels at home with it. My two cents.
December 7th, 2009 at 5:31 am
Nyna–Great post. It's like I said earlier, you've encapsulated all the reasons I should feel for Suzanne. I have/am–although to a lesser extent now that I've gained a certain wisdom–ha!– been in her shoes. And yet, she just left me cold, and based on the comments from Jon Hamm and others, this was something the MM camp didn't anticipate.Maybe it is indeed because her vulnerability is so naked, and it hurts to see it exposed; I just don't know. It's fascinating question to dissect I think we'll be doing it all off-season. Will be interesting to see if she returns in Season 4; however, as others have suggested, I think she was a plot device, and now that Don's single and in the city, I suspect he will move on.
December 7th, 2009 at 5:35 am
P.S. An addendum: When I think of Suzanne, the word "cloying" as opposed to "vulnerability" comes to mind. Maybe because she seems to portray the former rather than the latter is what bugs me. "Vulnerabilty" is something I can embrace, as we all have experience it, no matter how hardened the outer shell. If we're honest, we all can admit we're all just boys and girls at heart, not matter how sophisticated. "Cloying," however, is annoying.
December 7th, 2009 at 6:05 am
SFCaramia:
Too true. She is cloying. I see this going either way next season. Her use as a plot device could have been to remind Don of how hard life was/is, and to offer a juxtaposition to the protected Betty who (from his perspective) has the nerve to not love him anymore. That type of perceived rejection is one thing which could have created the horrible anger in the last episode wherein physical violence was a very real possibility between D & B. America is rife with class issues; even more than race or gender. The sociologist Richard Sennett unmasks this regularly in his books even though on the surface he's studying busing in the school system, etc. BUT, I digress.
December 7th, 2009 at 6:33 am
Anne B. Very well stated. There was something real and even ground about Rachel. They were two connected souls – maybe simply by virtue of their "disconnecteness" in society. Don's relationship with Bobby, on the other hand, always seemed to me to be just a physical connect -but there was never sympathy or misunderstanding about who that character was. Don's relationship w/Suzanne was a complete disconnect….
December 7th, 2009 at 6:38 am
Nyna–Re class in America. You're absolutely right, and you see it being played out in the last episode of Season 3 between Don and Betty. While there are many other issues that sank their marriage, I don't think it was an accident that in the final denouement between Don and Betty one of the reasons Betty ultimately chooses to leave Don apres-confession, is not just because she doesn't "love him anymore" but because her version of "love" is so shallow that ultimately, his humble beginnings, don't sit well with her. His admission of poverty is one of the final wrecking balls to her picture-perfect life, and MW is none to subtle about emphasizing that point by having Don say words to the effect that he was never "good" enough" for Betty; i.e., his "pedigree" was too out of sync with hers. You can say whatever you will about all the other issues that are at play in their breakup, but that class distinction issue is definitely there. Class in America is the dirty secret, our so-called "egalitarian" society won't acknowledge. And, believe me, what you're saying about the educational system is true; I taught school for five years, and, even though I know many will disagree with me, class trumps race almost every time.
December 7th, 2009 at 7:26 am
Another way to interpret Suzanne, another lens, if you will, is that she's that character that always speaks the truth, without fear of its consequences. This is why she connects with Sally so much, who as we see during the season, is a one-girl Greek Chorus.
- She confronts Sally's behavior in school by addressing it with Don and Betty (Betty's reaction was to run, if you remember);
- Her response to Don during the eclipse is ballsy, but ultimately spot-on (MW confirmed he was indeed hitting on her);
- She says it's going to end badly but proceeds anyway (okay, we all knew that one);
- When her brother comes, her instinct is not to hide Don but bring him out, no matter the awkwardness;
- Confronting Don on the train was extremely brazen, and yes, nutty, but honest.
Point being, I think this character was drawn to show the opposite end of the spectrum. Everyone lies. Suzanne never lies. But of course lying is not always 100% evil. And truth-telling is not always 100% virtuous.
But the character bridges the gap between the black-and-white world of childhood and the complicated nature of adulthood.
Now, I'm no more of a fan of Suzanne's now than I was before. I think they kind of botched the execution of this character, and you can't write chemistry.
But if we step back and connect some dots, I think she serves a purpose, bringing the action of the others into relief.
December 7th, 2009 at 10:41 am
I don't know if I was expecting the wrong thing. I'm not sure how I was meant to take Suzanne. It seemed to me that she was being set up as some kind of kind, nurturing earth mother, but that's not what I saw. Her only concern for her students seemes to be in projecting her own sad childhood onto them – she wasn;t above completely ignoring them for her inapproporiate conversation with Don in front of them at the park. She instsied on making Don meet her brother when he made it clear he was uncomfortable with it. She berated him for coming onto her when he hadn't even done so. Then there was the train stalking.
Was this what we were meant to see, or were we meant to see the May Queen? I'm normally fine with some ambiguity, but I just can't help feeling that something fell flat.
one jarring thing about Suzanne was that the actress's delivery was pure 2009, rather than the period delivery the other actors use. Her mannerisms, tones of voice, posture, etc. didn't look (as the others' do) like they stepped off a 1963 screen. Now, maybe that was intentional. Maybe we were meant to see Suzanne as being free of the societal restrictions the others buy into. But if that's the case, it just didn't work for me; it took me out of the moment.
December 8th, 2009 at 12:08 pm
I'm very behind on my reading and comments, but this was a very interesting piece and I think you really helped to solidify some of my thinking on this one. I think the eclipse interaction between Don and Suzanne really made the relationship feel awkward and somewhat unpleasant. Actually all of their interactions seemed very off. In some ways I found her to be as creepy as I found Henry Francis (and I still don't see the attractation, sorry). Both Ms. F and Mr. F seemed a little off to me, especially in terms of interacting very inappropriately with people in situations when those people were clearly off-limits.
I also strongly agree with # 31 Emi and the points about class later in the thread.
December 11th, 2009 at 5:21 pm
Yeah, I see Suzanne as creepy/cloying as well, and she's so perky that I'd like to drive a nail through her head. Maybe because she reminds me of some elementary school supervisors who thought they had to be up! And happy! and carefree! all the time, as though little kids couldn't see how fake and patronizing such an attitude is.
I don't see her as a bunny boiler, but her coyness mixed with her come ons ('Oh, you horrible man, you want to have an affair with me/ Hey, let's have an affair!") sends me up a wall. Like at the end of the eclipse scene, where she tells Don off for flirting with her, then bends down to see through an eclipse box. On one level, she could be telling Don "Kiss my butt.", and on another, she could be saying "Look at me! You know you want some of this, right?"
So yes, I could see how the writers might like her, but this two face attitude is intensely irritating. She may be playing Don like a fish, trying to angle herself into becoming the second (third?) Mrs. Donald Draper, but I hope we've seen the last of her.