Basket of Kisses

As much as I hate forced comparisons between Mad Men and Matthew Weiner’s previous television hit The Sopranos, one element of “The Suitcase” is worthy of such consideration. Specifically, the suitcase motif parallels a similar use of the device in “Mayhem” from the last season of The Sopranos.

In “Mayhem,” Tony, on the brink of death, has a coma induced dream (which could be interpreted as an actual supernatural experience) where he takes on the identity of Kevin Finnerty (“infinity”). During the last part of the “dream” sequence, when he is just about to surrender to death, another character in the vision tries to take Finnerty’s briefcase. Tony/Kevin protests and, clinging to the case, explains that his entire life is held within it.

This theme is something that has certainly been explored in Mad Men as well.

Of course, the opening credits animation prominently depicts an executive setting his briefcase down before falling off the side of the building.

In the second season, suitcases played a role in three successive episodes. 

“Six Months Leave” shows Freddy Rumsen reading aloud the magazine ad copy he has written while preparing his pitch for Samsonite. It describes the sadness of an imaginary customer upon discovering that their suitcase, though beautiful on the outside, is empty (much like Freddy’s own life at that moment).

When Betty informs Don of Gene’s stroke in “The Inheritance,” she mentions dreaming of a suitcase. Later, Don finds his find his wife’s suitcase (a Samsonite perhaps?) fully packed.

The last shot of “The Jet Set” focuses on Don’s suitcase being left at his front door. 

In Season 4′s “The Suitcase,” Don discusses with Peggy (and the audience) the idea of a suitcase being a “metaphor” for one’s life. While working late to come up with an ad concept for Samsonite, Don and Peggy discuss throwing the suitcase off the side of the building (evoking images of the falling figure from the aforementioned opening credits).

So, I think it’s fair to say that Don’s vision of Anna’s ghost (or phantom in an episode centered around the infamous Clay/Liston “Phantom Punch” fight) carrying a suitcase has symbolic importance.  IF a suitcase represents a person’s life, what is the significance of the one Anna is holding in Don’s dream?  It’s been noted how much more at peace Anna seems (her limp gone).   But to say that the suitcase is a symbol of her life doesn’t seem quite right.  This is Don’s vision after all.  Clearly, Anna’s death is yet another severing of ties for Don with his past life as Dick Whitman.  It’s that past life, I’d argue, that is symbolized by the suitcase Anna carries when she vanishes (both literally and figuratively).  And with her, Don may hope, the phantom pains that were left on his psyche as well.

Although, like everyone who participates in BOK, I watch MM for its sweeping thematic issues and love reading and commenting on them, I find that by Thursday, it’s time to concentrate less on the forest and get lost in the trees. Hence, this week’s “mini” MM: Betty’s fur coat ad, circa 1953.

Deb’s already mentioned this in her most recent post, and I can see why she had trouble connecting the dots. You only see the ad for a few seconds, and at first glance you could actually think that it is someone else. Although it’s in the early 50′s, the Betty portrayed in the full length white coat, looks older and harder, even though she’s only in her early twenties then. It’s a stunning snapshot of the cold, almost matronly look that’s going to crystallize and harden in 1964-65 when she changes husbands. on the Basket can d(And alas, between coming back from vacation, figuring out our new comment program and trying and not succeeding in installing a video capture program for Betty’s fur coat ad, which I wanted to accompany my post–unless someone else o that–I regret there are no visuals for you to judge for yourself).
There are several reasons why this detail is key. For one thing, that fur ad is a tangible artifact of the story of Don and Betty’s courtship, which we learned about in the psychiatrist’s office in Season 1. This is what I love about MM–no detail is too small or forgotten; it rewards the patient and careful viewer, even if the pay-off comes, as in this instance, 3 years later. That’s why, even though the show’s great cinematically, it always seems more like reading a novel to me.

Heller Furs is where it all began–the rich girl turned model, coveting the fur coat she was wearing for a photo shoot but couldn’t afford, and the poor boy, besotted by her beauty, desperate to step into her world and all he thought it could bring him–somehow finagaling to get it for her. Once again, there’s shades of the class differences that permeate this episode–the have’s who were born knowing which forks to use and the have-not’s who can copy them, but who somehow are always separated from them by a clear, plastic membrane. We’ll never know exactly what Don did to get that coat for Betty, but he was determined to cross the class line no matter what it took.

And how ironic, that despite the ad’s then-revolutionary sentiment–that you don’t need a man to buy you a fur if you really want it– the poster girl for those sentiments actually waited in real life for a man to buy it for her. Or, for that matter, that Joan did the same. If a fur represents the ultimate luxury for a woman in a materialistic society, what better estimation of her worth as a woman than having a man buy it for her? Or to put it another way, as Betty said, if she continues to maintain her beauty, “she’s earning her keep.” What better payment, then, of “services rendered” than a fur coat?

When you watch MM, it’s so easy to impose our 21st century sensibilities on those of nearly 50 years ago. When it comes to men-women relationships, though, I often wonder how much has really changed, or what got lost along the way, and if things are really any better in 2010. As January Jones said, the men of the MM era were chauvanistic and condescending, but “at least they opened the door for you.” I hope that these days more women are in fact not waiting for a man to buy them a fur–and now it’s considered ecologically unsound–but sometimes, when I see MM, I wonder.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me…

R-E-S-P-E-C-T, take care, TCB….

….sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me…

We all know the song, Aretha Franklin, \”Respect\” (written and originally released by Otis Redding) and in “Waldorf Stories,” we saw several of the characters craving that very thing. Respect. To summarize:

• Peggy craves respect (and recognition) from Don, but she’s not getting it. She also wants respect from sexist Art Director Stan Rizzo.
• Roger wants to be respected and acknowledged for (what he feels was) his part in bringing Don to the agency.
• “24-year old” (heh) aspiring writer Danny wants the respect that comes with a new job, even though he’s a little (more than a little?) green. But hey, he’s willing to work hard!  And did he mention that he knows Roger?
• Pete wants respect from Lane, from Ken — and oh what the hell, from everyone.
• Ken wants respect at his new/old agency (SCDP), since he wasn’t getting it at Geyer, but now he will have to contend with Pete. Ken comments, “I’d say nothing’s changed.” He sees that Pete’s old feelings of  jealousy and paranoia are still there.
• Don wants the respect/prestige that comes with winning a Clio.
• Betty wants Don to respect his obligations (and her time), and is angry and frustrated when he doesn’t.

Anyone I left out? What would you like to add?

Guess who landed on the cover of Rolling Stone?
That’s right. they did.

Rolling Stone

And so much more…here

I had previously posted that the Glo-Coat television ad shown in “Public Relations,” Mad Men’s season opener, represented Don’s perception of his life. The boy, a proxy for Don, was “imprisoned” by his domestically inclined mother (Betty).

This idea is continued at the Clios banquet depicted in “Waldorf Stories.” Don comes up to the podium to accept an award for the ad. He then victoriously trots past a screen running the Glo-Coat spot for the audience. At that moment, we see the mother in the ad “releasing” the boy from his kitchen table prison.  The timing as Don runs across the shot just as the housewife pulls back the chair seems intentional.  The resulting visual effect is of Don being set free just like the boy.

The Clio is a validation for Don and affords him with a sense of professional freedom. Until then, his nervousness about the award dinner betrayed pangs of inferiority evident by his reaction to Ted Chaough’s snide remarks.

A more direct symbolic reference made in the Glo-Coat ad is that of Betty freeing Don from his marriage. The first five episodes of this season has shown Don floundering in this newfound liberty. His drinking and inappropriate sexual advances are the most egregious examples of this. In “Waldorf Stories” Don wakes up in bed with a waitress named Doris.  Her uniform reminds us of Shelly the stewardess from Season 3’s “Out of Town.”  At the time, Shelly’s airline costume seemed to highlight Don’s feelings of constriction by his marriage (she had to act a certain way while wearing it).  However, Don’s current attraction to a uniformed woman may now reflect his need for structure (her uniform lays crumpled on his dresser).

Don is lost in his freedom and seems to have regressed.  He uses his old name with Doris.  She indicates that “Dick’s” pick-up line included a promise to take photographs of her. This would seem a subtle reference to Betty’s picture in Don’s fur shop ad shown in the flashback and one wonders if Don had used a variation of that line to win her over as well.

There is much to dread about what’s in store for Don Draper this season as the Clios victory, a moment that should have been a celebration of accomplishment, seems more Pyrrhic. Adding to Roger’s advice in this episode, one should be careful of what they wish for even if it’s done subconsciously.

January Jones talks to AMC about last week’s episode, the fainting couch and more…

The Daily Beast calls Betty Draper “TV’s most misunderstood leading lady.”  Down under, The Vine trawls eBay for Betty’s style.

Was the mention of Dr. Lyle Evans on last week’s show stealth advertising?

Motorcycle USA reports that Honda was not product placement, and examines Honda ads from the period.

GFY gives kudos to Christina Hendricks at the Creative Arts Emmys.

Christina Hendricks is modeling for… London Fog. [Don't limit her exposure. -K]  She is also the cover feature for Capitol File’s fall fashion issue.

Christina Hendricks says some viewers expect her to act like her character Joan in real life, and partially blames social networking sites. She joins Basketcases everywhere in promoting Vincent Kartheiser for an Emmy nod.  Also, she is having difficulty convincing her Dad that she is “there” yet.

Elisabeth Moss has Emmys advice and more for Parade.

John Slattery talks to the L.A. Times about directing, acting with Talia Balsam and more…

Jared Harris says the cast plays a guessing game about future script developments.

(more…)

I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

- from “Diving into the Wreck”, Adrienne Rich

She is the kind of person who has always jumped.  She sees something she wants, that she thinks might be interesting, and she jumps.

But these days, January Jones dives.  It’s a deep dive, deeper than I think she expected to take, and it sends her to places even she doesn’t always understand.  When she asks questions — trying to clarify a scene where Betty sleeps with a stranger in a bar, for example — what she gets is not exactly what you or I would consider help.

“Stop thinking about anything,” Matt Weiner tells her. “It could be that the world is falling apart or maybe she’s just horny. She’s pregnant and she’s falling apart, so she sleeps with a guy. You don’t have to think about it.”
(more…)

You don’t do those things.  You don’t do them in private and you especially don’t do them in public.

- Betty Draper, The Chrysanthemum and The Sword

In The Chrysanthemum and The Sword, adults and children explore the public and the private in telling ways.  Sally picks a private place, the bathroom, to cut her hair, and chooses to innocently explore her own sexuality while her friend sleeps nearby on the couch.  Her mother sees the latter as public.  (I am not sure I agree.)

Roger invades the initial Honda meeting, in more ways than one.  Then, retreating to the calm of his office, he finds it too invaded — by Don, and later Pete (Christ on a Cracker!) Campbell.

Betty hits her daughter in front of Bobby and her current and ex-husbands, and yells the word “whore” to a closed door — within earshot of all of her children.

Betty Draper Francis is not trying to attract attention when she does these things.  She’s just being herself.  To Betty, there is no private place; there never has been.  The little girl who had to walk alongside the car when her mother thought she was chubby is now the woman who smiles at the open walls of the dollhouse in the child psychiatrist’s office.

I would not say that Betty is comfortable with her onstage life.  “I’m so embarrassed … that woman will tell everyone,” she fumes to Henry, after Laura’s mother drops a humiliated Sally home.

Still, Betty assures Dr. Edna that she is “okay.”  She “mostly outgrew” her own curiosity about her body.  But when she tells Don about Sally “masturbating,” she takes the time to ask if he’s alone first.

Don is alone when Betty calls.  He can afford to be; and he does know the difference.  When not working or wounded, he tends to seek out places that are comfortably populated:  Anna’s California bungalow.  The expensive Japanese restaurant.  The narrow kitchen in the office, in the company of a woman in stocking feet.

And it is Don, the man with ample money, time, and private space, who finds the key to the win with Honda.

A man is shamed by being openly ridiculed and rejected.  It requires an audience.  Don decides to do what he does to Honda after he reads that.  I contend that he could not have gotten there without the thought of his daughter:  the little girl who is learning — quickly, as her mother did — that there is no private place.

It has often been said that Peggy is sort of a “mirror” character for Don. I’m noticing some similarities in their love lives this year. Both seem to be killing time until the next big thing comes along.

We just had Episode 5 and at this point (March ’65) Don has been separated from Betty for about fifteen months. I say separated because I don’t know exactly when their divorce was finalized, although I know she went to Reno right away in December ’63 so I assume it was all wrapped up pretty fast.

So Don’s divorce is still recent, it make sense that he’s maybe not ready to dive right in and fall in love. We’ve seen his mistakes with Allison. We’ve seen his fumbled attempts to draw other women into his path (Phoebe, Stephanie) and we’ve certainly seen his nights of fun with Constance, the beautiful call girl who is there for him when he just needs someone there, as long as payment is provided promptly.
(more…)

The opening shot of “The Chrysanthemum and the Sword” shows Miss Blankenship doing a New York Times crossword puzzle (in pen, no less). I painstakingly listed the words in the squares she had filled in thinking they may somehow relate to the storyline.

• leaks
• bores
• plans
• cars
• dogs
• glee
• burt
• utah (I think)
• tired

Given time, I suppose I could somehow tie most of them to the narrative. For instance, Don comes up with a “plan” to stage “leaks” which, to their “glee,” results in SCDP winning a promise from Honda to promote their “cars.”

However, I think the crossword puzzle is better viewed as a symbolic template upon which much of the action takes place. Like doing a puzzle, the characters in “The Chrysanthemum and the Sword” find themselves forced to use incomplete (and often confusing) information to map out their next move. (more…)