Waaaaaay back in August of last year, I made an observation about the fat motif that seemed to be emerging as a theme for Season 2. At that time, both Deborah and Roberta thought it was brill, and suggested I turn it into a post. In fact, Deborah suggested I just “CTRL-C = copy, CTRL-V in a Write window, Save, and that’s a wrap.”
So, without much further adieu, here’s my CTRL-C, CTRL-V:
***** (more…)
I was just reading Don’s Other Affairs and building on Roberta’s brilliant insights, I began to think about Bobbie and Jimmy Barrett and their function in Season 2. They’re the agents of truth. And the truth differs from the polished, unruffled, seemingly perfect surface that Don and Betty present to the world.
From the very first, Jimmy distinguishes himself as the guy who says what everyone sees but doesn’t dare point out. Mrs. Utz is fat. He is unnecessarily cruel to the point of humiliation. You really feel for Mrs. Utz. And yet, Jimmy will endanger his own livelihood for the sake of stating something plainly. To paraphrase Bobbie, That’s who he is.
I must’ve been around five or so and sleeping at a friend’s house when we snuck out of our beds and turned on the TV and there it was — the scene in Hitchcock’s The Birds in which the farmer lies on the floor with his eyes pecked out. It remains one of the most quietly terrifying moments I’ve seen on film.
Of course, like everything old Hitch did, there was humor in the exploration of fear. Bird is British slang for “chick” or a young woman. The Birds, in short, was Hitchcock’s exploration of female rage.
Now, given the strong Hitchcockian influence on Mad Men, in this blog’s previous incarnation we hashed out the significance of Don calling Betty Birdie in Season 1, the same season in which she shoots her neighbor’s pigeons when the latter scares the wits out of Sally. Significantly, Don stopped calling Betty Birdie in Season 2. This was the season in which Betty stopped being just a pretty young thing and began to grow into a real woman, one who is willing to take control over her life. And the transformative vehicle for it all was her rage.
Part 1–The section from the recent Fresh Air interview where MW discusses the opening credits
(In response to Terry Gross saying it reminds her of September 11th)
I did the opening credits almost two and a half years years ago. And I had this image of this man falling out the window because if the show was on the air in 1960, they’d be talking about the stock market crash. When businessmen jump out of the window, it means something is wrong. I did not want it to be part of September 11th, other than the way that is part of our consciousness that something’s wrong, and that this man is metaphorically in freefall, and that canyon of buildings which are covered with images from his life in advertising–that’s the world that he’s falling through.
And then you just see him; that this is going on in his mind in the end, and that he’s sitting there in the pose of perfect confidence. And that’s what I was interested in, was a psychological state. It’s funny that no matter how much you abstract that image… it’s so powerful, and he’s a modern man he’s got a suit on and it’s computer animation and there’s a lot about it that should technically distance you from it, but it doesn’t. And the music is falling also… so for me I wanted to introduce people to this character and I only was allowed thirty seconds; the Sopranos opening titles are a minute and a half, and you can tell a whole story . So I had to go to the graphic punch of that. And AMC is in New York, I lived in New York; I understand what this image means to people. This is part of the message of the show; it’s unpleasant and it reminds you of something.
Part 2–Betty falling through a canyon of buildings
A Night to Remember… Betty’s storyline in this episode, though it would have proven frustrating for the viewers, would have made for a perfectly respectable season closer. I know it wasn’t planned this way, but I’m glad it wound up that there was breathing room afterwards, via a week off to watch the Emmys.
First, she rides. Hard. Trying to shake it off; all the horrid feelings. And hugs that horse, gives it love for helping her, and being willing to connect with her the way no one else is willing. She turns to the horse the way she turned to Glen.
Then she starts in on Don. Not nearly as sweet as when she gave him her ‘honeydo’ list in Marriage of Figaro.
Later she uhh… beats on that poor, innocent chair.
For the dinner party, she is poised perfection. Her smile never breaks, even as she and Carla are cleaning up. And the second that she is alone with Don, she goes to the ledge. (more…)
Seems we’re coming to the close of this pair’s arc on Mad Med – according to IMDB, Bobbie’s last episode was GV, and Jimmy appears one more time (“Six Month Leave”). On a show this good, such schlocky character types would have a one-episode shelf life.
“Okay – hackey night club comic and his ballsy wife-manager … I got it.”
But on this show, where no one gets major screen time without a reason, there’s always a purpose. What was the purpose of Jimmy and Bobbie Barrett?
In a way, they both serve the same purpose – they’re kind of a two-person Greek Chorus, reminding the main characters who they are … who they really are.
And lets define “main characters.” I maintain this is an ensemble cast in the mold of The Sopranos. It’s a true ensemble, but the power, charisma and focus on the main character (Tony/Don) naturally gives him lead status.
Besides Don, the primary narrative concentrates on Betty and Peggy (for a show about Men, it’s really a show about women). By time they exit the story, Bobbie and Jimmy have left their imprints on all three of these “lead” characters.
Bobbie gives Peggy a blunt yet poignant lesson in how to navigate the business world as a woman. And Jimmy (more blunt, less poignant), holds a mirror up to both Don and Betty, forcing them to face their denial, hypocrisy and ugliness. To paraphrase our friend Deborah – enough to make you puke.
