Mad Men Season 6 Spoilers: ‘The Doorman’ Opens for Death

mad_men_54426 The premiere of Mad Men€™s sixth season was about death, death, and death, but as the point is hammered relentlessly home, a new side of this obsession is revealed: death as an escape. Most notably acknowledged in the pitch scene with the Sheraton representatives, Don€™s looming obsession with death has turned into more of an infatuation with the options it presents. Remember, this is a man who has killed himself before, when he left Dick Whitman€™s family standing beside a coffin, and the reinvention he was able to experience has inspired a lust with escapism that our protagonist has never been able to shake. Don may seem shocked at his clients€™ immediate association of his ad (A picture of a man€™s discarded suit and footprints leading ominously into the ocean) with suicide, but somewhere in his subconscious, Don does want to kill himself; it worked once and it could work again. Look at him gazing out of his office window hearing only the rushing ocean, an elongated moment that leaves the viewer feeling disturbingly removed from Don. Even his incessant philandering (Yes, Don has unsurprisingly given into adultery all over again) is a symptom of this desire to be born new again; rarely do we see Don in a one night stand, instead he is an affair man, creating new relationships and identities with each new woman he beds (And more than once plans to run away with). Unlike the Don of the past, however, this season€™s Don seems to want to break this cycle, to be happy for good, not just for a €œmoment before more happiness.€ When his newest extramarital partner (Also the wife of his newest friend, Dr. Rosen) asks him what he wants for the new year, Don responds, €œI want to stop doing this.€ Of course, the morbidity does not stop with Don, not even close. Roger€™s ever-accelerating journey into the face of his own mortality has finally reached self-awareness. From the moment Roger left Mona for Jane (And truthfully, probably much earlier than that, as we even got a sense of Roger€™s dissatisfaction with his life during his first ever lunch with Don) he has been trying to reconcile himself with the eventuality of his demise. Trading in for a younger wife did no more to invigorate his youth than all of his cheating before had, then LSD became his vehicle of choice to self-examine and be renewed. But as we learn on his psychiatrist€™s couch (In a witty scene from which most of the humor came in examining Roger€™s need for humor), that journey failed him as well. His failures are due to his unwillingness to accept introspection for what it is, an invitation to come to peace with the truths about himself and life. Instead he is always hoping for the next ticket out, a way not to accept himself and his place in life, but to somehow make it all okay. Roger is not even looking to reinvent himself, as usual he wants the lazy solution. This is not to say that Roger hasn€™t grown over the series and isn€™t poised to continue this evolution in a more satisfying way for himself and for us this season. I think the season opener showed us Roger at his rock bottom. His affluent, bratty, immature rock bottom, but a genuine one. Losing his mother (Hysterically relayed to him by his overly emotional secretary) may have been the push Roger needed to finally enter adulthood and take on some responsibility for his own family and actions. The scene where Roger receives his shoe-shine man€™s kit after the man dies (Sent to Roger by his family because Roger, sadly, was the only one who called), and breaks down into tears over it, was compelling and indicative that Roger may be finally ready to grow up. Just in case we weren€™t absolutely positive that death was a theme in this premiere, creator (And writer of this episode) Matthew Weiner just kept hitting us on the head with it. The two deaths in Roger€™s life were not the only deaths; the show opens from the perspective of a clearly ailing person, with a scream in the background and a man (Dr. Rosen) reaching down to help us. From this disjointed moment we are rushed into the beautiful Hawaiian beach where Megan and Don are vacationing on the Sheraton€™s dime. We don€™t know until after the opening sequence that the man is Don and Megan€™s doorman, who apparently €œdies€ then comes back after being resuscitated. Weiner toys with us by keeping Don silent for the first 9 minutes of the show, allowing us to believe it may have been our very own Don Draper who collapsed in the opening scene (No!). The feeling is heightened by Don€™s narration from Dante€™s Inferno (A book lent by his mistress), €œMidway in our life€™s journey, I went astray from the straight road, and woke up to find myself alone in a dark wood.€ The entire Hawaiian experience feels like we are drifting through it, with excitement on the sidelines that overshadows Don€™s, and our, grim silence. It is not until Don finds himself alone at the hotel bar that we finally begin to lighten up, and lo and behold Don utters his first word soon after, to a young GI on leave from Vietnam to get married. The two talk and accidentally exchange army-issue lighters (We later learn), an event that catalyzes Don€™s anxiety throughout the episode and ultimately leads him into a drinking binge that ends with vomit on the floor at Roger€™s mother€™s funeral. The significance of the lighter switch is left a little in the air, but I believe the lighter Don carried must have identified him as Dick Whitman, just as the kid€™s identified him as Pfc. Dinkins. It seems odd that Don would carry something that exposed him so, but I doubt he took the real Don Draper€™s lighter home from the war. And the panic he experienced upon noticing the switch was palpable, with Jon Hamm expertly portraying the character€™s shift into depressive hysteria once again. He casually told Dawn to just send it back without a note, claiming he €œfound it on a barstool,€ obviously wanting no association with the lighter that had been his. No matter where he goes, what he does, and even how honest he becomes with those close to him, the secret life he left behind and the desertion it required haunt him still. There is some real foreshadowing in this of the season to come; hairstyles and sentiment can change, loves can begin and end, children grow up and employees move on, but Dick Whitman is still the antagonist of Mad Men, and he is unforgiving as ever to Don. MAD MEN SEASON 6 Let us (Finally!) get to the very polarizing, curious, and quite frankly terrifying in this episode, Betty Francis. I absolutely love what the Mad Men writers have chosen to do with this character. After the Draper divorce, Betty could easily have become a throwaway character (Like Paul Kinsey, Sal Romano, Burt Cooper€), but instead her story arc has essentially become the yin to Don€™s yang, both struggling to transition from the postwar realities in which they excelled into the new norms of the late sixties. While most of our cast seems to either be shining under the new opportunities of the times (Especially the women) or withering in the wake of change (Sorry, Roger), Betty and Don are treading water, trying their damnedest to keep on keeping on. Don may have a young, progressive wife and a hip apartment in the city, but he is still the old Don Draper, clean-shaven and immersed in a cloud of cigarette smoke and boy€™s club rules. So much of his current frustration is rooted in his inability to change with the times; having spent his whole life figuring out how to belong, he had finally gotten to the front of the line just as the drastic changes of the sixties set in and set him apart once again. With Betty, the topical frustration is more obvious. The Betty Draper of the show€™s first three seasons encompassed perfection and the societal ideal: beautiful, thin, married to a successful man and raising his children in an assortment of stylish housedresses. In €œThe Doorman€ we see her heavier figure, frumpily draped in fine but outdated clothes and a kerchief, standing alone in front of an abandoned building filled with kids who no longer respect her position. She has come to look for Sally€™s runaway friend Sandy, a girl Betty has shown an eager interest in. This isn€™t the first time Betty has showered a friend of Sally€™s with undue, inappropriate attention. From her curious relationship with Glen to her lingering with Sally€™s psychiatrist, Betty has been using Sally€™s acquaintances to live out her own childhood, which just won€™t let go of its hold on her. Sandy represents the most poignant of these infatuations, because she is so much of what Betty could have been. Betty wants to see herself in the girl, who eschews the traditional female role Betty has given her life, youth, and potential for. Betty watches Sandy in awe as she plays the violin, then later entraps poor Henry Francis in the most out of line conversation ever on Mad Men, where she details a sadistic rape fantasy about the girl, offering to hold her down as Henry rapes her. Yes, Betty is in a very strange place in 1968. The entire Betty storyline revolves around searching for Sandy, then ending up helping some homeless boys make goulash in the abandoned building they squat in. The scene is rich with subtext; the boys need her homemaking skills at the same time they are criticizing them and her. Betty, likewise, is learning from them even as she represents the establishment, not getting her hands dirty. She tells them eating snow will make them sick, and they inform her they do it all the time, exposing little faults and cracks in her belief system. When she is finally confronted by the leader of this homeless pack, he makes fun on her lifestyle and appearance, criticizing all manner of what she represents and ending on her blonde hair, €œprobably from a bottle.€ Betty is angry, unreceptive, and insulted, but wouldn€™t you know, Betty comes home the next day as a dark brunette. I see Betty€™s frustration morphing into self-examination and ultimately evolution for her. While Don was at his peak and now seems to be slipping, Betty is allowing the changes in the times to seep into her character and force it to grow. I expect to see Betty shed weight quickly (Since we€™ve been set up to view this as a manifestation of her confidence) as the season goes on and find herself very involved in some new cause. I look forward to seeing her dark-haired, pants-wearing, and not reserving all of her off-color talk for creepy bedside moments with Henry. The other main storyline this week was Peggy€™s, and I for one am so happy that her departure from SCDP has not minimized her storyline at all. Peggy has officially become Don, and I found myself re-watching episodes from season one to see if the writers actually used some of Don€™s old office dialogue for Peggy€™s scenes with her new underlings. It€™s pretty close. She even has a €œboss€ who defers to her every suggestion, just like good old Roger was all too happy to do with Don. Although Peggy seems genuinely happy in both her professional and personal lives (Even though Abe€™s hair has become a character all its own), I don€™t see this as a good development for her. Peggy is falling into the category of professional woman who has chosen to emulate masculinity (Or what was perceived as masculinity) in order to be taken seriously. I think it€™s great that she has grown so much creatively and also in self-confidence, but she is on a slippery slope here, after all, look what all of the aggression and indifference to others has done for Don€™s sense of well-being. Peggy may not have a secret identity she is running from, but she is still trying to brush parts of herself under the rug, as she has been since the self-denial of her pregnancy, and this refusal to be at one with herself is ominous. I also worry about her drinking, which began as a means of fitting in with the men around her and has become habit just as it has with them. It will no doubt exacerbate the issues I expect Peggy to face as she becomes more and more powerful in the advertising world. Oh, and let€™s place bets on how many episodes in her affair with real boss Ted Chaough begins. I bet three, and while I€™m a little bit excited (The Peggy and Abe relationship feels like an ill fit to me), this can€™t possibly bode well for our professional woman. betty draper mad men Some fan favorites got little attention in the premiere, including Joan and Pete, but one of Mad Men€™s great strengths has always been its ability to draw out multiple storylines by divvying up its€™ episodes attentions. We saw enough of Pete to know he is growing ever less amiable as time goes on and his position is strengthened (With Lane Pryce€™s suicide last season, I think we should expect to see Pete clamoring for that name on the door). He felt comfortable patting a disagreeable Don on the shoulder whilst poking fun at his napping tendencies. We were also introduced to a new young brown-noser, Bob, whose Pete-like social graces were enough to make the loveable Ken Cosgrove raise his voice. Of course SCDP would have some new up and comers, from the looks of it this season, the place is bustling and growing, and we are bound to see some coworker battles on the way up and down the ladder, although I doubt we will get to see Pete get his face punched once more, despite my hopes. Sally, as always, stole every scene she was in; how did Mad Men manage to snag such a talented actress when she was only seven? I have been waiting for her storyline to get to her €œGo Ask Alice€ teenage years in the late sixties, and while I can€™t imagine they will let Sally get caught up in too much trouble (Drugs), it€™s apparent through Sandy that Sally€™s social group will at least lend us some vehicles to explore that generation€™s coming of age. Speaking of drugs, it sure €œsmells like reefer€ in this episode (Thanks Joan for acknowledging the white elephant in the room). To me this is an example of Mad Men using the setting of the sixties to discuss contemporary topics as well. We might be looking at the outcome of the summer of love, but we are examining our contemporary openness towards marijuana as well, just as we view the excessive smoking and drinking of our characters through a contemporary, albeit different, lens. Another example of this is the treatment of women in the premiere. While the men are flailing, tackling issues of identity and purpose, the women as a whole seem to be doing quite well. Megan, who of course has everything, is now a soap star (From the beginning of the episode to the end her role grows dramatically, a sign, no doubt, of what€™s to come), fielding autograph requests while soaking up the benefits of her husband€™s lofty position and still managing some new-age excitement like smoking joints and throwing fondue parties. Sure, she€™s getting cheated on, but I have a feeling her fidelity might not be all it seems. If anything Don is her trophy husband, complete with all the wealthy perks. Peggy is owning her new agency and proving she is the most hardworking creative professional in advertising, gender irrelevant. She is also €œliving in sin€, aka relinquishing the mindset of the past in which she shouldn€™t be doing anything but making some babies for her husband (Which is not to criticize housewifery or dedication to parenting). Joan, who started as a secretary, is a partner at SCDP, and thus is in a comfortable enough financial position to maintain her single motherhood. Betty, as extolled at length above, is finding herself. Hard as it may be, she is trying and she is forever inching forward, seeking renewal. And that, ultimately, is what I take from this episode: the yearning for rebirth. We have so many characters who are simply waiting to exhale, to take the next big and for some, frightening step. We could speculate as to their future given the dire tone of the episode and seeming eventual downslide, but I think what we should expect from the future of Mad Men is not so dreary as all that. The show is like a stroll through the offices of SCDP, with people congregating in rooms unseen and meeting each other in passing. This is a show that is ultimately about the interplay of life, and the extended length (Two hours and seven minutes) of the premiere lent ordinary moments the time to expand and express themselves. The dialogue was particularly daring and complex with all that air to breathe, and we were drawn for another season into the grand characterizations that make Mad Men so riveting.
In this post: 
Mad Men
 
Posted On: 
Contributor
Contributor

I suppose I expect you seek my expert evaluations, or are eager to embrace discourse; I'm open to comments of either type. I like to analyze film, television, and art, and to engage in discussions of feminism, animal cruelty, public health, science, technology, and social politics. Follow me @ethlynnor