Mad Men: Let’s pretend we know what 1963 looks like

It was the season of Jackie versus Marilyn, the Soviets versus JFK, Betty versus Don. Thirteen pristine episodes, beginning on Valentine’s Day 1962 and culminating in the midst of the Cuban Missile Crisis, offering up plenty of period-accurate moralizing and prejudice and cutthroat business practices along the way.

In its second season, Mad Men has hit full stride. This is a show from which a single episode – say, “Three Sundays” – can stand alone as a work of art. And not just for the clothes. (Although the clothes help. Man, do the clothes help.)

This time, Don got to have an arc that didn’t revolve primarily around his various mistresses. But that meant he was forced to dig deeper into his intimacy and trust issues.

We opened the season with Don trying to be a good family man, but finding it dull and uninspiring; we followed him over the course of many ups and downs and experimentations before he finally, and much to the viewers’ relief (but not necessarily Betty’s) came back home to be a good family man again. During the ride, we got to learn more about his origin story and meet his first wife (of sorts), who turned out to be the only person in the world who knows Don as he truly is.

But Betty, after God knows how many years of suffering in silence, finally called Don on his crap – and found it wasn’t that satisfying after all. With her mother’s death behind her, her father’s health fading, an unwanted pregnancy, and even the cute, young stable boys proving fickle in the face of her overwhelming beauty, Betty’s having a bad, bad year. But hey, at least she got a new Cadillac out of the deal (even if she did wind up puking in it).

Meanwhile, the slightly-less-depressing storylines were happening over in the Sterling Cooper offices, where things are getting overcrowded and overheated as the decade advances.

Most of the junior staff did okay for themselves this season. Paul introduced us all to his pseudo-bohemian lifestyle out in the wilds of New Jersey and his new look-how-cool-I-am girlfriend, who proceeded to dump him half a season later. Harry founded SC’s television department, which I suspect is the kind of thing that will be a grand slam on his resume in a few years (although, did they have resumes in 1962?). And it was a sad season for Joan, who not only missed out on the only professional opportunity she’s ever shown a real interest in, but who finally, after two decades of trying, landed a rich, hot fiancé, only to discover she’d committed herself to the only character on this show ever to not have any redeeming qualities at all.

And Salvatore. Oh, Salvatore. I really, really hope we’ve seen the last of his unrequited crush on Ken, but knowing this show I suspect it’ll rear its head again in season 3. Not only did it make me sad for Salvatore and his closetedness, but… Ken? Really? You can do better than Ken, Sal. And let’s not even talk about the scene where Kurt came out and everyone was talking about how it was so disgusting and Sal stood there and pretended to laugh at everyone’s jokes because what else do you do when you’re Sal?

But, as always, the real stories were reserved for Pete and Peggy.

Pete is my favorite character on the show. It blows my mind that there are people who hate Pete. Sure, I didn’t like him after the pilot, back when his main characteristics were being a jerk to Don and sexually harassing and then de-virginizing Peggy the night before his wedding to Trudy. But as soon as they started humanizing him midway through season 1, I fell for him hard. And it’s not just because I harbored my old love for Vincent Kartheiser as Connor Angel. It’s partly because there’s a reason VK rocked as Connor Angel – you know, because VK is a really really really good actor – but it’s also because Pete, like all Mad Men characters, is complex and believable and interesting and, yes, lovable. Seriously. I defy you to find me a Mad Men character who isn’t lovable (again, except for Joan’s fiancé). Even the prickly characters, like Betty, are so intense in their sorrow that you just want to take them home and give them a big hug and feed them some soup. (I feel the same way about Duck, by the way. Apparently there are people who don’t like Duck, either. How is this possible? Did the episode where he put his dog out on the street not make you cry for an hour? Have you no soul?)

This season, as usual, it was a tough time to be Pete. His father died and left him without an inheritance. Between that, and Trudy’s desperate desire to have a baby (poor Trudy doesn’t even know that most New Yorkers would gladly sacrifice the idea of ever having kids if it meant they got to live in that apartment), and Pete’s dawning realization that he actually doesn’t love Trudy at all, and his inability to deal with that situation given that the only representations of “successful” marriage he’s seen are those of his parents and people like Roger Sterling – his top priority is still advancing his career at Sterling Cooper. Also, he can’t drive, the poor dear. (It’s okay, Pete, neither can I.)

Peggy, however, fared a little better this year. After keeping that little-girl haircut for a loooonnng time, she got herself a full-blown Queer Eye makeover and a well-deserved promotion (she won the Popsicle account, you know), and then finally, years after she stopped wanting it, she got a confession of love from Pete himself, right on the eve of the whole world’s destruction. Although we still don’t know exactly what happened to her baby. And she also had that weird relationship with her priest (or maybe those kinds of relationships were completely normal? I don’t know anyone who was a churchgoing Catholic in 1962 Brooklyn to consult with on that). After Father Gill’s efforts to save her by coercing her into designing posters for a school dance failed, he finally gave up and went straight to the “You’re going to go to hell, tonight, if you don’t confess to me about how you had Pete’s love child,” only to have Peggy come back with, “That’s not how God really works.” Oh, Peggy. She’s probably the one character on this show who would’ve benefited the most from being born, say, four decades later than she was.

And although some may say Peggy shook things up at Sterling Cooper, let’s not forget that Don’s new secretary, Jane, managed to single-handedly force the company into a merger just because she was hot.

With a few exceptions, this season steered clear of some of the more overt “look what a different time it was” moments that we got early in season 1. Instead, we got subtler representations of the same thing that nonetheless took my breath away. Like the scene where the Draper family stopped for a roadside picnic, then dumped all the trash onto the ground, chucked their empty beer cans out into a field, and drove away in their shiny new Cadillac. It still freaks me out just thinking about it.

Season 2 also traded in the first season’s blatant and pervasive anti-Semitism for a round of blatant homophobia, but hung onto the underlying misogyny, racism, etc. that’s been there since the pilot (I guess the classics are just too good to give up). It did, however, introduce the concept of the civil rights movement, if only to present it as a mildly amusing way to meet girls and possibly get yourself killed.

I’m sure there are many plans in place for where the story will go in season 3. This is a show that, after all, included that scene back in mid-season 1 where Don and Roger negotiated Don’s contract-less status just so Don could have that awesome “I don’t have a contract” moment in the season 2 finale. The merger will, presumably, go through, but what does that mean for Sterling Cooper and its denizens? Will Don leave the company? If so, will he open up his own agency, or go rogue and move to California to sell fixed-up cars? Assuming the former, who will he bring with him from SC? Peggy is a lock, and probably Pete, and Sal, but I can’t see why Don would want any of the other copywriters or account execs. Maybe he’ll dig up Freddy Rumsen. (Although how did you track people down in 1962? How did anyone do that before Facebook?)

But distressingly, much is still up in the air right now about the show’s future. Season 3 will definitely be on AMC, and I’ve read that the stars are still under contract for a few more seasons, but Matthew Weiner – the show’s creator and main writer, who is heavily involved in every aspect of the show – isn’t guaranteed to return. It sounds like he’s holding out for more money, and good for him. (Although the show isn’t necessarily earning money, it is earning cred. Lots and lots of cred.) But it’s entirely possible that the production company will go with another, cheaper show runner. I heard a rumor about Aaron Sorkin being one option, and if so, shoot me now. Granted, I loved West Wing just like everyone else, but come on – Studio 60 was unwatchable (which isn’t to say I didn’t watch it, but only because I’m a masochist). And Mad Men is quiet and slooowww. It does not mix well with Sorkin-style ranting or pedeconferencing.

This season ended in an incredibly tense moment – and yet not. The Cuban Missile Crisis is raging, and the characters don’t know if they’re going to make it to the next morning. But we do. And now that Betty’s told Don about her pregnancy, we know what’s going to happen with them, too. And at the end of the day, let’s all just breathe a sigh of relief that we’re not working at a Manhattan ad agency in 1962.

(Well, except for the part where we’d all be wearing much better clothes. Man, did you see those outfits Betty got to wear this season just because she was going through a horseback riding phase? Fan-bloody-tastic.)

Mad Men, Season 2 Review (2008)

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Photographs courtesy of AMC