Mad Men - Season 7 Premiere - Recap: Keeping Up Appearances
Recap and review of Mad Men - Season 7 Premiere - Time Zones:
In a lot of ways, Mad Men is a show about keeping up appearances. You could argue that many of the characters on this show have some vague idea of what their lives should be, but continually find that circumstances make realizing those goals far more difficult.
Credit: AMC
For example, Don heads out to California to visit Megan (Jessica Pare), who is slumming it in a sparse, minimalist apartment. Not because she has to, but because she doesn't want to be seen as wealthy by her new, Bohemian actor friends. Don could easily have set her up in nicer digs, but Megan buys into the notion of what kind of person this will make her appear to be. In her mind, she'll be one of them, an actor who's got it as hard as anyone else. She's essentially buying street cred by refusing to accept Don's money, such as when he offers to move her into a more spacious place in a better, less canyon-esque location, or when he buys her a huge console cabinet TV. Megan is horrified of what her friends will think to see something so expensive paraded out in her living room, and although they quickly makeup with some celebratory, anniversary sex, there's still a disconnect in that relationship that likely makes it unsalvageable. As he rides the plane home and encounters a beautiful stranger (Neve Campbell, looking like she's only aged about five years since Party of Five), Don becomes enchanted with the woman, who, from all appearances, looks like a vague shadow of Sylvia Rosen.
Credit: AMC
Although nostalgia probably isn't the only reason he's attracted to her: in telling the story of her late husband, who drank himself to death, Don sees a wounded woman for whom he can be a kind of savior. Or, if not a savior, at least someone who can provided comfort and relief. The woman becomes a source of validation for Don, providing him with a potential avenue of fulfillment, since he's not really getting it from work, nor is he getting it from his marriage. Yet, ultimately, Don chooses to keep up the appearance of at least trying to be a good husband, rejecting the woman's obvious flirtations with the excuse that he has to get back to work, even after acknowledging that he's a terrible husband, and that Megan surely knows as much. Don's life, right down to his identity as Don Draper, is all artifice. Hell, he even keeps up the facade with people who already know he's not as well-off as he'd like to appear, such as when Freddy Rumsen refuses to accept his money for lunch. It's telling, in a way, that the most seemingly genuine version of happiness he encounters this week is Pete (Vincent Kartheiser), who's really taken a shine to California, from the tan and the fashion, to the local cuisine and the beautiful women (his realtor girlfriend actually seems into him, awkward fashion choices and all). Pete has long been the show's avatar for outwardly-manifested dissatisfaction. Yet here he is now, perfectly satisfied, appearing to be in no need to impress anyone. He hugs Don as if they're old friends, and shows an almost childlike eagerness to share the sunny highs of California with him. It's a stark contrast to Don's own brooding, tentative misery -- a situation that only worsens once he returns to New York. Don ultimately finds himself on his patio, facing the plummeting winter temperatures after the sliding door gets stuck and refuses to close. Don is forced to face the cold, and through it, the harsh reality of his circumstances, which can't be covered up for much longer unless something changes.
Credit: AMC
This is a problem that is illustrated through both Peggy and Joan (Christina Hendricks). It's far more pronounced for Peggy, admittedly, as she hits a brick wall in her attempts to sell Rumsen's (really Don's) watch pitch to Lou Avery, the new head of creative. She takes the rejection hard, and basically takes it out on Stan (Jay R. Ferguson), calling him and the rest of his team "hacks" who don't care about real creativity. In Peggy's mind, she's the only visionary in the firm, and she uses this rationale to place herself above others, when she isn't really that far above the rest of her team in terms of rank. She still has someone to whom she must defer, and it's something that really hits home in Peggy's personal life. As the landlord of her apartment building, she fields complaints from a woman who continually clogs her toilet, despite repeated warnings not to flush feminine products down the drain. In trying to get the problem solved, she has Dawn call her brother-in-law, who hurries out the door almost as soon as Peggy comes home that night. His rationale is that he doesn't like leaving his wife alone in their apartment, and it seems as though this simple statement is enough to send Peggy emotionally spiralling. Perhaps prompted by the realization that she doesn't really have anybody, and that all her appearances of visionary ambition can't make up for the loneliness that hangs over her entire life like a fog. She falls to her knees and sobs uncontrollably, as if in recognition of just how far her life has gotten away from where she wanted it to be (although, look on the bright side: you don't have to put up with Abe anymore!).
Credit: AMC
Similarly, Joan is realizing that being made partner hasn't actually earned her any credibility with clients. They still see her as a woman with no business acumen, who achieved success either through osmosis, longevity, or other, less savory means. Such is the case as she attempts to retain a client whom Ken (Aaron Staton) is losing through his indifference. Joan's attempts to save the Butler Footwear account represent some of the best scenes of the episode, as Joan not only calms down the panicking client and talks him down from taking a meeting with a rival agency, but also makes an encouraging display of her business acumen in a meeting with a professor conducting a study on fees vs. commissions. Ken seems to have faith in Joan, at least as much as she has in herself, and I'd love to see her develop into a proper, respected member of the team. Sure, she's respected internally, but to some, she's still that woman who got to the top by sleeping with the guy from Jaguar. It's not entirely fair, but more than just about anyone on the show, Joan has to do more than just keep up the appearance of competency. She has to go above and beyond what others are delivering in order to be seen the way she wants to be seen. Unlike some on the show, Joan is actually a character with something to prove. And this is an episode that allows her to set about proving it. Which is more than can be said for Roger, who is forced to face his myriad failings as a husband and father when his daughter invites him out to breakfast just so she can forgive him for all his dalliances and shortcomings. Roger takes offense to the notion that there's anything to forgive, but as he returns home to the incense-soaked hippie commune he calls his apartment, and plops into the bed he shares with his bang buddy (and anyone else who sees fit to plop there), he gets to thinking, although about what, we don't know. Perhaps he takes inventory of his life, and of the choices he's made, and perhaps wonders whether reality is much harsher than appearances suggest. He could be thinking of everything, or nothing at all.
"Time Zones" is a different kind of Mad Men than perhaps we're used to: less zippy, a bit darker, more contemplative. But I'd argue it's every bit as good, given just how intricate a character study this show has become. There are a litany of interpretations that can be gleaned from this hour, and mine are only a few. As one of the most literary shows in television history, Mad Men opens itself up to close reading, and I'd imagine an episode like this will have immense rewatch value.