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This final run of Mad Men episodes has embraced, to a dramatic extent, the idea of Don Draper as a cipher. The opening credits sequence is finally coming to life. Everything around the man -- or, rather, everything that made the man -- is falling, stripped and taken away, until he’s a mere silhouette, cigarette in hand and oblivion in the backdrop.
Matthew Weiner hasn’t held anything back in making this expression. He’s used Marie Calvet to remove Don’s furniture and leave his apartment empty. He’s colored Don’s new office with memorabilia from the late Lane Pryce’s old headquarters. And in “The Forecast,” he’s gathered a whole bunch of characters to tell Don what an empty vessel he is. The mystique is no more. The allure has long passed. Don is fading, fast, and he’s inappropriately reciprocating the advances of teenage girls and aimlessly asking around for the meaning of life as a primal reaction.
Journeying Don Draper to this point is essential to the mythology of Mad Men. To an impressive degree, it feels like the place the show has to go, as the end to this story of a constructed, artificial identity. And yet, it’s limiting this ending run’s emotional resonance. Jon Hamm is a damn good actor, and Draper is one of the era’s most memorable protagonists. But at this point, it feels like Weiner and his team can only get so far in artfully and narratively conveying his (as well as the show’s) endpoint. Thematically, it’s on-point; but to yet again end on an arresting image of Don in uncertainty, without a place or a sense of self, seems like unnecessary reinforcement. Yes, the apartment is a metaphor. And yes, that’s probably “all there is.”
The Peggy Lee tune has come to overwhelmingly inform the end of the series; her question is perhaps most directly posed in this latest episode, as characters look away from the past and try to chart their future. “The Forecast” bristles with confidence, both in terms of its underlying thematic engagements and circulating character arcs. It’s a very good episode of Mad Men, in other words. But it’s also a reminder of the show’s limitations, running up against a reduced episode order and working to end on a thickly literary note. My expectations for the end of Mad Men are not absurdly high, and I’m not looking for closure, either. But if Breaking Bad and The Sopranos ended tenser and tighter, and Six Feet Under more despairing, then Mad Men’s equivalent appears to be more… symbolic? It’s a show that tells stories more aggressively through an episodic format, which can be a difficult formula to get behind as we march to the finish.
In “The Forecast,” Don is tasked by Roger with writing up a report on the future of the firm. Through his interviews with Ted and Peggy, a remedial task quickly turns into another soul-searching mission: he can’t seem to get an answer beyond “land a big client” or, in Peggy’s case, take over as creative director. The goals are purely professional (though for Peggy, certainly infused with the personal), and when Don pushes for something a little more personal, he’s either looked at like he’s crazy, or, in Peggy’s case yet again, told that his dreams deserve to get shat on (a great, funny moment in an episode full of them). Weiner has zeroed in so directly and so intensely on the existential crises of Don Draper and surrounding characters, but in the case of Don’s tour of the future, everything plays out organically. He sees what Peggy has learned from him. He listens to what people think of his life, and their own lives. And more broadly, he appears desperate to understand the pursuit of happiness. He’s no longer a mythic figure: Sally can bring up his childhood to sting him; Peggy can not only stand up to him, but dismiss him to his face; and Betty has established an identity separate from him. I presume Megan is out of the picture, and it’s safe to say that with four hours to go, Don isn’t riding off into the sunset with anybody else. He knows that; we know that.
Speaking of Sally, her line “I’m sick of everyone asking what I want to do with my life” really puts the episode in perspective. It’s the first (and maybe one of the last) time(s) we get to spend time with the Draper daughter this season, and Kiernan Shipka once again gets a collection of wonderful scenes to work with. To both her mother and her father, Sally is the future -- the symbol of unpredictability and excitement, a way to look back as a way to look forward. Betty reminisces on her inter-state trip from decades ago, as an attempt to connect with her daughter who’s preparing to embark on a similar venture. But Sally laughs her off. And when Sally does reveal her life plan to her father -- to get as far away from Betty and Don as is possible, and not be anything like them -- Don responds with a very honest piece of advice: she is, through and through, a product of her parents, and it’s up to her to extend beyond what they became.
And what did they become? In "The Forecast," both Betty and Don engage in creepy, flirtatious banter with underaged, albeit interested, parties. In Don’s case, it’s with a friend of Sally’s. He lights her cigarette and engages with her flirting far more than he should. It disgusts Sally about as much as the return of Glen Bishop, who meets up with Betty for the first time since season two (!!). The scenes between Glen, who’s shipping off to Vietnam after flunking out of school, and Betty, seemingly more comfortable in her skin than ever before, play out with a supreme degree of eeeyuck. But they’re also extremely effective as a foray into Betty’s character, from when we met her in season one to how we know her in season seven. Betty’s emotional connection to Glen, when he was a young boy, related to her own childishness and lack of autonomy, trapped in the vicious cycle that was her marriage to Don. Betty has grown, to some extent anyway, since. And she’s excited by his re-appearance, warmed, weirdly grateful and perhaps a little embarrassed. But she’s confident enough to gracefully reject him when he inevitably makes a pass at her, and she's understanding enough to be there for him as others shut the door in his face. January Jones does her best work in a while here, taking Betty back and forth, from beginning to end, and demonstrating her emotional development in the process.
Don has grown too, and in this episode, Joan’s provided a real chance at happiness herself. “The Forecast” is the most optimistic Mad Men in what seems like forever. Don is ripped a new one, over and over and over, and yet he keeps his cool. He’s not tormented, or wounded -- but he’s not dismissive of the claims, either. The way he brushes off his realtor’s insults -- calling his apartment a waste, depressing, and a whole lot else -- indicates that he gets the criticism, and he’s ready to move on. Joan, in a beautifully-executed side-story in which she connects with a retiree (played by Bruce Greenwood) while on a business trip, is meanwhile granted a reprieve from her loneliness. For all her sacrifices and compromises, a glimmer of promise has finally appeared (and thank God, since Joan was preparing to send her child away if that glimmer faded). “The Forecast” continues the season’s tradition of settling its characters for the indefinite future, from Betty’s contentment to Joan’s newfound hope to Peggy’s hardened professionalism. It’s juxtaposed with Don’s lack of a plan; he’s without any path to take.
One thing I’ve come to love about Joan’s character, who holistically is Mad Men’s best creation, is that her idea of success is the most complicated and fully-rounded of any in the show’s universe. To borrow the cliche, she wants it all, and believes herself capable of having it. Mad Men, cleverly through the decade change, is now mainly analyzing the idea of success through its characters. Everyone has a different version of it, but Don doesn’t have any idea: he’s literally asking his co-workers what success is supposed to be.
So what does the future hold? Is that it? He hopes not. But then again, what is Don looking for? He’s a man outside of his skin, without a definable sense of self to go after what he wants. It’s certainly indicative of the time, of an era being passed over for something new. But by thrusting himself into his position, Don has no exit strategy -- no “forecast” -- for what happens as it fades away.
In this exploration, Mad Men is keenly aware of the limitations of Don as a character, stripped down. Look at Jennifer Getzinger’s direction: her frames are gorgeous expositions of duality; there’s depth and narrative in the image of Joan and her new fling in a hotel room, or Betty and Glen in the kitchen. We see both women asserting their newfound confidence without ignoring what it took to get to that point. Getzinger captures them with their scene-partner on assured footing. But Don? Her lens is always tightening in on him. He may have an easy rapport with Peggy, or a better-than-expected relationship with the mother of his children, but he’s far from having anybody. He’s far from a real relationship. All he can do is stand in the doorway and ask, as Mad Men seems to be doing again and again: what do I do now?
Grade: B+
Notes
* I did wonder: what the hell did Don think when Sally alluded to Betty “inappropriately” flirting with someone underage? The way he so nonchalantly takes the information in tells me he wasn’t terribly surprised, which is all kinds of confusing.
* Jennifer Getzinger is Mad Men’s best director, and this episode was no exception. She has such perspective in her work, and she’s always conveying complex character ideas with equal parts subtlety and intentionality. I mentioned her framing choices to evoke her characters’ various levels of assuredness. But even the way she captures little moments, like Pete’s snarling or Sally’s side-eye smirk, is just so perfectly done. She directed “The Suitcase,” which nicely exemplifies her style and strengths.
* Lou Avery returns, shipped off to LA. He’s still awful.
* Expect some Roger/Pete action in the next few weeks, as with Betty and Sally now in on the action they’re the only principal characters without a focus episode in this final run.
* Glen's Vietnam arc was also nicely-handled. It's a strong example of how well the show blends the political with the artistry. Seriously, I laughed a good amount when Betty said to Glen, of Sally, "Don't listen to Jane Fonda over here," and was surprisingly moved as the characters' different perceptions of the war began to conflate into one big, sad mess.
* Again, this was a very good episode of Mad Men. Overall, I’m fascinated by the combination of the show’s limitations, racing to the end, and its acknowledgement of those limitations, weaving them into the actual storytelling. It’s kind of brilliant, as Weiner et al. are smartly commenting on the idea of change, as well as on the progression of the show itself.