In the second-season finale of "Mad Men," big bombs drop without making a sound.
By Heather Havrilesky
Read more: TV, Season Finales, Arts & Entertainment, Reviews, Heather Havrilesky
Carin Baer/AMC
Jon Hamm as Don Draper in "Mad Men."
Oct. 27, 2008 | "Pete, just tell the truth. Don't worry about the outcome. People respect that." -- Peggy Olson
The truth finally came out during the second-season finale of "Mad Men," but it wasn't embraced as enthusiastically as Peggy (Elisabeth Moss) suggested it might be.
But then, most of the characters on Matthew Weiner's stylish, smart drama can't handle the truth -- and clearly would prefer not to know it. This stunning fact was most evident in Don Draper's stricken face as his wife Betty somberly informed him, in the finale's final scene, that she was pregnant with their third child. Betty (January Jones) might as well have told Don (Jon Hamm) that nuclear bombs were falling on Manhattan, the way he flinched and grimaced and held her hand in a gesture of resigned solidarity.
But then, Don Draper always seems to imagine that the world will conform to his needs without unnecessary discussion, even after one of his extended disappearances. After spending three weeks away in California, first with a young nomadic trust funder (who seems to represent total freedom from conventional responsibilities), then with the widow of the man whose identity he stole (who, surprisingly, appears to be the only person Don is truly open with, and who hints at the possibility of real honesty, intimacy and lasting commitment to one woman), Don returns to Betty, but merely tells her, "I had to have some time to think about things."
"It must be nice, needing time and just taking it," Betty responds. "All on your own terms, not wondering what anybody thinks -- me, the children …" How can she not help but feel resentful, when she spent that time struggling to handle the children despite her deteriorating emotional state? Betty might've accepted Don's latest affair, had he at the very least acknowledged his indiscretion. But Don thought he could get away with denying the whole thing. In her own state of denial over her pregnancy, Betty resolved to explore a shadow life of her own in the finale. And who else could pull off a lurid dalliance at a bar with total, dispassionate control? Betty calmly selected a handsome stranger and had sex with him in a back room, all without mussing her hair or deigning to acknowledge the bartender's disapproval at her behavior.
As they fall to pieces before our eyes, all the while keeping up appearances, Don and Betty have more in common than they ever have before. They both chafe at the lives of compromise they've accepted by fulfilling traditional gender roles -- the absent husband and the put-upon wife and mother. But instead of being completely honest with each other and creating the possibility of real intimacy between them, they demean each other for fulfilling these roles. "Honestly, things haven't been that different without you," Betty tells Don, and the look on his face shows that she's succeeded in making him feel like the invisible man he fears the most, an alienated shadow of a husband and father who haunts his own house like a ghost.
"I need to see the kids," Don strikes right back at her, as if he's mostly come back for his children, not for her.
But there was a lot of big news to share in this final episode, most of it delivered with alarmingly little fanfare. Pete (Vincent Kartheiser) informs Duck (Mark Moses) that he lost the Clearasil account, but with the merger pending, Duck doesn't care. Duck tells Pete that he'll be the new head of accounts. In his typical casual way, Roger Sterling (John Slattery) tells Don that they've been purchased by Putnam, Powell and Lowe and Don's going to make half a million off the sale. The guys from PPL casually indicate that Duck will be the CEO of the new company, and Don essentially announces that he's out of the picture if Duck takes the helm. Duck freaks out, pounds the table and makes it clear not only that he secretly masterminded the whole deal but that he's an out-of-control drunk, to boot. The PPL execs, in turn, merely ask him to leave the room, then Roger asks, as if they've already silently agreed that Duck won't be the new firm's president after all, "This won't mess up the merger, will it?"
These stunningly offhanded revelations reflect one of Weiner's most interesting and original dramatic choices this season: to underplay the drama of most of the show's big, dramatic moments. Don simply gets into a stranger's car and is whisked away to Palm Springs instead of flying home. Betty merely accepts a drink from a stranger, and minutes later they're screwing on a couch. Roger offhandedly tells Don to accept the eternal damnation of married life, then he leaves his wife for Don's secretary the next day. While such understated scenes might threaten to alienate any nighttime-soap crowds that gathered thanks to "Mad Men's" recent acclaim, Weiner's subtlety makes artistic and intellectual sense. As in real life (particularly real life in the '60s), these characters are inscrutable and evasive; they pull away from confessions and revelations, hoping that everyone will shut up and go through the motions, even as they each struggle with their own assigned roles: Sal Romano (Bryan Batt) suffers as a closeted gay man in a straight world, Paul Kinsey (Michael Gladis) struggles as an intellectual in a corporate environment, Joan Holloway (Christina Hendricks) plays the reluctant blushing bride, Pete Campbell rebels against becoming the complacent husband and obedient son-in-law.
Even as the Cuban missile crisis plays out in the background and everyone is on edge about its ramifications, they're all struggling to smooth over any unsightly emotions, left to grit their teeth, pour themselves drinks in solitude, and hope for the best.