‘Mad Men’: Strong women

This article was originally on a blog post platform and may be missing photos, graphics or links. See About archive blog posts.

The saucy, skittery women of Draperville don’t have it easy. They get mocked for going ga-ga over lipstick. Their bodies are seen as fresh meat for the vulturous Mad Men. They’re not taken seriously when their hands seize up (as in Episode 2). But this week’s episode gave them all a chance to shine. Even if it was just the mellow glow that might come off a rose-gold brooch, it felt good, slightly victorious.

We all knew it was coming. Little scrunch-faced Peggy with her dullard dresses, corkscrew ponytail and petrified bangs was finally recognized as “having potential.” Naturally, because it’s Peggy, she nearly rendered the potential obsolete. When the middle-management clown compliments her for her tossed-off witticism after a marketing research meeting, Peggy’s suspicious and defensive. If he’d paid her any more attention, she might’ve scratched the man. But then again, who can blame poor Peggy or any of these women for having their hackles permanently raised? Sterling Cooper has been nothing but chutes and ladders for Peggy and not the fun kind.

Betty, meanwhile, keeps evolving, no easy task with Draper around promoting such awful WASPisms as “mourning is just extended self-pity.” Let your wife get a little misty-eyed on Mother’s Day, Don -- her mom just died a few months ago. I’m proud of Betty for standing up for herself, even if she did it in her typical thin-lipped matronly way. Betty reminds me of that girl in high school you noticed because she was pretty and dressed well and got good grades but when you talk to her, you’re struck by how mulishly dedicated she is to projecting a frightfully ordinary existence. This week Betty helped tarnish that reputation by admitting to a sexual fantasy life. “I want you,” she said with a little girl’s shy petulance and you couldn’t help but feel endeared to her and a little pitying. Draper, for once, didn’t shove her back into her doll box; instead he acknowledged and indulged.

Rachel Mencken is back on the scene, which portends great things for the rest of “Mad Men’s’ first season, which, by the way, has seven more episodes to go. The writers are letting this romance burn slowly, a smart move. Rachel, more than any of the other women, is Don’s soul mate. Sure, Midge challenges him with funky open-mike scenes and beatnik pals ready for cheesy moralistic sparring (what a hoot of a scene), but their relationship is too brother-sister, too teasing and affectionate. In the end, Midge challenges Don only so much; Rachel, meanwhile, is so like Don he’s captivated, being the little narcissist that he is. She’s secretive, complex, occasionally achingly vulnerable, only to quickly cover it again. It also seems no small coincidence that Rachel’s identity as a Jew in America keeps being circled over. Could it have some correlation with Don’s secret past?

And then there’s Joan, pictured. I know I’ve gone on before, but let me sing her praises again. First of all, she isn’t Draper’s, she isn’t Roger’s and pity that poor fool for thinking otherwise. Joan belongs to 3 a.m. cab rides in Manhattan, little hotel soaps, the third martini you’re not supposed to have and gossip uttered from red, red lips. No caged bird is going to pin her down. But all that said, I wonder if she gets lonely; I wonder what could shake her to her core. I want to find out. And then I don’t want to find out.

--Margaret Wappler

(Photo courtesy AMC)