As Mad Men airs the first half of its seventh and final season, a panel of viewers here atwill engage in a roundtable discussion following each episode.

» May 12, 2014

Season 7, Episode 5: ‘The Runaways,’ part 1

by Mike Hillman

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A panel of viewers here at Curiata.com will engage in a roundtable discussion following each episode of Mad Men’s seventh and final season. Check back throughout the week for new entries in the series.

That was a wild episode. Where to begin? The threesome? Ginsberg? Another Draper power play?

Right from the start, “The Runaways” was compelling, with interesting narrative threads, new characterizations, looming threats, and a familiar face from the past. For the first time, Lou Avery (he’s finally remarkable enough to have a memorable last name) is humanized; of course, that puts him on the defensive and he spends the rest of the hour as a bigger prick than usual: embarrassing Stan, toying with Don, and plotting with Jim Cutler.

The Lou/Jim conspiracy was executed flawlessly. As Ginsberg, being driven quite literally crazy by the hum of the new computer, spies the men in cahoots, our minds jump to the same conclusion as Ginsberg’s: Lou is being taken care of by Jim in more than just a professional way. The plotting and direction of this scene brought us on board with Ginsberg’s mania; his interpretation seemed valid, so maybe he wasn’t teetering on the edge.

This mastery held us in suspense both for Ginsberg’s impending breakdown and the true story behind the secret Saturday meeting. And both were revealed magnificently. Ginsberg insisted to Peggy that the computer was turning them all homosexual, a red-handed Harry Crane spilled the beans to Don, and the episode had become a runaway train, hurtling toward an explosive end.

The resurfacing of Anna Draper’s niece, Stephanie, pregnant and penniless, was a nice trip down memory lane. Few things seem to light up Don’s life like the extended Draper family. Don is tripping over himself to get to California to see Stephanie, in stark contrast to the reluctance with which he visits his own wife. That discrepancy is not lost on Megan, who makes a bold, desperate play to make her husband happy.

Megan’s party kicked off a final 15 minutes that unfolded like a delirious dreamscape. Time seemed to dilate, smoke filled the air, and a fantasy unfolded. As Megan’s friend, Amy, stepped into the bedroom to “tuck [Don] into bed,” the pre-show warning about “adult content and sexual situations” began to make sense. When lips met lips and hands were placed where they didn’t belong, I couldn’t help but repeatedly ask myself, “Is this really happening?” I was waiting for the moment when the drugs would wear off or the sleep would end and Don would stare into the distance wondering what his most recent hallucination had meant. Instead, Don woke in the morning to the sober reality of two beautiful women in his bed.

As the show cut to commercial, I sat there wowed by what had just transpired. With only five minutes until 11 p.m., I didn’t imagine the intensity could be ratched up any more. Boy, was I wrong. What followed was some of the most over-the-top and brilliant television I have ever seen.

Peggy started the episode still flexing her muscle over Don, but she was quickly and clearly shaken by Ginsberg’s antics, culminating in his epic, vangoghic gesture. The Peg-berg shippers must have had accelerated heart rates as Ginsberg put his unique set of moves on Peggy midway through the show. Unfortunately, he was just acting out one step on the way to collapse.

Early in the hour, I was reflecting on how Ben Feldman had always played the “neurotic Jew” character to the hilt. Little did I know that he would take Ginsberg to the absurdist peak of that neurosis by the time the credits rolled. The scene where Ginsberg finally dropped off the deep end fueled an adrenaline-filled conclusion not soon to be forgotten. I had complained several weeks ago that Mad Men needed more nipples; I should have been careful what I wished for! I was certainly caught off-guard when the writers decided to go “full crazy,” and Stan’s emotional reaction to his friend being carted away was a highlight for me.

But even a strait-jacketed employee being wheeled out of SC&P wasn’t the climax of this hits-keep-coming edition of the show. Lou’s and Jim’s jaws nearly dropped to the conference table as Don strode into their meeting with Philip Morris. The man who penned the kiss-off to the tobacco industry was sure to be canned if SC&P could land the big cigarette fish. Don did what he does best: he turned his liability into an asset.

After all, working with Lucky Strike gave Don years of tobacco ad-writing experience and an understanding of the competition. Don isn’t dead weight but exactly what Philip Morris needs on their team. Jim and Lou try to tell Don his play won’t save him, but they don’t seem so sure of themselves, and the confident Mr. Draper, whistling for a cab of his own, knows he has won the day.

The reestablishment of Don Draper has begun. He got some wife-sanctioned strange, had a little to drink at her party, and hit the ground running back in Manhattan. It may not be rock-solid footing, but Don seems to be on a gradual journey to stability.

Oh yeah, and something happened with Betty. I guess she thinks she has a mind of her own? Yawn.

This episode was the most brilliant in quite some time. I am eagerly looking forward to reading everyone else’s impressions. Scout’s honor!