Mad Men Watch: The Suitcase

“She was the only person who really knew me.” “That’s not true.”

It takes a standout performance to reverse expectations, and on this week’s episode of Mad Men, Jon Hamm’s portrayal of down-and-out Don Draper did just that. After last week’s careless bender, mustering sympathy for Don seemed inconceivable- but as the Creative Director wept openly in front of his lead copywriter and protégé Peggy Olsen, sympathy was the least of sentiments that came about.

Striking out with their Joe Namath-themed pitch for Samsonite, the creative team goes back to the drawing board-- the boys somewhat neglectfully so, leaving birthday girl Peggy to carry the weight, as per usual. When she cites Dr. Faye as an inspiration for the pitch, Don chastises her willingness to fail. No one likes to hear that, birthday or no. The rest of the office is abuzz with the impending fight between Cassius Clay (later Muhammad Ali) and Sonny Liston, to which they all have tickets. Meanwhile, Don remains anxious to get away from the office underlings, the “kids” as he calls them, and Peggy receives some correspondence from an old friend.

Yes, after a brief appearance from Duck Phillips last week, the smarmy drunk and dog-hater (we miss you, Chauncey) has returned, this time sending Peggy flowers and business cards for his hopeful joint venture, a female-centric agency with Peggy in Don’s director’s chair. He baits the hook over the phone, claiming that Tampax are interested in his services, but as time goes on, it becomes clear through the clinking glass that he’s three sheets to the wind, and unemployed to boot. He pleads to see her, claiming she’s the last thing that made him feel good, but she blows it off, keeping her dinner plans with her awkward boyfriend Mark.

Don gets an urgent call from Anna’s free-spirited niece Stephanie; one that we can only assume will not end with good news. He’s reluctant to return said call, obviously not anxious to receive word of her potential passing, thus losing Anna for good. After receiving a bit of sage wisdom from a suddenly very pregnant Trudy Campbell--"26 is still very young"-- Peggy attempts to grasp that young, eager-to-marry woman that she hopes is inside of her, and sets to head out to her birthday dinner. Don, attempting even more to put off making that call to the West Coast, catches Peggy on her way out, demanding a run through of new Samsonite creative. It’s still not to his liking, and she finally airs her frustrations after he shouts at her for lack of work and unwillingness to stay all evening. She caves, opting to stay a few minutes and alerting Mark, who in a surprise has invited all of Peggy’s family to their supposedly intimate dinner.

After over an hour of banter, and three awkward restaurant calls to the distressed and anxious diners, Peggy finally snaps, telling Don that it’s her birthday, and she did in fact have plans. Unfortunately, it’s been too much for Mark, who’s tired of playing second fiddle to both her career and the man behind it, and their relationship ends with the swift click of the dial tone. While her breakup is mildly unfortunate (really, was Peggy going to marry the pubescent-looking lad who was naive enough to think he took her virginity?) it gives her the push she needs to finally confront Don about the lack of credit she received for her input on the Glo-Coat ad. Sure, he says, she offered ideas, but hers was one out of many, and he altered it to make it more “commercial.” All ideas, he claims, are intellectual property of the agency, and at the point in her career that she’s embarking on, it’s ridiculous to count ideas and expect thanks when she has so many more opportunities to excel and grow. It’s he who is facing his irrelevance more and more, and cherishing the recognition that comes, as though it may be the last of his glory days as SCDP’s golden boy. He lashes out--perhaps too harshly--at Peggy, because of his expectations of her, and she breaks down.

She quickly wipes her tears, retreating to her office for work, when Don makes a discovery--Roger’s book, in excerpts on dictation tapes. He attempts to lighten it up, and even probes some chit-chat, and personal information. He makes amends, taking her to dinner at dumpy diner with bright lights and vinyl booths. They ponder creative decisions, most importantly the fine line between good and bad--one they both have trouble navigating, her professionally, and he personally. Sharing the stories of each witnessing their fathers’ deaths, it becomes clear that these two are more alike than anyone in the office, perhaps better off as lone wolves. She wallows in what she feels is her unattractiveness, and confronts the idea that she feels somewhat left out for never being the object of Don’s desire. Finally, and for the first time since they shared that intimate moment as Don was her sole non-family hospital visitor, they engage in a brief moment of tenderness over Peggy’s gone-but-not-forgotten child, the surrounding incident of which marked the end of her innocence, and the beginning of her transition into Don’s go-to gal.

In a Roger Sterling moment, Don, drunk and over-exerted from the stairs, vomits violently, rushed to the bathroom by Peggy. They aren’t alone, despite the late hour, as a heavily intoxicated Duck is wandering the halls, fully prepared to defecate in Sterling’s office, which he confuses for Don’s. He foolishly mistakes Don’s presence as proof of an intimate relationship, and calls Peggy hurtful names--earning him a brawl on the conference room floor. Don, battered but not broken, asks for a drink, to which Peggy, perhaps the only person who can legitimately ask him, wonders how long he can go on like this, in his downward spiral. It’s not a problem, he says, he just has to make a call, one he’s not looking forward to. He lays his head down tenderly, and she lets him sleep on her lap, as though he were a child. In his haze, he sees a vision of Anna with a suitcase- and in the morning, he calls Stephanie, to receive the news that indeed, Anna has passed on. His genuine tears pull at the heartstrings, as we know that he’s lost most likely the most important woman in his whole life. They pick themselves up, and as the episode closes, Don, in a moment of clarity, requests that his office door remains open, perhaps to avoid committing the dark deeds he does when the door is closed.

What did you think? Next week’s scenes indicate a bit of a conflict between Joan and Joey--and his little quip about being a janitor didn’t seem to help matters. Also, if Jon Hamm and Elisabeth Moss aren’t at least in high contention next year, come Emmy season, it’s a travesty.