This week’s episode of Mad Men saw one of the era’s darkest days–the day of the Martin Luther King, Jr. assassination.
After these past few weeks of tragedy in a year already filled with tragedies, this episode hit home in ways it most likely didn’t intend to. The news hits, and phone service cuts out. People aren’t sure what to do with themselves, or if it’s safe in the streets. Do we go into work? they ask. Can we turn on the TV? Is it safe to go pick up the kids? Should we chase this story? Maybe it’s just how the world is right now–or maybe that’s how the world has always been–but watching the familiar characters of Mad Men react to Dr. King’s murder felt curiously like looking into a mirror.
This episode is similar to past seasons in how the director chooses to handle major historical events– by bouncing from character to character, showing their individual reactions. (The same model was used to handle the Kennedy assassination back in season one.) This is a different sort of tragedy than Kennedy, however. While JFK had a direct and tangible effect on all of the characters’ lives, the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. could not (and does not) affect each character equally. This being New York City, the race riot crisis in the South and elsewhere is removed enough from these affluent northerners’ lives as to seem irrelevant to the plot. And for the most part, Mad Men has not dealt much with the issue of the civil rights movement. Now, though, there are riots in the streets of New York for the first time. It’s undeniably in their faces.
There isn’t much of an African-American voice on the show, with the exception of Dawn and Peggy’s yet unnamed secretary. However, despite this sparseness, Mad Men has been recognized for painting well-rounded, three-dimensional black characters (as covered in The Quad by Allan Lasser, here). We’ve primarily only seen black characters in positions of labor, but now there are two African-American secretaries working in the same position as Peggy once did. Their reactions are separate and very individual–Peggy’s secretary openly discusses her feelings on the event, accepting a tender hug from Peggy and permission to go home. Meanwhile, Dawn, not unlike Peggy and Don, prefers to work, and awkwardly rebuffs a hug from Joan (hilarious, by the way) and refuses to leave. Of course, the show hasn’t yet fully entered into a discussion of the civil rights movement, and it’s not definite that it will. After all, this is a show about a world of white, upper-middle class advertising executives.
Bobby Draper, who usually engages in typically childish behavior, accidentally breaking things out of curiosity and being berated by his mother, finally receives an extended scene this week. “I didn’t do it” has functioned as his catchphrase through six seasons without much other dialogue. A similar incident occurs this week–Bobby notices that his wallpaper doesn’t line up and rips a piece of it off, earning him a week without TV. After the assassination, Don picks the kids up and takes them into the chaotic city. When Sally and Megan go to the park for a vigil, Don decides to take Bobby on the errand he’s only done alone until now–going to the movies (Planet of the Apes! A buried Manhattan speaks volumes). “Everyone likes to go to a movie when they’re sad,” says Bobby. Don is suddenly seized with emotion. Later, he says to Megan, “One day they get older, and you see them do something, and you feel that feeling you were pretending to have, and it feels like your heart is going to explode.”
We also see a rare, new side of Ginsberg, who’s been something of a mystery since his strange monologue about his traumatic childhood in a concentration camp. His father sets him up without warning on a date with a perfectly adorable school teacher. It is awkward. Ginsberg babbles about never having had sex before, asks random and probing questions, and finally has an outburst of frustration. The date is cut short by the news of the assassination. It’s not clear what this means for Ginsberg’s character arc except to show that he is awkward, anxious, and very much alive (rather than the detached and brilliant oddball in the SCDP offices).
Pete, as per usual, makes the entire tragedy about himself. When Harry makes a crude remark (which seems to be becoming Harry’s job on this show), Pete spits out, “That man had a wife and four children!” even though as recently as last week’s episode, he was the first to bring up the perceived unattractiveness of employing African-American staff. He calls Trudy, begging to come back and be the father figure he knows he isn’t, and is rebuffed. He pours himself a drink and sits in his cold bachelor pad.
Peggy, meanwhile, is all practicality and success, about to buy an apartment on the Upper-East Side wearing her old power color, mustard yellow. Abe has taken a backseat to the operation, and looks as if he’s from another planet than Peggy. They are, indeed, in very different places; Abe admits that he’d rather live somewhere on the West Side. They react very differently to the assassination, as well: Abe rushes into the action and revels in the drama (for which Peggy berates him), and Peggy, after pausing to reflect, goes right back to work.
What the assassination will do to the dynamic of the show is yet uncertain, but one thing continues to be clear: it’s all going south. Megan’s father sadly said it best this episode while on the phone with Megan. He decidedly applauds the “escalation of decay,” a sign that things will certainly continue to darken.
