‘Mad Men’ Recap: “Time,” “Life,” and the End of an Era
“You have died and gone to advertising heaven,” says Jim Hobart of ad giant McCann, as the agency prepares to dissolve Sterling Cooper & Partners. The agency has 30 days notice, and the lives of its employees are flashing before their eyes.
What appeared to be a clerical error paying the lease was no mistake: McCann gave 30 days notice on SC&P’s space in the Time Life Building. They’re not just losing their office, they’re losing the agency, which will be absorbed into McCann at the end of the month. The partners are panicked and furious — except Ted the “sheep,” who seems pretty pleased — but with four years remaining on their contracts and a non-compete clause, they’re hamstrung. For Don, living out the month in his still-bare apartment, one more piece of his identity is on notice.
But Lou Avery saves the day (doesn’t he always?). Our smug friend got his big break and is moving to Tokyo to turn Scout’s Honor into a cartoon. His nasty, “Sayonara, my friend. Enjoy the rest of your miserable life,” gives Don an idea: Lou’s departure means the California offices are available. Don, as always, attempts to architect a Hail Mary to save the agency: keep the name alive with an SC&P West office that services the accounts McCann would drop due to conflict of interest. Seems like a win-win for everyone: SC&P saves its identity, McCann saves the rental fees, and they both keep millions of dollars in billings. The partners resolve to pitch the idea to McCann the next day, and challenge themselves to secure promises from three big accounts to prove the plan’s worthiness.
Meanwhile, Peggy is confronted with her own past through a day filled with kids, just about the same age that her son would be, auditioning for a commercial. Every time she’s told how horrible she is with them, she crumples just a little more. It’s only made worse that Stan’s natural way with kids puts her awkwardness in sharp relief. Her day gets even worse when Pete, moved by seeing Peggy with a child clinging to her, calls her into his office to tell her about the McCann deal (you know, the one he just promised to keep secret). With everything left unsaid, the scene recalls the moving “I had your baby, and I gave it away” conversation at the end of Season 2 — the last time anyone spoke of this.
Worried about her future, Peggy meets secretly with a head hunter. The good news is that she’s highly sought-after — her lack of a college degree in an Ivy-League world makes her even more desirable. But the bad news is that the one who wants her most, and is the best opportunity, is McCann. It’s the one option she doesn’t want. (If Peggy truly is modeled after Mary Wells Lawrence, the first powerful woman advertising executive, who made her name at McCann, a move there would support the theory even more.)
Pete’s having some family troubles of his own. Trudy is frantic because their daughter Tammy wasn’t accepted to a prestigious preschool. She thinks it’s because they’re divorced, but it’s not that. Nor is it Tammy’s poor performance on the “draw a man” test or even, as Headmaster MacDonald suggested, Trudy’s presumptuousness in only applying to one school. It’s because the headmaster holds a 300-year grudge against the Campbell family for the Massacre of Glencoe in Scotland in 1692 (talk about a guy who can’t let go of the past!). Combover flying, Pete punches the guy for his stupidity and storms out.
As the partners secure accounts in preparation for the McCann meeting, Pete and Roger confront their biggest obstacle to success: Ken. As promised, Ken is absurdly difficult to please and gets extreme pleasure messing with Pete. Now that they need him to bring his business to SC&P West to save the firm, Ken realizes his full ambition, giving them a big, decisive, glorious “no.” Not even Don can save this one. Yet Pete’s scuffle with Headmaster MacDonald inspires him to get a promise from Secor Laxatives as a last-minute replacement. With the three secured accounts and a cringe-worthy laxative pun in tow, the partners head to the McCann meeting convinced that they will once again snatch the agency from certain death.
At the meeting, Don gives The Full Draper to McCann, but the magic is gone. Don’s pitch about the wonders of California is oddly insincere and plastic, and Jim at McCann shuts him down before he really begins. “It’s done. You passed the test….Stop struggling — you won.” To Hobart, the benefits are so good he doesn’t see a reason for resistance, and his sales pitch is more realistic, even much more inspiring, than Don’s. The partners get the accounts of their dreams, Wizard of Oz-style: a car for Roger, a pharmaceutical for Ted, Nabisco for Pete, and the mother of all accounts, Coca-Cola, for Don. (This is a big deal: McCann debuted Coke’s “It’s the real thing” slogan in 1970, followed by the iconic “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing” campaign a year later.) The only one who didn’t get a promise of greatness was Joan, who believes she’ll never be respected considering the boorish behavior from the McCann guys during the Topaz campaign.
The partners (except happy, sheepy, Ted) drown their sorrows at a dive bar, shell-shocked. Most shocked is Roger, trying to process the reality that there’s “no more Sterling Cooper, and no more Sterlings” after him. Yet as each partner leaves for the night, they move towards futures that have more to them than just work: Joan to Richard, the recently-divorced Ted to a college sweetheart, and even Roger… to Marie Calvet. Roger finally confesses the relationship to Don, who once again reluctantly accepts the situation and his own powerlessness, just as he was forced to do with McCann: “I surrender. I’m happy for you.”
And Don? With all the trappings of his former life officially on notice, he goes searching for the one thing that gives him hope: Diana. She’s still out there, still calling him, but not wanting him to know. Yet she moved and left no forwarding address.
A day surrounded by children takes its toll on Peggy, culminating in a fight with a mother whose daughter injured herself under Peggy’s watch. The mother’s angry retort, “You do what you want with your children, I do what I want with mine,” sends Peggy over the edge. After picking a fight with Stan about a woman’s choices, her agitation gets the best of her. She comes out with her own secret, her sadness, and her frustration over the double standards that burdened (and still burden) women: “No one should have to make a mistake and not be able to move on. She should be able to live the rest of her life just like a man does.” Stan immediately drops his sexist pig front and is understanding and caring, asking her what she had to do and where the boy is now. “I don’t know because you’re not supposed to know, or you can’t go on with your life,” she says. But is Peggy really going on with her life? Shocked by her own confession, Peggy withdraws from Stan and tunnel-visions back into her work, leaving him bewildered and alone (accompanied by the disappointed sighs of a million Stan/Peggy shippers).
The next day, Stan calls Peggy from his office, drunk. Peggy tells him she’s going to McCann, and he can come too if he wants. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she says, and in a sweet callback to Peggy’s days at CGC, they silently stay on the phone with each other while they work. Maybe the shippers have some hope after all?
Rumors are flying around the SC&P office and Meredith (who seems to have gotten a brain transplant since last year) confronts Don about making an official announcement to staff. Roles are switched as the partners announce the move with the same optimism McCann announced it to them. And like them, the powerless staff is angry and suspicious. Don tries in vain to tell them it’s the beginning of something, not the end. But the din of the crowd becomes louder and louder, and no one’s buying what Don has to sell. Once again, he is left alone with himself and his growing inability to be the impenetrable Don Draper.
As we head into the final three episodes, Don has finally lost everything: his marriage, his agency, his apartment, and the most important thing of all: his ability to sell hope. But will finally surrendering to reality bring about a change for the better?
What did you think about “Time & Life?” Tell us in the comments!
