As a young child,
my late father would reenact a radio skit known as The
Shadow for my sister Carol and me, often at bedtime. We both pretended
to be scared as his voice dropped a few octaves and he sinisterly intoned ..."Only
the Shadow knows"! For reasons that are hard to pin down, I had a
restless sense of shadowy
foreboding while taking in the latest MadMen installment approximately six days
prior. Also, I can never blog with any authentic
gravitas (i.e., about a recent episode) until a requisite
amount of time has passed. I kind of like things to coalescence a bit; in other
words, to "gel" sufficiently prior to formally penning my very personal
after-thoughts. So here it goes:
Where do I even
begin? My inner wisdom firstly settles on Mimi Rogers' character "Pima". {For those who didn't
initially recognize this veteran actress, I surely did: her first cousin is a
Neuroradiologist under whom I trained at HFH. Actually I knew Eric when Mimi
was still Mrs. Tom Cruise!}. Now the name Pima sounds like puma... which makes me
think of cougars. And this cougar-gal metaphorically dug her lady-claws into
Stanley, didn't she? Stan Rizzo may have had a
creative block going on "upstairs", but definitely not [so]
"downstairs". Moreover, Stan
thought he scored BIG in more ways than one, but he was a less nimble dance
partner in that dark-room hustle than he ever imagined.
And then there's
Diana. I keep looking for a phi beta kappa key dangling around her neck to
suddenly emerge, the perfect juxtaposition to her tawdry waitress ensemble. She
obviously represents a combination of opposite sentiments. In Roman mythology, Diana (meaning "heavenly" or "divine") was equated with the Greek goddess Artemis. In last
Sunday's episode I initially saw her as a subdued Illuminatrix, a Magdalene in
search of a Jesus Christ to anoint with spikenard. Her reference to her
daughters also evoked a Sophie's choice reaction, as well. Yet, she was so
detached at times that it was as if she were dissociating...which also had me
seriously wondering if she suffers from BPD.
The latter would
make sense because I intuit that there
is a steely but maudlin "intent" coupled to her robotic affect, one associated with what can
only be described as abject nihilism tinged with jaded masochism. You could
read it in those far away eyes of hers, "You can't hurt me, no one can
hurt me, because I've already experienced the worst that life has to offer...
Don't think you'll really get to know me, either, because I won't let you and I
don't need you". The problem is, Don is on her level in one sense (i.e.,
they're both like proverbial rolling stones who've not garnered a thick enough layer of moss), but in another
way he remains totally mind-blind to her darkest angst and sordid sense
of destiny. She is NOT Nietzsche's uber-man and doesn't wish to be so...
Don is
not so sure; his wife has cast him as an "aging, sloppy liar", the very antithesis of esteemed Nietzschean dreams.
It's his obstinate vulnerability in assuming
that everyone thinks the same way he does that the preternaturally discerning
Diana might also subliminally wrestle with. The problem is, his
detectable "just always simmering below the surface, even when he acts
nice" narcissism mentally horrifies her, for it could lead to the very
abandonment she truly fears far more than even death itself. In her exceptionally stark reality ... she has already dined with death, plastic utensils and
all.
O.K., let's talk 'Harry Crane'. Harry is a blend of
Big Bang Theory super nerd-dom and Jack
the Ripper. Two seasons prior, he squirmed awkwardly in the Draper living room [in a feathery boa, no less] while flirty chanteuse, Megan Draper, teasingly executed a bump and grind recital to the coquettish strains
of Zou Bisou Bisou. Since she
unintentionally overheard his "blue" comments the very next day in
the little coffee room at SCDP, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z47MfkSHX44 and vows to despise him for all eternity, I was somewhat taken
aback that she would put together a career-themed meeting with HIM (of
all people) under any
condition! Hence, one deduces that a woman's scorn can somehow thaw into an act
of clemency when desperate circumstances
arise. But Harry just can't help himself! He makes a predictable slime-ball
move on her and then has to cover his tacky tracks in case she reports back to
her soon-to-be ex-husband. Harry actually tells Don that she's 'unstable'.
Naturally, this must stir up a whirlwind of complex emotions in the multifarious
heart of Don Draper. Roger Sterling likens her to his own ex, Jane, "a
consumer". On the one hand, Don is sad to see Megan walk away and would
likely wish to punish her financially. However...this is also his chance to be
the knight in shining armor. If he can't completely fix his own life, perhaps
he can provide a measure of bonhomie toward hers. Money solves everything,
doesn't it? Isn't that what this whole existential rat-race is really truly about? Money buys
happiness!... [But for whom?]
Lastly, Marie Calvet and Megan's comely sister,
Marie-France: Mrs. Calvet lives through Megan. When Megan is up, she's up; when
Megan is down, she's down; and when Megan appears destroyed, SHE'S DESTROYED!
Yet, Marie cannot afford to be
destroyed!! Life has already s*** all over her via her loveless marriage to Emile. She's
still beautiful, well in a way...or at least she imagines herself so. Megan (i.e., well actually Marie) must have ALL
the furniture in the Draper home as part
of the divorce settlement...that would make Megan (i.e., Marie) so very happy,
don't you see? And to get someone else
to pay for the handling and hauling is the quintessential cherry on top. Marie
gets to take advantage of someone; isn't that endearing? Gaul can truly be
divided into three parts with the Calvet gals: Marie represents covetous
sociopathy; Megan's sister, Marie-France, the hypocrisy of religiosity; and
Megan, the lucky babe who garnered a cool million without ever really asking.
Marie thinks she won the battle; Hah! , it was purely a pyrrhic victory. When Megan meets up with Marie-France in the
final minutes of this episode, she
sports a freshly minted nonchalance that must have her middling convent-school
bred sister completely baffled. Who cares that Mama has run off and left
Father? C'est la vie! Dysfunction sounds so very charming
in the Gallic tongue, but the gaping
abyss we dare not peer into widens with each fiery outburst. Though little does
the sanctimonious sibling realize, Megan can fiddle (or croon) all
she wants right now even while Rome (or New York, for
that matter) is engulfed in
flammable liquid... hell, she can even do it to the tune of Zou Bisou... she's
a millionaire (and this is still
1969!) .
But somehow I feel a chill coming on... Megan, don't
go back to the Hollywood canyons, particularly should this be the beginning of August!
There's something shadowy in them there hills!!!
[Pssssssst... and we hear his
name is Manson]
[all content written by L.P.-G.] 4/2015
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