Taking up where I left off last time, Mad Men's last episode finds Don Draper on the road, feeling disconnected, displaced and still running from his past life. He lands at a Northern California crypto New Age style retreat. He goes, dragged by Stephanie, his "niece," in the hopes it will let him open up and come to grips with what is eating at his soul.
I once described Don's journey as a descent down a corkscrew, and in a way the series finale proves the point. But not only does he go down the slide, he goes up it as well, only to slide right back again. He's disappeared before, gone on benders, fallen into deep existential despair, contemplated running away for good, and, at the very least, implicitly considered suicide. He experiences all these things in the last ten minutes of the show, reaching his lowest point when he's found slumped down at a pay phone, paralyzed with grief, by a hippy. But, like Stan Rizzo put it, he always comes back, he's a survivor, and, I would add, is usually better, professionally at least, than before, which our ending seems to indicate will happen yet again.
Don always returns refreshed and ready to do corporate battle, but still labors under the same assumptions. He still believes that just moving forward, forgetting the past, even to the point of total personal reinvention is the answer to life's dilemmas. When Peggy secretly has Pete's baby (one of the more bazar story lines from early on), he tells her to get back to work and live as if it didn't happen. When Lane Pryce gets caught tampering with company funds, Don gives him the chance to resign gracefully so as to avoid being fired. Don lets him know that the toughest part is over: all he has to do now is start over with a clean slate. When Stephanie faces a similar dilemma to Peggy's, he tells her to just keep on moving forward; the farther you get away from the event the easier it gets to forget.
While Peggy does move on and become a successful copywriter, she is still haunted by the decision to give up the baby. She has a series of relationships that fail in part because she wants a life partner, but also wants her job; a balancing act difficult for a woman in any age, but especially in the 1960's. Lane, as a proud Briton, knows that there is no such thing as reinvention where he comes from. He's from an upperclass, prominent family, so going the Mayor of Casterbridge route isn't an option. Besides, he tried living a double life in America and the long arm of British manners stretched across the pond by way of his domineering father to stop him. To return to England under these circumstances isn't an option, so he hangs himself. Stephanie knows that Don has been on a treadmill his whole adult life and basically tells him to stop believing his own line of bull.
This is not to say that Don is unchanged over the course of the series. The Don Draper of the pilot is a nihilistic hedonist living a complete lie, with little or no remorse. He softens somewhat as the seasons move on, but he remains, as his used and discarded secretary Allison proclaims, not a good person. But the Don of more recent vintage does try to make his marriage to Megan work, even after it's clearly not going to. He goes to Joan's apartment to tell her not to debase herself so the company could land the Jaguar account. He mentors Peggy and even tries a hand at fathering his children. He has many flaws still, and numerous failures, but with the big exception of his affair with Sylvia Rosen, his sins are often misguided attempts at setting things right. I'm thinking of his keeping his work situation a secret from Megan, not to hide an affair like she thinks but to give him time to get the job back and act like nothing happened (true to his philosophy of life). Or antagonizing the Jaguar dealer to settle a professional and personal score. For all his progress, any change in his inner life is small, but ironically significant.
Drama is about conflict and change. Mad Men had plenty of conflict, but many questioned if the characters, especially Don, had changed any by the end. I would say that the answer is both yes and no. In the series finale each major character gets their jumping off point to the next phase of their lives. Joan starts her own commercial production company, which costs her romance. Peggy ends up staying at McCann, like her head hunter told her to, but finally finds love with Stan (someone who really understands her). Pete gets back with Trudy and jets off to Wichita for job at Learjet and a second chance marriage. Roger marries Marie Calvet, Megan's mother, presumably cashing out at McCann and living in Montreal. Ted Chaough simply fades into the wood work at the new agency, happy to be just another piece of the furniture. In way, it's not that any of them changed, but that they came to know who they were and what they really wanted. Rather than fighting it, they went with it.
Of course Joan wants love, but she's also come to understand that she's always had a passion for the office. She has talents, experience and business acumen, and wants to take her shot at building something while she has the chance. With Stan's help, Peggy understands that she loves her job but really does want more than just a career. She may not be able to have it all, but she can have what she really wants and needs. Pete is tired of living his father's mistakes simply because he's expected to. Whether he and Trudy will make it work is anyone's guess, but they know that they're better together than apart. Roger wants to experience life, but knows the Dionysian dream of the hippies is a dead end. So he finds an age appropriate partner who's still nuts enough to make life interesting and drops out in style. And Ted, well, he was burnt out being in the lead, and now gets to put it on autopilot, enjoying the perks of the biz while not having to carry so much of the load.
And so what about Don? He has the cathartic moment hearing the voice of his fellow office drone speaking the words of alienation and lovelessness he holds in his own heart at the group session in the commune. The next morning, as he greets the sun, it's more than implied that he's thinking up a new Coke ad campaign during morning meditation, as opposed to finding inner peace and detachment. So Don hasn't changed then; he's the same grasping capitalist swine he always was? Maybe. The real question is, has Don come to accept who he really is: an ad man who loves his job, who's had a difficult life but really did make something out of himself? He's not a great father, but has made progress in that area. Now that Betty is dying can he make further strides? Or will he continue on these spirals up and down the corkscrew slide of self loathing and self destruction? Will he continue to lie to himself, believing that just moving ahead, acting like the past hasn't happened is the answer, when it's cause him and the people around him so much pain?
The world may never come to know the answer to these questions, but it's great debating them.
As for me, there is so much more I could say, and maybe I will (I see I mentioned nothing about Betty or Sally). Maybe next week, though. Then I'll put on my personal feelings to go along with the analysis.
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