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“Sometime we’ve all parked in the wrong garage.”

I’ve always liked John Slattery. The season he played Carol’s cool-guy fiancé on Ed was probably the series best season. He’s been in what seems like a million roles on television, all to a certain extent capitalizing on his uncanny ability to emit a very mild sense of arrogance and entitlement. Mad Men might be the first season to really use the full potential of his talents. As Roger Sterling, the man whose name is on the building, Slattery perfectly encapsulates the “Do you know who I am?” mentality of the 1960s male, corporate elite. So when you have an episode where a character like this is taken down a peg or two, you can’t help but smile. More after the jump…

There were two major story lines at play this week: Don’s passive oneupmanship over Roger; Paul’s desire to return a “chip-n-dip” and in the process getting a crystal clear view of the era’s gender boundaries.

Let’s start with Paul, a character that was originally presented as an arrogant, insufferable, ladder-climbing neophyte, but who over the past three weeks or so has developed into one of the most conflicted characters in the series. Of everyone at Sterling-Cooper Paul is the one person who could be the most easily swayed by the coming counter culture. Right now, he simply wants to fit in despite not entirely understanding what that means. He wants to be one of the guys (drinking, womanizing, working) but he also wants to be a good husband which in this case meant taking back a wedding gift (a “chip-n-dip” — y’know, you put chips on the sides and dip in the middle!) during his lunch break instead of getting liquored up with his co-workers.

Ultimately, he realizes that this is an unglamorous duty for which to volunteer. He has to wait in a line full of women and then isn’t able to convert his return to cash using whatever charm he seems to think he possesses. Insult is added to injury when he runs into an acquaintance at the department store who can’t possibly fathom why a man would want to take time out of his day to return anything (let alone a “chip-n-dip”). In the episodes funniest moment we see Paul back at work holding a brand new rifle which he was able to purchase with the otherwise useless store-credit his wedding-gift granted him without a receipt. It was such a blatant attempt at false masculinity carried to the extreme when he takes the boys out into the secretarial pool in the middle of the office and starts putting them in his sights. That he was later screamed at back at home by his wife might not have been karma those of us watching were expecting, but he certainly came crashing back to earth. I suspect whatever happens to Paul by season’s end (whether it be tragic or comic) will show him as being the one character most affected by his surroundings and most willing to budge.

In an ad meeting earlier in the episode the guys were sitting around trying to figure out how to sell Richard Nixon (their new client) in the coming presidential campaign. The following exchange took place:

Cooper: “Kennedy? He doesn’t even wear a hat!”
Paul: “You know who also doesn’t wear a hat? Elvis. That’s what we’re dealing with.”

Early in the episode Don invited Roger back to his house for a home-cooked dinner. There the two of them along with Betty sat around the table listening to Roger’s old war stories drinking. Drinking a lot. It was a remarkable scene because of how un-television it was. The pacing on Mad Men is slower than just about every other series on television — by design. Characters are given space to breath, to absorb their surrounding. For a lot of the audience this might be a deal-breaker. You really have to be invested in the people on screen to fully give yourself over to a five-minute scene of three characters talking around a dinner table. You have have to want to know what they’re saying, almost like you’re sitting right across from them.

Here Slattery is amazing. He recalls stories from “the war” (that’s the “first war,” which speaks of highly and which he claims superiority to “Don’s war”) which Betty finds fascinating. Two or three bottles of vodka later Don goes to the garage to get some more. Roger then takes this opportunity to hit on Betty. Don returns to see nothing, but knows something has happened. When Roger finally leaves (completely wasted and behind the wheel) Don scolds Betty for being too interested in Roger’s stories and giving him reason to act. Despite blaming the victim, Don clearly resents Roger’s attempt on his wife.

This leads to a brilliant sequence at the episode’s end when Roger and Don hit up The Oyster Bar (The Oyster Bar?) for a lunch of dozens of shellfish and dozens of martinis. As we watch this scene unfold it initially appears like Don and Roger are simply making up, saying “Hey, mistakes were made, we’re better than this, let’s get drunk,” but before long it becomes quite clear that Don is pushing Roger to the limit (the physical limit) to prove to him that he can not only keep up but can surpass him in anything. Here it’s oysters, martinis and cheesecake, but it could very well be the ad-game, women, anything.

When the two return to the building (the building with Roger’s name on it), late for a very important meeting with Nixon’s people, the elevator (amost by the grace of god) is out of order causing these two drunk, shellfish packed men to climb 23 flights of stairs. The higher they ascend the bigger the smile on Don’s face. He isn’t killing Roger, but he might as well be. With each flight he is more empowered and Roger is closer to complete collapse. Don is sent on ahead and arrives to great their clients. A few minutes later Roger stumbles in looking like a complete mess, shakes a few hands, and then promptly throws up all over the office rug.

It was one of those moments that you know is coming, but when it finally does it hits like a punch to the face. Maybe this is because it was one of the most realistic on-screen vomits ever — and there have been some doosies (I’m immediately reminded of Adrianna in The Sopranos sitting in the FBI interrogation room early in season four). Unlike most, where the actor clearly has a mouth full of chunky oatmeal and simply sits it out, here we cut to a wide shot with Roger bent over and a steady stream of alcohol and oysters straying out on the floor. It was pretty disgusting. It was also pretty much perfect.

For anyone who has ever lost his lunch, you know there’s a big difference between what it’s actually like and what it’s often portrayed as in movies and film. It might not be something many people give much thought to, but when it’s done right it really puts you there in the shoes of the sick party. Those are lousy shoes to be in. Mad Men is one of the few series that could pull off a stunt like this and make it resonate. It works because of the slow burn. It’s take us a while to get from point A to point B so when the moment finally comes, it delivers (also see: The Wire). Perhaps slow is the new fast.

Tags: AMC, Mad Men

This entry was posted on Friday, August 31st, 2007 at 1:20 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.