Israel is for Lovers

In the fifth episode of Mad Men, Babylon, Don tries to figure out the Jews, Slattery plays around with the hottest redhead in the office, and Peggy impresses some important people.

Previously on Mad Men: Don kissed Rachel Menken, the Jewish department store princess, met Adam, the incessantly earnest long lost brother, and fought with Midge, the TV-receiving, wig-wearing mistress.

At the Draper home, Don is smoking and making breakfast. He carries a tray of food (with a flower and the comics section, so you can guess it’s for Betty) up the stairs, but then steps on a toy and falls, dropping the tray. Suddenly, in the dining room, there’s a bunch of old people dressed in 40’s-style clothing. One man turns to Don, lying on his back on the floor, and says, “Dick Whitman, you watch where you’re going. You’re going to break your neck.” Don stares in confusion, and the old man asks, “You going to cry or get up?” And then Don is replaced by a skinny boy in short pants and a bad bowl cut, about 10 years old. Child Dick tells “Uncle Mac” that he’s getting up, and goes into the dining room to meet baby Adam. The mom tells Dick, “The Lord have given us a blessing. You have a new brother.” Dick says, with a bit of a southern accent, “He ain’t my brother.” Uncle Mac says that they have the same father, and the mom looks lovingly at her baby as she says that she named him Adam, after the first man. Dick (who is really not a cute child) looks behind him to see Don, still lying on his back by the stairs.

The fantasy/flashback is interrupted by the kids and Betty, coming to see what the noise was. As Betty runs down the stairs to see if he’s all right, Don shrugs and wishes her a happy mother’s day. Later, Don and Betty carry their two sleeping kids inside, with Sally still clutching a balloon. The camera follows the balloon as the parents bring the kids to their bedroom, and I’m trying to figure out what this balloon symbolizes—childhood innocence? Sally’s hopefully intact virginity? Anyway, in his own bed, Don is reading Rona Jaffe’s book The Best of Everything, which is (as far as I can gather from Amazon), a semi-trashy book about four young women and their adventures in 1950’s Manhattan. He tells Betty that the book is “fascinating,” and dirtier than the film version (which starred Joan Crawford!). Betty rags on Joan Crawford’s eyebrows, and Don notes that “all men like Joan Crawford. Salvatore couldn’t stop talking about her.” And no one else has figured out that Sal’s gay? Betty says that she doesn’t want to get old like Joan Crawford, but instead “just disappear at that point.” Don reassures her that “at the first sign of crow’s feet, I’ll put you on an ice floe.” How romantic! Betty says that her mother was “still very fetching” before she died, and Don stops her and says, “No, no melancholy.” Yeah, mourning for your dead mother is so unsexy. Betty attempts to stand up for herself and says, “I’m allowed to be sentimental on Mother’s Day,” but Don says that it’s Betty’s Mother’s Day, not her mom’s. Betty insists that she’s remembering her mother in a positive way, and mentions that Dr. Wayne, her therapist, recommended a book on the mourning process. Don acts dismissive about Betty’s therapy, and tells her that “mourning is just extended self-pity.” He launches into a description of the mourning process of pygmies, and then manages to segue into putting the moves on Betty. Never let it be said that Don Draper is not a smooth one. They banter cutely about “reproductive studies,” and while Betty got an A, Don says that he flunked the whole thing. “Well, that’s because you got caught cheating,” she says, and Don wonders if he’s finally been busted. But no, Betty’s just joking, and Don turns off the light… Don’s ready for business, but Betty wants to share her feelings some more. She tells him that being with him is all she thinks about; everything she does during the day “is in a kind of fog because I can’t stop thinking about this. I want you, so badly.” You think that if she’s really as horny as she claims, she’d be doing a little less monologuing. “You have me,” Don tells her.

The next day at Sterling Cooper, Don has a meeting with Nick from Olympic Cruise Lines, Yuri from the Israeli Ministry of Tourism, and Lily Meyer. They’re looking to promote new cruises to the Israeli Riviera—“a land of exotic luxury.” Lily tells them that they were going to try another agency down the street, but some of their ideas “were a little kitsch. We thought we’d try a traditional way as well.” Don says that Sterling Cooper doesn’t like to think of itself as traditional, and Yuri corrects that they’re looking for glamour. Lily says that there’s always been a love affair between the US and Israel, and “we’d like to bring the two parties together.”

After the meeting, Slattery meets his wife and daughter, Margaret, in the office. They stopped by on the way to get Margaret a haircut; Slattery tells her that he likes how her ponytail makes her look young, and she brats back, “I like your hair, Daddy, it makes you look old.” Mrs. Slattery says they need to find the right hair salon, so Slattery asks his secretary, Ginger for a recommendation: “Oh, I cut my own hair.” Ginger is totally the Dwight Schrute of this office. Don and Joan come walking up, and Margaret snaps to attention at the sight of dreamy Don. Joan says that she knows just the place to get Margaret’s hair cut, and the women swoop away.

Later, in a bedroom, we see Slattery saying, “A haircut is the least of Margaret’s problems. She’s dated what, two boys? One of them joined the service and the other one committed suicide.” He continues whining that she doesn’t want to do anything, so she’s useless: “I don’t know what we did wrong.” The camera cuts away to the bathroom to show not Slattery’s wife but… Joan, putting her dress on. She tells Slattery that he’s being too hard on his daughter, and that both Slattery and Margaret are spoiled. She walks over to him to get help zipping up her dress, and he tries to convince her to come back to bed instead of going back to work. Joan points out that the boss can play hooky, but she can’t. Slattery is wearing boxer shorts and knee high black socks with those weird knee suspender things that keep socks up—and somehow, he’s still sort of sexy. He tries to convince her to stay and eat some of the room service they ordered: “Oysters Rockefeller, Beef Wellington, Napoleon—we leave this lunch alone it’ll take over Europe.” Joan says that eating food so close to bed reminds her of a hospital, and Slattery suggests that, if she had an apartment, they could go there and she could cook for them. “Don’t you like things the way they are?” she says, and he agrees that this has been the best year of his life. “Do you have any idea of how unhappy I was before I met you?” he says. He says he’s tired of sneaking around, and she tells him, “I know that the sneaking around is your favorite part.” He says, while groping her amazing rack, that he has a lot of favorite parts. “I’d like to get you in little fourth floor walk-up somewhere, with no doors or windows, and lock you up for a week.” Does Slattery have some sort of Rapunzel fetish? She says that she likes hotels, a week is a considerable length of time, and she has her own life. She has her roommate, Carol, and all their gentleman friends. Slattery asks, “So you think it’d be lonely?” “I think it’d be half as much fun alone,” she replies. “You can get a bird!” he says, which is the least sexy suggestion any man has ever made. Joan just wants to enjoy what they have for now, since she’ll eventually find “a more permanent situation, and you’ll find a new model.” Slattery tells her, “Whatever you want, Red.”

In a far less fun room, Don is looking at photos from the Holocaust. Pete, Salvatore and Paul are there too, brainstorming how to convince travelers to visit Israel. Don suggests it would help if “they stop blowing up hotels,” and Pete wants to try and exploit the danger. Pete calls the kibbutz’s and communes “positively Soviet,” but the others point out how popular the book Exodus is with white bread America. Don sums up: “We have a quasi-communist state, where women have guns, and it’s filled with Jews.” Salvatore lays down a magazine cover of woman who looks like a Jewish Sophia Loren, and points out that the people are good looking, at least. “The Jews there don’t look like the Jews here. Have you been to the diamond district?” Don dismisses the other three from his office, and calls the hottest Jew this side of the Red Sea: Rachel Menken. He asks if they can get together, but she won’t agree until he assures her that it’s both business and important. Rachel shoots down his proposal of drinks in favor of lunch at some tea room, so Don knows that there’ll be no hanky panky.

At the Draper home, Don is reading Exodus in bed while Betty gets into her pajamas. She mentions that the first boy she ever kissed was Jewish: her friend had a friend, “Beth Gold…silver, something,” who invited them to a mixer at her synagogue, and Betty danced with a handsome Jewish boy. She tells Don how Beth told everyone on the school bus that she was “necking with David Rosenberg… the looks they gave me.” Don looks at his wife as if realizing for the first time that she might have some sort of interior life beyond him. She leans in to start necking with her husband, but Don tells her it’s too hot for that. Don’s wearing a full length flannel pajama suit, by the way.

The next day, Salvatore and Malfoy go into some guy named Fred’s office; Fred has a big bottle of vodka on his desk and is making a screwdriver. Salvatore shows him the previous ads for a cosmetics company called Belle Jolie, who make hundreds of colors of lipstick but have poor sales. Salvatore makes fun of the lipstick names: “Passionflower peach, tropical boudoir red, Ethel Rosenberg red…” Fred laughs, “Yeah, ‘wear it to the chair.’” Malfoy quotes a little bit of the research, but Fred says he’s stumped, because he doesn’t “speak moron. Do either of you speak moron?” The other two men shake their heads, so Fred gestures out to the office and says, “Let’s throw it to the chickens.”

Joan leads the ladies of the office, giggling and excited, into a room set up with rows of makeup mirrors. She locks them in the room (creepy!) and announces that “Belle Jolie wants us to tell them what we think about their new line of lipsticks!” which is sort of a lie. Belle Jolie doesn’t care what they think; the men of the office just want to gawk at pretty women instead of doing their work. And indeed, on the other side of a two-way mirror, the Mad Boys are fixing themselves drinks and agreeing that this is better than “X-ray specs.” Back among the women, Joan assures them that brainstorming is not as difficult as it sounds, and there are no wrong answers. As she unpacks a big box of lipsticks, all the women gasp and start grabbing for a tube—except Peggy, who’s a little more hesitant. Salvatore stands by the two-way mirror and criticizes the women’s taste, clothing, and wigs. Seriously, does Salvatore have to wear a leather vest to work before they figure out his sexual orientation? But I guess his lack of respect for women (because he isn’t sexually interested) isn’t far off from every other man’s lack of respect (because they don’t have any interest beyond sex). Paul asks if anyone minds if he takes off his pants.

A stern older woman (the same German woman from the pilot who told Don about the death drive, maybe?) asks the ladies questions like, “How many lipsticks do you own?” and “Do you match your lipstick to your clothing or accessories?” Joan, standing supportively behind her, says, “I know, this seems like a loaded question.” In the men’s room, Slattery enters and pours himself a cup of… cream? Yikes. Joan has some sort of radar for when her lover has entered the room, and very deliberately turns her back to the mirror and bends over a table, giving the men a full view of her (sort of spectacular) ass. Led by Malfoy, all the men stand and salute Joan’s hotness—except Slattery, in the back, who wants to be the only one to objectify Joan. Paul points to Peggy, who isn’t as enthusiastic about trying on lipsticks as everyone else. She watches the other women happily play with the makeup, particularly one woman who is using a tissue to blot her lipstick.

Over at the tea room, a giant cart of scones is wheeled by Don. Oh man, now I really want some scones. Rachel Menken arrives and is obviously determined not to get sucked into Don’s charisma whirlpool. She wants to talk business, and Don wants to tell her how beautiful she looks. Don asks for her help with the cruise to Israel thing. “So I’m the only Jew you know in New York City?” she asks. “You’re my favorite,” he replies, making her laugh awkwardly and look away. He brings up Exodus (Exodus is totally the Reader’s Digest of this episode) and spills some of his drink down his shirt. Rachel softens and leans forward to help clean his tie. “You’re usually so put together,” she says softly. Rachel tells him she’s not an expert on Israel, and Don tells her, “I just want to know something about it that doesn’t come from some Ministry of Propaganda.” She says that she’s really not very Jewish, and if her name was Marilyn instead of Rachel no one would know the difference. “What is the difference?” Don asks. She tells him, “Jews have lived in exile for a long time. First in Babylon [we have an episode title!], then all over the world… and we’ve managed to make a go of it.” She says that Jews happen to be great at doing business with people who hate them, and Don earnestly tells her he doesn’t hate her. She shrugs and continues: “A country for… those people, as you call us, it seems very important.” He asks why she isn’t living there, and Rachel replies that she’ll visit, but her life is here. “For me it’s more of an idea than a place.” “Utopia,” Don says, and reaches out to hold her hand. After a long second, Rachel pulls her hand back and says that at Barnard she learned that the Greeks has two meanings for utopia: the good place, and the place that cannot be.

Back at Sterling Cooper, Joan dismisses the women and thanks them for their cooperation. Fred says that now they have to count how many shades the women tried, and asks Peggy to bring him the trash can full of tissues the women used to blot their lips. She does, and calls the can a “basket of kisses.” Fred is tickled by this turn of phrase, and wonders where she heard that. She says she just thought it up, and Fred is shocked that a woman could have an original idea. He asks which lipsticks she liked, and Peggy tells him how one of the other women took her color, and she didn’t try another because she’s very particular. Fred asks, “As opposed to the other girls?” and Peggy, seeing Joan watching the exchange, says, “I don’t think any girl wants to be one of a hundred colors in a box.” Joan heads over and tells Peggy to stop complaining and get back to work.

In his office, Don tells Peggy over the intercom to cancel his afternoon appointments, and starts packing up his briefcase as Fred and Salvatore walk in. Fred mentions that “pretty Peggy Sue” is full of surprises, and Don is like, “Her?” He says he tries to “avoid eye contact in order to avoid being blinded by the earnestness.” Fred praises her “basket of kisses” line, and that hearing her speak intelligently was “like watching a dog play the piano.” Oh, Mad Men, the day you stop having the most misogynistic characters on television is the day we stop loving you.

After the break, Rachel is talking on the phone to her sister, Barbra, and says, “I think I might have met somebody,” but he “has some serious limitations.” Let’s see, what are Don’s limitations: married with kids, secret brother, fake name, futzy pajamas… yes, those are serious limitations indeed. Rachel continues that he’s not Jewish, so Daddy would hate him. Barbra points out that Rachel is 28 and works 60 hours a week, so it doesn’t matter what Daddy thinks. Rachel admits that she wants him, and wants to ignore all his flaws. Barbra tells her that it’s 1960, “we can marry for love!” Rachel is cynical about that idea, because there isn’t a future in loving Don. Barbra tells her to forget the wedding and be a modern woman. I don’t know if I want Rachel to get involved with Don; I like her, and I think the two have way better chemistry than Don and Midge, but I like the Rachel that’s independent and principled and strong. I don’t want to see her get tossed around by Don.

Back at the office, Peggy is filing when Joan comes by to tell her that Fred “wants you to put your industrious little mind to work coming up with copy for Belle Jolie lipsticks.” Peggy doesn’t get it, but is excited for the opportunity even if it means more work and no raise. She asks Joan if she should go thank them, and Joan says, “No need. They wanted me to tell you. They were very specific about it.” Peggy understands that by sending Joan they’re telling her that she’s still just a lady secretary, not a copywriter like the other men. Like Joan says, gesturing to herself, “the medium is the message.”

After work, Don heads over to surprise Midge at her apartment. Midge answers the door in her underwear, probably just to annoy me. They start necking when there’s a knock on the door—it’s Roy, who we can tell is a beatnik because he has facial hair and wears a vest. He says that one of their friends is playing jazz at a club tonight, and she should come, “that is, if Dad will let you out.” Midge tells Don it’ll be fun, but Don demurs that he’s going to stay there. Midge whispers to him, “I’ll wear a skirt, and nothing else,” and Don is in.

Joan walks into a hotel where Slattery is waiting and drinking. She tells him how one of the media buyers ambushed her in the elevator, wanting to take her to the ballet. He says that the men at work “probably couldn’t help themselves, the way you glide around that office like some magnificent ship.” Joan laughs, then sees the birdcage in the corner of the room. “What am I supposed to do with it?” she asks, and Slattery says, “the store lady says you can do anything but put the cage in the radiator.” He tells her that he’s sorry, but he just hates the thought of having to share her. He lifts her up onto the bed and starts kissing her neck as he says that Mona, his wife, is going away to visit her parents for the weekend. The mention of his family, plus the chirping of the bird, compels Joan to push him away until he goes and covers the bird’s cage again. I guess Joan doesn’t want to be reminded of her future if she keeps on as Slattery’s mistress.

At a bar downtown, Midge and Don walk in as some hippie reads wedding announcements or something. Roy is talking about an “artist” who collects miniature replicas of US monuments and then sticks him up his ass. Roy also sits in between Midge and Don, which is going to make her commando situation a lot less exciting for Don. Roy asks what Don does, and proclaims Madison Avenue to be a “gas.” “Perpetuating a lie. How do you sleep at night?” Roy asks, and Don replies, “A bed made of money.” The two sling insults at each other about the soulless nature of advertising, and Roy brags about the theater he’s going to start, which Midge’ll join. Midge demurs that she only said she’d think about it, and the threesome turn their attention to the new performer, who’s talking about a dream she had about having sex with Fidel Castro. After she finishes, the crowd claps and a few people yell, “Take off your shirt!” What is this, Mardi Gras? Or that scene in Forrest Gump when Jenny is playing acoustic guitar in a strip club? The next performer is Midge’s friend, who is, by happy coincidence, singing about Babylon and Zion! A montage starts, and we see Rachel staying late at her department store, Betty putting lipstick on her daughter, Sally, Don getting a little teary-eyed, and Joan getting dressed and taking her bird after her tryst with Slattery (she’s wearing a leopard coat over her bright red dress, and it’s perfection). We see her leave the hotel and wait at the curb for a cab; a few seconds later, Slattery follows and waits for his own cab twenty feet away. The two ignore each other, and the episode ends.