Watch a clip from Mad Men Season Five, Episode Two: "Tea Leaves."
"When is everything going to get back to normal?"
In recent interviews, Matt Weiner has been sharing this quote, uttered by Roger at the end of Tea Leaves, as a kind of capsule of the entire season. There is no normal to get back to, and as Don said in episode 105, 5G, "I have a life, and it only goes in one direction. Forward." At the moment (late June and early July 1966), forward is a very strange direction indeed, for Don, for Betty, for Roger, for SCDP, and for the United States as a whole.
When forward gets strange, backward looks pretty good. Betty reached out to Don because she knew what she would get: "Say what you always say," she begs, and Don knows exactly what she means. There was a time she hated when he said that; "You don't know that," she answered, but now she reaches out to Don, not because she's in love with him, or threatening his marriage or her own, but because he is familiar, and she knows what he'll say, and she can use that to calm herself. Betty's parents are both dead, the only past that Betty can touch is Don, and it works, she calms down enough to breathe.
The title Tea Leaves suggests the future, and a fortune teller arrives a little before the halfway point to remind us that attempts to predict the future are a fool's game. Mad Men has treated tarot reading quite respectfully in the past, and even uses a tarot card as a production logo. The tea leaf lady doesn't represent a condemnation of the whole idea of divination so much as a demonstration that the belief in a controllable and containable future just doesn't withstand scrutiny.
"Time is on My Side" is the Rolling Stones song everyone’s talking about, and not because it was a big hit in 1966. In fact, the Stones recorded it in '64; if Mad Men simply wanted to reference a current song, why not "Paint It Black," which was released in May of 1966 and was huge. No, the song was selected for its title. Is time on Betty's side? On Roger's? On Megan's? Betty might not have cancer, but there's a kind of awakening to the future, to tea leaves, to the choice to reach forward or back.
It's also not a coincidence that the doctor refers to Betty as "middle-aged." Man, that's got to hurt. Betty is now all of 34, which we wouldn't call middle-aged now, but was not an unreasonable label in 1966. Still, I can't imagine she likes it. She's seething that Megan is 20 (she's 26 but hey, what's six years between enemies?). Youth culture has arrived. Our closing song, "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" (from The Sound of Music), Harry lusting clumsily after young girls, even Megan calling Don "square": it's all about the passage of time. Don's inability to communicate with his mother-in-law (he doesn't speak much French) seems symbolic of the gulf between Megan's youth and Don's age. These old squares can't even tell whether or not they've met the Rolling Stones! (I don't know how much scrutiny a closing song gets, but Hammerstein died of cancer shortly after The Sound of Music opened on Broadway, before it was made an Academy Award-winning film in 1965; that bit of musical trivia sure fits with the contrast of youth and death, which is one a theme of this episode.)
Naturally everyone will want to talk about Betty's weight gain, and naturally, the storyline was written to accommodate January Jones's pregnancy. It's strange that in Season 1, Peggy's story was that she looked fat but was actually pregnant, and now January Jones is pregnant, and Betty looks pregnant but is actually fat. The fourth wall kind of melted for me when I saw Betty, and I had a hard time understanding, for a few minutes, that this was a tale about Betty Francis becoming fat, because instead I was thinking, "Oh, that's how they are dealing with January's pregnancy." I was wondering if Betty was pregnant, instead of seeing the evidence on-screen: From the moment we saw Betty struggling to get into her dress, we saw a story about a woman who had gained unwanted weight. Thinking otherwise comes entirely from reading gossip columns and knowing what's going on behind the scenes. We really undermine ourselves when we suck up all that backstage stuff, because it prevents us from seeing the drama on its own terms.
Anyway. Betty got fat. Again, in interviews following Season 1, Matt Weiner expressed a lot of interest in the way that fat women are treated in our world, and he got to tell some of that story by having Peggy gain weight. In Season 2, we met Betty's friend Sarah Beth, who couldn't string three sentences together without including one about how awful it was that her daughter was fat. The oppressiveness of that ongoing monologue was palpable.
As is Betty's self-hatred. It's one thing to get fat, it's another to decide that your husband can no longer see you naked, and you can no longer go to fancy events unless you fit into your old, glamorous clothes, and you can no longer have an active sex life. One thing I've always loved about Betty is her libido: she may be prim and judgmental, but in the sack she is desirous, playful, and rarin' to go. Betty is denying herself things she loves: going out, showing off her beautiful clothes, making love, being admired. She's doing this because fatness is hateful to her.
I am not a doctor, but it seems to me that even a benign tumor sitting on the thyroid could cause weight gain, so it surprised me that the show played, at the end, with the notion that Betty is fat because she's eating extra ice cream. Maybe that's true, or maybe she's giving herself permission to indulge because she's unable to lose weight even when she starves herself (which is exactly what happens with a thyroid problem). Betty watches every bite she eats, even during pregnancy ("Jesus, Bets, have some oatmeal. That baby’s gonna weigh a pound," Don said in episode 3.09). This is why her silent, private indulgence in a chicken leg (episode 2.13) was so moving and so sensual. If there's a loss of control it's more than just "letting herself go;" Betty is control.
The other major theme of Tea Leaves is appearances. Betty is not just fat, she is deeply concerned with being seen as fat, and she is sure that Henry is incapable of seeing her accurately. Megan is concerned with how she appears to the Heinz people, and awkwardly makes sure they know she didn't sleep with a married man. Harry wants to look cool in front of, well, he's not sure…the girls backstage? Don? The security guard? If only someone would think he's cool, he'd feel better. Meanwhile, he's hiding his eating, which seems like a nod at Betty. Michael Ginsberg is a talented nebbish who wants to appear so obnoxious that he'll be mistaken for bold and exciting. And Peter, as ever, wants everyone to know how important he is. (Note Peter in a black suit, when he usually wears blue or green; he's dressed as the Head of Accounts and he doesn't want anyone to miss it.) Part of what Tea Leaves is about is the show we're all putting on for each other so much of the time.
Some additional thoughts:
In Season 1, Harry advised Pete that looking and flirting were the kinds of pleasures a married man can have. His one infidelity left him remorseful and quick to confess. I don't know if Harry is cheating, but what he's doing is worse, in a way. He's longing. Jennifer can't know what's hit her.
Henry is working for John Lindsay, who was Mayor of New York from 1966 through 1973. He doesn't want the mayor seen with (George) Romney because "Romney's a clown." Ha! I'm allowed to enjoy the cheap shots, aren't I? Mitt's father, George, was governor of Michigan at the time, but I'm sure the writer's room had a nice laugh sticking that in the script.
"Romney's a clown" would be the quote of the week if it weren't for "Someone with a penis."/"I'll work on that." My son came home from work just as Peggy said that, and I was laughing so hard he thought something was wrong.
I think we can give Jon Hamm's directorial debut a thumbs up, don't you?
Deborah Lipp is the co-owner of Basket of Kisses, whose motto is "smart discussion about smart television." She is the author of six books, including "The Ultimate James Bond Fan Book."
Watch Mad Men Moments, a series of videos on Mad Men, produced by Indiewire Press Play.
With the long-awaited premiere to Season Five imminent, Mad Men is on many a person's mind. For the next thirteen weeks, some may revel in a neverland of glamorous mid-60s living fraught with social strife; others may wonder what jaw-dropping, life-changing events await their favorite characters. But for us here at Press Play, it's about the moments. Moments that have us instantly rewinding our DVRs as soon as an episode is over, or poring over blog recaps all Monday long while real work lies unattended. Mad Men has yielded four seasons stuffed with such moments. We decided to produce a series of videos dedicated to spotlighting some of the best.
Something happened when they were young that was crucial to the development of their characters as men. They were about 10 years old, and playing in the yard, as their uncle looked on, talking on a giant phone the size of a computer modem. Their uncle was a bigwig in the family drug cartel, a behemoth with many tentacles, reaching into the United States. He was running his business from a lawn chair, as the boys played and taunted one another. To the boys, their lives were normal, of course. They didn't know that their lives were any different than anyone else's. One boy takes the other's G.I. Joe doll and holds it just out of reach, taunting his brother until his brother breaks into tears, shouting, "I wish you were dead!" This innocent comment gets the uncle's attention. He calls both boys over, taking in the situation wordlessly and then asks the boy who had taunted his brother to get him a beer out of the bucket of melting ice beside his chair. The little boy reaches in, grabs a beer and holds it out but the uncle rejects it, telling him to get him one that is really cold. Leaning over the bucket, reaching in deeper, the little boy is caught unaware when the uncle swiftly pushes his head beneath the water. A struggle ensues. The uncle remains imperturbable, and asks the boy standing in front of him, "This is what you wanted, right?" The panic of the boy being held under the water intensifies, and his brother, desperate, starts hitting his uncle ferociously. Just before the submerged boy would have drowned, the uncle lets him go, and the boys huddle together by the bucket. The uncle stares down at the boys and says, "Family is all."
As teenagers, they began working for the family business. While their uncle was a negotiator, the twins were the muscle. They killed enemies of the family with a breathtaking swiftness. They were perfectly suited, emotionally, for the job. They didn't experience an adrenaline rush like normal people in the face of danger. On the contrary, when faced with a dangerous situation, their blood pressure lowered. They were able to be very still. They had patience, they could wait. They had a deep coiled core of rage inside them, but their faces remained placid and flat. They liked to kill people with axes. Sure, you could shoot someone, but it wasn't as satisfying. They felt nothing as they chopped off the head of a man in the back room of a bar. He screamed, of course, but that didn't matter. They all scream.
After their cousin Tuco is betrayed by some meth guy in Albuquerque named "Walter White", the twins know what they have to do. They move forward inexorably, getting closer and closer to their target. In a makeshift shrine devoted to death and their enemies, they place a sketch of "Walter White" beside a skull. Gleaming in their silver suits, they stare at the sketch, glance at one another, and then stare back. They have him in their sights, like a hungry lion spotting a lame antelope, and waiting, patiently, until the time is right to pounce.
The meth supplier, realizing that he is in a world of trouble by saying "No" to the twins, sets up a private meeting with them in a vacant field outside of town. He acknowledges their family feeling and he acknowledges their need for revenge, but Walter White needs to stay alive. However, he must remind the twins that Walter White did not actually pull the trigger on the gun that killed their cousin. That job was done by White's brother-in-law, who was a DEA agent. One of the twins says, "We were told the DEA was off-limits." It is rare to hear either of them speak. The meth supplier assures them that this is his territory, and he calls the shots here. Go kill the DEA agent if that is what you need to do.
Season 3 opens with a surreal scene of a group of people crawling in the dirt through a rustic Mexican village. It seems that some well-known ritual is taking place. Nobody seems too surprised at the sight. A gleaming car pulls up and two men get out. They are bald, handsome, and dressed in immaculate suits. They are also identical twins. Without hesitation, they join the ritual, lying down in the dirt, despite their silk suits, and crawling along with the others. The destination is a run-down shack which has been built into some kind of shrine. Inside there are lit candles with dripping wax and bouquets and skulls draped in beads. The men in suits pin a picture up on the wall. It is a sketch of the chemistry teacher. Wherever we are in this opening scene is far from the sun-blasted streets of Albuquerque (the stomping grounds of the chemistry teacher), but it is clear that his fearsome influence is spreading.
This young man lives in isolation in a ratty room, spending most of his time playing violent video games, imagining his real-life enemies before him. He dates a pretty young woman, who takes him to a Georgia O'Keefe exhibit. He is singularly unimpressed, staring at one of O'Keefe's famous flower paintings and declaring, "That doesn't look like any vagina I ever saw." In the car afterwards, they talk about art, and repetition, and she tries to tell him what he is missing in his interpretaion of O'Keefe's work. In this scene he is almost fresh-faced. He kisses her gently. You really see how far this kid has fallen when you consider that in most other scenes he is either jacked up on meth, buying gas he can't pay for and then trading drugs with the cashier to pay for it, or beaten almost beyond recognition. There is a slow steady progression into hell with this character, and leaping around in time nails that point home.
Seasons 3 and 4 also deal heavily with the chemistry aspect of meth production (which is a propos seeing as how the opening credits sequence features a periodic table), as well as the ins and outs of running a successful drug dealing business. A local Mexican restaurant in Albuquerque called Los Pollos Hermanos is a front, and freezer trucks filled with crystals hurtle across the desert, with armed men crouched in the back, their breath showing in the cold darkness. Often these trucks are stopped by rival drug-dealers. Multiple shoot-outs occur. We also see the creation of the meth itself, characters in white suits and gloves moving the gleaming blue crystals along, bagging them up. Later, we learn that this particular brand of meth is 99% pure, and industry-standard appears to be around 96%. Others wonder what the secret is, how this meth can be so pure, and how it is done. That 3% gap in quality serves to "up" other people's games.
But the chemistry teacher has been living in two worlds for too long. As Season 4 progresses, that separation becomes harder and harder to maintain
In a scene from the great 1984 comedy Top Secret!, American rocker Nick Rivers (Val Kilmer) is savagely beaten by East German jailers and falls into a hallucination. 
First we have gas mask man, who is a chemistry teacher, on medical leave due to his fight with cancer. It is clear that he is living a double life. His wife, Skyler, appears to have no idea that he is also a Drug Lord running a meth lab out of a battered RV. They visit the oncologist. The prognosis does not look good. He is very ill, balding and thin (although he has a full head of hair in the first scene with the getaway RV). The FBI calls a meeting of the school board to discuss the recent theft of chemistry equipment. The teacher gets a round of applause because he is so ill and yet has the commitment to show up at the meeting. Little do they all know that he was the one behind the ransacking of the chem lab in the first place. He spends the meeting distracted, silent, and putting his hand between his wife's legs under the table.
We also see them back in the crashed RV in the desert, staring at the dead bodies in the back, one of which, horrifyingly, starts to move and moan. Flashing back, we see the two of them in a house, wearing gas masks, cleaning up after a brutal murder, body parts blown apart, flushing the meaty pieces down the toilet. They choke and gag at what they are doing. These two bodies are the missing Mexicans we've seen earlier, swimming across a muddy river.
A meth lab has blown up in a nice suburban home with a swimming pool. A charred pink teddy bear, with one missing eyeball, floats in the pool, before being lifted out by a looming figure in a Hazmat suit. Evidence is bagged and lined up on the concrete. There are two body bags in the driveway. These are recurring dreamlike images, filmed entirely in black and white, except for the teddy bear, which blazes in pink against the monochromatic background. The bear is shown floating through the water, one side completely burnt from the explosion. This scene is shown repeatedly throughout the series and takes on an increasingly haunting aspect with each insistent repetition. The floating lone eyeball peers up through the water into the blazing light of day before being sucked into the bowels of the pool.
About a third of the way through episode six of Luck, a conversation between the horse trainer Turo Escalante and the veterinarian Jo is cut short by portents. A flock of birds erupts from behind, or within, the stands; silhouetted, they look like bats. The horses freak out. Then comes an earthquake. The walls tremble. The ground shakes. And then it's over.
We head into Mad Men’s" fifth season knowing nothing about it. The on-air promos recycle moments from past seasons, and the teaser art has been cryptic even by this show’s standards: an opening-credits-styled image of a falling man that could be hawking any season, and a photo of hero Don Draper staring at two mannequins — a clothed male and a naked female* — through a dress-shop window. Matthew Weiner, who banned advance screeners after a New York Times review revealed innocuous details from the season-four premiere, has dropped a cone of silence over the production. We have no idea if Don went through with plans to wed his young secretary, Megan; if Joan had Roger’s baby; or if the new agency is still in business. We don’t even know the year in which this season takes place, which at least would prepare us for the wingspan of Roger’s lapels.
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