“Midway in our life’s journey I went astray
from the straight road and woke to find myself alone in a dark wood.”
In the first
scene of adland drama Mad Men, which returned to UK screens last week, we heard
these words spoken by Don Draper, as we watched an attempted resuscitation from
the point of view of a man suffering a heart attack. Don was on the beach in
Hawaii, reading Dante’s Inferno, a book that turned out to have been given to him
by his new mistress, the wife of a neighbour. This was a dark and intriguing
beginning for the sixth season of a series that has gradually become one of the
most complex and fascinating of our time. Last week’s episode was driven
by the themes of sex and death, with Don conflicted between the urges of eros
and thanatos on his Hawaiian interlude of sun, sea, sex and suicidal impulses.

Mad Men isn't really about advertising, any more than The Sopranos was about the
business of running a New Jersey crime organisation. Advertising is used as a
lens through which to observe and comment upon the culture of the times. It
also serves as a metaphor for the way in which creative director Don constructs
a false identity to charm and manipulate others. (When a photographer tells him
in this week’s episode, “I want you to be yourself”, we smile knowingly at
Don’s discomfort.) The show spends more time with the
characters at home and at play than in the office, but W2O is here to focus on
the advertising-related bits of last week’s episode.

Peggy – now out from under Don’s wing and a
CD in her own right at Cutler, Gleason and Choaugh – is struggling with a
Superbowl spot for Koss headphones that has been rendered unusable because of a
comedian’s reference on the Johnny Carson show to G.I.s in Vietnam wearing necklaces
made of human ears. (A junior creative has to perform the routine for Peggy in
the office the next day, because that’s how they did it before YouTube was
invented.) Disappointingly, Peggy’s ad sounded pretty lousy, with a spokesman
in a toga quoting Shakespeare – ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your
ears.’ (So you can check out these headphones.) Perhaps the concept was
deliberately bad, so as to indicate the conflict between Peggy’s artistic
aspirations, her desire to do a great ad, and the banality of what a ‘great’
Superbowl ad might be.

Peggy’s right hand man at CG&H seems to be a
spineless worm who spends his spare time drunk in his pants watching late night
TV. (To be fair, this is an accurate reflection of the leisure activities of
many of today’s senior advertising figures.) He’s unable to offer much help beyond
agreeing with the client and suggesting The Russian Tearoom for lunch. Luckily,
Peggy handles the client confidently and reassures him that she knows how to
make a connection with drunken Superbowl viewers.

Meanwhile, Don is reviewing work over at
Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. (Or have they dropped the ‘Pryce’?) It’s a lame
air freshener campaign with the strapline ‘love is in the air’. The scamp shows
a man carrying his bride over the threshold. Twice (or is it thrice?) married
Don says, “What the hell is this? This couple doesn’t exist…Let’s try to trade
on the word ‘love’ as something substantial. Why are we contributing to the
trivialisation of the word? It doesn’t belong in the kitchen… Let’s leave it
where we want it. We want that electric jolt to the body. We want Eros. It’s
like a drug. It’s not domestic.” Good job that Don’s wife Megan isn’t around to
hear this, but just as he mentions ‘the husband knocking on the door’ Don’s neighbour,
the husband of Don’s mistress, steps into the doorway of the office. Which
explains why Don cuts off the creative review with an abrupt and contradictory
remark, “These are great.”

In the CG&C office, Peggy is working
late and demonstrating that she has learned from her former mentor Don how to
give junior creative teams a hard time. “Those
are three different versions of the same idea. If you can’t tell the difference
between which part’s the idea and which part’s the execution of the idea, you’re
of no use to me. I know what you’re doing – I’ve been you. You’re hoping this
sparks my imagination and then you can say ‘Wow, she’s a genius’, or say
anything because you want to go home… When you bring me something like this it
looks like cowardice. Here: (she hands over a pack of takeaway meatballs) you can split this because you’re not going
home.”

Peggy’s really come on since the days when
she was Don’s chubby, mousy secretary, apparently too passive even to resist
the drunken advances of Pete Campbell. She seems to be calling the shots at her
new agency. She has the trust of the client and the respect of the creative
department. She's fighting for the work while it seems Don no longer cares. Despite all this, she still works harder than everyone else. (Because
she’s a woman and she has to, or because she's compensating for her own insecurity?)

Back at Sterling Cooper there’s a meeting with
the client to present the campaign for the hotel where Don and Megan stayed in
Hawaii. Don briefly turns on a bit of the old Draper magic. “I think we’re not selling a geographical
location. We’re selling an experience. It’s not just a different place. You are
different.” (He wishes he were
different.)

The concept Don presents shows a Reggie
Perrin-style escape: a suit of clothes – a suit very much like Don’s own –
abandoned on a beach, with footprints in the sand leading into the waves. The
headline reads, “Hawaii. The jumping off point.”

Don claims that this
symbolizes transformation and  rebirth,
but the clients interpret it as a reference to suicide. They also, not unreasonably, point
out that the concept doesn’t show or mention their hotel. (SCDP haven't even put a logo on the layout.) After the meeting latches onto the suicide theme Don can't keep
this idea alive, and
slimy account man Campbell winds up by saying that the concept itself is
only a ‘jumping-off point’. Don’s art director confirms what the clients
intuited and perhaps Don himself will now recognize – the ‘jumping off point’
suggested by the ad is suicide. “Of course!" Rizzo enthuses, "That’s what’s so great about it!” 

Don’s campaign dies but at least he gets to
go home for New Year’s Eve, while Peggy keeps on working, natch. She finds a
solution to her Superbowl problem by using footage of the toga-guy clowning
between takes – being himself rather than acting or performing. This authenticity is seen as a stroke of true originality among the pervasive pretence. "It always
takes a crisis to sell work this good,’ says Peggy's boss, finally turning up now the
panic is over, just in time to pat her on the back. (He's a little ahead of himself, as at this point the revised ad hasn't even been presented, never mind sold.) “You’re good in a crisis.
Happy new year.” This powerful motivational speech seems to convince Peggy that
she was right to have spent the holidays working again. The ad still seems a
bit shit, though.

Don sees in the new year by seeing to the
neighbour’s wife. She asks him what he wants for the year ahead. He replies, “I
want to stop doing this.” Stop cheating?  Advertising?
Living? Tune in next week for more revelations…