Every week, Wired takes a look at the latest episode of Mad Men through the lens of the latest media campaign of the Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce advertising agency. Spoilers follow.
Ted Chaough has strong feelings about margarine. "It tastes better because it's more expensive," he says of Fleischmann's, the brand under discussion. "It's the premium brand, and it's priced accordingly." This is not a popular idea in the conference room. While Pete has misgivings about telling a client their product is potentially too expensive, Don's concerns come from the opposite direction: Compared to butter, even the most luxurious margarine is cheap. Focus on taste alone, he argues. Don Draper doesn't need to know what other people are willing to pay for something to know whether or not he wants it.
But he seems to have internalized his opponent's approach, because he won't drop it with Peggy until he finds out which of the two ideas is the premium brand. "There's a right, and there's a wrong," he barks at her. Forget margarine campaigns – Peggy sees this is about choosing between Don and Ted, and she's Team Ted all the way. "You're the same person sometimes," she tells Don. "The difference is that he's interested in the idea, and you're interested in your idea." Don tosses half-hearted insults in both their directions before departing, but the rejection is a rare mark in the L column for him. It's no fun being the bargain brand.
Titled "The Better Half," this week's episode of Mad Men explores how knowing that something is considered desirable makes people desire it. The latest Ted/Don dust-up provides the framework, but it's far less consequential than another development in that same conference room. Harry Crane, who at this point couldn't be more repellent if he were surrounded by a constant, pigpen-like cloud of flies, tells Pete that their hybrid agency, for all its internal dissension, is seen by the outside world as a Murderers' Row. Pete is counseled by Duck Philips, an authority on the subject of desperation, that to land a plum gig at another agency will require him to shake off his current, domestic-drama-induced lack of self-confidence.
The rule applies in the bedroom as well as the boardroom. Henry eagerly grills Betty about getting hit on by his colleague in a peculiar form of foreplay; the other man's ardor for her kickstarts Henry's own. Don, too, later sees Betty as reflected by the eyes of another, joining a grinning gas-station attendant for a long gawk at her shorts-sporting lower half. On the flipside, Peggy's stock with Ted appears to plummet when she reveals her relationship with Abe has come to a (pointy) end.
The two spheres, professional and personal, have some overlap. Don's one-night stand with Betty stems from a physique Betty recaptured in part to enhance the brand of her politico husband. Duck insists to Pete that feeling like a vital part of your family will make you feel vital to potential employers. Even the devil-may-care Roger Sterling is brought up short to learn his attempts at absentee fatherhood with Joan and their secret son Kevin have been rendered moot in part by Bob Benson, an accounts man so lowly that Roger doesn't even recognize him. She's not buying what he's selling.
But the most complex case is Megan. The budding soap-opera star is now playing two characters, a humble maid and her glamorous twin. According to her head writer Mel, "They're two halves of the same person, and they want the same thing, but they're trying to get it in different ways." (Hey Peggy, does that sound like any particular pair of creative geniuses we know?) Baffled by demands to further differentiate the sisters, Megan turns to her co-star Arlene for advice; she delivers, but not without another ham-fisted yet good-natured attempt at seduction. It's unclear what consequences Megan will face on set, though so far Arlene and Mel have been true to their word about not holding Megan's refusal to swing in their direction against her – after all, they doubled her part.
The payoff on the homefront, however, was immediate: When Don returns home to find Megan on the balcony dressed only in a t-shirt and underwear – a racier mirror image of Betty at her car earlier in the episode – Megan immediately demands more attention from her romantically and mentally M.I.A. husband. Don doesn't tell her the whole truth, of course, but he cops to the overall charge. Given that it's precisely Megan's success as an actor that drives Don away, I'm not sure there's a happy ending to this story. But it seems as though receiving affirmation from Arlene that she is in fact, both desirable and desired gives Megan the confidence to confront her inscrutable husband. Sure, you can separate the sides, divide them into Don vs. his doppelgangers (Ted, Henry, Pete) or Megan's two characters. But ultimately, your better half is just the half that's wanted by others.
