[The tenth in the Unit for Criticism's multi-authored series of posts on Season 5 of AMC's Mad Men, was posted prior to the publication of MAD MEN, MAD WORLD: Sex, Politics, Style, and the 1960s (Duke University Press) Eds. Lauren M. E. Goodlad, Lilya Kaganovsky and Robert A. Rushing]
“You Really Got Me Now”
Written by Todd McGowan(University of Vermont)
The term “the other woman” is almost necessarily pejorative. But this episode of Mad Men takes as its project a redefinition of its titular expression. The other woman is not the mistress or even the car that the man cannot have (as the Jaguar ad campaign suggests) but the woman who cannot be bought, the woman who resists the very logic of exchange, whom no man can have. This is Peggy at the end of the episode. The fundamental idea of the episode is that it is only by adopting this position of the other woman in the way that Peggy does that one can challenge the universalized prostitution that capitalism demands of its subjects, especially women.
The episode “The Other Woman” explores the link between prostitution and capitalism from beginning to end. We prostitute ourselves or employ others as prostitutes, the show suggests, out of social or economic exigency, and capitalism incessantly produces this exigency. Though prostitution obviously predates capitalism, the relationship between the two is very close. It was Marx who first saw capitalism as a “general prostitution of the laborer” for its insistence that this economic system forces workers not simply to sell what they produce but themselves and their time. In fact, this parallel with prostitution distinguishes capitalism from a barter economy in which one can trade products rather than one’s labor.
Because “The Other Woman” makes the universalization of capitalism fully explicit, it is perhaps the most feminist episode of the series thus far. We see several moments where capitalism involves the transformation of women into sexual commodities. Even when Megan seems to strike out on her own as an actor to follow her dream, she finds herself forced to show her body to three men while trying to get a part in a play and also has to endure Don’s refusal to accept that the demands of her fledgling career might disrupt the life together that he imagines. For her part, Peggy cannot work on the firm’s most important prospective account because Jaguar does not want a “girl” on the project, and the men at the agency capitulate completely to this implicit demand.
Most significantly, however, the episode’s central event concerns Pete’s communication of a request made by Herb Rennet (a member of the Jaguar selection committee who will decide if the firm wins the contract with the automaker) for a night of sex with Joan. Pete begins by telling Joan about the possibility and then subsequently informs the partners, and each time he recounts it, he portrays a willingness to go along with the scheme that the other party (whether Joan or the partners) did not evince. When Herb initially proposes the idea, Pete, in contrast to Ken Cosgrove (who clings to an ethic not wholly determined by capital), accepts it as a possibility because he believes that success is attainable. He believes, in other words, in the promise of capitalism-as-prostitution, which is why he is willing to prostitute Joan for the sake of an account.
The great strength of capitalism as a system stems from its capacity for the always-disappointed promise of inclusion. Inclusion seems to be embodied in the very next commodity, the commodity that one doesn’t yet have but sees from afar. The newest commodity appeals most strongly because it appears to hold the key to an always-elusive sense of inclusion. This is the foundation of the Jaguar advertising campaign that Don pitches to the company’s selection board. Buying a Jaguar, the campaign claims, enables the male consumer to have the unattainable object. As the unattainable object, the Jaguar is standing in for a woman that a man views as just out of reach. The Jaguar will serve as the mistress/thing of beauty that the man desires but can never own, and Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce will play the role of the pimp facilitating this relationship.
Even though the episode establishes a clear parallel between Don’s advertising campaign and Joan’s night of sex with Herb Rennet by crosscutting between the two activities, Don is himself not wholly reducible to the role of pimp. “The Other Woman” confirms the viewer’s long-developed sense that Don, despite his often horrible behavior, has an ethical core that surpasses that of the other characters. His only equivalent is Peggy, his protégé not as an advertiser but as an ethical being. What unites the two is their shared resistance to the allure of inclusion, their willingness to abandon everything that would provide them a secure and established identity. They are free to act ethically because they are not trying to find a way to belong, and they understand themselves as having nothing to lose. For them, no potential gain represents the possibility of genuine inclusion as it does for others. Of course, capitalism often capitalizes on their sense of exclusion: they are skilled advertisers because they see the lures of inclusion from a genuinely external perspective, without falling prey to its grips. Thus, they are not simply good capitalist subjects in the fashion that, say, Pete Campbell is. They are ambitious in wanting to work the system but also understand the impossibility of obtaining the object that would provide complete inclusion. This renders them appealing characters and gives them both an ethical aura.
This is evident in Don’s act during the partners’ meeting early in the episode. When Pete relates the request for a night with Joan made by Herb Rennet, Don rejects the possibility categorically and walks out of the meeting. The other partners, despite their statements concerning ethical qualms, all remain in the meeting and consider the prostitution of their friend and colleague as thinkable. (Lane, perhaps, assuages his guilt while also attending to his own bottom line by encouraging Joan to insist on a 5% partnership in lieu of a one-time outlay. Although the idea appeals to her and enables her to insist on voice in decision-making, the root of it is Lane’s own dire financial situation which has driven him to extending the firm’s credit and forging a check.) Later, Don’s exceptional status further stands out. When he learns that Pete and the others have presented an offer to Joan, he exclaims, “I don’t work like this” and tries to dissuade Joan from going through with the nefarious rendezvous — but tries too late.
If we think of the term “the other woman” in the usual sense, Joan qualifies. She is not Herb Rennet’s wife and yet she sleeps with him. (In the last episode, “Christmas Waltz,” Joan even played at being Don’s wife for a Jaguar test drive.) But in agreeing to sleep with Rennet, Joan does what most of us would do in a similar situation. Her rapist husband has just filed for divorce after abandoning her for the sake of his own version of male inclusion and with uncertain means for supporting herself and her child, the decision to prostitute herself just once for so large a gain makes good economic sense.
Not only that, but the show illustrates that Joan doesn’t really have a choice in this situation. All of the forces at the agency and within the social structure depicted by the show push Joan toward the act of prostituting herself. Don, the one figure who presents the opportunity for resistance, is ineffectual and arrives too late. He comes to Joan to express his absolute opposition to the transformation of the ad agency into a sexual procurement agency. The depiction of his visit to Joan reveals his lack of efficacy and Joan’s absence of true options. When we first see him arrive and speak to Joan, it seems as if she has not yet gone to see Herb, but later the show repeats Don’s visit to make it clear that it occurs after the act. Even Don cannot prevent the debasement that the firm perpetuates and it is a debasement that the show reveals to be universal within the capitalist world.
If most of us don’t have sex with prospective clients in order to provide for our children, we nonetheless make a constant series of little accommodations in order to keep our jobs and create the illusion of a secure future. Joan’s act simply reveals the truth of these little accommodations. But “The Other Woman” shows that Joan’s act is not the true act of the other woman. Instead, the other woman reveals herself at the episode’s conclusion in a traumatic manner.
Often on Mad Men we witness Don commit a seemingly self-destructive act that liberates him from his symbolic attachments. Most famously, perhaps, in Season 4’s “Blowing Smoke” he writes an advertisement attacking cigarettes after already losing Lucky Strike, a brand of cigarettes, as the firm’s most important client. Peggy is also capable of such acts. Her most dramatic moment occurs at the end of “The Other Woman,” as she tells Don that she is leaving the firm. She refuses any counteroffer, no matter how much money it might involve and tells Don that she is only doing what he himself would do. She makes clear that the capacity for this type of absolute break is something that they both share as an ethical position.
This episode finally forces the trauma of the ethic exemplified by both Don and Peggy on the show’s spectators. Previously, we have simply watched Don or Peggy abandon their attachments within the diegetic world of the series. That is to say, the breaks have occurred within the content of the show and not in the form. But with this episode, for the first time a certain kind of formal break takes place: Peggy, the only person with whom Don has a genuine connection, leaves him and the firm. Though she may continue on the show in some capacity, she will no longer function as a foundation for Don. While we might have cheered Betty’s decision to leave Don, we cannot experience Peggy’s departure as anything but a traumatic cut (in large part because the audience, like Don, relies on her as an ethical center at the agency). And yet, this is the cost of the ethical position she represents.
One might object that Peggy is not so much making an absolute break as advancing her career. But this would be to misread the nature of her act. The episode ends not with Peggy newly installed at the new agency but with her departure from Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. Though Peggy leaves for another ad agency and a larger salary, she specifically leaves Don and the office. This becomes evident when she rejects the very possibility of a counteroffer. Peggy’s career move serves as an alibi for her departure. Though Peggy has no knowledge about Joan’s involvement in the Jaguar deal, it is no coincidence that these two story lines happen in the same episode. We have no idea what Peggy’s reaction to the partners’ request or to Joan’s acceptance of the deal might be, but we do know that the partners’ pimping out of Joan further solidifies the agency’s descent into an unrestrained capitalism-as-prostitution with no space for an act outside of its insistence on unbridled corruption.
The great idea of feminism — and what renders it potentially antithetical to the logic of capitalism — is that women cannot be possessed, that they cannot serve as commodities despite the efforts of capital. This is precisely the position that Peggy occupies at the end of the episode as she waits for the elevator. She smiles with the satisfaction of a break from the secure world of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. She smiles out of her refusal to have a price. As she smiles, the audio track blares out The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me,” a song suggesting a reversal of everything we have just seen throughout the episode. That is to say, capitalism, in large part through the efforts of the advertising agency, promises the man that he can have the woman qua impossible object - here figured as the Jaguar - but at the end of the episode, the woman remains outside the man’s reach. In fact, she really has him and keeps him up at night, the song claims, and she does so because she accepts her position of exclusion and refuses the logic of exchange that provides a path to inclusion.
The burden of this position falls on us as spectators. If we enjoy Peggy’s smile, we enjoy the possibility of our own exclusion and our own escape from the system of universalized prostitution in which we are mired.
“You Really Got Me Now”
Written by Todd McGowan(University of Vermont)
The term “the other woman” is almost necessarily pejorative. But this episode of Mad Men takes as its project a redefinition of its titular expression. The other woman is not the mistress or even the car that the man cannot have (as the Jaguar ad campaign suggests) but the woman who cannot be bought, the woman who resists the very logic of exchange, whom no man can have. This is Peggy at the end of the episode. The fundamental idea of the episode is that it is only by adopting this position of the other woman in the way that Peggy does that one can challenge the universalized prostitution that capitalism demands of its subjects, especially women.
The episode “The Other Woman” explores the link between prostitution and capitalism from beginning to end. We prostitute ourselves or employ others as prostitutes, the show suggests, out of social or economic exigency, and capitalism incessantly produces this exigency. Though prostitution obviously predates capitalism, the relationship between the two is very close. It was Marx who first saw capitalism as a “general prostitution of the laborer” for its insistence that this economic system forces workers not simply to sell what they produce but themselves and their time. In fact, this parallel with prostitution distinguishes capitalism from a barter economy in which one can trade products rather than one’s labor.
Because “The Other Woman” makes the universalization of capitalism fully explicit, it is perhaps the most feminist episode of the series thus far. We see several moments where capitalism involves the transformation of women into sexual commodities. Even when Megan seems to strike out on her own as an actor to follow her dream, she finds herself forced to show her body to three men while trying to get a part in a play and also has to endure Don’s refusal to accept that the demands of her fledgling career might disrupt the life together that he imagines. For her part, Peggy cannot work on the firm’s most important prospective account because Jaguar does not want a “girl” on the project, and the men at the agency capitulate completely to this implicit demand.
Most significantly, however, the episode’s central event concerns Pete’s communication of a request made by Herb Rennet (a member of the Jaguar selection committee who will decide if the firm wins the contract with the automaker) for a night of sex with Joan. Pete begins by telling Joan about the possibility and then subsequently informs the partners, and each time he recounts it, he portrays a willingness to go along with the scheme that the other party (whether Joan or the partners) did not evince. When Herb initially proposes the idea, Pete, in contrast to Ken Cosgrove (who clings to an ethic not wholly determined by capital), accepts it as a possibility because he believes that success is attainable. He believes, in other words, in the promise of capitalism-as-prostitution, which is why he is willing to prostitute Joan for the sake of an account.
The great strength of capitalism as a system stems from its capacity for the always-disappointed promise of inclusion. Inclusion seems to be embodied in the very next commodity, the commodity that one doesn’t yet have but sees from afar. The newest commodity appeals most strongly because it appears to hold the key to an always-elusive sense of inclusion. This is the foundation of the Jaguar advertising campaign that Don pitches to the company’s selection board. Buying a Jaguar, the campaign claims, enables the male consumer to have the unattainable object. As the unattainable object, the Jaguar is standing in for a woman that a man views as just out of reach. The Jaguar will serve as the mistress/thing of beauty that the man desires but can never own, and Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce will play the role of the pimp facilitating this relationship.
Even though the episode establishes a clear parallel between Don’s advertising campaign and Joan’s night of sex with Herb Rennet by crosscutting between the two activities, Don is himself not wholly reducible to the role of pimp. “The Other Woman” confirms the viewer’s long-developed sense that Don, despite his often horrible behavior, has an ethical core that surpasses that of the other characters. His only equivalent is Peggy, his protégé not as an advertiser but as an ethical being. What unites the two is their shared resistance to the allure of inclusion, their willingness to abandon everything that would provide them a secure and established identity. They are free to act ethically because they are not trying to find a way to belong, and they understand themselves as having nothing to lose. For them, no potential gain represents the possibility of genuine inclusion as it does for others. Of course, capitalism often capitalizes on their sense of exclusion: they are skilled advertisers because they see the lures of inclusion from a genuinely external perspective, without falling prey to its grips. Thus, they are not simply good capitalist subjects in the fashion that, say, Pete Campbell is. They are ambitious in wanting to work the system but also understand the impossibility of obtaining the object that would provide complete inclusion. This renders them appealing characters and gives them both an ethical aura.
This is evident in Don’s act during the partners’ meeting early in the episode. When Pete relates the request for a night with Joan made by Herb Rennet, Don rejects the possibility categorically and walks out of the meeting. The other partners, despite their statements concerning ethical qualms, all remain in the meeting and consider the prostitution of their friend and colleague as thinkable. (Lane, perhaps, assuages his guilt while also attending to his own bottom line by encouraging Joan to insist on a 5% partnership in lieu of a one-time outlay. Although the idea appeals to her and enables her to insist on voice in decision-making, the root of it is Lane’s own dire financial situation which has driven him to extending the firm’s credit and forging a check.) Later, Don’s exceptional status further stands out. When he learns that Pete and the others have presented an offer to Joan, he exclaims, “I don’t work like this” and tries to dissuade Joan from going through with the nefarious rendezvous — but tries too late.
If we think of the term “the other woman” in the usual sense, Joan qualifies. She is not Herb Rennet’s wife and yet she sleeps with him. (In the last episode, “Christmas Waltz,” Joan even played at being Don’s wife for a Jaguar test drive.) But in agreeing to sleep with Rennet, Joan does what most of us would do in a similar situation. Her rapist husband has just filed for divorce after abandoning her for the sake of his own version of male inclusion and with uncertain means for supporting herself and her child, the decision to prostitute herself just once for so large a gain makes good economic sense.
Not only that, but the show illustrates that Joan doesn’t really have a choice in this situation. All of the forces at the agency and within the social structure depicted by the show push Joan toward the act of prostituting herself. Don, the one figure who presents the opportunity for resistance, is ineffectual and arrives too late. He comes to Joan to express his absolute opposition to the transformation of the ad agency into a sexual procurement agency. The depiction of his visit to Joan reveals his lack of efficacy and Joan’s absence of true options. When we first see him arrive and speak to Joan, it seems as if she has not yet gone to see Herb, but later the show repeats Don’s visit to make it clear that it occurs after the act. Even Don cannot prevent the debasement that the firm perpetuates and it is a debasement that the show reveals to be universal within the capitalist world.
If most of us don’t have sex with prospective clients in order to provide for our children, we nonetheless make a constant series of little accommodations in order to keep our jobs and create the illusion of a secure future. Joan’s act simply reveals the truth of these little accommodations. But “The Other Woman” shows that Joan’s act is not the true act of the other woman. Instead, the other woman reveals herself at the episode’s conclusion in a traumatic manner.
Often on Mad Men we witness Don commit a seemingly self-destructive act that liberates him from his symbolic attachments. Most famously, perhaps, in Season 4’s “Blowing Smoke” he writes an advertisement attacking cigarettes after already losing Lucky Strike, a brand of cigarettes, as the firm’s most important client. Peggy is also capable of such acts. Her most dramatic moment occurs at the end of “The Other Woman,” as she tells Don that she is leaving the firm. She refuses any counteroffer, no matter how much money it might involve and tells Don that she is only doing what he himself would do. She makes clear that the capacity for this type of absolute break is something that they both share as an ethical position.
This episode finally forces the trauma of the ethic exemplified by both Don and Peggy on the show’s spectators. Previously, we have simply watched Don or Peggy abandon their attachments within the diegetic world of the series. That is to say, the breaks have occurred within the content of the show and not in the form. But with this episode, for the first time a certain kind of formal break takes place: Peggy, the only person with whom Don has a genuine connection, leaves him and the firm. Though she may continue on the show in some capacity, she will no longer function as a foundation for Don. While we might have cheered Betty’s decision to leave Don, we cannot experience Peggy’s departure as anything but a traumatic cut (in large part because the audience, like Don, relies on her as an ethical center at the agency). And yet, this is the cost of the ethical position she represents.
One might object that Peggy is not so much making an absolute break as advancing her career. But this would be to misread the nature of her act. The episode ends not with Peggy newly installed at the new agency but with her departure from Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. Though Peggy leaves for another ad agency and a larger salary, she specifically leaves Don and the office. This becomes evident when she rejects the very possibility of a counteroffer. Peggy’s career move serves as an alibi for her departure. Though Peggy has no knowledge about Joan’s involvement in the Jaguar deal, it is no coincidence that these two story lines happen in the same episode. We have no idea what Peggy’s reaction to the partners’ request or to Joan’s acceptance of the deal might be, but we do know that the partners’ pimping out of Joan further solidifies the agency’s descent into an unrestrained capitalism-as-prostitution with no space for an act outside of its insistence on unbridled corruption.
The great idea of feminism — and what renders it potentially antithetical to the logic of capitalism — is that women cannot be possessed, that they cannot serve as commodities despite the efforts of capital. This is precisely the position that Peggy occupies at the end of the episode as she waits for the elevator. She smiles with the satisfaction of a break from the secure world of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. She smiles out of her refusal to have a price. As she smiles, the audio track blares out The Kinks’ “You Really Got Me,” a song suggesting a reversal of everything we have just seen throughout the episode. That is to say, capitalism, in large part through the efforts of the advertising agency, promises the man that he can have the woman qua impossible object - here figured as the Jaguar - but at the end of the episode, the woman remains outside the man’s reach. In fact, she really has him and keeps him up at night, the song claims, and she does so because she accepts her position of exclusion and refuses the logic of exchange that provides a path to inclusion.
The burden of this position falls on us as spectators. If we enjoy Peggy’s smile, we enjoy the possibility of our own exclusion and our own escape from the system of universalized prostitution in which we are mired.