Peggy gets pissed when Roger offers Ginsberg an under-the-table deal similar to the one he gave her on Mohawk a while back, accusing Roger of disloyalty and this stuff. But it's the account itself that causes all the problems: Manischewitz is going gentile-inclusive, and so Roger needs all the Hebraic backup he can get. Especially, you know, given how he's a huge racist. Armed with Ginsberg's ideas and with his Jewish former trophy wife on his arm, he charms the client and presumably makes the sale.
But somewhere between the client's incredibly hot son putting blatant moves on Judy, and the fact that she's enjoying having her own apartment free of memories of their marriage, Roger makes the command decision at the end of the night to sleep with her again, tarnishing her new blank slate life with yet more silver fox-fucking. In the morning, when she explains this, it's LSD Roger who acknowledges that she's right about all of it, and apologizes, but it's still a queasy little moment.
Speaking of queasy, if you were wondering whether Betty is still an asshole, let me assure you that she still is a royal asshole.
So Sally's got a Family Tree project due, and asks both her moms for help on it. While Megan delights in giving Sally everything she can -- up to and including giving her "crying on cue" lessons, because what Sally needs is lessons from Megan on being even crazier than she already is -- it's a jealous Betty that tries to trip up the new Drapers by dropping hints about Anna, framed in such a way that Sally feels betrayed by Don and Megan both for keeping secrets.
Megan answers mean old Sally's questions about the situation, to an extent, but the damage is done. However, Don's reasoned and sweet approach turns the tables, and when Sally gets back to Betty's house there's been a chilling shift in power, because she's finally realized just how often Betty's used her as a weapon. You kind of always knew that Sally would end up murdering her mother, but I think this is the first time it may have occurred to Betty. But I guess between all the Weight Watchers classes and a great big look at Megan's taut tummy, Betty was due for a little crazy time of her own. I won't detail each and every moment of Betty's Great Reduction, but suffice to say it peaks, grandly, when she fires a can of whipped cream directly into her face and then spits it into the sink. I mean, it's not the tweaked-out meth-head act we expected/were secretly hoping for, but it's certainly something. I feel like every bite she takes is another slap in her mother's face. Another bullet in that shotgun.
Don does some petty shit of his own, not to be outdone, when he gets jealous of Ginsberg's genius in general, and his campaign ideas for Sno-Balls in particular, pulling the not-very-Draper move of leaving Ginsberg's art in the taxi cab on the way to the presentation. It's a fairly funny rivalry up to that point, though, especially considering that Don's idea is pretty stupid and you get to watch him talk about it over and over and it's just kind of mortifying for everybody. In the end, his dumb idea sells, so everybody has to act like it's water under the bridge, but between pissing off both Peggy and Don this week, I wouldn't want to be in Ginz's shoes right now.
What else? A fellow actress bitches out Megan for living the high life, and gets invited to Thanksgiving. Pete obsesses about Rory Gilmore some more -- fantasies complete with side boob -- and nearly lets her husband have it. Joan is there for like two seconds, Cooper's barely around, Stan wears three different Polo shirts over the course of an hour, the TV guy bitches like usual about nothing, and Sally is more than likely building a nuclear device in her bedroom.
It was good, but for such a strong season it felt like ligament. I'm not sure what we're meant to take with us from this one into the future, exactly, because all of the problems could developing into bigger ones, or just go away forever. I do like the bittersweet thing, though, about how Betty still thinks "Dick Whitman" is this magic spell you can say that ruins marriages -- like, it wouldn't even occur to her that Megan would be fine with Dick Whitman, or Anna Draper, and all they imply, and more than capable of helping old Sally fight even the most insidious examples of Betty's mental programming.
Next week: A dizzying array of conversational tidbits, from what I can tell, some tantalizing shots of doors opening and closing, and a lot of raised eyebrows -- all completely free of context.
Before I start, real cute naming the episode "Dark Shadows" to coincide with the release of the Tim Burton movie. SEO concerns are all well and good, but I still wonder how that decision would have gone if Lionsgate had seen the trailer beforehand.
We begin with a close-up of a female hand pulling a piece of well-done toast out of a toaster and from the fact that said hand proceeds to measure out a few cubes of cheese onto a scale, we can conclude that Betty -- to whom the hand belongs -- has joined Weight Watchers. And I'm all for self-improvement, but until she signs up with Horrible Mothers Anonymous, her work will be far from done. On the plus side, the fat suit seems to have lost a bit of its heft. Betty takes a bite of the jellied toast and, as she's no doubt been instructed, savors it rather mechanically -- in fact, you can pretty much see her counting the number of times she chews...
...whereupon we cut to the SCDP elevator, on which Bertram and Roger are discussing the merits of competitive fishing. Don joins them, followed by Pete and once the doors have closed, Pete -- with trademark pomposity -- announces that he spent an hour and a half on the phone the night before with a guy from The New York Times, who just so happens to be doing a literary profile on hip Madison Avenue ad agencies. (Bertram, hilariously, corrects Pete to "hep.") Pete goes on that he told the guy to get in touch with "you" to see examples of what they've been doing and Don, impressed, says he'll have Joan set something up. But Pete goes on that they needn't worry about an interview -- the guy was only interested in talking to Pete. Well, if I were one of the other partners, I'd be just as glad not to have to talk to a guy who could spend ninety minutes on the phone with Pete Campbell, but that doesn't stop Roger from, once they're disembarking, sarcastically offering "Sterling Campbell Draper Pryce!" to Bertram, who is most unamused by the whole thing.
Sometime later, Don is looking through the portfolio of their work that Joan has put together, which includes "Just Taste It" from last week; there's also a non-Jaguar car ad in there, which you'd think we would have heard something about. Don settles on his picks and then is rather surprised to realize that Ginzo is the credited writer on pretty much all of them. Joan agrees with Don's assessment that Peggy really got buried on Heinz before lauding Don's efforts as Creative Director and encouraging him to put the letter in the portfolio. Don's a bit hesitant and I'm surprised he even still has the thing after the news he got from Ray Wise a couple episodes ago, but Joan firmly says the thing is still quite the conversation piece and Don sighs that they're still suffering because of it, so they might as well get something in return. Joan then moves to take the selected ads with her, but Don instructs her to leave them and after she's gone, he looks at them long and hard, probably once again counting the number of Ginzo credits.