Rock & Roll Hall of Fame

I was in Cleveland this weekend, so I made a quick detour to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame (and Museum). It’s right on Lake Erie, adjacent to the Great Lakes Science Center, and with beautiful weather I figured I couldn’t go wrong. 

Adult admission is a bit steep–$22 for what is essentially one main exhibit hall, though I didn’t have time to check out the extras like the Bruce Springsteen temporary exhibit or the Pink Floyd wall–but if you are into the “stuff” of rock & roll, you’ll be in heaven. John Lennon’s childhood drawings and the jacket he wore for the Sergeant Pepper cover; Jim Morrison’s Easter card to his mother and the letter notifying his father of his arrest for lewd exposure in Florida; a big purple Cadillac Elvis bought for one of his managers; dozens of performance outfits worn by Mick Jagger, Jimi Hendrix, Aretha Franklin, Steven Tyler and Stevie Nicks; and handwritten lyrics to countless songs, including Billy Joel’s scribblings for “We Didn’t Start the Fire” and Joni Mitchell’s loopy scrawl for “Night in the City.” And one of my favorites, Janis Joplin’s psychadelic-painted 1965 Porsche 356c Cabriolet. 

Like presidential libraries, the Rock & Roll museum really isn’t set up to be skeptical of its subject matter, and it definitely buys lock, stock, and barrel into the premise that rock & roll is the Greatest Thing Ever of the 20th Century. But the collective effect is a bit like that of a hysterical groupie–what about an acknowledgement of the darker side of rock & roll? A  tribute, perhaps, to the many stars who inadvertently (or deliberately) offed themselves with the drugs and alcohol the rock & roll lifestyle encouraged? Browsing the Jim Morrison exhibit, I couldn’t help noticing the silimarities between his family and mine–Catholic, middle class, educated. If he hadn’t grown up in the 60s, someone so apparently intelligent might have found a way to define his own path without dying before his 30th birthday. The R&RHoF might have more credibility, and thus be more effective, if it approached its material with a bit more restraint. After all, aloof is cool and oh-so-rock-&-roll, right?

They’re very strict about photography, so with the exception of pictures of the Porsche and some of the guitars, plan to get your souvenirs in the gift shop. I’d recommend a good two to three hours to stroll at your leisure, but  worth a visit!

Mad Men 3.11 & 3.12: “The Gypsy and the Hobo” and “The Grown-ups”

Sweet Jesus. As some writers cannily predicted at the beginning of season 3, Don Draper’s world has come crashing down just in time for JFK’s assassination to rip the nation apart.

In “The Gypsy and the Hobo” I saw Jon Hamm’s face do things I’ve never seen before—he was laid completely bare as his defenses fell one by one to Betty’s questioning. And Betty was magnificent—I didn’t give her nearly enough credit in my last post, but she nailed Don to the wall. “You don’t get to ask any questions,” she snapped. Bravo! I held my breath when she left the room, wondering as Don picked up his box of photos if he’d manage even now to squirm away, but he stayed. She got 90% of the truth from Don—his appallingly sad childhood and even his betrayal of his brother Adam, all but details of his past affairs and the one currently in progress. We see latent class differences begin to emerge too: “I see how you are with money,” Betty says, “you don’t understand it. I knew you were poor.” “I was very poor,” Don admits. (If anyone is guilty of squandering money I would argue it’s Betty, but we’ll leave that for another time.) And most important of all, what I believe is the key to understanding Don’s self-destructive behavior: “What would you do?” Betty asks. “Would you love you?” “I was surprised you ever loved me,” Don responds.

If Don believes he is fundamentally unworthy of love—and why shouldn’t he, after a childhood of being told he’s illegitimate and unwanted?—then it would explain why he seeks refuge in sex and flirts with affairs one inch from tearing down the artifice of a life he’s created. Betty has certainly earned the right to her anger, but we see in her iciness (gradually thawing when she asks about Adam) a self-perpetuating cycle—Don has married a more beautiful version of the cool, rigid woman who raised him, and so seeks out warm, compassionate women like Suzanne Farrell. It is only when he senses he’s about to lose Betty, as he does in “The Grown-ups,” that he ceases taking her for granted and becomes the attentive husband she’s always needed. “It’s going to be OK,” he says as they dance, and he kisses her—but by then it’s too late.

Henry Francis proposes to Betty in “The Grown-ups”—a proposal predicated on three kisses, a handful of letters, and one violent box-hurling incident. He tells Betty “I’m not in love with the tragedy of this thing. I want it to happen,” showing a fundamental insight into Betty’s nature. Though their lack of physical intimacy may be a sign of the purity of their love, it also seems to indicate Betty’s cooler temperament and her preoccupation with the fantasy rather than the reality of their affair. Like a little girl playing the damsel in distress in the ivory tower, she wants to be desired from afar without having the relationship consummated—which might make Glen Bishop Betty’s ideal lover.

On the opposite end of the relationship spectrum we have Roger Sterling, all too prone to consummating his relationships. But then Annabelle shows up in “The Gypsy and the Hobo,” the long-lost Ingrid Bergman to Roger’s more light-hearted Humphrey Bogart, and she throws herself at him. And Roger turns her down. He claims Jane is the girl for him, but then there she is acting like a brat in “The Grown-Ups,” refusing to abandon the news for 10 minutes to listen to her husband’s toast. And then he calls Joan. What are we to make of all this?

I think the writers are preparing us for an eventual Return of Joan and Roger, while placing it in a proper context to give it some meaning. Roger displays the first smidgen of character he’s shown all season by rejecting Annabelle, and it’s clear he still turns to Joan to make sense of the world for him. Jane can’t do that; Mona never did. But if he’s eventually going to pursue Joan and have it mean anything at all, we first have to see him showing some reliable judgment. Meanwhile, Joan is finally beginning to second-guess her marriage; maybe Greg’s deployment to Vietnam will test his mettle in a way that definitively proves his weak character, and she’ll leave him. Or he’ll die a slow, painful coward’s death.

So where does this leave us for the season finale and beyond? When Betty tells Don that she doesn’t love him, he retreats to Sterling Cooper’s office, the one place where he feels moderately in control. But if we’re to truly see his world upended, that must come tumbling down too; given the finale’s ominous title (“Sit Down. Shut the Door.”), that might involve Conrad Hilton pulling his business just as Sterling Cooper goes back on the market. I’d like to see Bert and Roger buy back the company from the British, hire Lane Pryce as a supervisor, rehire Sal and Joan, promote Peggy and Pete, and reinstill a little pride among the employees. As for Betty and Don, I think Betty probably will explore things with Henry Francis for a while, and the writers have left the door open with Suzanne Farrell. But it’s hard for me to picture a show without them as a couple anchoring the center. Or a world where Don doesn’t have a secret life. Who’s he supposed to be now?

Mad Men 3.10: “The Color Blue”

In deference to Don Draper, I thought I’d push the envelope with this week’s post. How close can I cut it, and still get it up before the new episode airs?

“The Color Blue” saw Don playing with fire—cavorting with Suzanne Farrell, only to discover that unlike every other mistress he’s had, she doesn’t like being shoved in the closet when it’s convenient. She’s naïve. She wants him to meet her brother, to spend the night, to chitchat on the train during his morning commute. She wants real intimacy, and she doesn’t appear to care what it costs either of them. For a teacher in a conservative community, she’s shockingly heedless of the danger her behavior poses to her own position, let alone Don’s. 

Then there’s Don’s equally rash decision to let Suzanne’s epileptic brother Danny (Marshall Allman) out on the highway rather than delivering him safely to the janitorial job in Massachussetts. Granted, Danny’s desperation reminds Don of his own, and he’s in no position to deny a kindred spirit the right to flee. And when he offers Danny a wad of cash and his card (“I swore to myself I would try to do this right once”), Don clearly is trying to make up for letting down his brother in season one. But does he really think Suzanne won’t press him when the institution calls up the next day, wondering why Danny never reported to the job? At least the internal stakes have been raised in their relationship—there should be a terrific explosion when Suzanne discovers Don’s betrayal, particularly if something happens to Danny as a result.

And speaking of explosions, or lack thereof—for an episode that finally answered a question that has sustained us through nearly three seasons (given that Don now bares his soul to anybody who comes along, will Betty ever join the club?), this episode felt surprisingly anti-climactic. Considering how Betty went ballistic last season at the revelation of Don’s infidelity, she responded to this blow with surprising stoicism.

Like Helen Bishop casually pawing through her son Glen’s treasure box in season one, Betty flips past the pictures labeled “Dick” and the duplicate dogtags, zeroing in on the house deed and decree of divorce—the latter, we know from last season, postdating her first meeting with Don. But it’s not clear Betty understands that her problems are much bigger than a secret first wife. And maybe it’s that long-suffering, been-there-done-that attitude that causes Betty to back down on the phone with Don after a brief rally refusing to attend the 40^th anniversary dinner. “What’s wrong?” I don’t think even she knows.

More interesting was Peggy’s behavior on the Western Union account, a “true blue” display of integrity if I ever saw one. Offered multiple opportunities to taunt Paul after his work falls short, she’s a picture of compassion and graciousness—and comes up with a killer campaign to boot. Paul is probably right that Peggy is Don’s favorite: she’s his mini-me, starting to get her own “my God” reactions every time she opens her mouth.

No such luck for Lane Pryce, who can’t seem to get either a “Churchill rousing or Hitler rousing” endorsement from his toad of an assistant. They’re setting Lane up for a very nice crisis of character, where he’ll have the opportunity to stand up to the British overloads trying to palm off Sterling Cooper to the highest bidder and his miserable wife. It’s no wonder a man as passive and put-upon as Lane relishes the opportunity to make a new start in America. But do Bert and Roger have enough capital left to buy back SC from the Brits and regain a shred of self-respect? Or will Duck Phillips finagle another acquisition for his new company?

And finally, a bit of Mad Men gossip. The Deadline Hollywood blogger Nikki Finke has reported that Kater Gordon, a 27 year-old former personal assistant to Matthew Weiner who was promoted last year to writer’s assistant and then staff writer, was recently fired  because Matthew Weiner had decided “their relationship has reached its full potential.” Incidentally, she penned both this episode and “The Fog,” and won an Emmy in September for co-writing with Weiner the season 2 finale, “Meditations in an Emergency.” Accusations of Letterman-esque improprietary are vigorously denied, as they should be. But I find it a little terrifying that Weiner promotes and disposes of his staff so quickly—a little like our British friends, no?