It isn’t until the end when Peggy calls him the word that Rosemary can’t bring herself to say about her newborn son, that Don curls up and seems like neither the Devil nor the baby Jesus but just the same sad kid that he’s always been.
In California the women know how to listen but can't speak. They're kept in cages on the Sunset Strip. In New York, where they're three hours ahead, Joan folds her son's laundry with her back turned until finally the clamor of the present grows too loud to ignore.
Father Abraham was the alter ego of the Dutch musician Pierre Kartner. He wore a fake look—in his case a beard—until a real one replaced it, as will one day be the case with January Jones and all the rest of us too. The biblical Abraham's first son was born from his handmaid, because his wife was too old. Don and Megan, who just plays a maid on TV, have no children but he and Betty conceived Sally while vacationing at a summer camp. They were married a long time and had this whole life that didn't just involve his sneaking out to go to beat poetry slams or her discovering his false identity. They took trips together. He knew her parents. Two halves of the same person together produced two more.
“I’m here to make you feel better,” says Frank Gleason’s sexpot daughter, after her dad’s funeral. It could’ve happened earlier that day or three years before, there’s no way to tell the time when a woman claiming to be your mother has stolen all your watches.(1)
It’s Don’s third attempt to convince us that what we don’t see is more important than what we do. First he didn’t want to show us luxury hotels, then ketchup and now cars. A picture of the American dream is beginning to emerge, composed of empty space. The same man who asked his doorman what death looked like is trying to sell us on the excitement of the unknown: “People’s faces, all kinds, teenagers, dads, moms, different expressions of wonder. What could this possibly be?”
It is, really, an occasion for the people in all quarters of Washington, so often at cross-purposes, to ditch the pretense that they don't know each other and have nothing to gain from each other. It's Washington on carnival time, a release valve from the pressure of doing the work those watchers in Spokane that Brokaw is so worried about expect of the city's political and media elites.
Moderator Caryn James asked the question early on in the night, directing it at Weiner, “Tell us about Betty’s transformation, physical and internal. Why did you put on that weight for her?” Weiner responded matter-of-factly, “Well, it was a creative solution to a real-life problem, that January was pregnant—and everything worked out great, she has a baby [laughs]—and we had to start shooting, so I had the choice between doing the laundry basket thing or really trying to deal with it, not trying to hide it.” So, an accident of the filming process? Not quite.
On the evening of Jan. 30th, 1968, 200 US officers attended a pool party in Saigon, not one of them aware that the city would be attacked in a few hours. Trudy gets invited to a pool party too, unaware that her husband is peddling hot dogs in the foyer nearby. He holds up two coats for two women. It seems like either one will fit. After Trudy finds out about Pete’s affair, he asks her if she wants a divorce. “I refuse to be a failure,” she tells him, not understanding that sometimes continuing to fight can make you seem like a much bigger loser.
"How much time do you have left?" Don asks, referring to one type of struggle but getting an answer about another. "Four hours" says Dinkins. He asks if Don will give him away because he feels weird about one of the hotel employees pretending to be her dad. "They look just like the enemy," he tells Don before asking whether Don noticed that heaven and hell are the same place.
NBC is for some reason promoting the idea that Jimmy's the one behind moving it back here from Burbank, even while promoting the idea Fallon was trying to keep his head down and his mouth shut while the whole thing played out.