spidey

Spider-Man’s origin story defines the hero

Amazing Spider-Man received a lot of criticism upon its release in 2012 for being a reboot of a movie franchise that had only began 10 years before. Tobey Maguire’s portrayal of the lovable geek, Peter Parker, was still fresh in everyone’s mind when Andrew Garfield donned the costume. The newer movie was criticized even more for telling essentially the same story as the first: the origin of Spider-Man.

However, both movies were telling a tale from decades before, originated by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko in Amazing Fantasy #15. Rehashing this particular narrative is only appropriate, because Spider-Man’s debut story captures everything that makes him the hero he is.

Spider-Man’s origin story is essential to establishing the character. Without his tragic background, Spidey is just another faceless comic book hero. The moment Parker became a hero was not when he was bitten by a radioactive or genetically-enhanced arachnid, but was when his Uncle Ben died a tragic and unexpected death.

Parker was raised by his Aunt May and Uncle Ben, and their influence on him remains essential to the character to this day. The Parker introduced in 1962 was only a teenager and was still learning how to be a good person when his world was changed. Peter Parker gained amazing, bug-like powers from a spider bite — and quickly went on to make a lot of mistakes.

Parker’s growth reads like an evolution between two worldviews — not coincidentally, worldviews held by his co-creators. Spider-Man changes from a man looking out for himself to a man using his unique situation to help everyone else.

Lee, the author of Spider-Man, often used his comics as a soapbox for his worldview. Stan used The X-Men to discuss civil rights and race issues, employing Professor X as a stand-in for Martin Luther King. He also introduced the first black heroes in a major comic publication. And, despite being over 90 years old, Lee was recently tied to a project that was to unveil a gay superhero in a one-hour television special. Like Parker, Lee saw he had great power, and used it responsibly.

Ditko, the artist that first rendered Spider-Man, was different. Ditko was an advocate for objectivism and loved the works of Ayn Rand. Rand put forth the idea that selfishness is not a negative trait, and in fact, self-interest is a strong motivating force and a positive good. Following that philosophy led Parker into many problems he had to face head on.

As told in Amazing Fantasy #15, Parker gains the powers of Spider-Man from a radioactive spider bite. What did he do with these powers? Parker did just what Rand — and therefore Ditko — would want. Parker used the powers he received to better his own life by becoming a professional wrestler and television star to make money. Parker, used to being picked on and labeled a geek, was quick to use his new powers to flip the script and proved himself to be just as selfish as those who would mock him. During a robbery, Parker decided not to stop the thief, saying that from then on, he would look out for Number 1.

This objectivist trait of Parker did not last long. Parker’s Uncle Ben was killed by a burglar, causing Spider-Man to seek him out for revenge. However, when the thief is captured, Parker realizes that the killer was the same man he refused to stop earlier. This guilty realization, portrayed beautifully in both Spider-Man and Amazing Spider-Man, is the defining moment of the superhero.

For the rest of his life, Parker will have to live with the guilt of this murder. By refusing to stop the robber, he allowed the man to run free. While we know that Parker can’t be blamed for the death of his uncle in the strictest sense, we are also able to understand how the guilt could be crippling to the young man.

Parker learns from this mistake that, as a man with great power, he must accept great responsibility. It is in this moment that Spider-Man changes from an objectivist celebrity to a selfless hero.

It was important to include this entire story in both Spider-Man reboot movies because it is essential to who he is, just as it is essential that Batman’s parents die and Captain America is the iconic moral center of the Marvel Universe. Spider-Man is driven by a debt that he can never repay. His guilt at the loss of his surrogate father will never dissipate, but he can continue to fight for good in a way that would make Ben proud. In a sense, Parker is redeeming his failure by living for others, just as his uncle lived for him.

Garfield and Marc Webb did an incredible job creating a new but familiar story for Amazing Spider-Man. In doing this, Sony, which owns the rights to produce Spider-Man movies, opened up new possibilities for sequels. Sony had to continue making movies or risk losing the franchise. Without Maguire on board, the most sensible move was to start fresh, and thus Amazing Spider-Man was put into production.

The most important of the potential stories for future sequels involves Gwen Stacy, who was essentially a non-factor in the Sam Raimi movies. The Gwen story, which will have to be addressed at a later date, is as essential to Parker’s growth as his origin story, and looks like it will be fleshed out in Marc Webb’s sequel.

Amazing Spider-Man 2 hits theaters May 2. If you want to be prepared for the new movie by reading a heart-wrenching Spidey tale, check out Spider-Man: Blue by Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale. You won’t regret it.

It’s easy to understand why people bemoan the abundance of sequels and reboots Hollywood pumps out every year. But Sony was close to losing a lucrative franchise and had to act. In the process, we were given a strong, character-driven story that fully captured the life of a teenage superhero in a way that made his struggles relatable. And now we will be treated to a series of cohesive movies that give us both the emotional struggle, and the physical spectacle, that made Spider-Man comics so popular.

“And a lean, silent figure slowly fades into the gathering darkness, aware at last in this world, with great power there must also come great responsibility.”

life-partners

Search for Life Partners deftly downplays sexuality

The 2014 Tribeca Film Festival turns a spotlight on LGBT themes, with no fewer than 10 films explicitly focusing on the subject. In the limited time I had at the Festival, I decided I had to see one of those films, both to evaluate how it treated sexual orientation and because of the compelling cast attached to it.

(Incidentally, two of the five “non-LGBT” movies I screened this weekend also had important sexuality-related storylines.)

Life Partners, from director and writer Susanna Fogel, co-written by Joni Lefkowitz, widens its scope beyond what many entries in the queer cinema genre typically tackle. The film explores both lesbian and heterosexual partnerships while, at its core, remaining a tale centered on friendship. I found the movie to be an amusing, if by-the-numbers, romp through modern-day relationships of several sorts.

Life Partners tells the story of two best friends — one gay, one straight — searching for love while on the verge of turning 30. When Paige, played by Gillian Jacobs, meets Tim (Adam Brody) and their relationship begins to turn serious, Leighton Meester’s Sasha finds herself competing for the attention of the woman who had been the anchor of her life.

As the push-and-tug of this dynamic unfolds, the girls’ two friends, Jen and Jenn, engage in endless catty behavior that sends waves through the community’s all-too-interconnected lesbian scene. Gabourey Sidibe is Jen, self-assured and with an affinity for neon-colored plastic-frame eyeglasses. Beth Dover plays “Two-N Jenn,” the annoyingly clueless, comic-relief, Karen-from-Mean-Girls character found in too many female-centric movies. The Jens provide a few laughs, a B-plot or two, and a conflict that nudges the story toward resolution, but they are not well-fleshed-out roles — nor are they particularly original or funny as secondary characters.

Two Saturday Night Live veterans, Abby Elliott and Kate McKinnon, give delightful turns as over-the-top lesbians who find themselves entangled with Sasha and the Jens. Both actresses play their parts well, with Elliott in the meatier role. McKinnon especially nails the comedy as an absurdly aggressive and confident tomboy.

The structure of the story throws very few surprises our way. All the requisite hurt feelings, misunderstandings, and readjustments to new situations are there. Paige and Sasha’s character flaws are not as run of the mill, however, and the development they experience to overcome those shortfalls is satisfyingly scripted.

Paige demonstrates just how large the gulf between the two friends has become when she attempts to set Sasha up with a coworker. The scheme goes predictably wrong, and Paige shows herself to be less interested in Sasha’s happiness than in fixing all the “problems” around her. Many relationships have a “fixer;” Paige has the tendency to direct the narrative of all those in her gravitational pull, introducing friction into her interactions with Sasha, Tim, and even her neighbor (Mark Feuerstein).

For her part, Sasha must overcome her codependency on Paige before she can pursue a serious romantic connection. That tendency to codependence is reinforced by Sasha’s knack for repeatedly finding herself with women who still live with their parents. In fact, though Sasha does not live with her own parents, she does enjoy their continued financial support as she clings to a long-held — and potentially outgrown — aspiration to be a musician. The safety nets provided by her parents and Paige have prevented Sasha from stepping through that last rite of initiation into adulthood.

The Paige/Sasha friendship is a nice window into the sort of female relationship we don’t often get to see on film. Unfortunately, the chemistry between Jacobs and Meester never quite clicked for me. It seemed as if the two women were acting at each other, delivering lines back and forth with a playful, self-conscious twinkle in their eyes. Clearly, those involved with the movie had fun making it, and that translates into a film that’s also fun to watch. But in this instance, camaraderie does not equate to cohesion.

The central success of Life Partners is that it is a film about lesbians without being a lesbian film. I am far outside my depth, being a heterosexual, cisgendered male, to pontificate on the state of the portrayal of lesbians in modern media. Perhaps some LGBT activists will be disappointed that this movie is not more blatantly pro-gay.

For my part, I appreciated the respectful characterization of Paige and Adam’s connection as well as the lesbian-positive perspectives. Countless Lifetime movies have demonstrated how easy it is to demonize the males in a girl-power flick, but Life Partners studiously avoids the trope.

While I may poke holes in some of the other unoriginalities and the stilted interplay of the actors, Fogel and Lefkowitz have created consistent, realistic characters with flaws that are nuanced and familiar to all. Those accomplishments, combined with the refreshing nonchalance toward lesbianism in all its varieties, make Life Partners a film that will tell an important story about growing into a mature adult, capable of both independence and commitment, to many young women regardless of their sexuality.

Bloodlines

Spinoffs: The often unneeded TV sequels

When a film does well at the box office, Hollywood has a habit of feeling the need to create sequels, regardless of whether the story calls for one or not. If the producers can’t think up a sequel, they turn to backstories and make prequels, which are often worse. Television attempts the same thing; when a series is doing well, a network will try to take advantage of its popularity through the TV equivalent of a sequel: the spinoff.

Television executives started pondering early on that when a series is doing well or has been on the air for a significant period of time, surely another edition with a similar premise will be just as well-received, right? Way back in 1960, a fictional sheriff from Mayberry, N.C., arrested Danny Williams on The Danny Thomas Show, and that fall, The Andy Griffith Show began its eight-year run as one of television’s most iconic series. That series gave rise to its own spinoffs: Gomer Pyle: USMC and Mayberry R.F.D.

Some of the highest rated and acclaimed series of all-time have been spinoffs, including The Jeffersons, Laverne & Shirley, The Facts of Life, A Different World, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Family Matters, The Simpsons, and Frasier. In fact, the most watched series on television right now is a spinoff, though many have long-since forgotten this fact. CBS powerhouse NCIS got its start within the late seasons of the series JAG, which, ironically, premiered on NBC. Then, in the tradition of Andy Griffith and All In The Family before it, viewers’ embracing of NCIS led to the spinoff spawning a spinoff, NCIS: Los Angeles, which I personally find more interesting than the original. Another well-known crime procedural, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, has had similar good fortune.

Of course, while our TV sets have been full of successful spinoffs lately, there have been others that make you wonder why the producers made the effort. Even NCIS has had its spinoff missteps. CBS attempted a spinoff-of-a-spinoff when it aired a planted pilot of what would have become NCIS: Red, starring John Corbett, as an episode of NCIS: Los Angeles last year, but ultimately decided not to move forward with the series.

Undaunted by the lack of a pick-up for NCIS: Red, NCIS aired a two-part backdoor pilot to yet another anticipated spinoff, NCIS: New Orleans, just a few weeks ago. While I enjoy seeing Scott Bakula back onscreen, and I like the New Orleans atmosphere, I can’t help but wonder: is yet another spinoff really necessary (really, is any spinoff necessary)? And why so soon after the previous spinoff attempt failed to make it off the ground?

The CW has recently been getting into the spinoff game in a big way. One of its strongest freshman dramas this season was a spinoff, and next season could possibly see two more added to the schedule. The network did moderately well with the debut of The Originals this year. The series is spun-off from the network’s runaway hit drama The Vampire Diaries and follows the Original Vampires, who have been antagonists on the parent series for the last couple seasons.

I believe part of why The Originals works is that the main characters were already well-established on The Vampire Diaries. Klaus, Rebekah, and Elijah are characters that fans of The Vampire Diaries have grown to love, even if they have created nothing but trouble for the protagonists of the show. Even though these were the kind of bad guys we loved to hate, their stories on The Vampire Diaries could only last so long before the characters would become stale, and I have a feeling they were getting close to that point.

By creating the spinoff centered around the Mikaelson vampires, the writers were able to start telling new stories and even take steps toward possible redemption. I’ve been watching The Originals all season and, I have to admit, I’m finding it much more compelling than The Vampire Diaries at the moment. Either Klaus and Elijah were the best part of the original series or I’ve finally had enough of Elena being Elena (possibly both).

Following the good showing put up by The Originals, the CW is now planning two more spinoffs for next season from two other dramas: Arrow and Supernatural. I am actually excited about one of those series, but I have some reservations about the other — and, surprisingly, the one I’m worried about is the spinoff from a series that’s been at the top of my list of favorite shows for years.

Earlier this season, Arrow introduced us to Barry Allen, the young man destined to become the Flash. At the end of the two-part episode, Barry was injured when a particle accelerator exploded. Next season, the series The Flash will show us how he becomes the comic book superhero. Writers had originally intended for Barry to make another appearance on Arrow before the end of the season; however, the network decided it would rather have the Flash’s origin explained in his own series, not on Arrow.

I admit when the producers first announced Grant Gustin had been cast in the role of Barry Allen, I had my doubts — maybe in part because I was still a little bitter about that slushie he threw in Blaine’s face on Glee. I just wasn’t sure Gustin had the charisma to play lead in his own series. However, I really liked the character when he appeared on Arrow. I’m still not sure if he will be able to carry a series, but with a good supporting cast, this show could be great. I’m really looking forward to seeing how it turns out.

On Tuesday, the CW’s longest running drama, Supernatural, will air a backdoor pilot for proposed spinoff Supernatural: Bloodlines, renamed from Supernatural: Tribes. (I have to say, I wish they would just drop the colon title entirely. I prefer series with original titles for spinoffs, such as The Originals or Angel. Fans are smart enough to figure out which series the new show is connected to.) Supernatural: Bloodlines will be set completely in Chicago and focus on mafia-style monster families within the city, and a new, young hunter who goes up against them.

This is the series I have some reservations about. I love Supernatural — so much so that I traveled all the way to Vancouver for a fan convention back in 2009. However, I’m just not sure how this series will work out. One of the things that makes Supernatural unique is the road trip nature of the show; the ’67 Impala they drive around in is as much a character in the show as Sam and Dean. What will a version of the series set in a single city be like? How will they maintain the tone of the original? It’ll also be interesting to see how they distinguish this series from other shows with a similar premise, such as The Vampire Diaries, The Originals, or True Blood.

I don’t want to put the show down before it has even aired — I’ll give it a chance based on my appreciation of the original — I just can’t help but be skeptical. I also feel introducing new characters into a series for the sole purpose of creating a spinoff makes the entire situation feel contrived. It didn’t work so well for NCIS: Red, or for the Bones spinoff, The Finder, a few years ago (though I actually enjoyed The Finder).

As I stated earlier, part of The Originals‘ appeal was the fact that these were already established characters that fans loved, much like when Angel was created as a spinoff from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Fans already knew and loved Angel and Cordelia, so they were willing to follow them to another series. Angel was another case where the spinoff almost felt necessary to keep the characters and stories seeming fresh and not going in circles.

The Angel spinoff occurred at an organic point in the storyline, where characters were graduating and moving on, so it made sense that some would be making a fresh start far from Sunnydale. Not all spinoffs have a natural starting place; the CSI spinoffs did fairly well coming from planted pilots, but I believe using familiar characters at a natural point in the story gives a spinoff a better chance of standing on its own. The Flash isn’t using this technique, but the character of Barry Allen is already familiar to many of the fans who are currently watching Arrow.

And then there’s the spinoff that has almost no real connection to the original series. Next year, we’ll likely see the premiere of How I Met Your Dad, from the creators of How I Met Your Mother but, aside from having a similar structure, the series has no other relationship with its predecessor. This type of spinoff is really just hoping fans of the parent series will give it a chance, as they have no more reason to watch this than any other new sitcom premiering next year. In fact, this particular series may actually suffer from the backlash created by the How I Met Your Mother finale a few weeks ago.

So are spinoffs really necessary? No, most of the time, I don’t believe they are. They’re just a way for a network to attempt to capitalize on the popularity of a series — just like Hollywood tries to attempt to capitalize on a film’s popularity in any way possible. They’re also a way to connect a concept for a new series to an already established one in order to draw in fans of the original in an attempt to take advantage of an existing audience.

However, once in a while, a spinoff could be the answer to continuing a character’s journey in new and interesting ways. It worked for Angel, and so far it has worked for The Originals. Next season, we’ll see which of the new series are able to find the formula for spinoff success.

about-alex

About Alex speaks to mid-20s anxieties

With an of-the-moment cast and a story dealing with familiar, earnest emotions, About Alex, written and directed by Jesse Zwick in his feature film debut, is sure to satisfy its target urban, young audience. Some of its themes, however, are introduced with a lack of subtlety that brings the film to several halting stops.

The movie, which premiered April 17 at the Tribeca Film Festival, lays bear the complexities of post-collegiate life, when friends have fanned out across the country to deal with new circumstances and deep-seated anxieties without the support structure they had grown to rely on. The challenges are proving to be too much for Alex (Jason Ritter), whose suicide attempt as the film opens brings the gang back together for a weekend at an upstate cabin. As the six old college friends — and a controversial plus-one — gather to support one another, flames are reignited, personalities clash, and bonds are stretched to the limit.

The ensemble cast is uneven, with some players falling short of their potential, but the story compensates with its eminently familiarity to anyone who has tried to recapture the “glory days” that can never be reproduced. Max Greenfield as Josh and Nate Parker as Ben steal the show with the sincere, struggling men they bring to life.

Josh is an insufferable academic, bent on confronting uncomfortable feelings and awkward situations head-on. His blunt approach forces the other characters to deal with raw emotions and keeps everyone on edge for the entire weekend.

(Greenfield, with thick glasses and a scruffy beard, bears a physical resemblance in this film to Jeff Goldblum, who is name-checked in the movie — and who, coincidentally, attended the same screening I did.)

It is through Josh that Zwick delivers some heavy-handed philosophizing on the nature of relationships, depression, and the difficulties of growing into full-fledged men and women. The themes are tackled just a bit too opaquely, turning a couple of days at a cabin into occasional graduate-level seminar discussions that disrupt the flow of the film.

The plot carries on, though, and throws in a few twists to give Parker the meat he needs to make Ben the most interesting character in the movie. Ben is a promising young writer — or he was, before a yearlong bout of writer’s block that has opened his Pandora’s box of anxieties about his skills and his ability to maintain relationships both with his friend, Alex, and his girlfriend, Siri (Maggie Grace).

Siri, meanwhile, has landed a dream fellowship in Los Angeles. However, the love of her life, Ben, is convinced he must stay in New York for his career. Their relationship is strained, a fact that is evident to everyone at the cabin, adding to the uncomfortable feelings all around. Things only get more complicated as heightened emotions are stretched to the breaking point.

Aubrey Plaza plays the frenetic Sarah, a quirky, sweet girl with a compulsion for romantic entanglements. Either Plaza struggles to distinguish herself from her character on Parks and Recreation or she was cast in the role because of the similarities. Either way, I never quite saw Plaza merge into the character as opposed to portraying her.

The sixth member of the group, Isaac (Max Minghella), has strayed farthest from his college days, becoming an Italian-shoe-wearing, hedge-fund-trading, potential Republican (!) in San Francisco. Other than some minor sexual tension with Sarah, Isaac’s only addition to the film was to bring his young girlfriend, Kate (Jane Levy), on the trip.

Kate works for a suicide prevention hotline, adding a professional voice to the attempted suicide that looms over the entire get-together. Levy makes the most of the role she is given, creating a cute, self-conscious, wise-beyond-her-years wild card among the six friends who have grown accustomed to their own predictable interactions.

As the weekend unfolds, it becomes clear that any of the core six could have been the one slitting his or her wrists in the bathtub at the outset of the film. Each is struggling to cope with the overwhelming pressure of immediate professional and personal fulfillment that so often feels like a requirement of one’s mid-20s. That feeling will be familiar to much of the target audience, and with the star power of Grace, Greenfield, Plaza, and Ritter among that particular cohort, the movie will become a piece of the nostalgia so fiercely despised by Greenfield’s Josh when that demographic looks back 10 years from now.

The larger audience will find a film full of challenging questions and charming humor. Zwick proves himself adept at ratcheting up tension and breaking it with well-constructed absurdity and sarcasm. If his future efforts can more deftly weave his heavy themes into the fabric of his films, he will succeed in producing interesting and challenging works.

In this first effort, Zwick has created a fine film and a worthy entry in the Tribeca Film Festival. About Alex is funny, thought-provoking, and entertaining — but not without its flaws.

marriage

Taking her husband’s last name … part deux

A few weeks ago, I broached the subject of marital name change from a feminist point of view. I was surprised by how many of you weighed in on the subject, either in the article’s comments section or on various Facebook shares.

That was great, because Curiata.com was created to be a platform for its writers and readers to interact, discuss, and cultivate their opinions and tastes on many different things, from politics to superheros to recipes. There were a lot of excellent points raised in the subsequent discussions, and I wanted to take the opportunity to respond or expand on these thoughts.

First and foremost, one person felt that my column left the reason I decided to change my name unclear. As I said then, the real reason for my article was to highlight that it didn’t matter why I changed my name. The real feminist victory is that I had a choice; I was not forced or coerced to do anything against my will. But it got me thinking about nailing down a more precise answer for why I made the decision I did.

Several other commenters questioned if changing my name was a reflection of a lack of connection to my blood relatives. Some of my own friends have experienced a situation such as this and were happy to adopt their husband’s name for this reason. But for me, it wasn’t a lack of identity, but rather too many identities from which to choose. Let me explain — and no, I do not suffer from multiple personality disorder.

If you look at the surnames of my four grandparents, they are, in no particular order: Goodyear, Kimmel, Zellers, and Reynolds. I am no more or less any one of these names. As a matter of fact, I’ve often been told that I am a younger version of my paternal grandmother (which is odd, because she died when I was only two years old — very little time for her to have a significant impact on my life).

Her last name was originally Kimmel. So because I am similar to her, does that mean that my last name should be Kimmel, because I can identify with her? Maybe so, but in our current setup of naming, we don’t get to choose for ourselves until long after we’ve established an identity. And I inherited my father’s name, who inherited his father’s name, and so on and so forth all the way back to Saxony, Germany, when the original spelling was “Gutjahr.” I can also trace my mother’s family all the way to the 1600s in Ireland.

I don’t suffer from a lack of familial identity, but rather an abundance of it. Before I had finally decided to take my husband’s last name, I watched him trace my ancestry quite diligently. (In fact, I think he was more interested in my roots than I was.) When we linked our family trees, it was a huge patchwork quilt.

My husband is equal parts Hillman and Blackwell, Daley and DeMartine. He didn’t get to choose the surname Hillman, just like I didn’t get to choose the surname Goodyear. But the beauty of society in 2014 is that I do get to choose whether or not to change my name at an important juncture in life — when I begin a new family with my husband.

I would be lying to you if I said I’ve always loved my maiden name, Goodyear. But it’s not because I’m ashamed of or estranged from my parents or other ancestors who bear the name. In middle and high school, I was overweight. It doesn’t take too long or too much creativity for the blimp jokes to start rolling in. Intellectually, I understand that kids will be always be cruel, and I would have been picked on no matter my last name. Nonetheless, my maiden name still carries negative childhood connotations, and I’d rather not pass along this particular demon to my kids.

In fact, that brings me to the more precise reason I did decide to change my name: for the benefit of any future offspring my husband and I may have. I realized that by getting married, we were starting a new, unified family. And that someday, we hope to raise a couple of sensible feminists and/or modern urban gentlemen. I felt it was important to signify to the outside world that we are a team.

To that end, there was a brief moment in time when I toyed with the idea of combining our names to create a new name. The best I could come up with was Hillyear or Goodman. Neither of us was thrilled with either option, and after working so hard to trace our ancestry, it seemed a bit of a waste to start a brand new lineage with us. And since our tradition says that our children will inherit their father’s name, it made sense for me to make that change.

In reality, I understand that there will always be individuals who criticize any decision I make. If I would have kept my maiden name, there would have been individuals who felt that I was being disrespectful and emasculating to my husband. Since I changed my last name, I’m sure there are people who think I am “not feminist enough.”

If we would have opted to combine our last names, there are people who would say that we were being too politically correct, or my personal favorite, they would call us “damn hippies.” Lastly, if Mike would have taken my last name, he would have been mocked mercilessly by some of his male friends and coworkers; I also probably would have been called some interesting names if I had “forced” him into this.

I came to the decision to change my name on my own terms. I’m no longer forced, by law or by society, to take my husband’s name as a sign that I am his property. But not everyone has that level of comfort, and many would be judged cruelly if they make a decision that isn’t popular with the majority.

All of this is a long way of saying: yes, we have come very far in terms of the marital name change. But we still have a long way to go.

mm-s7e2

Season 7, Episode 2: ‘A Day’s Work,’ part 3

For the first time in seven years, a black character was given a substantial plot and character development on this week’s episode of Mad Men. In fact, Dawn and Shirley even spoke to each other, allowing the show to finally satisfy the Black-del test.

I find it appropriate that Dawn was so central to this week’s outing because the episode was all about the dawning of new days for our heroes. “A Day’s Work” brings into relief the transitions of several characters from one stage of their lives to another. Don is, of course, attempting to transition from the role we’ve seen him in for six years into a more even-tempered, sober, loving man. He is being critically aided in that journey by his daughter’s own evolution.

Sally is outside the oppressive bubble of Betty Francis. The complexities and nuances of life are beginning to register for her. She has been forced to confront death. (Remember she was shielded from her grandfather’s several years ago, and Don still doesn’t want her attending funerals.) She has seen adultery and robbery firsthand. The relationships Sally must navigate with Glen Bishop and with her classmates at boarding school are introducing her to the politics of life her father has mastered so well. She has edged her way under the tent flap and has a sense of how hard it is to be a grown-up. She can finally empathize with her father. She can finally love him instead of resent him.

Unfortunately, we are seeing a new dawn for Peggy Olson as well, and it’s not looking like it’s going to be filled with sunshine. Peggy demonstrated a disappointing, infuriating self-centered-ness in this episode. She could not even conceive of the notion that her secretary might be receiving flowers on Valentine’s Day. She could not see the lengths to which Shirley went to avoid hurting Peggy’s feelings. And when the truth was revealed, Peggy reacted like a spoiled child, completely disregarding Shirley and turning the situation into a poor-Peggy moment. I felt anything but “poor Peggy.” Ted’s jilting and L… what’s his name? Lyle? Lucky? Oh, Lou! — Lou’s suffocation have driven Peggy into Draper-like egotistical fits.

I think, ironically, it is Don who will set Peggy on track to success as a passionate but stable creative director and junior partner by series’ end. Peggy might also loosen up when she finally gets laid by either Stan or Ginsberg.

There were other transitions, too: Dawn to office manager, Joan to account “man,” Roger to professional (if not personal) impotency. I’m not sure where Pete’s headed, but it may just be the loony bin.

What was not a transition or out of place was Bert Cooper’s racism. I mean, keep in mind that if Cooper is as old as Robert Morse, the man was born in 1886 during the Cleveland administration. The first Cleveland administration!

I do believe Joan or another partner should have stepped in during the “rearranging” for the sake of enlightening Mr. Cooper and positioning SC&P for the new reality of 1969 and the decade to come, but I suspect that little speck of discrimination was simply a plot concession to move Joan around the chessboard toward the ever-approaching endgame.

mm-s7e2

Season 7, Episode 2: ‘A Day’s Work,’ part 2

Kevin nailed it with the Sally/Don stuff. The scenes with Sally and Don felt earned and genuine. The showstopper “I love you” scene was a fitting and surprisingly touching end to their road trip.

I’m skeptical, though, that Don is any further along on his road to redemption. Let’s remember that, for a man seeking forgiveness and change, Don drank A LOT in this episode. Note the marking of the liquor bottle and then the lunch with Dave. Don is still putting them back and I fear that he isn’t on the road to recovery as much as the gooey stuff with Sally would have us believe and hope.

This was one of those great slow burn episodes that Mad Men is both loved and hated for. Here it works. If you think about it, there’s a lot going on in this episode:

Roger (nice to see you outside of a hotel room) is slowly losing to Jim whatever decision power he has left. You can tell he is feeling less and less valuable in every aspect of his life.

The same can’t be said for Joan, who is movin’ on up to the office upstairs reserved for an “Accounts Man.” This, for me, was just as satisfying as Sally’s “I love you” scene. Joan deserves this, regardless of what a bitter Roger thinks.

Dawn and Shirley, perhaps the only two African American employees at SC&P, did more to highlight the racial strife of 1969 in this one episode than in any Mad Men I can remember. Their break room routine — where they called each other by the other’s name — humorously and yet sadly pointed out that no one in the office sees a difference between them.

And can we agree that Lou Avery is the worst? I’ll give him credit that it wasn’t his job to explain Don’s absence to Sally, but still, this guy could not be more condescending, sexist, or racist if he tried. Speaking of racist, it may have been an unfortunately common sentiment at the time, but Bertram Cooper’s order to remove Dawn from the front desk actually caused me to wince at the screen. I wonder if they purposely picked one of the firm’s more pleasant partners to make that stinging remark?

I thought the episode flowed well. The funny scenes with the conference call seemed to fit nicely between the heavier scenes, a lot of which dealt with the show’s regular, weightier themes.

It remains to be seen where Don moves next in all of this. We know now that Don has eyes and ears inside of the office, and if you add this to Freddy, who is his mouth, he’s got an entire head in the office at SC&P. I’m still not sure, though, where it gets him. The office seems to be moving along just fine in his absence.

As for Don’s home life, we’re left to wonder. When asked by Sally if he still loves Megan, Don gave one of those “of course” answers that felt patently untrue. Sure, he’s bonding now with his daughter, but will it last? It’s Mad Men, so probably not.

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Season 7, Episode 2: ‘A Day’s Work,’ part 1

As Mad Men enters the first half of its seventh and final season, a panel of viewers here at Curiata.com will engage in a roundtable discussion following each episode. Check back throughout the week for new entries in the series.

The relationship between Don and Sally Draper has been adversarial for almost the entire run of the show. Don’s mistakes always seem to be revealed to Sally before anyone else, and she, understandably, never handles them well. The second episode of Mad Men’s final season continues the momentum of the season’s first by showing how Don is finally growing into a man more accepting of his flaws.

Don is still addicted to lying. Megan and others are completely unaware that Don is on forced leave. However, Sally is finally making a dent in Don’s heart and becoming the conscience that he’s sorely been missing. Last week’s decision by Don not to sleep with Neve Campbell now makes more sense after being reminded of Sally’s scarring vision of her father and his mistress.

It appears as though Don is finally learning from his mistakes. He decides against lying to Sally as he would in the past, instead telling his daughter the truth and letting her react appropriately. This is no longer the Don Draper who would degrade people into submission — a role which Peggy Olson appears to be moving into — but a man who realizes his mistakes and is looking to fix them.

This leads to the simplest, yet most incredible scene of the episode. When saying good bye to her father, Sally tells Don that she loves him. It’s surprising how jarring this moment is, considering it is just a teenage girl saying this to her dad, but then we remember all of the times when Sally’s hatred of her father was very evident. Don’s reaction mirrors that which he had last season with Bobby, in which he makes his father so proud that Don is unable to keep himself from crying. It’s a moment in which we realize that Don is finally coming to terms with his role as a father and the unbelievable love he has for them.

Whereas early seasons show Don Draper as a man going through the motions, constantly remembering his own childhood, the final season of Mad Men shows a man who is finally happy with the people in his life, even if he’s embarrassed by his professional mistakes.