Mad Men: The Phantom (5.13)

Nancy Sinatra sang that you only live twice -- one life that you drift through, and the other a fantasy. For Don, he's literally lived twice, but this season saw him embarking on something of a 'third' life, a cheat that goes against the message of the song. Megan was his opportunity to start fresh. He wouldn't cheat like he did with Betty. He wouldn't lie like he did with Betty. But over the course of these thirteen episodes, there's been this nagging sense that something was wrong with his new arrangement. Megan was beautiful and talented and admired... but there was a block. There were dizzy highs, and they often made up for the lows, but the inner turmoil Don was experiencing had to ultimately manifest somehow. So the anguish became a literal pain, something he chose to briefly ignore, until it became too much to bear. In the end, he realized what he had to do. They were done.

Mad Men: Commissions and Fees (5.12)

It had been clear for a while that the other shoe was going to drop. There's been a sense of doom lingering all over the show this season, from Pete's depression to Lane's fraud to Don's new marriage to Joan's indecent proposal. Even if everybody is acting so content on the surface, beneath it all lies so much hurt and pain. So it was no surprise that somebody finally snapped. Commissions and Fees sign-posted its ending from the very start, but remained a traumatic and gut-wrenching experience. This was death that was raw and ugly. It was the final result of a spiral of desperation, a character surrounded by folks in denial, and one last act of almost passive-aggression that can't help but leave a bitter taste in your mouth. But lord was it affecting.

Mad Men: The Other Woman (5.11)

I've always thought there was something naturally tragic about owning a huge, fancy car. Okay, that's probably a little unfair. But so often the purchasing of something like the Jaguar at the center of The Other Woman is guided by the very fact that it's incredibly expensive and awe-inspiring. It's a physical reflection of your wealth, something that isn't static like a house or a fancy object, but something you can drive around and impress with by proxy of merely passing by. For those fleeting seconds it's ridiculously impressive. But, I don't know... it feels hollow. Maybe if you're genuinely filthy rich and could afford a couple of them, but when you're merely pushing the illusion of wealth and grandeur, it can't help but read as sort of underwhelming.

Mad Men: Christmas Waltz (5.10)

If you're involved in Mad Men's online fan community, then you're doubtlessly aware that there have recently been minor rumblings of dissatisfaction with this season. I certainly understand their reasoning, even if I don't particularly feel like season five has been any less strong than the preceding years. But, with all that in mind, there was definitely a sense of cool nostalgia in Don and Joan's get-together. It suddenly made me remember how much more intimate the show used to be, the cast bouncing off one another in smaller moments that bristled with energy, with dialogue that wasn't steaming with overt symbolism. While I adore this show and have so far loved this season, Don and Joan brought the house down, and the writers should really try and explore older relationships like that.

Mad Men: Dark Shadows (5.9)

It doesn't seem fair to claim that Dark Shadows didn't totally work because it was such a Betty-heavy episode. And that was a probably an unfortunate turn of phrase. Heh. It's been a constant criticism of Mad Men in recent years that Betty isn't entirely necessary anymore, so stuck on the periphery of the show that she could easily be written out all-together. It's similarly unfortunate that this debate has only gotten more heated this season, when January Jones' pregnancy has majorly increased her absences from the series, meaning Betty turning up again after several weeks of being MIA comes off like a visit from a ghost from the past. But lumping Betty into a slightly 'off' episode is more of an unlucky coincidence than a statement on Betty's redundancy.

Mad Men: Lady Lazarus (5.8)

The driving theme of Pete's story this season has been his sense of entitlement, and it's been arguable whether it's always deserved. He wanted the bigger office, he wanted the respect that naturally gravitates towards his contemporaries. He wants that lifestyle, so he sleeps with the hooker and pokes fun at the lame, stuffy British guy in his office. Here, we see him pursuing an affair, determined to make a spur-of-the-moment liaison something far deeper than it probably should have been. But the problem with Pete is that nothing is ever as simple as it seemingly is with other people. He didn't just have sex with somebody, he had sex with the wife of a man he sees and talks to regularly during the morning commute. He can't just treat their encounter as a one-time thing, he has to talk his way back into her home and pursue a lengthy affair. It's the constant trap of running on empty, the heart chasing something long after the brain has checked out.

Mad Men: At the Codfish Ball (5.7)

Lying is frequently depicted as something calculated and cruel, the actions of people wanting to keep negative actions secret, or desperate to keep somebody else in the dark. But, at the same time, lying is sometimes a form of protection. You can lie to yourself in order to prevent inner hurt, or keep something close to your chest to avoid disrupting the status quo. This can't be written off as a bad thing, either. Especially in 1966, it just made things far easier. It's no coincidence that the one act of honesty as seen here ended with anger and parental anguish.

Mad Men: Far Away Places (5.6)

A lot can happen in a day. Like Seven Twenty Three in the third season, this was another episode that experimented with non-linear narrative, all of the three stories here linked by that collective desire to break out and escape. It's a theme that's always been at the forefront of much of Mad Men, that wanting to experience adventure and break up the monotony of everyday life. We can all relate to that, but it was even more daring back in 1966 -- doing something bad, abandoning your responsibilities, reaching that high. Every story here had that same sense of momentum, and the three characters anchoring their own vignettes all wound up experiencing some kind of epiphany or emotional break-through. And only one of them was helped by a little LSD.

Mad Men: Signal 30 (5.5)

I experienced a crushing blow watching Signal 30. The latest in a number of Mad Men-related disappointments, gravitating from the ugly reality that doesn't always present itself every week on this show, the admiration you have for certain characters that is unexpectedly upturned. Because Pete isn't a good person. He's funny and charming and adorably unaware of his weekly downward spiral into inevitable disappointments, and all of this combines to make him somebody you can almost root for. But then we get an episode like this one, where he exhibits behavior that is beyond reprehensible. And, somehow, he can't get away with it like Don does. He just ends up appearing pathetic, and suddenly you're hit with that realization that he's truly not good at all.

Mad Men: Mystery Date (5.4)

I think everybody has a moment in their lives when they begin to recognize the negative qualities they possess. That maybe you make rash judgments about others, or you exhibit behaviors that can be interpreted as damaging to either your own well-being, or the well-being of society. Sometimes you wind up shocked at your own flaws, sometimes you embrace them, and sometimes no matter how hard you try and improve yourself -- those bad qualities just insist on coming back. Mystery Date was all about those hidden feelings, the ones you try and suppress but struggle to entirely rid yourself of. It's a theme that runs through every one of the episode's stories, and it's characteristically fascinating.

Mad Men: Tea Leaves (5.3)

Despite being set in the early 1960's, it's easy to be thrown out of joint when it comes to Mad Men's timeline. When we think of that era, we're usually inclined to think of the rebellious tokers at the forefront of cultural change, jumping into new music and new experiences with an unrivaled fearlessness... sort of like the ones we glimpsed in Tea Leaves. What we don't really think about are the ones left behind from that culture shift, the ones that lived their lives emulating the personalities and styles of their parents, the thought of becoming something sort of groundbreaking or different completely out of question. In all three episodes this season, a lot of emphasis has been placed on that swing, and how the Mad Men ensemble are merely observers to it...

Mad Men: A Little Kiss (5.1) / (5.2)

Mad Men remains one of those rare series that exists within its own impenetrable bubble of mystery. Despite being off the air for nearly two years, only mere tidbits were revealed prior to its return, meaning half the fun of its season premiere is working out how far the show has jumped forward in time, as well as seeing how the lives of each character have been shaken up during the interim -- Pete's stock has grown, but his respect remains stagnant; Roger's problems have only gotten worse; while I don't think there's any more jarring image than the sight of Joan struggling to push her baby-stroller through the glass doors of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce...