
Television Review: Babylon (Mad Men, S1x06, 2007)
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Babylon (S1x06)
Airdate: 23 August 2007
Written by: Matthew Weiner
Directed by: Leslie Linka Glatter
Running Time: 47 minutes
Mad Men is a series that richly rewards its viewers, but it does so selectively. Its appeal is often reserved for those with a predilection for period drama and the patience to be ultimately rewarded by its slow-burn character studies. Babylon, the sixth episode of the first season, stands as a prime example of this dynamic. It lacks anything resembling a clear, driving plot, yet compensates amply with meticulous character exposition and a painstaking, almost anthropological depiction of early 1960s America. For the casual viewer, it might feel like an hour of narrative drift; for the attentive, it is a good display of atmospheric storytelling and thematic seeding.
The episode, set around Mother’s Day 1960, opens with a moment that establishes a subtle continuity with the preceding instalment. Don Draper, the enigmatic creative director, slips on the stairs of his suburban home and, in a brief, disorienting fall, experiences the series’ very first flashback. We see him as a boy, being introduced to his newborn stepbrother, Adam Whitman. This fleeting vision is more than a mere narrative device; it is a declaration of intent. It signals that Mad Men, a show already deeply invested in the recent past of 1960, is willing to dive much further into history to excavate the roots of its protagonist’s fractured identity. Don’s present-day stumbles are literally and figuratively connected to the ghosts of his upbringing, a theme the series will explore with increasing complexity.
The bulk of the episode’s nominal plot remains firmly in the present, orbiting a new client for Sterling Cooper: an ocean passenger line attempting to pitch Israel as a luxury destination. The creative challenge—to sell Haifa and Jerusalem as the new Paris or Rome—immediately exposes the cultural fissures of the era. Don and his team must deal wth the landscape where anti-Communist bias colours perceptions; kibbutzes and women carrying guns are viewed not as symbols of pioneering spirit but as suspiciously Soviet. Conversely, the monumental success of Leon Uris’s novel Exodus and the impending film adaptation starring Paul Newman have made Israel seem exotic and compelling, with “America falling in love with Israel,” as one character notes. Don, characteristically adrift on matters of personal identity, seeks clarity by turning to Rachel Menken. In a business lunch that doubles as another fumbled romantic overture, he probes her for a perspective on Jewish identity and Israel. Her description of Israel as a “utopia”—simultaneously a “good place” and a “place that cannot be”—is poetically resonant but ultimately provides no easy advertising copy. Her subsequent rejection of Don leaves him once again seeking solace elsewhere, this time with his bohemian mistress, Midge. She drags him to a beatnik club, where he sits amidst the anti-establishment posturing with palpable, sarcastic disdain. The sequence culminates in a rendition of “By the Waters of Babylon,” performed with David Carbonara, the series composer, among the musicians. The song’s themes of exile and longing for a lost homeland echo not only the Israeli narrative but Don’s own perpetual state of dislocation.
A parallel storyline offers a cynical glimpse into the agency’s workplace dynamics. Freddy Rumsen (Joel Murray), a senior copywriter, is tasked with devising a campaign for Belle Jolie lipstick. His “brainstorming” session involves having women from the secretarial pool test various shades while being observed through a one-way mirror by their male superiors. It is a blatant exercise in voyeurism and power, presented with the show’s trademark clinical detachment. Joan Holloway, the office manager fully aware of the setup, turns the tables by deliberately flaunting her body before the glass, asserting a calculated control over the male gaze. The experiment yields an unexpected creative spark when the otherwise mousy Peggy Olson describes the experience as a “basket of kisses.” Rumsen seizes upon the phrase as ingenious copy, providing the first concrete hint that Peggy’s destiny lies in the creative bullpen. This subplot is a sharp critique of the era’s gendered workplace, while also serving as crucial character development for Peggy.
The episode also quietly unveils a significant personal revelation: Joan Holloway is engaged in a long-standing affair with Roger Sterling, the married partner of the agency. This detail, dropped almost casually, deepens our understanding of Joan’s complex handling of the corporate world, where her sexuality is both a weapon and a liability.
Babylon is, by design, a slow episode. It would likely try the patience of a casual viewer unfamiliar with the social mores and pop-cultural touchstones of Eisenhower’s America. However, for those armed with some knowledge of the period, it is a richly layered text. In light of subsequent history, its portrayal of Israel is particularly fascinating. Decades before the nation became America’s “greatest ally”, it is presented here as a strange, exotic land with puzzling politics. The episode deftly captures a moment when American philo-Semitism, spurred by Exodus, coexisted with lingering, unexamined anti-Semitic biases—a hangover from pre-WW2 years when Communism was often perceived as a Jewish plot.
For a series built upon a reputation for meticulous period reconstruction, Babylon commits a rare but notable anachronism. Joan Holloway references Marshall McLuhan’s famous axiom, “the medium is the message,” a full four years before it was published in his 1964 work Understanding Media. This slip is almost unforgivable in a show that otherwise treats historical detail with such reverence, though it does little to diminish the episode’s overall atmospheric authenticity.
Mad Men’s first year doesn’t have much of a plot, and serves mostly to introduce the audience to this strange setting and characters. Babylon epitomises this approach. It is less about narrative propulsion and more about immersion—into the conflicted psyche of Don Draper, into the gendered hierarchies of Madison Avenue, and into a specific cultural moment where old prejudices collided with new curiosities. It is not the series’ most dramatic instalment, but for those willing to engage with its deliberate pace and subtle nuances, it is a rewarding piece of television craftsmanship.
RATING: 5/10 (++)
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