For whatever reason I watched the Mad Men 5 opener twice tonight. Clearly I found it absorbing, but everyone — everyone! — always seem so tense and calculating and pissed off. Don Draper celebrates his 40th birthday in the episode, which means it’s 1966. But the climate feels more like ’64. And I cringe at every nearly moment spent with Vincent Kartheiser‘s character — his big forehead and that snippy expression and those twelve-year-old shoulders and his unrelenting pettiness. My hands-down favorite scene with when Jessica Pare, Don’s French wife, began to clean the apartment in her black underwear.
