Severance (S7x08)
Airdate: 5 April 2015
Written by: Matthew Weiner
Directed by: Scott Hornbacher
Running Time: 48 minutes
AMC’s strategic decision to bifurcate the final season of Mad Men, dividing it into two distinct parts with a significant year-long hiatus, was ostensibly driven by a desire to allow audiences to savour the conclusion of the series in its most complete and unhurried form. While the series’ creator, Matthew Weiner, argued that this extended approach was necessary to do justice to the show’s intricate tapestry, the move carried a tangible risk: it threatened to dilute the unique concept that had defined the series from its inception. By expanding the narrative timeline from the distinctive, culturally specific milieu of the 1960s into the more recognisable and familiar terrain of the 1970s, the show faced the danger of losing its otherworldly charm. The 1970s, despite its historical significance, is a past world that is significantly more similar and accessible to today’s contemporary audience, and consequently, arguably less interesting in its stark contrast to the present. The premiere episode of the second half of the season, titled "Severance," serves as a harbinger of these risks, illustrating how the show’s momentum and distinctiveness can wane when the temporal setting becomes less exotic.
The script by Matthew Weiner initiates another dramatic temporal leap, propelling the plot of this episode months forward from the explosive events that concluded the first half of the season. The narrative is firmly set in April 1970, a time that finds the world dramatically different from the one introduced at the very start of the series. The cultural seismic shifts of the era—social upheaval, changing gender dynamics—have taken hold, yet the creative team seems to struggle to fully inhabit this new reality with the same vividness they once possessed in the 1960s.
The title of the episode, "Severance," offers a crucial clue to its thematic core, addressing the precarious professional fate of one of the show's beloved semi-regular characters. Ken Cosgrove, who had spent years as head of accounts at S&CP, is summoned by Roger and Ferguson “Ferg” Donnelly (James Larsson), a McCann Ericson executive, to be informed of his termination. The severance package offered to him is reportedly generous, but the delivery is humiliating. This situation is steeped in irony, as Ken had already been contemplating leaving the firm to dedicate his life to writing—a pursuit he found more sensible and personally rewarding. His departure had been encouraged by many, including his wife Cynthia, but it is Ferg Donnelly who is most insistent on his firing. From Ferg's perspective, Ken's decision to leave McCann Ericson to join the small SCDP was a betrayal that ought to be punished. However, the episode delivers a surprise twist that recontextualises the dismissal: Ken reveals that he has secured a new position as head of advertising at Dow Chemicals, the company that is S&CP’s primary client. He informally tells his former employers that he intends to make their lives as miserable as possible, suggesting that this professional severance is merely the prelude to a more aggressive corporate warfare.
The other primary storyline focuses on Joan Holloway, who, despite her elevated position as Vice President of Account Services, remains haunted by the unresolved issue of not being taken seriously by her male counterparts. Her professional life collides with her personal insecurities when she and Peggy are forced to conduct a meeting with executives from Topaz, the company whose pantyhouse product S&CP is tasked with advertising. The atmosphere of the meeting quickly turns unpleasant as the Topaz executives launch a series of crude, disparaging remarks at the expense of Joan’s statuesque figure. Following the meeting, Joan is visibly furious and feels the sting of their insensitivity. In contrast, Peggy, who was treated more seriously and businesslike by the Topaz executives, offers a cold, rational perspective. She points out to Joan that, at the end of the day, she is much richer than her and perhaps she shouldn't have worn such glamorous and appealing clothes if it was going to provoke such behaviour. Joan, desperate to win back a sense of her former confidence, attempts to soothe her bruised ego by visiting the boutique where she once worked as a clerk and spending large amounts of money on new purchases.
Meanwhile, Peggy Olson goes on a date, a social milestone arranged thanks to her friendly subordinate Johnny Mathis (Trevor Einhorn), who has set her up with his brother-in-law, the young attorney Stevie Wollcott (Devon Gummersall). The chemistry is palpable; the date goes exceptionally well to the point where both decide to take an impromptu romantic getaway to Paris. However, their plans are thwarted by a logistical error when Peggy cannot locate her passport. The following day, she discovers the passport neatly waiting for her at her desk in the S&CP office. Yet, by this time, she has already dismissed the idea of the Paris trip and the budding relationship with Stevie as nothing more than an alcohol-fuelled folly. This moment encapsulates Peggy’s recurring struggle between her desire for genuine human connection and her fear of vulnerability, further complicated by her professional preoccupations and a deep-seated belief that her happiness is destined to be temporary.
Don Draper’s narrative arc in this episode is perhaps the most emotionally fraught. He is in the final stages of a formal divorce from Megan and is indulging in a bachelor lifestyle that mirrors Roger Sterling’s own hedonistic approach. Don is enjoying countless casual relationships with women, a lifestyle partly facilitated by the parade of glamorous models being cast for the agency’s advertisements. One night, Don experiences a vivid dream in which Rachel Menken attends one of these casting sessions. Later, much to his shock, he learns that Rachel has just died of leukaemia. The episode further complicates Don’s emotional state when he enters a diner and notices a waitress named Diana (Elizabeth Reaser), who, for unexplained reasons, looks familiar to him. A brief sexual encounter ensues between the two, but Diana appears to be rejecting his attempt to pursue a more meaningful, lasting relationship, leaving Don once again adrift in a sea of temporary connections.
Envisioned as the opening salvo of the finale seven-episode stretch titled “End of the Era,” Severance is a very dark episode. It captures characters dealing not so much with personal and professional change, but with the precariousness of their position in a shifting world. Ken Cosgrove, who literally sacrificed his eye for his company years ago, is now humiliatingly let go without a fight. Don is suddenly reminded of his own fragility after learning that he has outlived a lover who was younger and presumably healthier than him. Joan is reminded that, despite her power, she still has a long way to go to be properly respected by her peers. Peggy learns that a misplaced document can derail a romantic getaway, illustrating the bureaucratic chaos that continues to plague her life. The episode paints a picture of a world where stability is an illusion, and everyone is merely waiting for their inevitable severance.
However, the episode also shows that Weiner and the rest of his creative staff are losing much of their creative mojo. The structural opening, in which a model poses in front of Don, is first edited to look like Don’s personal fantasy, only to be revealed as a genuine office casting session for real models. This deceptive editing is followed by an actual fantasy dream sequence most of the audience would instantly recognise as fantasy. Because of this tonal shifting, the scene loses much of its potential impact; the viewer is left confused rather than immersed in Don’s subconscious, as the distinction between reality and imagination blurs into a distracting montage. The same thing can be said about the decision to use Peggy Lee’s famous 1969 song “Is There All There Is?” at the beginning and end of the episode. While the song is a poignant reflection of existential crisis, its usage here illustrates the protagonist’s dilemmas with little subtlety. Instead of letting the subtext speak for itself, the episode slaps the audience with the emotional soundtrack, removing the need for nuanced interpretation and feeling somewhat heavy-handed.
There is a nice visual touch regarding Roger Sterling, who is seen starting to wear a moustache. This grooming choice makes him look older and more grandfatherly, indicating not only the passage of time but also highlighting the extraordinary nature of his relationship with much younger women, as he continues to chase youth despite the physical signs of aging. Yet, the episode ultimately suffers from a pacing issue that suggests the hiatus may have done more harm than good.
Severance is nevertheless a solid episode, anchoring the second half of the season with its thematic weight, but its slow, methodical approach that has served it so well in the beginning of the series is becoming a disadvantage near the end. As the show races towards its conclusion, the lingering and repetitive style feels somewhat counterproductive, suggesting that the creative team needed to accelerate their narrative engine rather than maintaining the glacial pace of the past half-decade.
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