The Runaways (S7x05)
Airdate: 11 May 2014
Written by: David Iserson & Matthew Weiner
Directed by: Christopher Manley
Running Time: 48 minutes
When a television series is built upon the meticulous recreation of a specific historical period, complete with its nuances of popular culture and references, it is a bold move to anchor three consecutive episodes around a single film. This deliberate repetition could easily suggest two distinct things to the observant viewer: either the creators are genuinely enamoured with the chosen work and wish to pay it the ultimate homage, or, cynically, they have simply run out of creative ideas and are relying on a comfortable shorthand. In the context of Matthew Weiner’s final season of Mad Men, particularly in the episode The Runaways, such a conclusion might have felt tempting. The recycling of Stanley Kubrick’s influence, following Field Trip and The Monolith, creates a sense of thematic heaviness that borders on the self-indulgent. However, dismissing this as a lack of imagination would be a mistake. Instead, The Runaways demonstrates how the obsession with a singular artistic vision can serve as a powerful narrative engine, even if it occasionally feels like a director's fond farewell to a muse.
The episode opens with personnel issues at SC&P that serve as a microcosm of the agency's internal strife, utilizing the character of Lou Avery as a vessel for old-fashioned resentment. The creative staff, led by the sharp-eyed Stan Rizzo, discovers that Lou, despite his seniority and artistic talent, spends his spare time drawing a comic strip. What should be a benign hobby becomes the object of ridicule among the younger, more progressive subordinates. Lou does not take this lightly; his bruised ego drives him to assert dominance by keeping everyone, including Don Draper—who is technically his subordinate—working late. This petty power play sets the stage for the episode’s central irony. Lou believes he is punishing Don and undermining his authority. Instead, he inadvertently ensures that Don will miss his flight, a delay that proves to be the pivotal necessity for the unfolding narrative. It is a classic example of Shakespearean farce: the villain tries to bury the hero in paperwork, only to clear the path for his redemption.
This bureaucratic friction creates a ripple effect that impacts Don’s personal life. He is forced to deal with a crisis involving Stephanie, his niece and the daughter of his late wife Anna’s sister. Stephanie calls Don from a payphone booth, alone, pregnant, and broke. Don promises to help, but before he can leave New York, he asks Megan to temporarily house Anna. Megan agrees, but Lou’s decision to detain Don stalls his departure. By the time Don arrives at Megan’s home, the situation has been resolved. Stephanie was there, and Megan, though friendly, is taken aback by the young woman’s beauty and claims that she knows all of Don’s secrets. Megan senses an opportunity to assert control and perhaps protect her own position. Rather than waiting for Don to handle the situation personally, she writes a thousand-dollar check to Stephanie, allowing the young girl to leave immediately. It is a transactional, almost cold interaction that highlights Megan’s agency. She is not just a passive wife; she is a woman who knows she holds the cards in her marriage to Don, and she uses them to ensure the drama doesn't escalate.
With Don effectively sidelined by Lou’s pettiness, Megan is free to focus on the large party she is hosting. This event is a lavish display of her social climbing and her desire to rejuvenate her marriage. Don arrives late, but the damage is done—or so it seems. At the party, he crosses paths with Harry Crane, who is in the company of Miranda (Meg Cionni), a younger woman who is unmistakably not his wife. Harry, partially embarrassed by his infidelity, confides in Don, suggesting that he should stay in Los Angeles and build his career there. He even drops a bombshell: Jim Cutler is negotiating the deal with Philip Morris over advertising Commander cigarettes. This is the kiss of death for Don, as the tobacco giant is unlikely to work with the agency whose star executive wrote an anti-tobacco open letter. The information is crucial, and Megan, sensing Don’s unease, initiates a threesome with Don and her friend Amy (Jenny Wade) to try and recapture the intimacy of their early years.
While Don navigates the sophisticated waters of Los Angeles high society, things are deteriorating back in the Francis household. Sally Draper is sent home from school after a "sword-fight with golf clubs" ends with her apparently broken nose. This physical violence is mirrored in the emotional volatility between Betty and Henry Francis. Previously, Betty attended a dinner party with Henry and expressed her opinion about the Vietnam War, which ran contrary to Henry’s. This disagreement leads to a serious row.
In the parallel universe of the office, the atmosphere is charged with paranoia and technological anxiety. The arrival of a new computer at SC&P exacerbates the psychosis of Michael Ginsberg. He becomes convinced the machine is trying to turn everyone in the office homosexual, a bizarre and specific fear that speaks to his deep-seated insecurities. He visits Peggy to allay his concerns and ends up sleeping over. In the morning, when he wakes up, he makes a move on Peggy, which is swiftly rejected. The next day, he brings her a gift: it is revealed to be the nipple he had severed from his own body. This grotesque detail confirms that Ginsberg has suffered a complete psychotic break. It is a deeply disturbing moment, and the episode ends with him being hauled off to a hospital on a stretcher.
Don, however, is not done yet. Armed with the knowledge of the plot against him and the Philip Morris deal, he heads to the Algonquin Hotel to crash the meeting between Cutler, Lou, and the Philip Morris executives. He enters the lion's den and reminds them of his previous successful work for tobacco companies. He pitches himself to them, suggesting that their public relations status would be even greater if they gained such a publicly anti-tobacco person on his side. While the Philip Morris executives do not explicitly say whether they will accept this, the scene is masterfully shot. After the meeting, Cutler’s angry glance towards Don suggests that they will indeed accept his terms. It is a triumphant return to form for Don Draper, the confident ad man who, in his darkest moments, finds the confidence to sell himself to the highest bidder.
The episode is notably structured as a tribute to Stanley Kubrick, particularly 2001: A Space Odyssey. Field Trip, which aired two weeks before this episode, featured the scene in which Don watches Model Shop, a film starring Gary Lockwood, the same actor who played Frank Poole in 2001: A Space Odyssey. In The Monolith, the plot revolved around a massive computer modelled on HAL 9000. These references are completed in The Runaways. Ginsberg is shown looking at Lou and Cutler talking behind a soundproof glass wall and tries to read their lips. The shot is composed exactly like Kubrick shot the conversation between Bowman and Poole in his film. This is not just a gimmick; it serves to illustrate Ginsberg's detachment from reality and his attempt to decipher the "code" of the corporate world, much like the astronauts in the film attempted to understand the monolith. As 2001: A Space Odyssey is a masterpiece of sights, sounds and ideas, prioritising atmosphere over character. Ginsberg becomes the living embodiment of this concept, reduced to observing reality through a Kubrickian lens, unable to connect with the human element around him.
Despite the heavy-handed Kubrick references, The Runaways is generally a very good episode. It features an ironic twist that elevates it above a simple series of plot points. Lou, feeling threatened by Don’s return, lashes out by keeping him late. This delay allows Don to arrive late and end up on Megan’s party, where he would obtain the crucial information that would ultimately wreck Lou’s and Cutler’s plans. The script, co-written by David Iserson and Weiner, is tight and the character work is sharp. It handles social changes through various characters most notably through Stephanie. While Stephanie was introduced in earlier seasons as someone who embraces the brave new world of the 1960s, here she goes full counterculture, adopting the hippie stereotypes—clothes, hairstyle, vegetarianism, and an aversion to washing. Yet, the episode does not shy away from showing the serious drawbacks and challenges related to this lifestyle. She is alone, pregnant, and broke, illustrating that the romanticisation of the counterculture often obscures the harsh realities of poverty and instability.
More interesting, however, are the two characters who express hostility to change. Lou Avery, despite being depicted as a talented artist, is deeply conservative and right-wing. His treatment of the creative staff and his obsession with maintaining hierarchy reveal a man terrified of the shifting sands of the advertising world. Similarly, Betty gets Henry Francis in trouble by showing a more hardline stance towards the Vietnam War than the Nixon administration. She is no longer the passive housewife of early seasons; she is a woman engaging politically, even if her alignment is increasingly with the conservative establishment. Her row with Henry over dinner highlights a fundamental disconnect in their marriage, driven by divergent political views.
Michael Ginsberg’s psychotic breakdown is the emotional and visual climax of the episode. It ends his character arc in a way that is shocking and graphic. As with Season 3 episode Guy Walks Into an Advertising Agency Mad Men is unafraid of gore and sudden, violent accidents that change the course of the agency's history. The lawnmower scene in that earlier episode severed foot and redefined the agency's future. Ginsberg’s severed nipple and subsequent hospitalisation serve a similar function, albeit on a personal level. It is the most shocking and graphic scene in terms of gore since that iconic moment, marking the definitive end of a character who had been spiralling since his arrival.
The episode is also notable for the threesome scene. It could be interpreted as another example of fan service, with the series at this late stage trying to maintain viewers’ loyalty with the same tricks Megan does to keep Don around. It is a visual callback to the sexual liberation of the era, but framed through the lens of Megan’s desperation. It feels like a final, desperate attempt by the character to recapture the magic that once defined her relationship with Don.
In the end, The Runaways succeeds despite its obvious Kubrickian overtones. It is a complex episode that balances corporate politics, personal breakdowns, and social commentary. The ending shows the old, confident Don, who, even when he is at his lowest ebb, possesses the resilience to pitch himself to initially hostile clients. It is a fitting capstone to a series that has always understood that in advertising, as in life, the best pitch is often the one that acknowledges the darkest truths.
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