POINT (by Jordan)

When Mad Men first aired, it thrived by using its characters’ respective dramas to narrate what the larger populace experienced at the time. Season two, however, has opted to narrow its focus to the universe it’s created for itself, often advancing the kind of storylines that excite emotionally retarded watchers of daytime TV.

If it weren’t for the concern for these characters that was cultivated in season one, there would be little reason to care about season two’s flings, fertility issues and hurt feelings. Instead of the humor, social change, and industry focus that took center stage in the show’s inaugural season, the primary plot points have become largely melodramatic—what was once a slick, funny, thoughtful synecdoche for America in the early-1960s is now a soap opera that could have been set in Orange County yesterday. This is all typified by the chief gripes about season two's finale...

Don’s a pussy now
In what is likely a forced set-up for the resurrection of old Don in season three, Draper’s dalliances in California have made him realize in mere weeks that he can’t live without his vapid, humorless wife. In his letter to her, he uses the kind of maudlin, flowery sentiment for which he’s never previously displayed the capability. Don Draper without a marble sack is today’s ad executive, not 1962’s

Every season ends in a pregnancy that we’re supposed to care about
Childbirth subplots are for chicks, but Peggy’s pregnancy at the end of season one touched upon several emerging social trends of the time: a growth in bastard children coupled with a new dilemma facing women: kids vs. career. The development of Don and Betty’s little blessing, however, is as unwanted as another Spears child

Birdie: now even more mediocre
Betty is, by design, a flat, developmentally arrested character; now she’s wholly unsympathetic as well with a forced, improbable tryst in a bar bathroom that took away her lone quality as a character: moral rectitude. There’s even question as to whether a woman would have been permitted to loiter in an upscale bar like that without accompaniment in 1962

Joan’s rape by her fiancé gets treated by creators like real rapes in the early-‘60s: ignored!
This unsettling subplot is either being saved for later or, as had become the more common practice among writers for The Sopranos—from which producer Matt Weiner is a graduate—forgotten entirely

Nuclear confrontation: Not as troubling as Marilyn Monroe dying
The backdrop of the Cuban missile crisis, along with its influence in provoking confession and disclosure by various characters, was a welcome one. But the reality of the threat is the kind of subject matter that was better woven into the show in season 1

Writers wait until the season’s penultimate episode to resuscitate Dick Whitman
Brief nods were made early this season, but Don’s alter ego—and the ensuing identity crisis it has created for him going forward—is the single most original, compelling undercurrent in the series, and its only meaningful mention in season two came with one episode remaining. Don should be the show’s most arresting character; instead, they’re flattening him into tasteless dough

COUNTERPOINT (by Jimmy)

Let’s give all the generational griping a rest and simply appreciate Mad Men season 2 for what it is: a worthy second chapter in one of contemporary cable’s finest shows. Sure, its sophomore season lost some of the fun surrounding all the carousing, boozing and general advertising zaniness (characters were still getting sauced, chasing skirts and giving inspired pitches, it just wasn’t highlighted as much), but that’s what took this show from the slightly superficial to a full-on drama. After 26 fully-fleshed-out episodes, audiences are much more invested in these characters than they were a year ago, so we care about Don’s flight, Betty’s meltdown, Pete’s marital woes and Duck’s relapsed drinking more than we do about the general zeitgeist of 1960s America. Finally, Mad Men has become character-driven rather than nostalgia-driven, and the show is certainly the better for it. Highlights from last night’s finale include:

Don’s apparent moral turnaround: After consecutive episodes of Don fleeing his domestic nest, carousing with a nubile sexpot in Palm Springs and spending some quality time with his first wife (the actual Mrs. Draper, yowza!), Don apologizes to his wife and begs to come back into the familial fold, saying they’re all he's got. The fact of the matter is, he’s right, and whether or not he mends his cheating ways, the scene in which Don dotes over his kids in a hotel room smacks of eerie desperation, proving that he remains the show’s most interesting character. Season 3 should use Don to highlight whether the American dream is really about storming ahead or merely about making the necessary compromises to get through it all.

Betty’s power moves: Not only does the physically stunning but (until now) personality-void Betty finally get back at her aging husband and his philandering ways by bagging a young bloke in a bar bathroom, but she also reveals to Don that she’s pregnant, further locking the newly faithful husband into their union and, perhaps, burying him under her thumb. It seems to me that the show’s creators are making pregnancy more of a liberating factor for the female characters than it was just one season ago (think about how Peggy presented her pregnancy to Pete: “I could have had you”).

The Cuban Missile Crises: The great communist nuclear war fear proves the perfect backdrop for such a revealing episode. With the end supposedly in sight, characters who tend to play hands close to their chests are finally free to let their guard down. As a result, we’re given office infighting, new loyalties, professed love and carnal trysts.

Duck’s true colors revealed: All season long, Duck’s seemed on the verge of betraying coworkers and causing a real stir in the halls of Sterling Cooper. But every time you wanted to hate on the guy, something would make him, or at least his situation, endearing—be it his personal battle with booze in an industry full of boozehounds or his isolation from his family. Whatever the case, all that is a distant memory after Duck’s takeover attempt last night, cocky swagger and final meltdown. In short, fuck that guy.

Don’s boardroom blowout: Duck also provided Don with the season’s most badass exit. With his chips fully on the table during the merger meeting (telling Sterling Cooper that ad space was the future, not fancy creative), Don (not bound by a contract) was able to coldly say, “I sell products, not advertising,” before smoothly walking out the door with his future at the firm uncertain.

Rise of TV advertising: Though Duck’s meltdown might mean his future as Sterling Cooper’s president is uncertain, he did allude to the fact that TV advertising is the industry’s future, meaning Season 3 should incorporate a whole new dimension (and hopefully even better looking broads).