Some episodes of television are meant to be epic experiences. Others focus laser-like on minutiae, taking off the wide lens to focus on something smaller, although often more vital. Tonight’s episode of “Mad Men,” entitled “The Suitcase,” was the latter episode, and we as viewers got to watch Jon Hamm and Elizabeth Moss essentially own our collective asses for an hour. Note to self: get Peggy Olson something for her birthday next May, and find out where Don Draper gets such fast dry-cleaning service.

If Eugene O’Neil once wrote about a long day’s journey into night, then Matthew Weiner essentially constructed a long night’s journey into day in this episode. While the majority of the firm was out watching the now infamous Liston/Ali fight on closed-circuit, Don forced Peggy to stay behind and work on a stalled Samonsite campaign. Long before a gorilla famously (and unsuccessfully) unleashed a can of whup ass on the famous luggage, Peggy pitched a then rookie quarterback Joe Namath to be the spokesman for the company’s rugged line of travel gear. Don’s familiar negative response not only set the two at odds throughout the contentious night, but also highlighted just how much the personal lives of these two individuals are affected by their dedication (some would say obsession) to the world of marketing.

In last week’s episode, we learned Don’s drive to get into the business, taking a passion, applying a few gallons of booze to Roger Sterling’s circulatory system, and conning his way into a job. For a man so intent on hiding his true self, marketing became a way to rebrand his identity and put forth a shiny new self to the world at large. This time out, Peggy confesses to Don, “I know what I’m supposed to want, but it never feels right.” She understands that she’s supposed to want the life that Trudy Campbell has, but never feels more herself than when she’s in the office. (Speaking of Trudy: Pete didn’t have a lot to do this episode, but got quality over quantity with his “CHRIST ON A CRACKER!” look at seeing the two mothers of his two children come out of the bathroom together.)

Don and Peggy exude a level of understanding with each other that’s similar to that of Roger/Joan, although they understand what keeps them insulated from the outside world rather than having a romantic entanglement. The two see so much of the other whenever they speak that their barely constrained self-loathing can’t help but leap out at their respective mirror image. The woman who hates herself for choosing work over her birthday party feels free to yell at the man who would rather construct Samsonite slogans than confirm the death of a beloved friend, who yells back to perpetuate the cycle. But while some people are destined to repeat familiar patterns until they’ve worn out holes in the carpeting, these two desperately seek a way to push past it. Or, as Don says in reference to a mouse that ran through and escaped his office, “There’s a way out of this room we don’t know about!”

Back in college, I took an introductory philosophy class in order to met the requirements for graduation. I took this particular class since it dealt not only with canonical works of philosophy, but managed to pair them with canonical films of the 1940’s and 1950s as well. One of the professor’s favorite topics involved Immanuel Kant’s concept of the “Kingdom of Ends,” a theoretical place in which humans always chose actions that treated humans as ends unto themselves, creating a moral framework by which people both mutually created laws but were also equally beholden to them as well. He linked this concept to romantic comedies such as “The Philadelphia Story” and “The Awful Truth” by stating that the only true way to enter this kingdom was in pairs: people could not enter alone. Only by finding their partner in life could they understand the maxims that govern this kingdom.

I bring all this up not to bore you to tears, but try to explain how I see Don and Peggy functioning in the world of “Mad Men.” I don’t think they are meant to stand in for Cary Grant/Katherine Hepburn and traipse into the kingdom of ends as lovers. But they have the potential to transcend themselves only through the help of each other. Faye Miller’s insertion into the show this season has given Don an interesting female character with whom to interact, but has also given the show a voice to express society’s increasing need in 1965 to share what was once hidden, to express what once remained unsaid, to present one’s full self to as wide a gaze as possible. Don’s toyed with it a little this season – an unfinished letter to Allison, a brief chat with Faye herself in the kitchen of SCDP – but during his long night with Peggy, he lowered his guard to a greater extent than ever. To couch it in terms listed in the last paragraph: only with the help of each other can they find that new way out of that room.

In a sense, Don’s physical self has been a piece of Samsonite luggage: a rugged exterior that belies any attempts to penetrate it. What his early-morning phone call to Stephanie in California did was open up that piece to Peggy for the first time, allowing her to see Dick Whitman (if not by name then by affectation) for the first time. One could argue that such a view was unintentional, that he forgot she was in the office. However, this is the same man who left all evidence of his true identity in his house study for Betty to eventually find. He leaves himself open for examination, possibly because in Peggy he sees the one possible person who could understand him and, more importantly, accept him.

The need for change is exemplified in the Liston/Ali fight. It’s famous for the quick and controversial way in which it ended: Liston counted out in the middle of a potentially corrupt and certainly disputed outcome. Earlier in the episode, Don identifies with Liston’s businessman-like approach to boxing, favoring his approach over Ali’s loud-mouth nature. But just as Liston found himself helpless on the ground in front of Ali, so too did Don find himself prone before former adversary in advertising and current adversary in drinking every drop of liquor on the planet, Duck Phillips. Duck is the brash man, attempting to woo Peggy and attempting to…well, poo on Don’s furniture.

Anyone but Peggy who saw Don cry “Uncle” to Duck and then see himself represented as the loser in his Samsonite pitch would think Don even more pathetic than before. But Peggy finally starts to see how Don’s “minor” addition to the Glo-Coat campaign was itself a form of autobiography, one she’s only starting now to understand. And by understanding Don as more than a seemingly impenetrable, limelight-stealing taskmaster, she’s not only better equipped to deal with him but also, possibly, to finally balance the personal and the professional with greater skill going forth. Rather than make it an either/or (although can you blame her, with that nightmare of a family, in making work so all-encompassing), she can potentially alleviate some of the nearly schizophrenic impulses that have been conflicting her this season.

Much of her imbalance stems from her lack of self esteem around her looks: just in the way that she doesn’t want to admit to her impulses to be a proper mother, she doesn’t want to admit that seemingly being the only woman in the office Don won’t sleep with bothers her on a nearly atomic level. But again, we have to parallel Peggy with Anna: two women that Don truly loves but brackets out from the rest of the gender to fulfill a vital role, possibly THE most vital role that can be filled in his life at this time. (It’s worth noting that Don couldn’t fill that role for Betty, either, and it’s further worth noting that Don laying his head upon Peggy’s lap looked an AWFUL like Betty laying her head on Henry’s lap. Damnit, I’m going to have to start cutting Betty some slack.)

In the end, Don takes the time Peggy spends catching up on sleep to regrow the skin shed during his drunken, vomit-filled night. He’s the old Don but the same Don, he’s Ali AND Liston, he’s defeated but victorious in that he lived to fight other day. He saw a vision of Anna carrying a piece of Samsonite luggage and realized that it’s less important about how strong the case is and how strong the person with whom you travel is. Don’s made it through this part of the journey with Anna as his ultimate companion. In Peggy, he has the proper person to help him along the next leg of the journey. The last time they touched hand to hand? The first episode, in which she awkwardly tried to hit on him. Now? HE takes HER hand, as equals.

I can’t wait to continue taking it with them.

What did you think of “The Suitcase”? Leave your thoughts below!