The show's premise is unappetizing--a bunch of drinking- before- lunch Madison Avenue advertising executives in 1960, busily engaged in sexual harassment of their secretaries, with pre Betty Friedan wives writhing in neurotic misery back home. It's execution is impeccable and addictive.
NY Magazine describes it as
A corkscrew meditation on gender, all retro-visual pleasures and sideways rhythms, the second season focused on the collect-'em-all triad of Betty, Peggy, and Joan.
Among the show's mesmerizing gimmicks is to show how far we've come (not an unwelcome trick in times that feel so spoiled). It throws in 1959-1960 era behaviors that simply take your breath away. In one scene, the gorgeous Draper family goes on a family picnic, trying to repair assorted wounds. At the end of the picnic everyone stands up, shakes the trash off the table cloth and gets back in the car, leaving the litter on the beautiful grass hill. Oh yeah, 1960 was before Betty Ford's (or was it LadyBird Johnson's) beautify America campaign.
Betty Draper is the wife of the lead character, Don Draper, and in Season One, she is introduced as very unhappy, with hysterical numbness of her hands and generalized anxiety. Her doctors find it's all in her head, and she persuades her reluctant husband to send her to a psychiatrist. We then see her in a classic analyst's office. Lying on a couch free associating while a dour and silent analyst takes notes and says basically nothing. The caricature of the silent, remote and disconnected analyst is mildly disturbing, but then something far more shocking happens.
After Betty presumably has had a couple of diagnostic sessions with the analyst, Don slips away one night and secretly makes a phone call. The person on the other end of the phone is not a mistress, as we might guess, but the analyst, who is expecting Don's call. Apparently they have an arrangement that they can talk about Betty and her treatment without her knowledge. The violation of Betty's privacy is absolutely shocking on screen. Whether such a practice was accepted in 1960 I don't know. Today, it would be a grave error and ethical lapse for a psychoanalyst to conduct herself that way. As jarring as throwing a bucket of litter on the road, though more serious.
Yet today we are still fighting to preserve patient privacy. The American Psychoanalytic Association has been working for years to preserve the right of consent for the release of personal health care information. And more recently, we are fighting to include privacy protections in the forthcoming health information technology efforts that will be part of the Obama administration's health care reform package. The Associations website (www.apsa.org) contains a vast amount of material related to the fight for patient privacy.