Matthew Weiner has a way of getting under your skin. He did it for years on The Sopranos, and he perfected it with Don Draper. But if you revisit Mad Men Season 5 Episode 4, titled "Mystery Date," you’re not just watching a period drama anymore. You are watching a psychological horror film.
It’s heavy. It’s sweaty. Honestly, it’s a bit of a fever dream.
The episode aired in April 2012, but it feels weirdly relevant today because of how it handles collective trauma. Set during the sweltering summer of 1966, the backdrop is the real-life Richard Speck murders in Chicago. Eight student nurses were systematically killed in their townhouse. It’s the kind of news that stops the world. In the Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce offices, it turns the air sour.
The Fever and the Nightmare of Mad Men Season 5 Episode 4
Don is sick. Like, hacking-up-a-lung, hallucinating-in-bed sick. It’s a literal fever, but it’s also a metaphorical one. He’s grappling with his new marriage to Megan, and the arrival of a ghost from his past—Andrea Rhodes—triggers something primal and ugly in him.
The "mystery date" isn't a romantic one. It’s the person behind the door you’re afraid to open.
While the city of New York is gripped by the Speck murders, Don is trapped in a dream state. He ends up strangling Andrea and shoving her body under the bed. It’s shocking. For a second, you actually believe Don Draper has become a murderer. Of course, he hasn't. He wakes up, the floor is clean, and the fever has broken. But the episode leaves you wondering: if the impulse is there, does the act even matter?
The violence isn't just physical. It's structural. Look at how the men in the office react to the news of the nurses being killed. They aren't mourning. They’re fascinated. They’re looking at the photos in the newspaper with a voyeuristic intensity that makes your skin crawl.
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Why the Richard Speck Subplot Works So Well
A lot of shows use real historical events as window dressing. Mad Men uses them as a scalpel. By weaving the Speck murders into the narrative, Weiner highlights the specific vulnerability of women in the mid-sixties.
Sally Draper is terrified. She’s reading the newspapers she’s not supposed to see. Her grandmother, Pauline, isn't exactly a comfort. Pauline gives her a sedative and tells her horror stories. It’s a masterclass in how generational trauma is passed down. You see Sally’s innocence curdling in real-time.
Then there’s the Joan subplot.
Greg is back from Vietnam. He’s "a hero," or so the world thinks. But Joan sees him for what he is: a failure and a predator. The scene where she finally kicks him out is one of the most satisfying moments in the entire series. She realizes she’s better off raising a child alone than with a man who uses his uniform as a shield for his own inadequacy. It’s a sharp contrast to the "Mystery Date" Don is having; Joan is facing her reality while Don is hiding from his.
Peggy, Dawn, and the Tension of the 1960s
The racial tension in Mad Men Season 5 Episode 4 is subtle but pointed. Dawn, Don’s new secretary, ends up staying the night at Peggy’s apartment because she’s afraid to take the subway home during the murder panic.
It’s a rare moment of intimacy between the two women, but it’s ruined by Peggy’s subconscious bias.
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Peggy looks at her purse on the coffee table. She hesitates. She wonders if she should move it. It’s a tiny gesture, almost imperceptible, but Dawn sees it. We see it. It’s a gut-punch because it reminds us that even the "progressive" characters we like are deeply flawed by the systems they live in. Peggy wants to be a mentor and a friend, but her internalised racism wins out in that split second of doubt.
The episode doesn't preach. It just shows. That’s why it stays with you.
The Visual Language of the Fever Dream
The cinematography in this episode is claustrophobic. The Draper apartment, usually a symbol of chic mid-century modernism, becomes a cage. The lighting is sickly—lots of yellows and muddy browns. You can almost feel the humidity.
Director Matt Shakman (who later did Wandavision) used tight framing to make us feel as trapped as Don is. When Andrea appears in the doorway, she doesn't look like a person; she looks like an omen. The way she moves is slightly "off," hitting those uncanny valley notes that signal to the audience that something is wrong.
Basically, the show stopped being a soap opera about advertising and became a study of the American psyche's darker corners.
What We Often Get Wrong About Don’s Sickness
People often dismiss this episode as just "the one where Don has a cold." That’s a mistake.
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Don’s illness is a physical manifestation of his guilt over his past and his anxiety over his future. He’s trying to be a "good husband" to Megan, but he doesn't know how to do that without erasing who he actually is. The hallucination of Andrea represents the side of him he’s trying to kill off—the philanderer, the liar, the man who uses people.
By "killing" her in his dream, he’s trying to purge himself. But as the rest of the season proves, you can’t just sweat out your sins.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Rewatch
If you’re going back to watch "Mystery Date," pay attention to these specific details that most people miss on a first pass:
- The Sound Design: Listen to the sirens in the background. They are constant. They create a low-level anxiety that never lets up, even in the "quiet" scenes.
- The Newspaper Layout: Look at how the camera lingers on the headlines about the Speck murders. The showrunners spent a lot of time ensuring those props were historically accurate to the Chicago Tribune and New York Times of that week.
- Pauline’s Pills: The sedative given to Sally is a direct nod to the over-prescription of "mother’s little helpers" during the era. It’s a subtle way of showing how the adults dealt with the chaos of the 60s—by numbing themselves.
- The Ending Shot: Don wakes up and walks out to the balcony. The contrast between the dark, suffocating bedroom and the bright, breezy morning is stark. It’s a false sense of security.
Don’t just watch the plot; watch the environment. The episode argues that the world outside is dangerous, but the world inside our own heads is much worse.
The Legacy of the Mystery Date
Mad Men Season 5 Episode 4 remains a high-water mark for the series because it took risks. It leaned into horror tropes to tell a story about marriage and societal decay. It proved that the show didn't need a high-stakes ad pitch to be compelling. Sometimes, the most interesting thing is just a man in a room, struggling with the person he used to be.
To get the most out of this episode, pair your viewing with a read-through of the actual 1966 Richard Speck news coverage. Seeing how closely the show mirrors the real-world panic of that July adds a layer of dread that makes the "fever dream" feel all too real. Notice how the dialogue in the office reflects the specific fears of the time—the idea that "it could happen anywhere." That's the real mystery date: the realization that safety is an illusion.
Check the credits for the song "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like a Kiss)" by The Crystals. Produced by Phil Spector, it plays over the end credits. It’s a haunting, controversial track that perfectly encapsulates the episode's themes of violence, love, and the blurred lines between the two. Once you hear it in the context of Don's dream, you won't hear it the same way again.