Previous Mad Men episodes this season had pronounced themes. In “Lady Lazarus,” those themes intersect. The title reference, a poem by Sylvia Plath and the closing montage with the Beatles’ “Tomorrow Never Knows” encapsulate the existential crisis that has been the fifth season and really the series itself.

Both works are modern, experimental and uncomfortable in a good way. Plath breaks down poetical structure, mixing vocabulary, imagery and metaphors. She uses weird rhymes and rhymes in weird places. The Beatles break down pop music, using the repetitive drum beat as a foundation to layer a menagerie of looped sounds and musical techniques. Both play with structure and hit its artificiality. Neither transcends it. Sort of like how the Mad Men characters relate to society.

The poem and the song also deal with similar themes: inner torment, the life cycle and disassociation from time and place. Though, they have different takes. Plath’s view, rife with Holocaust imagery, is jaundiced and internalized. Her human nature is commoditized and malevolent. Life is just an inescapable series of grotesque performances. The Beatles, borrowing heavily from LSD culture on Revolver, contrast that vision with a more hopeful one. They break down the self through psychedelic drugs in an attempt to commune with a universal and eternal truth. It’s two ways of dealing with the same feelings, and we see this play out in this week’s plots.

Pete feels trapped, yet he continues down his self-destructive path. He echoes his trade by constructing superficial narratives for his personal life. This time, he has an affair with his train-friend Howard’s wife “Beth,” who we find out is not a grizzled old bag but Alexis Bledel speaking in a normal cadence. He thinks he’s manipulating her, taking charge in his life and exerting control. Once again, though, it is she who is manipulating him. She stands him up in the hotel. She teases him by drawing the heart in the window. He feels as powerless as he does in his work life and his marriage. “Why do they always get to decide what is going to happen?”

Megan feels trapped as well, by her place of employment. We see her furtively take a phone call. She then sneaks off to an unknown destination dressed up at night. Like Pete she is getting some illicit “sidedish” action as well, but by following her true passion, acting. She faces the choice between gratifying her soul or selling it by working in advertising. She opts for the former, which presents a dilemma for Don.

Fearful Megan will end up like Betty, Don is supportive. Though, the situation is hardly ideal for him. He needs her, not just as a surrogate mother and a sexual partner but as a professional partner. She keeps him in touch with youth culture and a changing world he can’t quite grasp. The botched pitch shows his reliance on her. We close with Don turning on with the Beatles, then turning right back off with a drink.

Megan becomes exuberant and liberated. Her excitement is palpable. She says “I love you” with an unnecessary fervency. Pete continues to be Pete, with his comment about his life insurance policy covering suicide in two years sounding foreboding.

The characters play out their own personal histories, while their generational one, Vietnam, plays itself out through reports in the background.

Roger and Pete with the skis.

Mr. Belding!