The storytelling in Masters of Sex generally has two modes: By-the-numbers three-act plotting, or dreamy jazz improv. Last night, by abandoning 2014 television structures and going for a very simple format, it managed to tell itself in miniature.
This decent followup to Kiss Me, which I didn't really like four months ago and rolled my eyes about when it turned out to be viral marketing for wear apparel, is much more like it.