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Television Sopranos
By RAYMOND A. SCHROTH
The first time I saw The
Sopranos last year, mob boss Big Tony Soprano is standing out by his
swimming pool -- where he goes to escape the FBIs electronic surveillance
-- and he turns to one of his henchmen and says, Get the #%*!!@#*
out!
Now thats talk I can hear from young punks on New York
subway platforms or from mothers wheeling their baby carriages on the streets
of Jersey City. Ninety-nine percent of the worlds greatest literature has
been published without using any of those words.
Today 25.5 million Americans, about 25 percent of the
nations 102,200,000 TV owners, pay HBO to pipe those words into their
parlors on Sunday night. Countless more, who dont get HBO, rent and buy
the tapes, or, like me, borrow them from friends.
And if we can filter out the trash talk and let the show work its
power, The Sopranos emerges as an American pop epic, a family saga
in which we recognize all too much of ourselves -- or rather, the family down
the street who may fascinate us but whom we would under no circumstances invite
into our homes.
Though its audiences reach is small compared to the
networks, for yuppies and the media elite its the top bar and cocktail
party conversation topic, generating articles in The New Yorker,
Newsweek, The Nation, and The New York Times. Local papers
devote long Monday columns to text analysis of the previous nights
show.
In Hudson County, N.J., where Sopranos spills its
blood and dumps its corpses, a Sopranos $30 tour bus guide will
point out the Turnpike entrance, graveyards, bars, strip joints, landfills and
murder sites weve seen on TV. For balance, the guide informs us that less
than 1 percent of New Jersey Italian-Americans have been convicted
of Mafia-related crimes.
Meanwhile, the Newark Star Ledger, which Tony staggers down
his driveway every morning in his skivvies and bathrobe to pick up, reports on
his fictional ups and downs as if he were one of several real New Jersey
Italian-named top politicos -- like Democratic Sen. Robert Torricelli -- soon
due for indictment, impeachment or oblivion.
A New Jersey congresswoman, Republican Marge Roukema, who has not
seen the show, has introduced a resolution condemning The Sopranos
for its stereotypes. Other ambitious politicians, like Mario Cuomos son,
Andrew, now running for governor of New York, say they dont watch it,
although Cuomo commissioned a poll on whether it was popular with voters.
Meanwhile, two weeks ago, on its first post-midnight broadcast in Italy --
dubbed in standard and Neapolitan accents -- the show broke records. Real
Italians, it was said, know who they are and are not embarrassed by
offensive stereotypes.
What puts The Sopranos critics on the defensive
is that its good. Why? Three things stand out: its realism; the narrative
flow that keeps several plots and sub-plots humming; its ability to raise
larger issues -- family disintegration, status-climbing, race, the replacement
of religion by psychiatry, old age and physical decline -- in the context of
what on the surface is a gangster soap opera.
Its defenders rush to say that its not about the mob. Just
as Survivor was a metaphor for capitalism, The Sopranos
is about corporate America, where all the CEOs who know their corporations
thrive by crushing weak people in this country and abroad come home to their
families and try helplessly to control their teenage children.
Tonys daughter at Columbia was dating a mixed-race boy;
Tonys son, Anthony Jr., struggles with high school sports to please his
dad. But he knows who and what his father is. Caught cheating on an exam, the
boy is expelled, and his father determines to send him to military school to
get some discipline in his life.
By realism I mean the blunt, sharp-focus photography, not the warm
chiaroscuro that helped romanticize the Godfather trilogy. The characters are,
for the most part, ugly and fat. One, Paulie Walnut, is played by an
ex-mobster-extortionist who would threaten to carve his initials in the
foreheads of those who didnt show respect. Anyone who likes
to imagine that Mafia types are basically just businessmen who dabble in
victimless crimes like gambling and who struggle to put food on the
table and send their kids to college like everyone else will see here a
ruthless bunch of ignorant cynics who bump off human beings -- including those
they love, hug, pat and kiss -- as easily as they wipe their noses or spit.
The plot is so complex that the Star Ledgers TV
critic, Matt Zoller-Seitz, has to bring readers up to date with regular
summary-analysis including his own amateur psychoanalysis of Tonys
shrink, Jennifer Melfi, a divorced Italian woman obviously drawn to this beefy
capo. Tony suffers from panic attack syndrome, and Jennifer knows
he is a ruthless murderer, but her professionalism will not allow her to
judge.
And there are moments when we, too, cheer for Tony. When
Tonys predecessor as mob boss, his Uncle Junior, discovers he is
suffering from cancer and cant get his doctor at a prestigious New York
hospital to return his phone calls, Tony tracks the doc down on the golf course
and shoves him into a pond up to his ankles and says: Return
calls.
Surely at that moment every sick person in America who cant
get a doctor on the phone is rooting for the New Jersey mobster and wishing
there was one in his or her hometown.
As everyone knows, however, The Sopranos this season
has changed. The writers have upped the ante. Sure, they killed a
lot of people last year; but in recent weeks weve been wiping the blood
off our screens. A hotheaded jerk, nephew of one of Tonys asthmatic,
aging soldiers, pounded in the skull of some guy on a city street with a golf
club. Against the protests of the old mans son and his own uncle, Tony
sent the old guy to whack his own nephew. So the old man blasted the kids
brains all over the wall, then killed himself in a coughing fit that made him
crash his car.
Then the psychiatrist was raped by a Puerto Rican in her parking
garage. It was a relatively long rape, as she screamed and wept -- an encounter
that transformed her personality, made her ugly and hostile, spouting
@#^&*!, and tempted her to ask her patient to avenge her when the
incompetent police let her assailant go.
The shows defenders argue that the writers, in a flush of
social responsibility, are trying to distance their audience from the
characters.
An NBC executive has whined that the networks cant compete
with The Sopranos because the networks cant talk dirty and
shed blood.
Sopranos defenders respond that the networks
cant compete because they wont allow their writers to write
well.
My own impression is that the writers have upped the sex and
violence to hold their audience, to create a buzz, to induce the 75 percent of
us who dont get HBO to sign on or be left out of all the good
conversations. I also sense that they know they have hit the ceiling. They may
have at most one season left and they are looking for a way to go out with a
bang. Maybe a car bomb. Even the star, James Gandolfi, has muttered to the
press that the violence is starting to bother me personally. But
how will they bring closure?
The New York Daily News critic, Eric Mink, predicts that
when Anthony Jr. starts having panic attacks and passing out under
pressure like his old man, Tony will finally realize that his way of life is
destroying his family, will snitch on his comrades and join the FBIs
witness protection program. After all, what do real sopranos do? They sing.
I see three scenarios.
1. The Rashkolnikov solution: Tonys wife, Carmela, has been
seeing a psychiatrist on her own. Although her priest has told her to stay with
her husband, her therapist, a Jew, tells her to leave. If she will not leave,
the therapist says, make Tony read the last chapter of Dostoevskis
Crime and Punishment, where the killer, the young law student
Rashkolnikov, confesses, goes to a Siberian penal colony, reads the New
Testament, finds God and repents.
2. The Network Rescue: NBC sends its team from Law and Order over
to HBO to apprehend Tony and convict him. He is sent to the same prison
featured in the other HBO sensational show, OZ, where, in spite of
wardens, guards and therapists, prisoners murder each other every week. Boss
Soprano can be kept on ice as a character in this other show, until he buys a
pardon through the intervention of a prominent New Jersey politician and
returns, after a year off, to his own series.
3. More likely he will die as he lived. For three years fans have
watched him blow away, strangle and brutalize anyone who stood in his way,
including relatives and friends. One night when hes watching
Jimmy Cagney in the old film Public Enemy on TV, when we come to
that final scene where Jimmys mother gets a phone call saying her son is
coming home, and the mob delivers his trussed-up corpse at the
front door, Tony will get a knock at the door. A bunch of his friends will be
there with baseball bats. Including his own son.
Jesuit Fr. Raymond A. Schroth is the Jesuit Community Professor
of the Humanities at St. Peters College in Jersey City, N.J.
National Catholic Reporter, June 29,
2001
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