It has always fascinated me how great writing, perhaps mixed with a little of the darker side of human nature, can make a person sympathetic to completely unsympathetic characters.
Tony Soprano is a racist, misogynist, murderous gangster. But he is the protagonist in the television reality of his world and there is a certain internal logic to that world that makes a willing viewer want to cheer for him even when he is doing rotten things.
It helps that the rotten things are usually, but not always, happening to even more rotten people (again based on the internal morality of the show).
Like all the great mobster hero-villains before him—i.e., Tom Powers, Michael Corleone, Henry Hill etc.—Tony lives by a code. It is a brutal, frontier-justice kind of code, but a code nonetheless.
As a viewer, if you are able to buy into the monster-as-sympathetic-protagonist device, you’re going to be a fan of the great mobster classics such as The Public Enemy, The Godfather, Goodfellas and The Sopranos.
Otherwise, probably not so much. All the people I know who do not like this genre, are unable to turn off that part of the brain that says, ‘this character is a horrible, criminal douchebag.’ I sometimes wonder what it says about me that I can, but I quickly rationalize that by reminding myself it is only entertainment and ultimately the bad guy— who I know is a bad guy despite being sympathetic toward him—gets his due because he is a tragic hero, destroyed by his inability to live up to his own code.
Even when Tony does something despicably racist such as trying to chase off his daughter Meadow’s biracial boyfriend, I found myself, even if only momentarily, kinda going, ‘yeah, kid, stay away from Meadow, you’re no good for her.’ He wasn’t, but it wasn’t because he was black.
In any event, there is a subplot in season three that perhaps underscores all of this as well as any film or series I’ve seen.
Tony’s psychiatrist is raped. She goes to police immediately. She does everything right, but the cops and prosecutors screw up, and the perp walks.
This is a trope not restricted to gangster stories, but it is done masterfully here.
She could tell Tony, and he would take care of it in some very satisfyingly grisly way.
As a viewer, I found myself cheering this outcome.
But she doesn’t tell him, precisely for that reason. Because even though this guy is a lowlife rapist, Tony’s brand of justice is inconsistent with the principles of a civilized society.
Great writing, in this context, challenges us to confront the Tony Soprano within, the disproportionate response we sometimes feel to bash someone over the head, when all they did to us was utter an insult.
Tony is also sympathetic because, like the other great mobster-cum-hero fictional characters, he is conflicted, hence the aforementioned psychiatrist.
This internal strife is reinforced by Silvio Dante (one of Tony’s captains) with his repetitive imitation of Michael Corleone from The Godfather III when Corleone says: “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”
It is also reinforced by the psychiatrist angle, which is a brilliant use of a literary foil. Where Tony is explosive, Dr. Jennifer Melfi is calm and even-tempered. Where he is morally bankrupt, she is ethical to a fault. Where he is conflicted, even about seeking mental health treatment, she is equally conflicted, especially about treating him.
And yet they are more alike than either wants to admit and are emotionally and sexually attracted to one another.
It is a complicated arc that goes all the way back to Scene 1, Episode 1.
This is a great, great TV series, which I am surprised I have not gotten around to watching until now given my predilection for the genre. It is a serious mob drama, but at the same time, in some ways, it is almost a spoof, hitting all the mob clichés with an ample helping of self-reflective humour.
It even includes a nod to the Robert De Niro-Billy Crystal comedy Analyze This. When Tony briefly visits a different psychiatrist, the doctor rejects him saying: “I’ve seen The Godfather and Analyze This, and I don’t need that for my practice right now.”
Dr. Melfi eventually takes him back, unable to live with the ethical quandary of refusing to treat someone whom she believes really needs help.
Just when she thinks she’s out, he pulls her back in.
