"Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this."
This is a fitting, perfect and superlative finale- almost. It wraps everything up nicely (except for Pussy's whereabouts) in terms both of plot and character arcs, It a supremely well structured, written, shot and acted hour of telly. But there's one horrifying moment of bigotry that seriously maims this finale. And that's a shame.
We begin with a calm, cheerful, reinvigorated Tony plotting is revenge while the Feds are planning to strike- and the season finale is a likely time for them to do so. And then a lot of things happen.
The first to die is Jimmy, the rat- his death ordered by Tony after Junior gives the nod. Meanwhile Tony is scarily violent towards Dr Melfi when she suggests his mother may be behind the attempt on his life as punishment for putting her in a home, seemingly severing that relationship forever- only to be played a tape by the FBI which proves Dr Melfi right by doubt. Their later reconciliation is, though seemingly unlikely, both convincing and touching- here is one woman whom Tony seriously respects.
One relationship that is certainly severed is between Carmela and Father Phil, whom she confronts magnificently. She says that he manipulates "spiritually thirsty women", that he's a parasite who enjoys "the whiff of sexuality that never goes anyplace". Ouch. Whether any of this may be aimed at religion in general is not something I will be touching with a bargepole anytime soon.
Junior's two main underlings are killed by Tony's underlings, after he tells them of his seeing a shrink- and cleverly uses that to tie them to him. Junior escapes only by being arrested and charged- and, with his old school valus of Omerta, Tony is ironically now safe, and secure as boss. We end with a nice moment as Tony proposes a toast to his "family"- but which one?
Splendid telly, then. Except... it's suggested, probably accurately, that Livia may have borderline personality disorder. Fair enough, and more than plausible. But let's say I've been close to someone with BPD, and when Dr Melfi is made to say that "these people have no love or compassion".... wow. I'm speechless. Let's just say that I have a more nuanced view. This is a truly shocking thing to hear, it mars the episode severely, and it may be some time before I watch the second series.
A shame. There's no denying the quality here.
Showing posts with label John Ventimiglia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Ventimiglia. Show all posts
Tuesday, 14 January 2020
Sunday, 15 December 2019
The Sopranos: Boca
"They made me an offer I couldn't refuse..."
This episode is largely about, to use a term we wouldn't have used in 1999, toxic masculinity. It seems weird to me now, and did at the time, that anyone could consider cunnilingus- Exhibit A for actually caring about pleasing a woman in bed- to be in some way unmanly, but apparently it was considered so, at least in the circles where one risked sleeping with the fishes.
This is all in the context of nerves brought about by an obviously tightening FBI net that seems extremely likely to at least send Junior to a retirement home considerably less pleasant than Livia's, but Junior is extremely humiliated as the rumours spread that he is not averse to heading south. But Junior has a countermeasure as Tony mocks him at golf, in turn spreading the rumour that Tony sees a psychiatrist. Giving oral is one thing- but a man with feelings...?
Of course, what is "manly" is subjective. Here, in the America of 1999, all the daughters play football ("soccer") for their team- it's primarily a sport for girls in '90s America, here in England it was- and is- as macho a sport as they come, with women's football only gaining serious acceptance in the last few years. But the debate here is how to react to a coach who abuses his position to groom and sexually abuse a teenage girl. And, interestingly, Tony ultimately decides- following the advice of Dr Melfi and his henpecked friend Artie- not to whack the coach and instead to let the law take its course. Toxic masculinity is here outweighed by the feminine.
But no one escapes unscathed. In heartbreaking scenes we see Junior dump his girlfriend of sixteen years, Bobbie, leaving her distraught and crying why he suppresses his feelings, because boys don't cry.
I think the big clash between Tony and Junior has now become inevitable. Never mind the future, though. What an episide,
This episode is largely about, to use a term we wouldn't have used in 1999, toxic masculinity. It seems weird to me now, and did at the time, that anyone could consider cunnilingus- Exhibit A for actually caring about pleasing a woman in bed- to be in some way unmanly, but apparently it was considered so, at least in the circles where one risked sleeping with the fishes.
This is all in the context of nerves brought about by an obviously tightening FBI net that seems extremely likely to at least send Junior to a retirement home considerably less pleasant than Livia's, but Junior is extremely humiliated as the rumours spread that he is not averse to heading south. But Junior has a countermeasure as Tony mocks him at golf, in turn spreading the rumour that Tony sees a psychiatrist. Giving oral is one thing- but a man with feelings...?
Of course, what is "manly" is subjective. Here, in the America of 1999, all the daughters play football ("soccer") for their team- it's primarily a sport for girls in '90s America, here in England it was- and is- as macho a sport as they come, with women's football only gaining serious acceptance in the last few years. But the debate here is how to react to a coach who abuses his position to groom and sexually abuse a teenage girl. And, interestingly, Tony ultimately decides- following the advice of Dr Melfi and his henpecked friend Artie- not to whack the coach and instead to let the law take its course. Toxic masculinity is here outweighed by the feminine.
But no one escapes unscathed. In heartbreaking scenes we see Junior dump his girlfriend of sixteen years, Bobbie, leaving her distraught and crying why he suppresses his feelings, because boys don't cry.
I think the big clash between Tony and Junior has now become inevitable. Never mind the future, though. What an episide,
Friday, 18 October 2019
The Sopranos: Denial, Anger, Acceptance
“And the Romans- where are they now?"
"You're lookin;' at 'em, asshole."
An unusually short third episode starts with Christopher and Brendan being absolute bell-ends in a way which makes it quite clear that at least one of them (and Brendan is the bigger bell-end) is going to get “whacked”. But this episode, as ever, is about Tony- and the anger which he, the classic exemplar of what we now call toxic masculinity, uses as a displacement for other difficult emotions. His reaction to the Impressionist-ish painting in Dr Melfi’s waiting room is revealing- he sees decay where others don’t. But his experience here is, of course, legitimate, in spite of his obvious inferiority complex where it comes to education and culture.
What is affecting Tony more than anything, at the moment, is Jackie’s cancer, which is obviously killing this much-likes man- and the title obviously mirrors the process Tony goes through. He arranges a girl and a party with booze for his friend, whose life has now shrunk to the hospital room within which he will very shortly die. It would upset anyone.
But Tony uses anger as a displacement emotion elsewhere too. Artie and Charmaine are broke, moving to a smaller house near the Sopranos, and the insurance company suspect arson which will leave them in penury. This is, of course, all Tony’s fault, so he reacts angrily to the pathetically loyal a Artie recounting his woes while acting as chef for a charity do at their house- and Charmaine, acting as waitress, is humiliated. A sudden class rupture seems to be destroying Carmela’s attempts to get close to Charmaine again, leading her to reveal that she once slept with Tony- but ultimately chose the decent, honest Artie.
There’s an interesting sub-plot with a family dispute between some Hasidic Jews who behave with an old-fashioned honour which Tony admires.
We end with a nice juxtaposition. Meadow and her friend Hunter perform the choir recital they need to do to get some kind of points to get to a good uni (ridiculous) which moves Tony deeply- but Junior has had a chat with Livia, who drops some wonderfully subtle hints. So Christopher gets a traumatic mock execution but gets to live- mistakenly thinking its Tony’s doing after he supplied crystal meth to Meadow. But Brendan is killed, in true Roman fashion, in the bath, ending a truly awesome episode as Junior watches...
"You're lookin;' at 'em, asshole."
An unusually short third episode starts with Christopher and Brendan being absolute bell-ends in a way which makes it quite clear that at least one of them (and Brendan is the bigger bell-end) is going to get “whacked”. But this episode, as ever, is about Tony- and the anger which he, the classic exemplar of what we now call toxic masculinity, uses as a displacement for other difficult emotions. His reaction to the Impressionist-ish painting in Dr Melfi’s waiting room is revealing- he sees decay where others don’t. But his experience here is, of course, legitimate, in spite of his obvious inferiority complex where it comes to education and culture.
What is affecting Tony more than anything, at the moment, is Jackie’s cancer, which is obviously killing this much-likes man- and the title obviously mirrors the process Tony goes through. He arranges a girl and a party with booze for his friend, whose life has now shrunk to the hospital room within which he will very shortly die. It would upset anyone.
But Tony uses anger as a displacement emotion elsewhere too. Artie and Charmaine are broke, moving to a smaller house near the Sopranos, and the insurance company suspect arson which will leave them in penury. This is, of course, all Tony’s fault, so he reacts angrily to the pathetically loyal a Artie recounting his woes while acting as chef for a charity do at their house- and Charmaine, acting as waitress, is humiliated. A sudden class rupture seems to be destroying Carmela’s attempts to get close to Charmaine again, leading her to reveal that she once slept with Tony- but ultimately chose the decent, honest Artie.
There’s an interesting sub-plot with a family dispute between some Hasidic Jews who behave with an old-fashioned honour which Tony admires.
We end with a nice juxtaposition. Meadow and her friend Hunter perform the choir recital they need to do to get some kind of points to get to a good uni (ridiculous) which moves Tony deeply- but Junior has had a chat with Livia, who drops some wonderfully subtle hints. So Christopher gets a traumatic mock execution but gets to live- mistakenly thinking its Tony’s doing after he supplied crystal meth to Meadow. But Brendan is killed, in true Roman fashion, in the bath, ending a truly awesome episode as Junior watches...
Monday, 30 September 2019
The Sopranos: Pilot
“Here comes the Prozac...”
If you suspect that I’m starting The Sopranos mainly because I need some brain food to go alongside the not-exactly-intellectual Batman and Robin movie serial, you’re right. I’m only going to do the first season for now and then pause, but it’ll be enjoyable. I’ve seen this season, and this season only, before- on BBC2 in 1999, in my bedroom in my parents’ house, when I was 22. I suppose, prior to 1999 and HBO coming out with this, we Brits, while consuming a lot of American telly, considered it, on average and with many obvious exceptions, to be more lowbrow than our telly with its formulaic, 22 episode seasons. The Sopranos, and its ushering in of the golden age of American telly through which we’re living, changed that forever.
It’s an impressive start with the titles, a splendid tune, and spectacular views of the New Jersey turnpike, and then we begin- with Tony Soprano, in a shrink’s waiting room, looking at a statue in a scene which pretty much exists to show us, by being artily directed, that we are to expect cleverness. And so we have the early awkward exchanges as Tony and Dr Melli size each other up, he relating how he came to have his recent panic attack- we learn about his failing marriage with Carmela, his son Anthony being (as we see) a bit of a dick and a rather epic row between Carmela and their daughter Meadow. But there is also, of course, his other “family”, the family business of “waste disposal” and the rather hilarious juxtapositions of violent scenes and narration such as “we had coffee”. Dr Melfi, of course, knows. But she doesn’t “know”.
Worse than this, though, are the looming crises. Tony’s mother, Livia (an interesting name of one happens to have recently blogged I, Clavdivs) is the mum from Hell- dramatic, judgemental, hypocritical, resentful, with a degree in passive aggressiveness. And then there’s Junior, Tony’s uncle, the older brother of his late father, a proud and prickly old man who resents To t being boss and not him. Then there’s his arrogant dick of a nephew, Christopher. All this in a world where the Mafia is in decline, being squeezed by the law, and living in the glories of old movies, its future bleak and the old code of Omertà no longer a given. Oh, and Tony is having an affair with a trophy girl while Carmela is hanging around with a handsome priest who, to his credit, at least prefers the first Godfather movie.
There’s lots of wit but the fourth wall is never quite broken- I love that Junior (an absurd “name” for an old man!) is going to “whack” “Big Pussy” at the restaurant of Tony’s friend, ruining his business- the main A plot of the episode, solved by a judicious bit of arson, and Tony says “You think he’s gonna fuck with Big Pussy? My pussy?”... All is player straight, of course. And James Gandolfini is incredible, portraying real depth and subtlety.
We end, though, with a menacing exchange between Junior- a stupid old bigot who resents the old days of “the crazy hair, and the dope” and now whinges about that old ‘90s battleground of “fags in the military” and Livia, as “things may have to be done” about Tony.
This is simply superlative television, from the very start. I’m going to enjoy this.
If you suspect that I’m starting The Sopranos mainly because I need some brain food to go alongside the not-exactly-intellectual Batman and Robin movie serial, you’re right. I’m only going to do the first season for now and then pause, but it’ll be enjoyable. I’ve seen this season, and this season only, before- on BBC2 in 1999, in my bedroom in my parents’ house, when I was 22. I suppose, prior to 1999 and HBO coming out with this, we Brits, while consuming a lot of American telly, considered it, on average and with many obvious exceptions, to be more lowbrow than our telly with its formulaic, 22 episode seasons. The Sopranos, and its ushering in of the golden age of American telly through which we’re living, changed that forever.
It’s an impressive start with the titles, a splendid tune, and spectacular views of the New Jersey turnpike, and then we begin- with Tony Soprano, in a shrink’s waiting room, looking at a statue in a scene which pretty much exists to show us, by being artily directed, that we are to expect cleverness. And so we have the early awkward exchanges as Tony and Dr Melli size each other up, he relating how he came to have his recent panic attack- we learn about his failing marriage with Carmela, his son Anthony being (as we see) a bit of a dick and a rather epic row between Carmela and their daughter Meadow. But there is also, of course, his other “family”, the family business of “waste disposal” and the rather hilarious juxtapositions of violent scenes and narration such as “we had coffee”. Dr Melfi, of course, knows. But she doesn’t “know”.
Worse than this, though, are the looming crises. Tony’s mother, Livia (an interesting name of one happens to have recently blogged I, Clavdivs) is the mum from Hell- dramatic, judgemental, hypocritical, resentful, with a degree in passive aggressiveness. And then there’s Junior, Tony’s uncle, the older brother of his late father, a proud and prickly old man who resents To t being boss and not him. Then there’s his arrogant dick of a nephew, Christopher. All this in a world where the Mafia is in decline, being squeezed by the law, and living in the glories of old movies, its future bleak and the old code of Omertà no longer a given. Oh, and Tony is having an affair with a trophy girl while Carmela is hanging around with a handsome priest who, to his credit, at least prefers the first Godfather movie.
There’s lots of wit but the fourth wall is never quite broken- I love that Junior (an absurd “name” for an old man!) is going to “whack” “Big Pussy” at the restaurant of Tony’s friend, ruining his business- the main A plot of the episode, solved by a judicious bit of arson, and Tony says “You think he’s gonna fuck with Big Pussy? My pussy?”... All is player straight, of course. And James Gandolfini is incredible, portraying real depth and subtlety.
We end, though, with a menacing exchange between Junior- a stupid old bigot who resents the old days of “the crazy hair, and the dope” and now whinges about that old ‘90s battleground of “fags in the military” and Livia, as “things may have to be done” about Tony.
This is simply superlative television, from the very start. I’m going to enjoy this.
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