The Greening of Tony Soprano

Article Tools

Print

E-mail

Comments

RSS

Accepting for now that we are living in a trance, how are we to deal with the pain of waking up? Both Macy and Fisher find some guidance in the noble truths of Buddhism. Tony agrees, or so it would seem, given his comment to Dr. Melfi at one of his sessions: “You have to joyfully participate in the suffering of the world.” Explaining his rare good mood, he tells her he’s been to the zoo, where it felt “good to be in nature.” Actually, he was getting it on in the reptile house with his latest girlfriend, a Buddhist Mercedes saleswoman. She’s also one of Melfi’s clients, though the doctor has no idea that the two have gotten together until Tony’s bit of advice gives them away. When Melfi suspiciously notes that his “thoughts have a kind of Eastern flavor to them,” Tony shrugs. “Well,” he says, “I’ve lived in Jersey my whole life.”

In the course of that life, the Sopranos encounter all sorts of characters, from vain surgeons and lawyers to cynical federal agents, media-savvy Indian activists, crack addicts, crooked ministers, and shrewd Russian thugs. One of the show’s pleasures is how well these bit players in the modern human comedy are drawn and acted, perfect down to the clothes they wear—and the fashionable ideas that drape them just as lightly. Viewers are constantly reminded how ready we are to turn the pop philosophies of the day, or what Tony calls “California bullshit,” into self-deceiving excuses for doing exactly what we want to do.

It’s this portrait of a flawed and spiritually needy creature, often kind but no stranger to aggression—and deeply committed to its own best interests—that the ecopsychologists might want to take a closer look at. In the show’s many character studies, we see our capacity not only to be both good and evil, but also in certain cases to enjoy both. Though we often do destructive things in the quest to dull our pain, we’re driven by other motives as well, including the hunger for honor, riches, and sensual excess. This view of human nature doesn’t contradict the critique that the larger society may be ill, and that many of us are deeply saddened by what we’re doing to the natural world. But the individual is given a more complex and active role in spreading (and perhaps curing) the disease, as life inside the Soprano household constantly reminds us.

It’s a nice touch that Tony and Carmela have given their daughter a pagan name, Meadow, as if to say she’s the only one whose destiny isn’t bound to the patron saints (and sinners) of their Italian ethnic past. If there ever is to be another Meadowlands rising from the toxic broth, a place that is more than a body dump for local gangsters, the suggestion is that it might have to be the handiwork of young women. As for Meadow’s younger brother, Anthony Jr., the burden of his father’s name may say it all. Paul Shepard and Theodore Roszak might argue that he’s doomed to have the same cauterized self that awaits most grown men. Like Tony, he’ll go on exploiting nature despite his clumsy love for it.

RSS | Comments | E-mail | Print