Elevation and depth in the world serve to complicate one’s wish to move in a linear manner. Yet life is a non-linear journey, and so we find beauty in things that rise and tower above us, and mystery in the incalculable things that plunge below us. There is value, it seems, in viewing things in a complex manner. On the other hand, when we eliminate the complexity of our world, as totalitarians and boors would have it, we experience the great flattening. This realization occurred to me in my latest and final binge viewing of HBO’s organized crime series and uncontested magnum opus, The Sopranos.
I encourage everyone with spare time to peruse through episodes of The Sopranos. The immediacy of the story in any episode and its relation to the bigger narrative unfolding across seven seasons allows viewers to jump in without missing a beat. A balance is struck between logical continuity and archetypal storytelling. The result is a welcoming viewing experience that engrosses the viewer immediately in a manner that avoids predictability and clichés. Moreover, what is most striking is the way it moves through the emotional peaks and valleys of its characters. Despite the moral sensibilities of its audience, the show manages to produce a perverse kind of affection and, ultimately, sympathy for the criminals it depicts. Indeed, it is surprising how quickly we forget that we are watching seedy murderers and chauvinists, but even further striking is how we come to root for them.
Do not misunderstand my fascination – no one can defend the actions of these mobsters. But that isn’t the point. The Sopranos is about how one’s values and choices affect how we navigate the rocky terrain of our souls. Very much so, it is this method of storytelling that plays to our emotions. For instance, what struck me in viewing the show for the second time was how deeply affected I became at the loss of major characters. One character in particular is an explosive firebrand who is firstly an imaginative visionary, and a mobster second. His sensitivity is impermissible ,and laughable in the machismo world of gangsters for whom cash is king. His eventual death is pathetic and avoidable, and as a result, any illusions or hope the viewer has for him are snuffed out. We watch this character destroy himself and, more significantly, we lose what allowed us to love him in the first place. We remember that he is a larcenist, and a murderer.
Yet, my fascination remains as the show progresses without him. The Sopranos is an investigation into the significance of our present moment. It is a phantasmagoric journey with scenes of crime, food, sex, and psychiatry. The characters are not of the world – they are the world. However, although the major characters remain immortal to the viewer, they are not for the survivors in the show. To the surviving characters, the departed ones go uncontemplated once gone. And yet, the audience remains transfixed.
As viewers, we cannot simply accept to move on once these larger than life characters are killed off. We move from empathy to disgust in an instant. In fact, this is the first example of the great flattening: to expunge ourselves from the guilty pleasure that is The Sopranos, we become more charitable to ourselves. The viewer learns about the universality of tragedy and the urge to mourn, but they also learn never to dwell. And while The Sopranos is beloved for how it elevates the humanity of deeply evil characters, it still manages to be relatable to the obstacles we face in our own lives. This is the other instance of great flattening: we come to realize how frighteningly similar we are to the villains. I highly recommend it.