Tony, Roland, and the Lady - Don't Stop Believing

If, as it has been supposed by dignitaries and intellectuals alike, "perception is reality", then the Sopranos represents a television show without pretense about its function as a cultural phenomenon. As we examine this image of Tony Soprano, there is little to suggest a break between "Tony" and the actor who portrays him. As the show evolved, the chasm between James Gandolfini and Tony Soprano tightened to the point of a slivery crack between chunks of sidewalk. This is the power of a program like "The Sopranos"; it created a universe in which not only do these characters exist as real, relatable people, ("can you believe Tony said that to Carmela last night?") their acting counterparts do not. For one hour every sunday evening The Sopranos became a real family and viewers redeemed their HBO subscription for a chance to be a part of this realistic dynamic without a boring moment. In one episode of the series, Tony's psychiatrist visits her psychiatrist (a colleague played by Peter Bogdanovich) after a disturbing dream in which Tony dies. Her doctor suggests that treating Tony is akin to a child-like obsession with roller coasters or scary movies: we experience the thrill of being afraid without the consequence. This is the basic principle behind media (though not necessarily fear-inducing, it is a shoddy replacement for some kind of emotion in reality), and this image, as well as the program itself, speaks to this relationship between audience and media. Thus, when observing this image in the Barthesian tradition we must not only take into account the capabilities of a medium, but also the by-product of the series achieved through the medium as well. That by-product is the aforementioned relationship fostered between audience and characters that nearly completely eliminates the barrier of a television screen between the viewership and Tony Soprano. When you spend nearly 100 hours with anything (living or otherwise), it is human nature to learn the tendencies, fears, and realities of that thing. Barthes accounts for this element of human perception of signs as "knowledge". I quote it because he defines different groups of knowledges that all pertain to each particular viewing experience and coincide to form a (essentially) final understanding of the image.

Barthes cites denotative, connotative, and linguistic signs as the format through which we perceive and derive meaning from a particular image. As such, the image in question contains varying degrees of connotation insofar as the viewer's knowledge extends. This proposition is endlessly self-sustaining; assuming the existence of preternatural knowledges, connotations may extend on varying planes into a thankless oblivion. I intend to limit this blog to the possibilities of my own mind in terms of the "American" context of it; that is, I do not intend to extend beyond the realm of an Americanistic perception of the image at hand. Otherwise, where does it end?

With those presumptions resting delicately upon the quicksand of dispute, this image is a balance of marketable rhetoric and the show's producer's intended message of the series as a whole. Tony Soprano embodies the American anxiety; that is, a pursuer of happiness, a facet of the American dream with the classic Gatsby skew. He achieves his wealth nearly exclusively via illegal means, though there is little to separate him from the modern American family man. He must deal with his kids' issues, his wife's neuroses, and his own subsequent demons. His work only accentuates the American template. With this idea in mind, we finally examine the image. The Statue of Liberty (connotatively) lurks in the background. His eyes swerve off-image, almost looking behind him. Birds flock off his left shoulder. Firstly, the statue: this is the most prominent cultural image found in the advertisement. It is exclusively American, a representation and declaration of our freedom. Now, the image suggests a certain distance from this pure Americanism as Tony is situated a good distance away; although geographically he is in New Jersey, metaphysically he is distanced from the statue which potentially suggests not only New Jersey's place as a step-son (so to speak) of "the city", but also Tony's distance from the idealistic realm of the American dream. The dream of conquering business, the romance of American entrepreneurship, and the consideration that the statue was most likely his ancestors' first sight when entering the country all factor equally in the connotative implications of this image. Tony embodies the paradox of the American rhetoric penetrating the very fabric of our existence as American people. This image contains layers and as such, this is the layer that embodies the essence of the entire series. For lack of a less cliche concluding statement, Lady Liberty is his green light.

His shifted eyes, on the other hand, represent a more pertinent relation to the final episodes of the series. He is constantly trying to be one step ahead. His gangster enemies, the FBI, even his own family all want a piece of him. Thus, when you are confronted with the idea that he is looking behind him, the viewer interprets anxiety, fear, and defiance. As the series came to a close, there was much confusion as to what Tony's future would be. The FBI's pursuit had come to a head; he was likely to be indicted sometime soon. He had made an enormous amount of enemies in New York who could potentially come after him. Thus not only do his shifting eyes represent the character's personal anxiety, but also a general anxiety of humanity: that someone is always after your job, your family, your spot at the top. The general perception at the top of the capitalistic pyramid is one of a fierce protection of your position. This gaze-back, as it were, represents the reverse side of the romantic "rags to riches" American tale.

The birds. As for the birds, well, enough is enough. I'll cut this short.