David Chase continues to astonish. He frustrated fans by taking nearly two years to conceive the now-underway sixth season of “The Sopranos.” But the result is perhaps the most daring and meaningful arc of what was already the most rewarding series in television history. (My sincere apologies to local fans of “The Wire,” the only other show that comes close.)
Viewers and critics who have complained about being bored by Tony Soprano?s “dream sequences” are missing the point. The show has always been about the grim connection between the complicated shadows of Tony?s psyche, his reign as a wrathful crime boss and his role as the head of his dysfunctional extended family.
When a reluctant Tony first sought psychiatric help for his anxiety attacks, fainting spells and depressive symptoms, his psychiatrist offered him hope. “With today?s pharmacology, no one needs to suffer with feelings of exhaustion and depression,” Dr. Jennifer Melfi promised.
Tony takes the Prozac off and on, but avoids self-examination. Instead, he solicits Melfi for insight on everyone else in his life. Later, he gracelessly tries to seduce her and is rebuffed.
All the while, our antihero continues to bury his pain like always. With strippers, stewardesses and high-maintenance mistresses. With the occasional bourbon bender or snootful of cocaine. With unflinching acts of violence. And with food.
At the beginning of this season, Tony seems contentedly faithful with wife Carmela, but he?s constantly ducking into a Japanese restaurant to gorge on raw fish. When Carmela asks if he?s been to see Melfi, he ignores her and orders up another plate. Fortunately for Tony, his added flesh serves a more ready purpose than insulating his emotions. At the close of the season premiere, Tony is shot (accidentally?) by his senile Uncle Junior, but his mighty gut slows the bullet just enough to save his life.
For the next two episodes, Tony?s body is in a coma and his soul seems not to be dreaming, but in purgatory. While there, he still refuses to accept responsibility for his actions, preferring irresponsibility to the chance of self-improvement. After Tony wakes, there is only a short pause for reflection before the cycle begins again.
Another American icon dealt with similar problems, but in a much different way. Joshua Wolf Schenk?s uncomfortably incisive “Lincoln?s Melancholy: How Depression Challenged a President and Fueled His Greatness” describes a man whom the novelist Walker Percy would have called an “ex-suicide.”
Sometime in his 20s, Lincoln came to believe that what we now call clinical depression was probably going to plague him the rest of his life. He considered suicide, often while alone in the woods with a knife or a gun.
But he chose instead to live. He wrote and collected poetry, especially about death and destiny. He cultivated a disarming sense of humor and a skill for storytelling that won him countless friends. He worked himself to exhaustion in his law practice, as a politician and as president.
Lincoln chose, almost masochistically, to accept the “fearful gift” of his illness. Stripped of false optimism, he directly confronted himself and the problems of his time. He did so without the benefit of modern pharmacology and without using his ailment as a crippling excuse.
It is cruel and stupid to suggest that depression or any other mental illness is somehow good because it seems to be linked to greatness or creativity. It is simply a mystery of human character why and how some people, like Lincoln, find successful ways to cope.
But as resourceful as he was, Lincoln never got clear of his mental torment. And Tony probably won?t either, especially if David Chase?s penchant for allowing loose ends to dangle persists to the end of the saga.
C.S. Lewis wrote that pain is “God?s megaphone.” I?m guessing that Chase is in the process of showing us what happens when someone covers his ears.
Aaron Keith Harris writes about politics, the media, pop culture and music and is a regular contributor to National Review Online and Bluegrass Unlimited. He can be reached ataaronkeithharris @gmail.com.
