TV Eye
A Public Viewing
By Belinda Acosta, Fri., April 6, 2001
I went to my first viewing party, this one hosted by HBO, to see an upcoming episode of The Sopranos, held at the SoHo Lounge on Sixth Street. It was what you might expect from a promotional event hosted by a major cable network. Free drink tickets, snacks, promotional freebies, and drawings for fabulous Soprano goodies. A laid-back kind of fun, a reward for being a devoted viewer or a curious newbie. The crowd appeared to be predominantly thirtyish, mostly white, all of us into The Sopranos.
If you haven't seen the episode that first aired Sunday, it's best to skip what follows. It was a difficult episode, a dense episode that demonstrated the caste system among The Sopranos' women. In this system, women are defined as: the women you marry (Carmela, played by Edie Falco); the women you look after (daughter Meadow, played by Jamie-Lynn Sigler, and Tony's sister Janice, played by Aida Turturro); the women you fuck, literally and figuratively (all the Bada Bing women); the ignored women; and the disposable women (Meadow's neurotic college roommate, the bag lady). Then, there's Dr. Melfi, played by Lorraine Bracco, whose character is developing in some surprising ways.
The backstory of this episode involves the smoldering anger of Ralph Cifaretto (Joe Pantoliano) after being passed over for a leadership role by Tony. His anger explodes in one of the most brutal scenes I've seen on The Sopranos, the beating of his Bada Bing girlfriend Tracee, played by Ariel Kiley.
Throughout this episode, we see Tracee humiliated and belittled and used in all manner of sexual service to the men of the Bada Bing, including Cifaretto (who we learn is the father of her unborn child). When Tracee offers baked goods to Tony (James Gandolfini) to thank him for some earlier, fatherly advice, she's reminded of her place as an employee. But hell, she can't even get sick leave. When she's out for three days, Silvio (Steven Van Zandt) angrily drags her by the hair back to the Bada Bing, while boyfriend Cifaretto watches and laughs from the window. When it's revealed that Silvio lent Tracee money for braces, he says, "Usually it's fake tits they want." Tracee chooses to "better" herself in a fairly innocuous way, but her choice is dismissed and, in fact, seen as an annoyance when servicing the Bada Bing men ("Watch those braces, honey"). Moving out of her caste level is not an option.
Tracee's treatment is mirrored, though in different circumstances, by the other Sopranos women. Carmela sleeps alone while husband Tony spends a long night of debauchery at the Bada Bing. Meadow gives up her virginity to boyfriend Noah (Patrick Tully) only to have him unceremoniously end their relationship while studying at the library. When Meadow's roommate becomes unhinged at the sight of a homeless woman, she's dryly reminded that the woman is just a homeless woman. A nobody, nothing. When the roommate offers money to the homeless woman, she's confronted with the woman's huge, grimy ass, with newspaper stuck between her cheeks.
Never have I seen such a disturbing episode of The Sopranos. Regular viewers know that the show can be graphic and breathtakingly violent, but the violence is usually juxtaposed with the larger landscape of Tony's conflicted and heartsick soul. This episode was particularly disconcerting given the setting where I viewed it: a bar with a happy-hour atmosphere, all of us swilling free booze, eating slumber-party munchies, snickering at the in-jokes. But a creepy feeling came over me. Was the long trail of humiliations, capped by Tracee's violent death, really necessary to push the story forward or to entertain? Who is entertained by watching this kind of brutality -- and more importantly, why?
Two weeks ago, Dr. Melfi was raped. I hate rape scenes for obvious reasons, but mainly because they tend to be gratuitous -- lots of bodice-ripping and exploitation of the female body. But in comparing the scenes -- Dr. Melfi's rape and everything leading up to the beating death of Tracee -- it's clear there's a caste system imposed by the show's creators, too. Would series creator David Chase (or Bracco, for that matter?) allow a brutal representation of violence against the "high-caste" Melfi? Why was it all right to show the demise of Tracee in the most demeaning and graphic way possible, while Melfi's rape -- however distressing -- was comparatively brief and skillfully used as subtext for her future scenes with Tony? (I also suspect the incident will have repercussions later in the season.)
At the end of the most recent episode, Dr. Melfi appears in the last scene. Tony is exhausted and full of pain, preoccupied over Tracee's death. Carmela, attending her second session with Tony, is icily silent. Melfi prompts Tony to say what's on his mind. He finally says that a co-worker was lost in a "work-related incident." Carmela and Melfi know not to ask for more details.
As a viewer, I would ordinarily feel privileged to know what the other characters (Melfi and Carmela) do not know. Ordinarily, I would feel heavy-hearted for Tony. But this time was different. I found myself wondering about the women who stomped out of the SoHo Lounge before the episode ended. I found myself wondering how booze heightens or deadens the experience of witnessing acts of violence, humiliation, and malice. When I see acts of violence -- particularly violence against women -- in TV or film, my heart races. I always thought I was experiencing horror. Now I think it's fear, because I can't quite tell: Are the viewers around me filled with horror, disgust, and fear, too -- or are they filled with pleasure? And in this day and age of pushing the envelope in subject matter, visual images, and language, can we still tell the difference, or have those feelings all become one in the same? Now, that's really scary.
E-mail Belinda Acosta at [email protected]
