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The Art of Television

 One thing I appreciate in "The Sopranos" is its use of dramatic irony: the moments when we're aware of twists that have somehow concealed themselves from the major characters.


Season Three "resurrects" Big Pussy, in a series of flashbacks; because we know Big Pussy's fate (and Tony does not), the mid-nineties scenes are notably painful. When Big Pussy becomes weirdly territorial about his Santa suit, we understand that the artificial "fat mounds" conceal a wire. At the same time, we can appreciate that Big Pussy is genuinely an excellent Santa; he is a conflicted soul, more complicated than the 2-D image his friends carry in their heads.

In a parallel subplot, we're made aware of Charmaine Bucco's disdain for Tony (but the Sopranos do not know about this disdain). Then, having seen her own life crumble, Charmaine decides to "drop the mask" in Tony's presence. She calls him something lower than dirt. Carmela--having noticed Tony's interest in Charmaine--misinterprets the signs to conclude that an extramarital affair is occurring. There is nothing Tony can say; a resolute mind is a resolute mind.

In life, we never have all the information we need. We're always guessing (to some extent). "The Sopranos" uses this reality; discomfort is transformed into art. I still find it so easy to relate to everyone on the screen.
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