- Mar 13, 2002
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here's part of another article:
There was incredible use of repetition both in and out of the dream: the smell of Valentina's burned hair reminding Tony what Carmine had said right before he collapsed (and the connection is why Carmine ends up in Tony's bed at the Plaza). Another example: the way the dream kept returning to the idea that Tony has to kill somebody, namely Tony B. His role in the New York war should have been nipped in the bud, as Tony likes to say, and Tony now realizes that. In fact, the dream was all about Tony trying to think his way out of his current trap. Just before the dream started, I wrote "isolated king" in my notes, and that massive suite at the Plaza, with its stunning view of the Central Park forest, is his castle. Part of the problem is that everyone in Tony's world, including him, has their own agenda, so they rarely connect. When Tony goes to Tony B's, basically to vent, they talk right past each other. The dream's second image ? after Carmine in bed ? is Tony crawling on the floor half naked, looking like a baby in a diaper. It's one of the most stunning screen images I've ever seen, Tony infantilized, helpless, pathetic. And from there, the dream turns into a tour of his life, winding up at the end of Tony's childhood with the appearance of his high-school coach, who he tries to kill. Tony feels like a failure at this point. He could've been a contender in the straight world, the coach tells him. Asleep or awake, he's torn between what might have been and what is.
I wrote "lonely emperor." That's the crushing realization of all those hotel-room scenes: Tony is so utterly alone. He has no friends; if it weren't for "work" he'd have nothing and no one. That situation also had me thinking of The Catcher in the Rye with Tony as Holden Caufield. When he isn't busy being a baby, he's a discontented and disaffected adolescent. Like Holden, he runs away from his life, checks into a New York hotel and calls up a prostitute. One of the most striking elements of the dream was the recurring role of television, that incredible exchange with Carmela when he's transfixed by scenes from, first, Chinatown and then A Christmas Carol . When Carmela complains, he says: "It's so much more interesting." So much more interesting than what, she asks. "Than life." She gives him a dumbfounded look as she snaps "You're kidding me. It is your life." The part played by television in this dream and in this series is worthy of a college course. In a way, Tony watches his life as if it were a television show. It's part of his denial ? you can't control what you aren't really a part of. And just to toss out something, what's up with the book he's given in the bathroom being The Valachi Papers. In the dream, it's the book he's read (his homework) to prepare for what he has to do ? kill somebody. The book, famously, is about a mob snitch. So who's the only mob snitch currently still alive that we know of? Adriana. Does Tony intuitively know? Is that who he's going to have to kill? I know Tony B is, but that's so obvious.
After all the surreal strangeness and the empty isolation of the episode, it ends in such a quiet, warm moment of real life. That pre-dawn phone conversation; at once like they are husband and wife in bed together and like they are high-school sweethearts calling each other in secret. The way she knows without him telling her what his dream was about, the neighbor's dog barking, him making a silly joke about it, her laughing ? we see the depth and breadth of their connection. And that beautiful closing line: After asking her early on, "Is it daylight where you are?" the scene ends with him asking, "Is it light where you are yet?" Maybe it's a light Tony is finally beginning to see.
There was incredible use of repetition both in and out of the dream: the smell of Valentina's burned hair reminding Tony what Carmine had said right before he collapsed (and the connection is why Carmine ends up in Tony's bed at the Plaza). Another example: the way the dream kept returning to the idea that Tony has to kill somebody, namely Tony B. His role in the New York war should have been nipped in the bud, as Tony likes to say, and Tony now realizes that. In fact, the dream was all about Tony trying to think his way out of his current trap. Just before the dream started, I wrote "isolated king" in my notes, and that massive suite at the Plaza, with its stunning view of the Central Park forest, is his castle. Part of the problem is that everyone in Tony's world, including him, has their own agenda, so they rarely connect. When Tony goes to Tony B's, basically to vent, they talk right past each other. The dream's second image ? after Carmine in bed ? is Tony crawling on the floor half naked, looking like a baby in a diaper. It's one of the most stunning screen images I've ever seen, Tony infantilized, helpless, pathetic. And from there, the dream turns into a tour of his life, winding up at the end of Tony's childhood with the appearance of his high-school coach, who he tries to kill. Tony feels like a failure at this point. He could've been a contender in the straight world, the coach tells him. Asleep or awake, he's torn between what might have been and what is.
I wrote "lonely emperor." That's the crushing realization of all those hotel-room scenes: Tony is so utterly alone. He has no friends; if it weren't for "work" he'd have nothing and no one. That situation also had me thinking of The Catcher in the Rye with Tony as Holden Caufield. When he isn't busy being a baby, he's a discontented and disaffected adolescent. Like Holden, he runs away from his life, checks into a New York hotel and calls up a prostitute. One of the most striking elements of the dream was the recurring role of television, that incredible exchange with Carmela when he's transfixed by scenes from, first, Chinatown and then A Christmas Carol . When Carmela complains, he says: "It's so much more interesting." So much more interesting than what, she asks. "Than life." She gives him a dumbfounded look as she snaps "You're kidding me. It is your life." The part played by television in this dream and in this series is worthy of a college course. In a way, Tony watches his life as if it were a television show. It's part of his denial ? you can't control what you aren't really a part of. And just to toss out something, what's up with the book he's given in the bathroom being The Valachi Papers. In the dream, it's the book he's read (his homework) to prepare for what he has to do ? kill somebody. The book, famously, is about a mob snitch. So who's the only mob snitch currently still alive that we know of? Adriana. Does Tony intuitively know? Is that who he's going to have to kill? I know Tony B is, but that's so obvious.
After all the surreal strangeness and the empty isolation of the episode, it ends in such a quiet, warm moment of real life. That pre-dawn phone conversation; at once like they are husband and wife in bed together and like they are high-school sweethearts calling each other in secret. The way she knows without him telling her what his dream was about, the neighbor's dog barking, him making a silly joke about it, her laughing ? we see the depth and breadth of their connection. And that beautiful closing line: After asking her early on, "Is it daylight where you are?" the scene ends with him asking, "Is it light where you are yet?" Maybe it's a light Tony is finally beginning to see.
