The Bad Guy Question

Sorry to have been away. It was end of semester and I lost track of my day to blog while reading student papers and getting my grades in. 

Douglas's Monday post caught my eye. I've thought a bit about The Sopranos and the bad guy question. As I may have mentioned here, I've been working on a book about the factual aspects of gangster films. The publisher asked me to do nine films and include The Sopranos as my tenth entry because of the TV series influence on popular culture.

I hadn't seen all of the episodes of The Sopranos  because I didn't have a subscription to HBO when it was on. I only caught an occasional episode when I was staying at a hotel during a conference. Even so, the show was popular enough that I was able to watch clips and read the commentary by critics and fans. With the book in progress, I decided to watch all six seasons. A daunting undertaking (86 episodes), but fascinating.

Tony Soprano and his crew presented me with a dilemma. It was the same moral dissonance that I experienced with the protagonists in the other gangster movies that I watched or re-watched. As Douglas noted about Tony and Christopher in The Sopranos, the display of humanity by characters who do really bad things can be disorienting. 

Michael Corleone in The Godfather does not intend to become a mobster. He has served in World War II and returned home planning to have a life outside the "family business". But when his father, Don Corleone, becomes the target of a rival crime family, Michael kills two men as they are dining in a restaurant. Sent off to Sicily, he marries and suffers the loss of his innocent young bride when one of his men plants a car bomb. Back home in America, his brother Sonny is ambushed and killed. Michael comes home, seeks out Kay, the woman who told he would never become a mobster, and persuades her to marry him. When Don Corleone dies of a heart attack while playing with his grandson in the garden, Michael steps into a role that his other brother is unable to assume. Michael becomes the head of his crime family.

Although many fans rate The Godfather, Part II as a even better movie than the first, I have to say that I find Michael Corleone unredeemable. He has settled too comfortably into his reign as don. He enjoys power too much. He is a dark character, ruthless, cruel. He is not a tragic hero, and I don't care about his fate. Oddly enough, Tony Soprano does worst things, literally has blood on his hands. But the life he leads give him panic attacks. He needs to see a psychiatrist to cope with his anxiety. I care about whether Tony will live or die, and still feel frustrated by the way the series ended. Was Tony dead or alive when the screen went to black?

Ray Liotta's portrayal of real-life mob soldier, Henry Hill, in Goodfellas is another riveting depiction of an incredibly violent man. But Liotta's voiceover narration is engaging. Liotta's Hill is unrepentant and jaunty. He normalizes the violence that he and the other mobsters engage in. He draws us into the subculture, makes us complicit as we root for him because he seems less vicious than other members of his crime family. 

Thinking about these two gangsters and the others in the films and the television series I've watched has been useful as I plotted my 1939 historical thriller. I have a character who is a bad guy. He cheats, he lies, he kills. But the deeper I go into his motivation, the more I understand his "why." The more I try to step into his shoes, the better I am able to understand why he is who he is. This makes my feelings about him more ambivalent. I want to be on the side of my protagonist, but I find my bad guy more complex. I need to restore balance between the two.

At any rate, Douglas's post has given me more to think about as I work on my bad guy's back story. I'll ponder the matter after I've enjoyed my Christmas dinner with friends. Speaking of food, that reminds me of the Liotta's detailed description of the meal he was preparing in between the errands he had to do to prepare his female drug courier for a flight she was scheduled to make. . . .

Happy Holidays, everyone!  I'll check in with you again in the new year. Wishing us all less stress and more joy.

Do you need to like a character?

Do you need to like a character in order to enjoy them?

It's a question that has occurred to me many times over the years, most recently in a conversation I had this morning with bestselling author and friend Denzil Meyrick.

He's a huge fan of The Sopranos and if there's something to know about that series he doesn't know then, frankly, it's not worth knowing. I had tried to watch the show when it first aired here in the UK but didn't get into it. I can't explain why it didn't resonate with me at that time. Anyway, Denzil urged me to give it a second try so I bought the DVD box set (yes, I am very retro) and began to watch. Soon I was hooked.

He is also a big fan of 'Succession'. That's one I have tried to watch, mainly because Brian Cox is in it, but it didn't gel with me.

How can I enjoy one series about people who are not very nice, doing some not very nice things in a not very nice way but not another?

Well, I'll tell you. I don't know.

Let's make something quite clear here - just because I favour one over the other does not mean that it is better. It does not mean that any part of the production - whether writing, performance, direction, scoring, set design, catering or best boying - is superior or inferior. It just means I prefer it. Simple as.

Both deal with power and the toxic effect thereof. But one is about criminals wishing to make more money and the other is about rich people wanting to make more money and I do tend to lean towards crime fiction. (Yeah, I know - shocker).

But here's the thing. With The Sopranos, however, there is a duality that I didn't pick up from Succession (although admittedly I only saw part of the first season). It may be there, it just didn't ping on my radar (hence the reason I only saw part of the first season).

Yes, many of the characters are unlikeable but in Tony Soprano there is often a little bit of humanity, of regret. It often doesn't last long. That he does monstrous things is an inescapable fact but there is a depth of character there, whether in the writing or James Gandolfini's performance, that suggests a lot more.

I told Denzil that I felt the character wanted out of the life but he put it better - he said Tony Soprano regretted ever being in it but is realistic enough to know that the die is cast.

The other characters are equally as complex, though some are outright monsters. They all have that little spark of humanity - whether love for a child, a parent, even Tony's early affection for the ducks in his pool and Christopher's yen to break into movies - that lift them from the run-of-the-mill.

Then they do something like shooting someone in the head.

Their morality is different from yours and mine, something they share I believe with the characters in Succession.

Character, whether in long form TV, movies or books, is everything. And as the success of both series shows, no, we don't need to like a character to be interested in them.

But if I am to stay with that character then I do have to have some interest in what happens to them, whether it is their ultimate redemption or punishment. 

If a character doesn't come of the page or step from the screen and take root in my head then I am not committed to the piece. They don't need to be likeable but I do have to care and I think that is why I have stuck with the boys and girls in New Jersey and not the rich kids of a media mogul. 

But perhaps I should give Succession another go.

Maybe my head was in the same space as it was when I first tried to watch The Sopranos.

And, as I said, Brian Cox is in it.

It's Christmas this weekend (how did that happen?) and I'm not due back until we have stared 2022 in the face and asked it what it's intentions are even though there's no way we can prevent it from crossing the threshold. So let me take this opportunity to wish you all a merry Christmas and that the new year fulfils any promises it makes on that doorstep.

Here's a wee card for you all.

Watching The Sopranos

Frankie here. When I was thinking about my "brand" as a writer, I came up with the tagline that appears on my website -- "Every Crime Deserves Context."  I used that on the colorful "mystery writer" business cards that I ordered online a few years ago and intended to pass out at crime fiction conferences and other events where I was "wearing my fiction writer hat." 

I still have a large box of those business cards that I ended up not using. The problem was every time I started to exchange one with another writer or to give one to a reader with whom I was chatting, I found myself also reaching for the dull black and white business card provided by my university that identified me as a criminal justice professor and included my faculty contact information. The mystery writer business card seemed to provide only half of the information about who I am.

That brings me to The Sopranos. "How?" you ask. Well, let me explain. I may have mentioned -- I'm pretty sure I have -- that I'm working on a genre reference book that I was invited to write. I'm looking at nine gangster movies and The Sopranos, the "acclaimed" HBO drama. During June, I binge-watched the first five seasons of the show about New Jersey organized crime boss, Tony Soprano. I'm now watching the episodes from the sixth and last season. This has been a revelation for me because when the show was on in prime time, I didn't have HBO. Although one of my areas of research is crime and mass media/popular culture, I wasn't making enough money to be able to justify subscribing to a premium network. I caught episodes of The Sopranos only when I was staying in a hotel at a conference or visiting someone who had the cable network.

I bring The Sopranos up because watching the show reminds me that sometimes it feels like my tagline should be "A Lot of What I Know about Writing I Learned from TV." 

Yes, I read books. I have spent many of my happiest hours in libraries and in bookstores. The several times I have moved in my lifetime, the books filled many boxes. When I bought my small house I asked my contractor to build a room divider to separate living room from dining room and to provide floor-to-ceiling book shelves. I read every day of my life. But I've learned a heck of a lot about writing from television writers and the actors who can make binge-watching multiple episodes of a series a tutorial on character development and dramatic tension.

During my month of binge watching The Sopranos, I've been monitoring my reactions to the characters. The late James Gandolfini was a brilliant actor, and Tony Soprano's violent outbursts always leave me torn because I care about him. In Season 6, after almost dying, he is less volatile -- more thoughtful about ordering a hit on one of his own men who has violated the code that he is expected to live by. But that character may be killed in the next episode or two and his death will make melancholy. I know this because I was upset when another secondary character made his exit. He had a wife and children, and he wanted to move his family to Florida. He and his wife were in contact with a real estate agent, and like a couple on an episode of HGTV, they explained what they wanted and needed in their new home. This mob soldier had a strategy in mind. He would explain to Tony that he wanted to be allowed (breaking his vow of loyalty) to resign. Then he would wait and give Tony to think about it. So, he asked and he waited and he carried out the hit that Tony assigned him. But Tony -- after thinking about it -- still said it was "a no" on Florida. 

Now, this is the thing. I was ready for this to go badly. Ready for Tony to decide this soldier had to be taken out because he was no longer committed to his crime family. I was ready for Christopher or one of Tony's other trusted assassins to whack this character. Instead, the character sit in a hotel room looking at a photo of his children -- and then he took out his own gun and shot himself. Shortly after that, Tony went to visit his ailing Uncle Junior. He was out in the kitchen getting his uncle something eat, when Junior appeared in the doorway and shot Tony.

Now, it's true that Tony and his uncle had a complicated past. But I didn't see that one coming. Neither did Tony Soprano. And when he came out of his coma, he spent some time trying to dodge Dr. Melfi's questions about how he felt about being shot by his uncle. Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco) is Tony Soprano's therapist. She has her own therapist, with whom she shares her complicated feelings about helping a mobster given to panic attacks understand his emotions and function better. Her advice that he "act as if" when he confessed he was feeling more vulnerable after coming out of his coma and feared losing his men's respect led him to beat up his own young strapping bodyguard in front of his crew to make it clear that he was still tough enough to lead them. 

There is another secondary character that I've come to care about -- Vito, a captain in Tony's mob family who has been outed as gay by two mob soldiers who saw him when they were collecting their protection money in a New York City club. Vito was dressed in black leather and dancing with a man. They didn't believe his excuse that it was "a joke." Tony's daughter's boyfriend also had some information that he finally shared. Now, Vito has fled and is in New Hampshire. Tony is still resisting the pressure from his crew to respond to Vito's betrayal of their code of masculinity. But the situation is embarrassing and may have a negative impact on business. He may yet send soldiers to track Vito down and whack him. And I care. I want Vito to get away.

The question is how I can feel so much ambivalence about these characters and still care about their fates. Even though I find Tony's violence off-putting, I felt bad for him when his wife, Carmela (Edie Falco) put him out. Even though he had cheated on her, I believed he loved her. I wanted him back home with Carmela and Meadow, his daughter, and AJ, his son. I wanted them to be a happy family.

I'm going to miss these characters when the series ends for me with the last 10 episodes. I'm going to think about them. And I'm going to spend some time thinking about how the characters evolved and how I can use that in my own writing. 

Next up, binge watching The Wire.