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theolivebranchreview · 4 months

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Two Sides of the Same Damaged Coin

by @regisacosta

*Spoiler Warning for Mad Men and The Sopranos*

The beautiful thing about staring at a train wreck, especially when you get the feeling that you can’t look away, is that you get to do it from a distance.

If there are two characters that embody a broken, yet captivating, pathetic, yet arrogant charm, it’s the television antiheroes Don Draper and Tony Soprano. Not only do they stand above as towering figures of deep-seated dysfunction but it is their misguided ideals of charisma and antiquated masculinity that make them a fascinating character study in why we love to return to these shows years after they have left the airwaves.

Beneath the stained veneers of success and power, we find two profoundly broken individuals, scarred by deeply buried wounds and an ongoing fear of rejection. Their charm, a flimsy mask for their pain, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by the women who were supposed to love them most. As we follow their journeys, we are confronted not just with the compelling drama of their lives, but also with the uncomfortable truth of their fundamental flaws and the pity they inspire.

Draper and Soprano, for all their machismo and charisma, are ultimately pathetic figures, trapped in a cycle of dysfunction and are unable to escape the shadows of their past. Through their stories, we are forced to grapple with the complex nature of masculinity, the rippling effects that the events of the past can have on the present, and the ways in which society’s expectations can both elevate and diminish the human experience. It’s a testament to the power of these characters that we find ourselves drawn back to their stories, even as we recognize the tragedy of their lives.

It All Has to Start Somewhere

The rejection from their mothers serves as a foundational undercurrent in both Don’s and Tony’s lives, influencing their actions and relationships in profound ways. For Don Draper, the absence of maternal warmth is rooted in his biological mother’s early death during childbirth – confounded by what Don imagines to be an almost comically tragic and vitriolic greeting into this planet by her – and his upbringing by a cold, abusive stepmother, Abigail. This profound lack of motherly affection is foundational to understanding Don’s detachment and difficulty in forming genuine, enduring relationships. If Don’s maternal relationships were defined by absence, Tony’s, in contrast, were defined by presence. An ever-present and domineering figure, even after her lifetime, Livia Soprano’s impact and influence on both Tony’s personal and professional life reverberated throughout the series. Tony not only invites chaos into his life but seems to crave it, mirroring the tumultuous nature of Livia’s ‘love.'”

Don’s pursuit of shallow connections is further manifested through his string of affairs, where each relationship serves more as a distraction from his inner turmoil rather than anything really meaningful. His carefully curated persona of Don Draper, the epitome of 20th Century American success, masks his true identity—Dick Whitman—a man he is continually at odds with. Don Draper is calm, clean and collected. He lives in Ossining. Dick Whitman is tormented, messy and emotional. He gets blackout drunk and punches pastors. Don Draper, despite his professional triumphs, is haunted by an internal emptiness—a void that no amount of acclaim or wealth can ever fill. In fact, at times he even seems to resent it – hiding behind his love for the creative aspect of advertising, earnest as that may be. As he drifts further away from his manufactured ideal of what Donald Draper should be, his façade begins to crumble, revealing the fractures within his persona. One of the reasons Don is so easy to crack is because he’s not built on anything of substance.

Similarly, Tony Soprano’s experiences are indelibly marked by his mother Livia’s incessant coldness and the contradictory ways in which he perceives and interacts with her. Tony often describes Livia as both a large and imposing figure, frequently dropping whatever he’s doing to tend to her needs and engaging with her in the way a child might, with his tone of voice shifting to a more submissive cadence when speaking to her. Yet, in the same breath, he also refers to her as “this little old lady,” revealing the complex and conflicting nature of their relationship. It is with a similar sense of uncertainty and self-doubt that Tony approaches most other aspects of this life – with one both foot in and one foot out. He’s a dedicated family man that can never be a devoted husband. He swore an oath of secrecy but opens up to a complete stranger in an office building every week. He’s a hardened criminal that loses sleep over ducks.

The Impact on Their Worlds

The maternal shadows that loom over Don and Tony color their relationships, particularly with women, and dictate their engagements with society at large. Don, living a dual life as a con man and an ad executive, utilizes his charm as a strategic tool against true intimacy.

His engagements often follow a pattern: a compelling attraction, followed by a calculated emotional withdrawal once the relationship deepens, exemplified in his turbulent relationships with women like Rachel Menken and Sylvia Rosen.

He only likes the beginning of things.

This pattern underscores his deep-seated fear of genuine connection, rooted in the abandonment ,the neglect, and the rejection that he experienced in his youth.

Tony Soprano, inhabiting a more overtly brutal realm, wields his charm within the confines of his OC ties. His environment not only allows but often rewards emotional volatility. His raw, unfiltered emotional outbursts, from explosive anger to profound vulnerability, significantly impact his leadership within the DiMeo crime family and his domestic life. Episodes like “Whitecaps,” where Tony’s rage culminates in a destructive altercation with Carmela, highlight how his emotional instability, fostered by maternal manipulation, permeates and dictates his closest relationships. The things that make him a god-awful husband make him an (arguably) competent mob boss.

Both men are actors on their respective stages, performing roles that demand a disconnection from their true selves, a protective mechanism instilled by early maternal rejections. This constant role-playing extends beyond personal interactions, affecting their broader societal engagements. For Don, his crafted persona of a successful ad man both critiques and perpetuates the idealized post-war American masculinity—a facade that often leads to personal turmoil and self-loathing, as seen in moments of introspection throughout the series.

The psychological realism of these characters adds a layer of complexity to their narratives. Both Don and Tony grapple with their identities, the dissonance between their public facades and private fears creating a psychological burden that is palpable in their moments of solitude and distress. Tony’s panic attacks and Don’s frequent flashbacks to his troubled childhood are manifestations of this ongoing inner conflict, a battle between the men they present to the world and the broken boys they hide within.

Moreover, the impact of their behaviors on others forms a crucial part of their stories. Their children, in particular, absorb the lessons of their fathers’ duplicities. Coincidentally, both men, as a consequence of their harsh upbringing, possess an aversion to violence within their child rearing practices – though Don more vocally (and in practice) than Tony. For instance, AJ and Meadow Soprano navigate their father’s criminal life and emotional unpredictability, shaping their worldview and moral compass. Similarly, Sally Draper grows increasingly aware and critical of Don’s inconsistencies and indiscretions, which influence her burgeoning sense of identity and ethics, a poignant reminder of the far-reaching consequences of parental dysfunction. And Bobby…well Bobby is going to grow up will all types of identity crises.

Shifting Power Dynamics and Elusive Control

The relationships between Don Draper and Peggy Olson and Tony Soprano and Christopher Moltisanti offer compelling explorations of mentorship, power dynamics, and the challenges of navigating the gray areas of personal and professional boundaries. What begins as indifference evolves into a mentor-mentee relationship, morphing into a complex father-daughter bond, with Don serving as both a guiding force and a source of emotional support – at least within the scope of what he is able to provide…a heavy pour of Canadian Club and a daytime trip to the movies. However, as their co-dependency and emotional entanglement evolved, so did their sentiments of hostility and resentment, particularly when Peggy felt as though Don’s ego was getting in the way of both her professional and romantic advancements (by way of Ted Chaough).

Throughout the series, Peggy’s deliberate naiveté, a narrative choice by the writers to withhold information from her, adds an additional layer of complexity to their relationship. As the series progresses, their bond oscillates between periods of estrangement and reconciliation, with Peggy alternating between taking on the role of child in need of guidance, adversary in need of some distance, and responsible adult daughter caring for her troubled father. It is only in their final scene together that the true depth of their connection is fully revealed, as Peggy’s naiveté falls away and she sees Don for who he truly is – a broken man in need of redemption. However, even during that painfully expensive transcontinental phone call, much like a father talking to his child, Don is still fairly withholding while trying to be forthcoming. Don, the master of his craft, gives the client just enough of a taste to want more. He doesn’t uncharacteristically tell her “I’m Dick Whitman and I feel unfulfilled with the choices I’ve made”. He gives her the eerie half-truth: I took a man’s name and made nothing of it.

But why does he do this? An inability to get all of these complex emotions out to arguably one of the last people in his life who will listen? Was this an attempt to protect her from fully knowing that ugly truth about his true identity? Was he just protecting himself? Well, that is the mastery of not only that final episode but also the dynamic between Don and Peggy. It could be all of those reasons and more importantly, it doesn’t really matter.

In “The Sopranos,” the relationship between Tony Soprano and Christopher Moltisanti is a multifaceted exploration of the complexities of family ties, professional ambition, and personal identity within the context of the DiMeo crime family. As Tony’s nephew and protégé, Christopher is caught in a constant struggle between his desire for recognition and advancement within the organization and his resentment of Tony’s control over his life and career.

On one hand, Christopher’s familial connection to Tony provides him with opportunities and privileges that other members of the crime family do not have. He is given high-profile assignments and is often protected by Tony’s influence, allowing him to rise through the ranks more quickly than his peers. However, this favoritism also breeds resentment among other members of the organization, who view Christopher as undeserving of his status and see his success as a result of nepotism rather than merit.

Simultaneously, Christopher’s relationship with Tony is marked by a deep-seated desire for approval and validation that is often marred by an undercurrent of resentment and frustration. Throughout the series, Christopher will occasionally have a difficult time reconciling whether he wants to model his life after his Uncle Tony or rebel against it. Having grown up without a strong father figure, Christopher looks to Tony as a surrogate parent and seeks his praise and acceptance. However, even this dynamic is poorly defined for them, as they will casually alternate between a father/son, mentor/mentee, older cousin/younger cousin, and even sexual rival dynamic. This loosely defined emotional dependency creates a power imbalance in their relationship, with Christopher often compromising his own desires and values in order to please Tony and maintain his favor.

On some level, Tony is cognizant of the fluidity of their relationship and is often able to manipulate that. That is also another point where the dynamics between Tony/Christopher and Don/Peggy intersect. The points in both shows where each respective relationships comes to a head are moments when the domineering figures feel their control slipping. For Don, it was when he quite literally loses his power over Peggy when she chooses to leave the agency. For Tony, we see this theme throughout the series by way of Christopher’s love affair with the film industry (which is highly allegorical to the wave of wiseguys flipping in the 80’s and 90’s), as well as his drug addiction. In fact, it will be Christopher’s battle with substance abuse that will be the ultimate death knell for their relationship.

The tragic conclusion of their relationship – with Tony choosing to end Christopher’s life after a devastating car accident – stands in stark contrast to the more hopeful resolution of Don and Peggy’s relationship in “Mad Men.” While Don is able to once again protect himself in the way that he knows best, Tony too is forced to use the only card he had left in his deck when realizing that he truly had lost control over his nephew. He did not kill Christopher out of anger or out of mercy. He killed him because he realized that no matter what he did, there was going to be something that was going to have more control over Christopher’s life than he would so in one final attempt to reclaim that power, he quite literally took it back with his own hands.

Wrapping Things Up

In the end, the stories of Don Draper and Tony Soprano serve as powerful reminders of the enduring impact of that our core relationships -or the lack thereof- can have on us, the complexities of the human psyche, and the masks we wear to navigate the world. Through their journeys, we are forced to confront the uncomfortable truths about the human condition, the fragility of our identities, and the ways in which our past shapes our present.

While their paths diverge in their final moments – Don finding a glimmer of hope in his connection with Peggy, and Tony truly letting go of his last shred of humanity– both characters leave an undeniable mark on our cultural landscape. They embody the antihero narrative that defined nearly twenty years of television, inviting us to grapple with the moral ambiguities, the shades of gray, and the unresolved questions that define our own lives.

The enduring legacy of “Mad Men” and “The Sopranos” lies not only in their groundbreaking storytelling and unforgettable performances but in the way they hold a mirror up to society, reflecting back to us the hopes, fears, and contradictions that reside within us all. Sure, you or I probably won’t kill our nephews or steal another man’s name but those are things that happen so obviously someone’s out there doing it.

In the end, their stories are not just entertainment, but invitations to empathy, self-reflection, and a deeper understanding of the human condition. They remind us that, even in the face of profound suffering and darkness, there is always the potential for growth, for change, and for redemption. But maybe sometimes the screen just cuts to a Coke commercial.

And sometimes it just cuts to black altogether.

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