Four years ago, a pandemic forced us to stay inside our homes, looking through the window at a world that no longer existed. It’s akin to seeing a star that died eons ago, but we still see the light due to its distance from our Earth; our lives before the pandemic were gone. There was something unsettling during the isolation, related to not knowing what the new state of reality would be like, the new thing that would replace the one we knew from which only its old light reached us. For all of us who were fortunate enough not to get sick, or not to see the ones we love get sick, we had a lot of free time, and what better way to spend that free time than watching shows from the world that we missed so fondly. That’s how the classics came back because we had time to watch them and because they were there for us to watch: because being locked away in the world while watching the death toll rise made us contemplate our own mortality. And what better way to deal with life and death than by watching two TV shows that were highly influential and groundbreaking in television storytelling, characterized by depth, complexity, and artistic ambition.
The Sopranos
Created by David Chase, The Sopranos is often credited with revolutionizing television drama by bringing cinematic storytelling techniques to the small screen. It introduced a new level of complexity to character development, narrative structure, and thematic exploration. The Sopranos is actually an American love story and a tribute to the American dream. While telling the story of the anti-hero Tony Soprano, it transformed both the society it portrayed and the television they would watch from then on.
For seven years (1999-2007), this multidimensional exploration opened the door to the heart of a boss, a father, a husband, and a killer and captivated audiences all around the world. The audience bonded with Tony, maybe because he had a midlife crisis, panic attacks, romantic disillusionment, or generational vulnerability but there was clearly a connection between the characters and the audience, something that 24 years ago was rare and invaluable. Tony Soprano, a well-known mobster from New Jersey, has a panic attack and is referred to a psychiatrist.
That’s how it starts. And then the audience could see how therapy helped him, how he started to understand parts of his history while still being a mobster, but having some kind of vulnerability that some of the other characters, also mobsters, didn’t have. Soprano has anxiety, fights with his family, falls in and out of love, runs a business, sometimes kills people, and is working on himself to get better.
That’s everything most people are experiencing in 2024, minus the killing people. It speaks of a time when technology wasn’t so overwhelming, people weren’t as connected as we are now, but we still can resonate with their problems.
Six Feet Under
Created by Alan Ball, Six Feet Under is one of those shows that break your heart while making you think about stuff you hadn’t thought about before. It’s the story about a family that runs a funeral home. Every episode starts with someone dying and then comes the funeral. It’s dark and complex but it’s seasoned with endearing conflicts of everyday life: the right to sex in old age, recreational drug use, gay adoption, infidelity, incest, mental health, suicide, but above all, it talks about the fear of death. The overreaching fear of death.
Six feet under is, therefore, a postmodern treatment of the most recurrent theme in human creation: death. The absolute paradox that allows you to live, and therefore, to enjoy life. From a premise as simple as: let’s explore the life of someone who confronts death every day of their life. What can come out of that? The obvious, life. All the contradictions of life: emptiness, family, fleeting love, solid but patient love, sex in all its forms, art, misunderstood desire, disappointment, nature, the streets, perpetual conflict with oneself and dreams, fears, voices, the inability to understand existence.
The lives of ordinary people, the Fishers, a family like mine or anyone else’s because they are hospitable, they welcome you as they welcomed so many in that house in the heart of Los Angeles. And in that apparent order of any funeral service, the nuances of life are shown. Nuances, all of them, derived from what ties us to life: falling in love, getting drunk, having sex, thinking, running, going to the park, making friends, telling stories.
Six Feet Under is just that: a collection of stories that adheres to the greatest premise of verisimilitude: the ordinary. The ordinary as order in the roles and narrated structures. And if we find stories there, it’s because we are capable of appreciating everything.
The Classics Comfort Us
For some, these classics serve as a reminder of the early days of the century, evoking nostalgia for a life long gone. For others, particularly those encountering them for the first time, it signifies understanding not only what life was like before smartphones but also what television was like. The dramas we witness today, whether we appreciate them or not, are often influenced by their predecessors. This is why it's crucial to keep revisiting the past, as these classics likely have insights to offer about our present selves.
Edited by Avanie Hiranadani
