Still reeling from the loss of his prized horse and the death of his top capo, Tony receives an ill-timed reminder of the previous week’s horror show in the form of a portrait of Pie-O-My and him. Paulie rescues the painting after a distraught Tony orders it burned, having Tony’s figure in the painting touched up to represent a Napoleon-like general.
The painting becomes “The Strong, Silent Type”‘s appropriately central, if obvious, conceit. Tony’s gaze casts an omnipotent presence over Paulie’s living room, while his garb provides a tongue-in-cheek commentary on the show’s portrayal of Tony as a temperamental dictator. But even Napoleon didn’t have to deal with scag addicts.
With the future of the family riding on his slim shoulders, Christopher falls deeper and deeper into the throes of heroin addiction. After accidentally suffocating her dog, he physically reprimands Adriana for suggesting rehabilitation.
The last straw comes after a strung-out Christopher goes prowling the ghetto for a fix, ending up a bloody mess after being robbed at gunpoint. Tony finally arranges for an intervention “within the family,” but the Family’s efforts go largely unrealized as the session devolves into name-calling and brawling. In the end, though, Christopher willingly seeks help.
Meanwhile, Carmela offers Furio a little help of her own in the form of sexual advances masked as redecorating tips. The pony-tailed one appears to be on the verge of professing his love until Carmela’s failsafe, AJ, interrupts/rescues her.
After last week’s slugfest, “The Strong, Silent Type” returns to business as usual. The episode draws out compelling enough storylines but doesn’t quite know what to do with them. Some scenes of high drama are either poorly directed (Christopher resigns to life in rehab a little too easily) or flat-out gratuitous (Tony and the Russian nurse?).
The Pie-O-My portrait posits an interesting image, but its significance goes largely underdeveloped. Instead of looming over Paulie’s somewhat-guilty conscience, wouldn’t the painting have been better utilized hiding in the Soprano garage somewhere, tacitly taunting Tony with its mere presence?
In a broader context, Paulie’s insistence on changing Tony’s figure in the painting cunningly opens up many levels of interpretation. Intertextually, Tony as a mini-Napoleon is an obvious cheap-shot from Paulie and company — their fears best expressed in a conversation in which one wise-guy suggests that if Ralphie wasn’t safe from Tony’s wrath, then none of them are.
Meta-textually, the portrait is yet another winking nod from creator David Chase to media pundits trying to pigeon-hole the cultural role of Tony Soprano and his show — just when you think you’ve got him or the show pinned-down, Chase paints Tony a new outfit, changing him from common man to mythic figure and “The Sopranos” from television to art.
Best line: “I feel like the Reverend Rodney King Jr.” (Tony to Dr. Melfi in a misphrased effort to portray himself as a victim.)
