Tony learns Gloria Trillo committed suicide.
Artie tries to kill himself.
Christopher continues using heroin.
AJ’s girlfriend Devin owns a mint condition,
first-pressing of The Beatles’ Rubber Soul, among other things.
Episode 45 – Originally aired Oct 20, 2002
Written by Michael Imperioli
Directed by Steve ‘Mister Pink’ Buscemi
The Sopranos has never been a sunny show, it has always been darkened by the pain and depression of many of its characters. Everybody hurts. This episode, like the R.E.M. song from which the title is (probably) drawn, is about suicidal depression. Suicide has been a component of this series throughout. Thus far on the show, there have been: an onscreen suicide (Vin Makazian in Season 1); an offscreen suicide (one of Melfi’s patients); references to celebrity suicides (Hemingway and George Sanders); suicidal thoughts and ideations (by Tony, Christopher, Irina, soccer star Ally, Davey Scatino and Bobby Bacala, who just in the previous episode wished for death in his despair over the loss of his wife.) Gloria and Artie can now be added to this list.
SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI
Tony is distraught to learn that his former goomar Gloria has departed from this world. He searches for answers, questioning one of her coworkers at Globe Motors. The salesman’s observation that Gloria always seemed unlucky with men puts a guilty load on Tony. In Dr. Melfi’s office, he is infuriated that the doctor did not inform him of Gloria’s fate. He gets in Melfi’s face, but she holds her own against the mob boss:
Tony wants to know what drove Gloria to such a dark act. But, as usual in SopranoWorld, certainty is impossible. Melfi tells him that “there is no one cause.” He probably doesn’t know about Gloria’s previous suicide attempt after an earlier failed relationship. (We heard Gloria and Melfi discuss this in 3.09 “The Telltale Moozadell.”) Tony is wracked with guilt. He pops Prozac and gets all liquored up throughout the episode, trying to alleviate his pain. Maurice Yacowar shrewdly notes that the episode title “Everybody Hurts” can be read in two ways: everybody feels hurt but everyone also causes hurt. Tony worries that he caused much of Gloria’s hurt.
Part of Tony’s anxiety comes out of his shaken sense of self. He knows that, on the one hand, he’s just a fat, fuckin’ crook from New Jersey, but at the same time, he believes himself to basically be a good guy. If he was the cause of Gloria’s suicide, then this delicately balanced self-image might crumble. Michael Imperioli, in his DVD commentary, says this hour is all about how Tony “exists within that conflict.”
So, in a real sense, Tony’s concern over Gloria is actually a selfish concern about his own happiness. This is not to say that his feelings of guilt are not genuine. Cynthia Burkhead argues in her essay, “Fishes and Football Coaches: The Narrative Necessity of Dreams in The Sopranos,” that Tony’s dream of Gloria here confirms that his worries are genuinely felt. It is a powerful dream sequence, employing arresting imagery and surreal sounds (creaking ceiling, roasting meat, buzzing white noise). The Aquatones’ 1958 doo-wop hit “You” purrs in the distant aural background, sounding like it’s flowing in from some other dimension. When dream-Gloria alludes to her suicide, Tony snaps awake and heads straight for the Prozac.
Moments after Tony exits his dream, cousin Brian appears—to Carmela’s surprise—with the insurance papers that she has been wanting Tony to sign. After resisting this trust policy for weeks, Tony changed his mind and called Brian last night. It is very reasonable to believe that Tony’s remorse over Gloria’s death played a role in his finally assenting to sign the insurance trust. Chase makes a couple of audio-visual links between Carmela and Gloria to strengthen the idea that Tony acquiesces to one of them because of his guilt over the suicide of the other:
In the video clip, both Gloria and Carmela are dressed in black. A scarf hides Gloria’s self-inflicted wound while Carmela’s choker is one of the many expensive objects she uses to mask her own pain. Tony is momentarily stunned to hear a bell ding in Carmela’s kitchen, just minutes after one rang in his dream. In his desperate desire to assure himself that he is not a toxic person, he gives Carmela what she most wants right now—the insurance policy. When Carm gets up to attend to her lava cookies, Tony fishes for reassurance from Brian. He directs Brian to Patsy for a new suit, prompting Brian to give him the compliment he craves: “You’re a great guy, Tony.”
Tony goes to good friend Arthur Bucco to get further confirmation of his goodness. He supplies his friend with a $50,000 loan (at “only” 1.5 points a week). Artie wants to be a venture capitalist—and simultaneously impress his beautiful new hostess Elodi—but he doesn’t have the capital. Before Tony came to him, Artie had gone to Ralphie for the loan. Despite the New Jersey NHL team’s logo behind him which underscored his devilish personality, Ralph passed on the opportunity to take advantage of Artie. Michael Imperioli says that it is “a rare moment of benevolence from Ralph Cifaretto.”
At dinner with Janice, Tony again spends money to garner reassurances, buying the expensive bottle of wine she asks for. Janice does not like the Armagnac that Artie recommends—and apparently, neither does anyone else. The Armagnac venture fails, and Artie has no choice but to try to collect the money from Elodi’s brother himself. He tries to channel Travis Bickle, but he can’t even sell it to himself in front of the mirror. His attempt to collect from Jean-Philippe ends in failure and a torn earlobe. Tony is in bed with Miss Reykjavik when he gets the phone call from a suicidal Artie.
By the time Tony arrives at the hospital, Artie has had his stomach pumped and is in stable condition. Tony explodes in a fit of anger when Artie suspects him of knowing all along that this is how events would play out (i.e. Tony would be able to have his hefty restaurant tab that Charmaine always complains about erased). In a sequence that echoes Tony’s earlier confrontation with Dr. Melfi, Tony gets right in Artie’s face:
Tony has spent the entire episode trying to convince himself of his own goodness, and he therefore gets outraged at Artie’s suggestion that he could be so coldhearted and calculating. He then—coldheartedly and calculatingly—figures out a way to disguise Artie’s suicide attempt; it is very important to Tony that others do not know that he was in any way connected to Arthur’s desperate act.
In his next session with Melfi, Tony admits that Artie’s assessment of him may be pretty accurate. He tells Melfi that he made a donation to the suicide hotline in Gloria Trillo’s name. (We’ve seen him similarly buy back his peace-of-mind in previous episodes, such as when he gave $50,000 to paraplegic Beansie Gaeta, and when he offered cash to demoted police officer Wilmore.) With the donation, Tony absolves himself of all guilt, and no longer needs to convince himself that he really is a fine person.
We can say that Christopher is committing suicide too, but of a slow sort—through substance abuse. In the hour’s opening scene, he is strung out on his couch—with the TV tuned to a program about the Egyptian pyramids—when he gets a phone call from his boss. Tony gives him good news: Chris will be getting more and more responsibility, on track to essentially become the underboss in the mob’s pyramidal organization. Chris is gladdened by the news. (Tony’s strategy to bind the young man to himself is working.) Chris promises Tony that he will not disappoint. But Chris cannot stop using. He later gets high with another junkie, and peers at the stoned stranger he sees in the mirror. Throughout the hour, we see characters come face-to-face with their own true natures—and not liking the reflection that gazes back at them:
Tony wants to help those in need around him but he’s no Mother Teresa; Artie isn’t the trendsetting, tough, debonair capital investor that he imagines himself to be; and Chris is more “Jesse Pinkman” from Breaking Bad than he is “Michael Corleone” from The Godfather.
As Tony tries to get a handle on the type of person he really is, AJ’s friends also try to make sense of him—not of Tony Soprano the man, but of Tony Soprano the gangster. Tony’s home and belongings don’t fit the “gangster” image imprinted on their young minds by all the movies they’ve watched. (And Tony’s stuff doesn’t come anywhere close to being as dazzling or valuable as the stuff owned by Devin Pillsbury’s family.) In the last sequence of the episode, AJ’s buddy wonders out loud why Tony doesn’t live up to his perception of a gangster. AJ can only answer “I don’t know.” Ultimately, perception is a big mystery. The impressions we make on other people, the perceptions we have of others, and of ourselves, and how and why these perceptions come to be—it is all finally one giant mystery.
Watching the series again now, I’m really becoming a fan of Michael Imperioli as a writer. I thought his “Christopher” (4.03) was a laugh-riot, and “Everybody Hurts” has some hilarious moments as well: certain beats between Artie and Charmaine, between Artie and Elodi, between Artie and the mirror had me almost on the floor. There were multiple laughs when AJ and Devin bugged Meadow at the South Bronx Law Center after their coitus interruptus by Carmela and her $3000 Lladro statuette. But I think the funniest moment is when AJ’s friend mistakes “Satriale’s Pork Store” for, of course, a gay strip club.
The Sopranos is increasingly playing with traditional TV forms. Season 4 deviates from the typical seasonal arc that one finds on most TV shows. The Imperioli-scripted episodes are particularly representative of this deviation. “Christopher” completely abandoned previous storylines to be a true stand-alone episode; “Everybody Hurts” is more complicated. Its major story, about the suicide and suicide-attempt of Gloria and Artie, doesn’t really go beyond this hour. The seemingly minor relationship between Tony and cousin Brian gets expanded in later episodes, while AJ and Devin’s story will flatline. A heavy-duty storyline of the season—Adriana’s relationship with the Feds—is only touched upon indirectly. The only story of this hour that remains truly consequential by the end of the season is Carmela’s continuing infatuation with Furio. (It is consequential despite being a storyline in which nothing really happens between Carm and Furio.) The atypical flow of Season 4 works only because David Chase is like a maestro, conducting his writing team like an orchestra: unifying the ensemble, setting tempos, shaping themes, cuing certain storylines while muting others… He is ever-mindful of the subtle effects that his decisions have on the dynamics of the work; he is the Leonard Bernstein of TV showrunners.
- On the DVD commentary, Imperioli says that his grandfather and David Chase’s dad were both employed at the same factory in Mt. Vernon at the same time. Some viewers have criticized the unlikely coincidences or connections that sometimes occur on the series as being unrealistic, but such coincidences do occur in real life.
- The Aquatones “You,” which scores Tony’s guilt-ridden dream of Gloria Trillo, also gave a spooky ambiance to Christopher’s guilt-ridden dream of Emil Kolar in “The Legend of Tennessee Moltisanti” (1.08).
- In his essay “Aesthetics and Ammunition,” Franco Ricci makes note of the two windowsill statues of women in Melfi’s office: “…one reaches up to the heavens in a gesture of liberation; the other is of a woman cleaved in half, an allusion to Gloria’s suicide.” Ricci continues that the “cleaved” statue is a reference to Gloria’s question in Tony’s dream—which “cloven” part of her would he like to see, her neck or her vagina? The statuary on Melfi’s ledges continuously change and may very well comment upon the episodes, but I’ve generally avoided trying to interpret their meanings—I just don’t feel very comfortable reading sculpture.