I’m a member of the younger generation and I’ve just started this series; I’m currently about halfway through the second season. It’s a fantastic show that still feels relevant, but my biggest observation is how rare it has become to see ordinary-looking people on television.
To be clear, I don’t think any of the actors here are unattractive. However, they possess natural traits—thinning hair, extra weight, subtle makeup, prominent noses, shorter stature, receding chins, or visible skin texture. I don’t view these as flaws, yet they are almost never seen on screen anymore.
I remember seeing Tony’s mother and finding her familiar. I looked the actress up and realized that in her youth, she was a dead ringer for one of my relatives. Because I love that family member, I find the actress beautiful, even if she isn’t traditionally glamorous. I never expected to see someone with her specific features on a TV show. The mother is a terrible person, obviously, but she feels so much more authentic because she doesn’t look like a post-surgery celebrity.
It isn’t necessarily about being “pretty,” it’s about being real. My entire adult life has been dominated by the “Instagram face” aesthetic, so this is incredibly refreshing.
Yeah, American TV has definitely drifted toward a more influencer-style, soap opera aesthetic. I think HBO generally does a solid job of maintaining realistic human portrayals. Better Call Saul is another excellent example where regular-looking people were perfectly cast. Casting is a true craft. But you’re right, the trend is moving in the other direction.
That is a wild coincidence—this was the very first post I saw after watching a clip of Johnny Sack and noticing the heavy bags under his eyes, thinking to myself, ‘you just don’t see that on TV anymore.’
I agree. Being a bit older, I noticed during the 2010s that I was losing immersion because every character looked like a model. Even a depressed alcoholic character would look fit and stylish with perfect hair, just with some light circles under their eyes.
It feels like instead of making media more grounded, an entire generation is trying to mold themselves to fit that artificial standard. I find that quite concerning among many other problems.
Interestingly, I had a very similar talk with a friend recently. We were discussing Mobland and why I dislike it and most current “gangster” dramas, as they usually portray crime as a high-fashion lifestyle where everyone looks like a model.
I pointed out how the Sopranos was the exact opposite—everyone looked like a normal person and not once do you watch it and think ‘wow, they have such a great life.’
I was thinking about this the other day while watching a scene from Jaws. Everyone looked so authentically human. Brody looked aged and weathered, not like a flawless 30-year-old. Hooper was the “young” guy but still looked rugged and normal. Even the women—Hollywood occasionally lets men look average, but almost never women. But Ellen Brody? She had wrinkles, frizzy hair, and sun-damaged skin. In the beach scenes, the extras—both men and women—had real bodies and plain, unflattering swimsuits. Movies were much more immersive and raw back then because it looked like real things were happening to real people, not models playing dress-up.
On top of that, if you grew up on the East Coast during that era, it’s a perfect time capsule of that specific time and place. I get very nostalgic watching the Sopranos and seeing those McMansions, pizza joints, and the fashion.
I totally agree with your list of natural traits and how I miss seeing “normal” actors, but I’d add one more thing: teeth. The sheer number of veneers in almost every actor’s mouth these days is starting to freak me out.
I recently rewatched the first season of Sex and the City and felt the same way, surprisingly. They are all attractive young women, but watching it now I noticed their real teeth, skin texture, and human features stood out compared to modern television. I preferred the authenticity.
This reminds me of a blog post from a few years ago:
"Seen today, one of the most striking scenes in 1982’s Poltergeist is not the horror elements, but a moment of casual affection between the parents. The father—a balding, beer-bellied Craig T. Nelson—is joking around for his wife, who is wearing a plain nightgown and laughing at his antics. Neither character is glamorous in this scene, but their relationship feels genuine and lived-in.
The house looks real, too. There are toys and magazines on the floor. There are boxes waiting to be unpacked. The kitchen is cluttered and mealtimes are messy, as you’d expect with three kids.
Compare this to homes in movies now: massive, sterile, cavernous spaces with minimalist decor. Kitchens are spotless and contain no food. There is no mess.
In her blog McMansion Hell, Kate Wagner explains why these 5000-square foot behemoths are so awful. She argues that McMansions aren’t built to be homes; they’re built to be short-term investments. They are designed to cram ‘features’ inside for resale value, not for living.
The same thing has happened to our bodies. A body is no longer a system for experiencing joy. It is a collection of features: abs, thigh gaps, specific muscles. These features exist not for our comfort, but to increase the value of our assets. Our bodies are investments to be optimized. Is a life without bread objectively better? When we were kids, did we dream of counting every calorie?"