A Celebrity’s Desire to Escape: The Mood in Modern America
At a recent red carpet event, acclaimed actor Joe Pantoliano—the famously unpredictable Ralph Cifaretto from “The Sopranos”—confessed he’s thinking of leaving the United States for Portugal, citing profound discomfort with America’s political climate. For a generation raised on seeing stars firmly rooted in Hollywood, the image of one of television’s toughest, most versatile voices pondering a European escape is powerfully symbolic. But it’s not just tabloid fodder; Pantoliano’s unease echoes across creative circles and middle America alike, reflecting an anxiety that’s become almost normalized in the Trump era—and beyond.
Why does a star in the prime of his career, with decades of acclaimed work and a family he loves, now look abroad for peace of mind? Pantoliano’s reasons are deeply personal, yet undeniably political. Speaking passionately about his struggles to concentrate on acting amidst daily images of chaos, the actor describes the world as “on fire”—caught in a whirlwind of turmoil and unpredictability. This isn’t simply an aging performer seeking a quieter life; this is a seasoned observer of American life sounding an alarm bell about the intensity and toxicity of today’s public discourse.
Beyond that, Pantoliano isn’t alone: “The New York Times” and “Variety” both report an uptick in celebrities, artists, and even average families exploring relocation after the 2016 election. Rosie O’Donnell, Ellen DeGeneres, and Eva Longoria have reportedly spent increasing time abroad, citing similar motivations—discomfort with an America whose politics seem ever more polarized, whose systems feel less stable, and whose leadership has, in their view, abrogated fundamental values.
Politics, Mental Health, and the Search for Refuge
For Pantoliano, the anxieties at the heart of contemporary America are far from abstract. He’s candid about a history of battling depression and addiction, experiences that ultimately inspired him to launch his nonprofit No Kidding, Me Too!, which aims to destigmatize mental illness and build awareness. In an interview with NPR, Pantoliano recalled how ceaseless headlines and the emotional whiplash of daily political coverage made it harder not just to create, but to stay healthy. “When you wake up feeling the world is always tilting, it’s hard to read a script or find joy in your work,” he admitted.
Pantoliano’s willingness to open up is crucial here. Instead of hiding his struggles, he’s helping expose the challenging effects of a turbulent national climate on individual well-being. According to a 2023 study published by the American Psychological Association, nearly 70% of Americans reported major stress from the country’s political environment—a figure that’s even higher among creatives, people of color, and those with a public presence. The constant barrage of divisive rhetoric, culture war outrage, and policy rollbacks affecting everything from health care to LGBTQ+ rights takes an incalculable toll.
What does it say about America when even its most outwardly successful citizens—those with global reach and the means to shape narratives—feel pushed to seek sanctuary elsewhere? And what does it reveal about the impacts of conservative, reactionary policy shifts that drive people out rather than draw them in?
“I’m so uncomfortable with the nature of what’s happening … it’s hard for me to even focus on my job,” Pantoliano told Page Six. “You watch the news and it feels the world is on fire.”
Portugal, on the other hand, represents something simpler and, in some ways, more authentically American than today’s reality: walkable neighborhoods, sensible healthcare systems, political moderation, and a culture that values well-being. Pantoliano praised Portugal’s “great place to retire,” its neighborliness, and its rhythm—features that increasingly elude many trying to thrive in an always-on, crisis-fueled United States.
Lessons from the Past—And a Cautionary Tale for the Future
A closer look reveals that Pantoliano’s longing for a safer haven isn’t just about him, or even just about celebrities. American history is scattered with moments when artists and free-thinkers, from Josephine Baker to James Baldwin, found emotional and creative refuge elsewhere after feeling battered by political or social storms at home. In the McCarthy era, writers and directors blacklisted for their beliefs made new homes in Europe. In the 1960s, a wave of draft resisters headed north to Canada, protesting a nation they felt had lost its moral bearings.
The current moment is different in form, but similar in essence. The toxic consequences of polarization and conservative rollback on civil rights, voting access, and basic democratic norms aren’t abstract talking points—they shape day-to-day experience. When the soundtrack of American life is dominated by fearmongering, legislative attacks on the vulnerable, and public officials stoking division, it not only drives out talent but weakens the fabric that holds everyone together. As Harvard historian Jill Lepore observed in her recent column, democracies aren’t lost overnight—they unravel thread by thread, especially when dissenters and visionaries begin to flee.
Pantoliano doesn’t just want to “run for the hills”—he wants to reclaim a sense of security that feels endangered here. It’s telling that during his recent trip to Portugal, a massive blackout—a likely cyberattack—underscored his nagging sense of vulnerability. Prepper instincts kicked in; he now keeps cash on hand, and openly worries about America’s infrastructural fragility. These aren’t wild fears: As the Department of Homeland Security has acknowledged, the U.S. is at risk from cyberattacks and domestic instability at a level not seen since the Cold War.
What Moving Abroad—Or Staying—Really Means
The prospect of beloved public figures like Pantoliano contemplating self-exile strikes at the heart of our shared anxiety. His motives—rooted in fear, exhaustion, and dissatisfaction—may seem dramatic to some, but they echo the pulse of a nation where millions question whether leadership represents their interests. As historian David Blight once asked: “Who gets to feel at home in their country?”
The success story of a kid who endured poverty, eviction, and the chaos of his parents’ gambling—yet who rose, through sheer tenacity and creativity, to Hollywood’s heights—should inspire. Instead, the fact that he’d now rather retire abroad is both indictment and warning. America’s failures—on healthcare, gun safety, equity, and political dialogue—are driving many to look elsewhere, even as the conservative movement claims to make the country “great again.” If this is greatness, why is home so hard to love—and so easy to leave?
Restoring faith and stability requires more than nostalgia or empty slogans. It means building a country where empathy, diversity, and mental wellness aren’t just buzzwords—the lifeblood of national renewal. Pantoliano’s search for comfort isn’t a flight from patriotism; it’s a plea for an America where he—and all of us—can feel at home again.
