The Sopranos – CliqueClack Flashback

As with most of the series that I’ve chosen to flashback to, writing about The Sopranos frightens me. How in the world is it possible to reflect on the magnitude of this work in just a (relatively) short post?

There’s only one place to start: this 86-episode opus, which spanned eight and-a-half years, and six (or five, and one in two parts) seasons, was a giant. While we spend the rest of this reminiscence dissecting, never lose sight of that fact. A giant.

I wasn’t a fan from the beginning. In fact, I think I consciously kept my distance, because I found it insulting that television would try and trample on the sacred grounds of The Godfather and Goodfellas. But my father-in-law (back when he was just my very longtime girlfriend’s father) would always tell me how great a series The Sopranos was. His favorite parts were Tony’s (James Gandolfini) sessions with Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco), as he, himself, is a Freudian psychoanalyst. I know, right?

Needless to say, I enjoyed that aspect of the show least, but it was one particular encounter that my father-in-law relayed to me that finally got me to check out the show: when Dr. Melfi is raped, and she determines, in the end, not to tell Tony about it. I so disagreed with my in-law’s position that she made the right decision that I needed to see it for myself, in order to properly articulate my argument. I disagree with him to this day, but he got me hooked. Thanks for that.

The Sopranos zoomed in on Tony Soprano, a man caught between his two families, and the worlds in which each lived. Tony was a man of contradictions, a guy talking about what Catholics don’t do, while cheating on his wife and murdering other human beings. But, in his own way, God was a major factor in his life. Otherwise, why would he waste his breath on him?

A lot about Tony can be summarized in his insatiable appetite for all things that appealed to him. It was true with women and money, just as much as it was true with his quest for happiness, and cementing his legacy. Tony never heard the word “enough,” so he never cut himself off. There’s a reason the producers weren’t happy with Gandolfini the season that he showed up slimmed down.

I never really understood why Tony couldn’t have presented his therapy with Dr. Melfi as court-ordered. Would it have been so hard to believe? And, at the same time, wouldn’t it have saved everyone a lot of angst?

Melfi faced a tough situation, too, what with helping a gangster cope with “how to be a better, more adjusted, gangster.” The truth is that, while her moral dilemma may have been authentic, it all felt very staged. In my mind, you either believe in the Hippocratic Oath, or you don’t … I don’t see the grey. Were I faced with setting John Wilkes Booth’s leg, followed by a prison sentence for treason, I’m not sure how I would act, but I would hope that every medical professional would “treat the patient.” What’s Melfi’s problem with that?

I was also very much not into her own therapy sessions. The idea preceded In Treatment (a show my father-in-law is wild over. My wife and I won’t even turn it on), and was as bad on The Sopranos as I imagine it to be on In Treatment. Who wants to see a shrink shrunk? They can’t even let someone else analyze them – “Almost Elliot, you almost had it.” – No, Jennifer, he DOES have it, because he’s YOUR shrink.

Melfi’s rape was a painful arc to watch. There was an intimacy that we’d forged with her, and it was difficult to literally SEE her go through that. All the stupid dream interpretations aside, I don’t understand why she didn’t let Tony loose. Forget the ethics of the situation for a moment; Tony would have acted out of love — genuine emotion — for her. Had her ex or son had any nerve, they would have done it themselves. So why, besides his being a patient, would it have been different for Tony to actually get the job done? I just don’t see the moral and ethical inhibition on that one.

As significant as Tony and Melfi’s relationship was, it wasn’t at the heart of the series. Family was. You know, the show would have been lacking without them, but I seriously couldn’t stand Tony’s immediate family. I secretly prayed that they would up and disappear in the middle of the night, but, at the same time, I didn’t feel that Carmela (Edie Falco) deserved to escape from her unhappiness. Petty, I know.

I was never sure why Meadow (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) didn’t die a painful death, or go to Berkeley and never return. AJ (Robert Iler), as a kid, was annoying, but his young-adult persona made no sense to me. Was he supposed to be Tony minus the swagger? He was just an idiot, with an unsubstantiated lack of drive, and depression. Too bad he made it out of his car alive before it burned, although that would have been too little, too late.

Tony’s mother, Livia (Nancy Marchand), was neither the great actress that people said, nor was her character of interest to me. And, sister Janice (Aida Turturro) should never have left that ashram, or Seattle (she ruined at least three men that we saw back in Jersey), because there was a big “Not Welcome” sign hanging over the East Coast for her.

But, family who was also Family? Christopher Moltisanti (Michael Imperioli) never stopped being a confused kid who didn’t know up from down, and I despised the way he treated Adriana (Drea de Matteo), but he was a great character on the show, who allowed us to see both sides of Tony without being subjected to the latter’s returning home. I loved how Christopher grew from that kid in the baseball cap, into a top guy in the Soprano Family. Imperioli totally didn’t deserve to have his legacy saddled with Life on Mars.

Uncle Junior, played by the great Dominic Chianese, while a bit too crotchety for me, was a great foil for Tony’s success; a man twice shoved back in line, first by a brother, then a nephew. Thank God he never had a son. Junior was also a hard case to cozy up to, what with the way he treated all those around him, and his constant scheming at cutting his “little nephew” down to size. But, by the end of the series, Junior had grown into somewhat of a giant; AJ didn’t deserve to be the one to kill him, so thank goodness he was too much of a wuss to have done it, anyway.

More Family than family was cousin Tony Blundetto (Steve Buscemi), whose stint on the show was awesome, and a great example of how to add a star without over-shadowing the rest of the cast. His and Christopher’s little rivalry was inspired, too. Buscemi is an artist, and by not only lending his acting, but also his directing (four episodes) skills to the show, Buscemi made the acceptably redundant statement that The Sopranos is one for the ages.

There was a core group who consistently stayed in Tony’s sphere throughout, and then a rotating bunch of guys who came and went. Christopher was present from day one, as was Silvio Dante (Steve Van Zandt), and Paulie “Walnuts” Gualtieri (Tony Sirico). Sil was a solid consigliere, with a rational outlook on things (except when he was gambling). His brief stint as Acting-Boss aside, Sil was great for the show. And, Van Zandt has the mug of a gangster, so it freaks me out to see him as he really is, bandanna on his head as he plays guitar with the E Street Band. Wild.

Paulie, on the other hand, spent a lot of time complaining, and then later questioning his position in the family. But there was something about Paulie’s totally off-the-wall fears and superstitions that I loved, and his “silver wings” only had a little something to do with it. I also really liked any and all business dealings that Paulie and Christopher had together; who could forget the Russian in the woods?

Clacked by Aryeh S.
on Jul 29, 2009 @ 13:00 EST5EDT