Sopranos Final Season

Week 8: Who Needs Zoloft When You've Got Sicilian Pizza?
Talking television.
June 5 2007 6:46 PM

Sopranos Final Season

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The Sopranos. Click image to expand.

Hey guys:

I agree with Tim that the end of The Sopranos does not portend the end of the mob drama, which in my opinion is as firmly established a genre as the Western or screwball comedy. What I do believe is that in creating The Sopranos, David Chase has advanced the genre. And while Brooklyn Rules may not be the salvation of the mob movie, I do know that seeing it will cure gout, acid reflux, and at least three different forms of lumbago. (Especially if you see it in a theater, buying a full-price ticket.)

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Speaking of cures, Brian mentioned the pizza order under way in the safe house, which reminded me of what someone said yesterday about the unavailability of antidepressants when you've gone to the mattresses. Well, who needs Zoloft when you've got ready access to Sicilian pizza?

And while I'm on the topic of food, I am in complete agreement with Jeff (by way of Woody Allen and Marshall Brickman) that one should never put mayonnaise on pastrami. Whether or not that rule extends to gabagool, I don't know. (We have seen Tony dip rolled-up turkey slices into a jar of Hellmann's, so we know that's OK.)

And to clarify, just because Godfather III doesn't exist for me, it in no way should imply that I wouldn't steal from it. As we speak, I'm writing a thriller wherein the murderer, Specs Muldoon, kills only by jamming his eyeglasses through his victims' throats. (In the thrilling final sequence, he actually lends the murder weapon to a homicide detective so the guy can read an autopsy report!)

I'm pretty sure that Silvio would not share John Gotti Jr.'s love of American Indians, or at least the segment of that group who malign Columbus. Many mob guys spend an inordinate amount of time sitting around on lawn chairs just looking for an excuse to beat people up—what better way to while away a few hours than by stomping the crap out of someone who dares besmirch the memory of a paisan? Pity the fools who ever talk shit about Enzo Stuarti.

Since I didn't write the episode, I can't say for sure whether "Flatbush Bikini Waxing" was a coincidence; only David Chase and Matt Weiner know for sure. I will say, however, that in an episode I co-wrote with those guys ("Kaisha"), Phil Leotardo almost gets blown to smithereens as he and his now-deceased Ukrainian mistress enter "Sheepshead Hair Design."

Thank you all once again for letting me join the dialogue, which as I knew from the last time, was a lot of fun.

Eight years, 86 episodes. Hard to believe it's almost over.

Whaddaya gonna do?
Terry