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Sopranos Final Season

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from: Timothy Noah
to: Jeffrey Goldberg

Woke Up Dis Mo'nan

Updated Monday, April 9, 2007, at 6:21 PM ET

Timothy Noah chatted with readers about The Sopranos on June 7. Read the transcript here.

Edie Falco and James Gandolfini on The Sopranos. Click image to expand.

Edie Falco and James Gandolfini in The Sopranos

Dear Jeffrey,

It's an honor to be commemorating the final Sopranos season with you (Season 6, Part 2, if you want to get obsessive-compulsive about it). I am neither a psychoanalyst, like the intrepid team of shrinks Slate employed to pick over seasons 3 and 4—granting, in a show of unprecedented generosity, a full 60-minute hour to the dysfunctional Soprano family, as opposed to the 50 minutes they give paying clients—nor a mob expert, like you or Jerry Capeci, who did the honors for Season 5. Nor am I former Slate New York editor Judith Shulevitz, with whom you dished about The Sopranos in Slate's inaugural dialogue way back in 2000, which technically was still the previous century—a lifetime ago for me, and perhaps for you, too.

These concluding episodes find me in a retrospective mood. I watched the first season on bootleg tapes made available by my slightly disreputable local video store. The late Vincent Canby had already raved about the series in the New York Times, piquing my interest, and if I remember correctly, I was the one who then suggested at a Slate editorial meeting that we track this burgeoning cultural phenomenon. From the start, The Sopranos was both a great crime story and a delicious feast of unexpectedly complex characters living ordinary lives—what Slate's film critic, Dana Stevens (in her previous incarnation as Liz Penn of the High Sign) once termed a "juicebomb." The term acquires a somewhat literal meaning in this context, since you never know when any given character will abruptly start oozing blood. My previous Sopranos interlocutor took an almost indecent pleasure in the series' juicebomb-ness, and was no mean dissector of human character herself. We watched the show together in our first house, and then in our second, and once in a bamboo hut in Jamaica with a large crowd of fellow vacationers, most of them Americans, who jockeyed as politely as they could for a good seat. My dear wife passed away before the first half of Season 6 began, and I discovered The Sopranos was one of the many things in life that wasn't nearly as much fun without her. This season, though, I have discovered the pleasure of watching the show with my son Will, now 14 and old enough to be recruited into the Sopranos cult. Only one rule, I explained to him as we sat down to watch. Never disrespect the Bing.

"What's the Bing?" he asked.

This season's first episode finds Tony and Carmela Soprano in a comparatively mellow mood, taking in the scenery at the vacation house in the Adirondacks that Tony's sister Janice acquired along with her sweet, dim husband Bobby, who works in the family business but who never, we find out early in the hour, "popped his cherry," i.e., rubbed a guy out. The two couples barbecue; they sit by the lake; they drink convivially. After night falls, they sing karaoke in the living room; they drink some more; they play Monopoly. For as long as they can, they do their best imitations of Lucy and Ricky and Fred and Ethel on a double date. But of course as everybody gets looser and boozier, familiar pathologies emerge. Janice tells Bobby and Carmela a childhood story about their gangster father, over Tony's objection—even when Sopranos are feeling mellow, they rarely want to revisit family history. Seems one night dad silenced their relentless harpy of a mother (the dreaded Livia) by taking out his gun and shooting a bullet clean through her beehive hairdo. Carmela finds this hilarious. Bobby gets quiet. Bobby is annoyed that Tony, Janice, and Carmela want to play the standard Monopoly variation in which some money gets put into the middle of the board to be collected by the next person who lands on Free Parking. "The Parker Brothers put a lot of thought into these rules," he complains (a characteristically choice bit of Sopranos dialogue). Tony teases Janice about her looks in his vulgar way, Janice laughs, and Bobby is appalled. "You Sopranos go too far," he says. Tony apologizes, but then of course resumes almost immediately, and Bobby slugs Tony, who may be his brother-in-law but is also his mob boss. A fistfight ensues, which Bobby wins. (Did I mention that Bobby isn't very bright?) Tony tells Bobby he won fair and square, but of course he can't let it go, and he exacts revenge the next day by assigning Bobby a mob hit. It's classic Tony payback: Not only does he get to show Bobby who's boss, but he also communicates in the most direct possible way that it's time for Bobby to get down off that high horse of his.

"What did I tell you?" I told Will as the credits rolled. "Is this a great show?"

"This is a great show," Will answered. Because he is a teenager, Will seldom agrees with me about anything.

To tire of The Sopranos is to tire of life.

Uncritically,
Tim

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from: Timothy Noah
to: Jeffrey Goldberg

Woke Up Dis Mo'nan

Updated Monday, April 9, 2007, at 6:21 PM ET

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Jeffrey Goldberg is a national correspondent for the Atlantic and the author of Prisoners: A Story of Friendship and Terror. Stephen Metcalf is Slate's critic at large. He is working on a book about the 1980s. Timothy Noah is a senior writer at Slate. Brian Williams is the anchor and managing editor of NBC Nightly News. Terence Winter is a writer and an executive producer of The Sopranos. His teleplay "Pine Barrens," written with Tim Van Patten, won the 2001 Writers Guild Award and the Edgar Award.

Slate home page cover, June 11, 2007: Still of James Gandolfini in The Sopranos by Craig Blankenhorn © HBO. All rights reserved. Still from The Sopranos of James Gandolfini on Slate's home page; still of: James Gandolfini; Edie Falco and James Gandolfini; Steven Van Zandt, James Gandolfini, and Tony Sirico; James Gandolfini and Edie Falco; and Robert Iler all by Craig Blankenhorn/courtesy HBO. All rights reserved. Entry 9: Still of Tony with a tomato, and Entry 10: Tony's dad and young Uncle June © HBO. Entry 21: Still of Tony Sirico as Paulie "Walnuts" by Craig Blankenhorn. Entry 27: Still of Robert Iler and James Gandolfini by Craig Blankenhorn. Entry 30: Still of James Gandolfini and Sarah Shahi by Craig Blankenhorn. Entry 38: Still of Steven Van Zandt and James Gandolfini by Craig Blankenhorn. Entry 40: Still of James Gandolfini and Edie Falco by Craig Blankenhorn. Entry 45: Still of James Gandolfini and Steven Van Zandt by Craig Blankenhorn. Entry 48: Still of Dominic Chianese and James Gandolfini by Craig Blankenhorn.

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Remarks from the Fray Editor:

As a basic cable slum-dweller, the Fray Editor has been following the discussion of The Sopranos with admiration and envy. The passion, erudition, and insight of the show's fans—Slate's commentators and Fraysters alike—proves the case that this series is not to be missed. Below, Fray poster lucabrasi considers how the 6.5 season story arc has led the show inevitably to the present moment.

May this weekend's finale exceed your wildest expectations. My prediction? Paulie Walnuts in the Bing with a shoe buffer.—G.A.

Remarks from the Fray:

I must salute the excellent close of the mob wars arc that started way back in Season One.

Looking back from today, with Tony's Jersey crime family indeed looking like a "glorified crew" in the eyes of New York, one can see it, almost clearly:

Season One: Tony's issues were of ascension in that smallish Jersey family. Jackie Sr. was dying; Uncle Junior was the designated "front don," and yet bitter enough about Tony's power to use Livia's ambiguous directives to hit Tony. Didn't work. Junior was exiled and took on Federal heat; Tony had the others killed.

Season Two: Richie Aprile gets out of prison. A theme begins: guys out of prison resent Tony, who never served. But Richie, too, is "local Jersey trouble." His escalating conflict with Tony is going to be dealt with rather easily -- Tony wants Richie hit, but Janice delivers a dose of even MORE "local" justice.

Meanwhile, I think NYC underboss Johnny Sack turns up living in Jersey, but promising Tony "I don't want to wet my beak."

The main NYC Don is Carmine Sr, an old school guy. Tony can deal with Carmine Sr, but Sack starts getting that lean and hungry look...

Seasons Three and Four: Other issues are on the table (Jackie Jr., Tony and Carm's marriage), but Tony's adversaries are manageable: made guy Ralphie and the ever-more-ambitious and angry Sack. Ralphie is eliminated, quietly (if NYC ever finds out...). Sack wants Tony to hit Old Man Carmine; Tony pulls out at the last moment. Sack looks to be vengeful.

Season Five: The big trouble all starts here, with the release of the "Class of '84". It's like four Richie Apriles. Tony has a lotta plates to spin: an old-timer named Feech who wants it all, locally, Tony's cousin Tony B, the "Rockford Guy" (Joe Santos) who Tony B idolizes as a father, and a real hothead named Phil Leotardo.

Carmine Sr. croaks. Phil joins with Sack against Little Carmine, Tony B joins with the Rockford Guy and Rusty in backing Little Carmine's play. Tony elects to back off and see how Jersey can benefit from the ensuing bloodshed, of which there is a lot.

During all this, two little matters occur: Seeking owed cash, Tony subjects Phil Leotardo to a body-breaking car crash and beats up Phil at the accident site as a "throw-in." Tony B kills Phil's brother Billy Leotardo.

In retrospect, these last two actions were perhaps...unfortunate.

Sack and Phil kill more guys than Little Carmine's team. Little caves ("It's a stagmire.") Sack ascends to Donhood. Tony can deal with Sack (having killed Tony B as a burnt offering), and Sack will stave off the still vengeful Phil Leotardo.

But right at the end of Season Five, the Feds nab Sack. Go directly to jail.

Season 6A: Sack's in prison, but the putative boss, with Phil fronting him on the outside. Tony's shot for a few episodes. The "gay Vito issue" gives Phil new reason for putting the pressure on Tony's Jersey boys. With Sack losing power by the day, Phil contemplates his rages against Tony: getting beaten up by Tony, paying money to Tony, brother killed by the cousin of Tony, gay Vito protected by Tony. Phil has a heart attack to match Tony's gutshot. Things seem peaceful between these two wounded warriors. But this guy Butch turns up, taunting Tony.

Season 6B. Tony's luck with New York runs out, via a series of crap outs: Sack dies of cancer; Doc kills Gerry; Phil kills Doc.. Phil is "the big boss man," finally, and the worst possible New York Don Tony Soprano could face. Filled with jailhouse vengeance and itching to consolidate power, Phil pushes Tony too far (with the sexual insult of Coco towards Meadow, ultimately). Tony retaliates (curbing); Phil says "there's nothing left to talk about," and here we are.

Now, I' m not sure how much of that was plotted early on by Chase and Company, but looking back on it, you see how this final, fatal gang war was literally years in the making. Tony Soprano fended off Jersey threats (Junior, Richie), kept the peace with Carmine Sr, dangerously dueled with Sack (the longest of Tony's strategic encounters), sat out the gang war to replace Carmine Sr...and ended up on the wrong end of Phil's bloody ascension to the throne of the New York Family.

Where things are now is where they HAVE to be. Inevitability.

--lucabrasi

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