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HBO "The Sopranos" Website Section The Sopranos -- Main Page Photos / Posters / Events Promos Episode Guide Episode Breakdowns -- Scenes from the Trailers Newsweek Entertainment Weekly TV Guide
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So far, the only references I know of that refer to Dr. Melfi and Season 6:
Lorraine's comment on
The Tony Danza Show that they had
their first read through and the first episode's script is good ...
Lorraine Bracco's
broadening her horizons, in character and out.
Lorraine paid a visit to The Martha Stewart Show on December 8th and gave out this clue ... there isn't going to be a Season Six Premiere Preview as in previous years because ... "something is revealed in the first episode that ..." David Chase doesn't want people to know about in advance. Also -- Season 6 begins March 12, 2006 (this bit of news is not included in the Video Clip) Although her character has seen diminished airtime, Bracco says she loves the role and promises that “some surprises” are in store. Manhattan Living Magazine -- February 28, 2006
From the New
York Daily News Article -- March 1st, 2006
(more below)
Fans of psychiatrist Dr. Melfi (Lorraine
Bracco) will be disappointed by her small early role, though she has
key, dryly funny scenes with both Tony and Carm. Bracco says she, too, has more screen time, "which I'm happy about, but it's also fun because it means Tony's trying to work it out" with his longtime therapist. USA Today -- March 2, 2006
''Tony is very prosperous,'' says Sopranos
creator David Chase. ''It is a relative period of calm.'' (But don't
expect things to stay that way.) And he's still seeing Dr. Melfi
''because of concerns about AJ.''
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Till death do us part The Sopranos broke all the TV rules but was an instant hit with critics and viewers. As the mob drama returns for a final series, Mark Lawson looks at what makes it a modern classic Wednesday August 30, 2006 -- The Guardian -- UK When The Sopranos began on American television in 1999, even a bookmaker in the pay of the mafia would have had trouble getting odds on it eventually being voted the best TV drama of all time in both US and British surveys. But the remarkable fact to remember - as the final series of the show begins on E4 tomorrow - is that The Sopranos started with almost no likelihood of it being a success. Because of the stamina and ambition required to produce the 20 or so episodes a year necessary to make an impact on American schedules, the biggest US hits - M*A*S*H, The West Wing, Lost, Desperate Housewives - have tended to be created by relatively young talents. But David Chase was already in his middle-50s - a respected but rather underachieving writer-producer, whose previous peak had been working on The Rockford Files - when he conceived the idea of a gangster family drama. Another obstacle to broadcast immortality was that this material did not seem original. Cinema had mob drama in a headlock with The Godfather and then Goodfellas, so Chase was setting himself against two of the most admired directors in America - Francis Ford Coppola and Martin Scorsese. The Sopranos never tried to get out of this debt - one of the jokes from the beginning was the extent to which Chase's New Jersey mobsters model themselves on the movie bruisers - but this history seemed to limit the series to being a footnote to a genre. It is true that The Sopranos had one big joke of its own: the hard man with the neurotically soft centre. Tony Soprano was so frightened of his mother that he needed to see a shrink each week. But, to Chase's horror, as The Sopranos was in pre-production, he saw a reference in a trade paper to Analyse This, a Hollywood comedy with Robert DeNiro as a gangster in therapy. Chase, a somewhat intense and brooding man who had himself been undergoing analysis for 20 years, prepared himself for another reverse. But, for the first time in his career, the dice were weighted in his favour: The Sopranos premiered before Analyse This and so anyone who saw both would take Chase as the bouncer on the door of that story. He has still avoided seeing the film or its sequel, Analyse That, in order to avoid any potential crossover. Even so, despite reaching the screen first - episode one of The Sopranos was screened on January 10 1999 - the show's creator still appeared to have avoided imputations of plagiarism rather than guaranteeing greatness for his creation. The Sopranos had been turned down by Fox, the smallest of the traditional major networks in America, and so aired on the cable channel HBO. In terms of critical attention and potential audience, the show was starting with at least one foot in a concrete boot. In retrospect, it was the displaced location that allowed the show to stamp itself on the map. Now that the funeral parlour drama Six Feet Under and the cosmetic surgery comedy Nip/Tuck have followed The Sopranos - and even a mainstream network, ABC, can screen a series as cheerfully amoral as Desperate Housewives - it is hard to remember just how conventional most American television was at the turn of the millennium. During the long, quiet first phase of his career, Chase had frequently railed against the "network rules". These dictated storylines that were neatly resolved each week, a bad-guy vocabulary which only stretched as far as "sonofabitch", central characters with whom the mass audience could sympathise and empathise and, above all, a moral system in which the good were ultimately rewarded while the bad were punished. These strictures - dictated by a combination of American puritan morality and the caution of advertisers - were so severe that Chase regarded it as something of a triumph that Jim Rockford, the private dick played by James Garner in The Rockford Files, was a relatively troubled and unsuccessful figure by the standards of peak-time characterisation and that some storylines were allowed to run across two episodes. HBO was committed to making cable an arena where greater complexity of narrative and frankness of language would be allowed. The network's hit, Sex and the City, had already taken advantage of these chances, but The Sopranos raised the pitch. The "network rules" were broken from the beginning. For a start, the tradition of central characters with whom the folks at home can identify would, in this case, apply only to a few viewers watching on blood-soaked sofas in New Jersey and Sicily. With the exception of Tony's mother, wife and shrink, the central characters are all murderers and fugitives from justice. Admittedly, the vulnerability Tony shows allows the actor James Gandolfini to make him sometimes worryingly likable - and a regular shot of a paunchy, sleepy Tony picking up the New York Times from his drive is also designed to debunk his thuggery - but the string of killings to which he is linked means that this is an anti-hero in whom the anti far outweighs the heroism. The characterisation also directly assaults one of the most cherished sentimentalities of American culture: motherhood. The dark central joke of The Sopranos is that Tony has a mom who is a mutha. Livia, the matriarch who haunts and daunts the mob boss, is based on Chase's own mother who, though she never took out a contract on him as Livia did on Tony, was prone to savage and erratic moods, in one of which she held a knife to her son's head. Hollywood's storytelling rules are also routinely ignored. Plots will resolve weeks later rather than before the week's final credits and long sections of episodes consist of dream sequences. Compare this to The West Wing, the network-made (NBC) series which has been chief rival to The Sopranos for awards and praise during its period in office. In The West Wing, every central character, apart from the occasional Republican senator, was inherently likable and an A-plot, B-plot and even C-plot were neatly intertwined most weeks. Perhaps the most extraordinary innovation of The Sopranos has been linguistic. Chase's departure from the sanitised vocabulary of mainstream television has been crucial to the show's success. In life, character and attitude are revealed through language, but for decades the prissy talk laws of television meant characters abandoned realism every time they opened their mouths. The fact is that, except when in the presence of his mother or sisters, a mobster does not say, "Get out of my frigging house, you sonofabitch." He accuses his opponent of customarily having sex with his mother or invites him to have intercourse with himself. When it started, The Sopranos was the first TV show to match cinema for vocal realism. The potty-mouthed frankness of mobsters appalled some conservative reviewers and audiences and is one of the three areas in which The Sopranos has received serious criticism. The second is the allegation that it perpetuates stereotypes of Italian-American life, a charge to which Chase responds by saying that when Italian-Americans stop belonging to the mafia they will cease to be depicted as doing so. The third perceived weakness of The Sopranos has been made with less prejudice and is harder to refute. This is the worry of some that, for all the innovations of characterisation and narrative, the storylines are spread too thinly across the 77 episodes. Members Only, the season-six opener, is a good example of this alarm. For much of the episode, nothing seems to happen that has not happened before as Tony spars with Dr Melfi about his mother and broods over his marriage. But then Chase displays the show's ability to incorporate and evade criticism. This meandering approach is deliberate, establishing a template of normality against which a late moment of shocking action makes even more impact. Chase, though, has already tacitly acknowledged that The Sopranos has reached its highest notes. The eight episodes currently being filmed at Silvercup studios in New York will complete the series. Screened in spring 2007, they will dispatch The Sopranos into the charmed afterlife of syndication and DVD. It will become one of the measures against which television is judged. Sometimes, admittedly, the show is not as clever as its admirers believe. Many fan pages in cyberspace claim Chase has planted within the drama a systematic symbolism involving food. These web-heads note that when a character eats or breaks eggs, death almost always follows: Tony, for instance, accidentally steps on a carton just before ordering the murder of his cousin. Chase, when I interviewed him recently, insisted that these people were talking out of a hen's behind: there is no intentional omelette sub-plot. Dr Melfi, however, would perhaps conclude that all this egg stuff is welling up for some reason from Chase's subconscious. Perhaps it is because he scrambled forever the rules and expectations of American television.
Fragmented ‘Sopranos’ stumbles to finale Will season end with bang of a shotgun, or whimper of a fireman? Are "The Sopranos" mobsters just too level-headed, regularly choosing peace and profits over violence and ambition? COMMENTARY -- By Michael Ventre -- MSNBC contributor -- June 1, 2006 In a particularly grisly episode of “The Sopranos” from season four, Tony notified Ralph Cifaretto in unequivocal terms that his services with the family would no longer be required. Ralph did not get a golden parachute, but rather his parts were sent to parts unknown. Ralph’s duties weren’t split up, but he was, in accordance with organized crime by-laws concerning the relocation of former employees. Apparently this method is preferred because it makes it far more difficult for nosy outsiders to piece together (ahem) exactly what happened. The producers of “The Sopranos” apparently adopted the same method in planning the current sixth season of the show. Pieces of story lie everywhere, but lead nowhere. For mildly frustrated fans of the still-fabulous HBO series, it’s like finding Ralph’s head in a bowling ball bag — sans toupee — and not only wondering where the rest of him is, but whether there ever was a rest of him. On Sunday, “The Sopranos” concludes its penultimate season, sort of. Fans waited two years for these 12 episodes — another eight, which are technically part of this season but not really, are scheduled to air early next year. Because of the disjointed nature of the show in general and the especially fragmented feeling of this current season in particular, it’s difficult to work up any emotion over an impending climax. Aficionados will probably have to make do with simply one more fine episode. But what exactly will occur in the finale? Will the season conclude with the bang of a sawed-off shotgun, or the whimper of a sobbing gay fireman? To look forward, we have to look back. Tony vs. Phil feud needs to ignite One of the half-hearted plot lines screaming to be resolved is the simmering conflict between the New York and New Jersey families, specifically between Phil Leotardo (subbing for the incarcerated Johnny Sac) and Tony. Faux Mafia gossipers know that Phil hates Tony because Tony’s cousin, the late Tony Blundetto (Steve Buscemi), killed Phil’s beloved younger brother. The fact that Tony Soprano murdered his own cousin to square things doesn’t seem to have completely calmed Phil, although he’s done a commendable job so far of restraining himself from giving Tony a meat-cleaver massage. And that’s the problem. Creator David Chase and his colleagues are marvelous writers, but they continue to imbue Tony with a pragmatist’s outlook. Whenever there is even a hint of the rival families going to the mattresses — i.e., waging an all-out war — the situation is quelled when all sides agree that a bloodbath will be bad for business. But if fans wanted to see level-headed men doing what’s best for the company, they could visit their local insurance firm. Viewers tune into “The Sopranos” for the voyeuristic thrill of watching criminals commit dirty deeds against each other. If this current trend continues on the show, don’t be surprised if one entire future episode is devoted to the Soprano family’s annual report to stockholders. Chase seems to believe that goodfellas will regularly choose peace and profits over violence and ambition. That’s a misreading of human nature. Mob boss Paul Castellano was gunned down on orders from John Gotti in front of Sparks Steak House in Manhattan in 1985. In 1979, Carmine Galante was assassinated at a Brooklyn restaurant; before that, he had been suspected in the murders of eight members of the Gambino family. In 1972, Crazy Joey Gallo died in a hail of gunfire outside Umberto’s Clam House in Little Italy. What these incidents all had in common — besides excellent food — is that they all involved made guys. Mafiosos routinely allowed their hatreds, jealousies and lusts for power to override their business concerns. Francis Ford Coppola and Mario Puzo had no hesitations about ending “The Godfather” with the assassinations of the heads of the five families on Michael Corleone’s orders. Chase could still surprise us and resolve the Tony-Phil feud with gusto. But don’t bank on it. The last time Carmela saw Paris Yet that is only one of the story threads that needs repair. Chase & Co. have created Carmela Soprano, an essentially good woman who is bright, ambitious, strong and aware. Although she has accepted her lot as a Mafia wife and looks the other way at 95 percent of the mischief around her, she has a conscience and a sense of right and wrong. So why have the writers portrayed her as such a dimwit when it comes to the issue of Adriana? Does she really believe that Ade simply ran off? Shouldn’t this be one time when she stubbornly refuses to swallow Tony’s moon-faced sincerity as he opines on the fickle nature of relationships to explain why Ade and Christopher broke up? Just as Meadow knew in her heart what really happened to Jackie Jr., so should Carmela understand what befell Ade. If ever there were an instance when Carmela’s Catholic guilt and Italian temper should join forces to demand the truth from Tony about his nefarious ways, it’s here. What about lesser issues? There was Paulie dealing with the possibility of cancer, then finding out he’s fine. Christopher was single, then he suddenly had a beautiful girlfriend who was pregnant, then he relapsed into using heroin, then he was straight again. Early on, Silvio was pondering life as Tony’s replacement, but then Tony recovered and he reverted to his No. 2 role. No resentment there from Silvio? No hints of Machiavellian intent from Sil and his wife? A.J. seems to be getting a lot more screen time than Meadow. And that’s too bad. The A.J. stuff is getting so repetitive that you almost wish Tony would tell Silvio to give the kid a ride on the Adriana express. Meanwhile, it seems all we know about Meadow this season is that she can’t decide between law school and medical school, which undoubtedly will lead to the riveting decision about whether she should live on- or off-campus. In the one outstanding dramatic storyline this season, Soprano captain Vito was revealed to be gay. He skedaddled out of town and started a life in New Hampshire. Then he returned. Why did the writers have to kill him off so quickly upon his return? Wouldn’t the presence of such a controversial soldier have created lots of juicy conflict for the remaining episodes? Whacking him the way they did seems like another business-as-usual decision. Through it all, there is Dr. Melfi, counseling Tony, covering the same ground, making little headway. It’s nice that they want to give a wonderful actress like Lorraine Bracco something to do. But if so, they should really give her something to do, not just an occasional few lines to say. The problem with “The Sopranos” this season is twofold: The producers seem to have run out of ideas; that was evident early on, with the interminable dream sequences. And the writers tried to solve that by giving all of the actors individual moments, even though they don’t weave together toward a climax. Each script resembles an Uncle Junior shooting spree. The recent trip to Paris by Carmela and pal Rosalie Aprile is a perfect example. It’s as if Edie Falco said to Chase, “You sent James Gandolfini to Italy in season two. Where’s my trip?” So they sent her to Paris, even though there was no organic reason for her to be there. Maybe the writers are banking on viewers’ poor knowledge of geography by suggesting that if Carmela and Furio are somewhere in Europe together at the same time, they might bump into each other. “The Sopranos” remains the most compelling drama on television and contains arguably the most intriguing set of characters in television history. But it has set an extremely high bar in past seasons, and it is stumbling to come near it. The series is the TV equivalent of Barbaro, the Kentucky Derby winner that broke down at the start of the Preakness. It’s limping, but it’s still dignified, magnificent and greatly admired. Let’s just hope it strides proudly on its own power in the Sunday finale.
'Sopranos' hits high notes June 2, 2006 -- Verne Gay -- Off Camera -- Newsday The topic usually comes up right after most people have exhausted more immediately pressing matters, like the price of gas or the Mets' prospects this summer. And then - voice lowered, eyebrows knitted, evidence of concern in their face - someone will turn to someone else to pose the sullen question: "What's wrong with 'The Sopranos?'" It is the TV question of the moment - the one whacked around at countless barbecues and countless car pool trips, the one of a thousand radio shows and a thousand Internet blogs. Something's wrong. Something doesn't quite fit. Something ... but what that "something" is remains a buzzing gnat, particularly adept at avoiding capture. Even so, the opinions usually seem to line up this way: too flat, no resolution, stories or scenes not leading anywhere, early dream sequences confusing, no payoff. There's more, much more, but it all adds to a reminder that the greater the show, the greater the expectation, and (unfair or otherwise), that's the burden placed on Sunday's finale (9 p.m., HBO). The end is near, and fans want to be reassured that the trip was worth the six-year effort. In fact, we are here to tell you that it unequivocally was and most assuredly will continue to be. This season has been the most subtle, most provocative, most deeply, richly, endlessly rewarding season in "Sopranos" history. Nothing is wrong. Everything is right. The endgame is afoot, and on to the glorious resolution that will unfold this Sunday and over eight final episodes starting next January. So why the doom and gloom in the court of public opinion? One reason - the only reason - is that creator David Chase couldn't care less about the court of public opinion. It's now apparent that the sixth season was never about satisfying "the fans" but was about satisfying himself, and effectively resolving the literary and intellectual themes and puzzles that he has threaded through "The Sopranos" from the very first episode on to (soon) the very last. And those are? That character - as the Greek philosopher first observed - is destiny. That there is no God. That the mystery and meaning to human life can be deciphered though an understanding of the universal symbols that roam through our unconsciousness. Chase's is a strange mystical vision, and the product of every strange mystical literary quest he has ever undertaken. And what a quest: There's some Blake, some Baudelaire, some Woolf. There's symbolism and modernism and especially Freud. There's William S. Burroughs and a battery of other beat poets and acid-fueled '60s psychedelic rockers, too. It gets even better or, one might reasonably argue, weirder: There's some Kabbalah here, and - especially Egyptian mythology. There's even tarot mysticism. On and on and on. But the literary/intellectual/mystical journey is, most of all, Chase's, and the allusions - a bottomless pool of them - can be found in almost every scene. No wonder college English professors are so energized by this season and why so many viewers have been dispirited. Maybe they didn't realize they were supposed to dive in to this pool. Where did this all begin? From the opening moments of the season, with an audio track of Burroughs reading from his "The Western Lands: A Book of the Dead for the Nuclear Age," in which "the ancient Egyptians postulated seven souls ..." The season - this season - has unfolded as an allegory based in part on the journey of Burroughs' souls, with each "Sopranos" character corresponding to one of the souls. You think we jest? Consider the recent episode entitled "The Ride," when Christopher (Michael Imperioli) finds out he's going to be a father. One night he gets zonked on heroin, and sprawled on the ground stares at the moon just as a jetliner passes just beneath it. Now consider the line from Burroughs: "He, she, or it is third man out ... depicted as flying away across a full moon, a bird with luminous wings and head of light...." Meanwhile, an audio track from a 1973 Tim Buckley album plays out during this entire scene. Buckley - as his small, devoted knot of fans well know - died of a heroin overdose in the mid-'70s. Which brings us to another point. Chase has layered meaning into this season like a series of Chinese boxes. Visual and audio puns, in particular, abound; decipher one, and that then becomes a key for opening the next box, and so on. And symbols? They are in every scene. Think of the flashing lighthouse in the second episode that Tony (James Gandolfini) sees in a dream-like coma. The lighthouse is one of the most loaded symbols in the Western canon, straight out of Freud and Virginia Woolf, who used it as a motif for the Oedipal complex, in which the son figuratively "slays" the father (also "Sopranos" motif from season one). Carmela (Edie Falco) saw the lighthouse on her recent trip to Paris, too, meaning ... what? That Tony and Carmela's fates are converging toward a shocking conclusion. The endgame is afoot. Tony must (and probably will) die. TV's greatest literary Chinese puzzle will soon be solved. What a shame we have to wait till next year to find out how.
'The Sopranos' deserves all the time it takes The TV landscape has changed considerably in the two years The Sopranos was away. What will transpire between Sunday's season finale and January's last batch of episodes? By Robert Bianco, USA TODAY -- June 2, 2006 Time has not been kind to The Sopranos. It could be said that this HBO series is actually timeless, a masterpiece that has carved its own artistic niche outside the entertainment constraints of commercial television. And though opinions differ on the 12-episode run concluding Sunday (9 ET/PT), the show remains the best reason to spend money on HBO. Still, there's no doubt The Sopranos is no longer the powerhouse it once was. Viewership lingers at 8 million. What's worse for a network that is generally more talked about than watched, there seems to be precious little excitement around a show that was once among TV's most discussed. What happened? Asking people to wait two years for new episodes was asking too much, particularly when that two-season stretch saw the debut of so many strong dramas. People have only so many "must-see" appointments they're willing to make a week, which means The Sopranos wasn't just competing with (and losing to) Desperate Housewives. It was also competing with Grey's Anatomy, House, Lost and 24. It also appears that the show either took too much time getting moving this season or viewers had forgotten how much time The Sopranos usually takes. One of the joys and frustrations of the show is that it does not conform to TV's keep-them-hooked storytelling demands; the writers devote as much time to a story as they think it needs. Even so, it seems clear that using Tony's fantasy-heavy hospital stay as a lead-in to a prolonged gay escapade by a character no one ever much cared about was not a crowd-pleaser. Yet viewers who stuck with the show were rewarded by rich moments, particularly those that dealt with Tony's family. Tony, struggling to maintain his belief that his life is a gift. Carmela, trying to create her own life and failing. The two of them, coming to grips with AJ's failings as a son and a man. Plus, in its gifted cast, The Sopranos has an advantage most series don't. Even when the plot dawdles, you can glory in the performances of James Gandolfini and Edie Falco, joined this season by particularly strong turns from Michael Imperioli and Tony Sirico. We get to spend one more hour with them, and then they're scheduled to vanish until January's concluding run. That's another long wait. But for The Sopranos, I'll make the time.
FUHGEDDABOUTIT, I'M HOOKED March 17, 2006 -- 'THE BASIS of optimism is sheer terror," wrote Oscar Wilde. I SPENT two weeks of marathon "Sopranos" watching before the sixth season commenced Sunday on HBO. I sat through DVDs for all five seasons in sequence - sometimes catching old favorites and shows I had missed. Now I am so involved with the Soprano "family" that I've forgotten all about the Smiths and McCalls of Texas. (I'm now from New Jersey myself!) I find that I have enhanced and perhaps unpleasant overtones of suppressed violence, depression from repressed rage, frustration at not getting my way instantly, deep psychologically profound inner turmoil and personal questions about the meaning of life, death and God, also questions about ethics and beliefs, a tendency to side with the Mob sympathetically against the FBI, a deepened cynicism and an enhanced use of the F-word, plus a fear that if anyone crosses me in the slightest way - I'll simply fly off the handle, and after smashing their eye out, knock them down and kick them to death. (The other day waiting impatiently for the elevator in my building, I heard myself saying in Michael Imperioli's unmistakable voice, as I kept pushing the button, "What is this s - - -!?") I don't own any guns, but I definitely make myself nervous around my kitchen knives, and when I ran across my godson's new Yankee baseball bat in the closet, I slammed the door on such a lethal weapon. The push and pull, yin and yang, yes and no feelings induced by living with "The Sopranos," loving and hating them, feeling first sorry and then unremorseful over happenings in their lives, has made a new person out of me. "The Sopranos," like so much else in our ferocious culture, are irresistible. Whether involving oneself with them is good for one or not is yet to be proved. I haven't gone to jail yet. Perhaps they are a tonic for those of us who are actually timid, tentative and still believe in the Golden Rule. And I mean good for us in the same sense that the Greeks found comedy and tragedy to be so cathartic. It helped them sort out their feelings to see children baked into a pie and eaten, eyes blinded, friends, enemies and family slaughtered and things of that nature. When "The Sopranos" cast is all killed off at season's end, or when they ride triumphantly into the sunset in their Mercedes, or when they end up in the slammer or in heaven or in hell - whatever, as the kids say - I know I'll be most bereft to lose them and their ongoing adventures. I read somewhere that such Mafia dramas are to us "moderns" what the Wild West movie was in our youth. It will be terrible to have to give up the incredible characters created for James Gandolfini and for two women I respect beyond belief - Edie Falco and Lorraine Bracco - Tony's wife and psychiatrist, respectively. Like Dr. Melfi, how can I not forever after be beguiled by Tony Soprano while waiting without fail for his charm and sex appeal to turn to revolting behavior? My own shrink has gone to her reward, but now, at this late stage, I may have to ask my friend Ms. Bracco to recommend someone to help me straighten out my life since "The Sopranos." Maybe her own doctor, played by actor-director Peter Bogdanovich, would take me on. I've always found Peter very satisfactory socially, and I'm sure he'd be helpful just as he has helped Dr. Melfi deal with the Soprano phenomenon. As for all the wiseguys, some of them are as riveting as any character ever filmed. When Silvio and Paulie appear (Steven Van Zandt and Tony Sirico) - they of the amazing hairdos - I am a bird before a snake, hypnotized. I have to salute HBO, producer Brad Grey, creator David Chase and all their minions. They have outdone themselves. "The Sopranos" is a saga almost unparalleled in adult entertainment. If you have missed it - well, rectify that. It's all on DVD, and the sixth season is playing out now before our very eyes. It will be a classic for the TV ages. Here's a chance to test yourself as a thinking, feeling adult, to find out where you draw the line and what your own ethics and guidelines are. You'll be vastly entertained and enthralled in the bargain. And, yes, I think "The Sopranos" actors seeking bigger salaries deserve them. Give them what they want - or else! 'THE SOPRANOS" running motifs: plates and plates of spaghetti, not pasta! . . . red wine and the clink of "Saluds" . . . laundry baskets . . . covered dishes . . . "pies" not pizzas . . . pole-dancing, breast-enhanced bimbos . . . stacks of money held with rubber bands . . . Sunday dinners . . . big men embracing and patting each other . . . car tires screeching . . . sirens in the distance . . . fat guys thrusting tips on underlings . . . bloody encounters even in real life . . . yelling . . . screaming . . . doors slamming. Just like home!
Continuing adventures in Mob psychology Tony's psychotherapy underpins the series. But how's it working for him? Mar. 12, 2006. 01:00 AM -- ROB SALEM -- TV CRITIC -- The Star.com He's been in therapy for years, but is Tony Soprano really getting any better? If not, then why does he still go? For that matter, if he is better, why does he still go? "I don't know," shrugs Lorraine Bracco, the actress who, in the guise of Dr. Jennifer Melfi, has sat across the room, dispensing Prozac and listening to Tony vent, for five long years. "Do you think Tony got better? I mean, it's job security (for me) that he doesn't, but ..." She's being glib, but it's a legitimate question. From the beginning, The Sopranos' defining dramatic device has been its use of psychotherapy as an emotional and psychological context. Over the years, it has often transcended the traditional doctor-patient relationship — for example, in the first season, an incredulous Melfi was briefly forced into hiding (or "out on the lam," as she was later aghast to hear herself say) when their association threatened her life. And though, for a time, she refused to see him — and later, a time where he refused to see her — they always seem to somehow resolve their issues, and get back to dealing and healing. But has it done him any good? "Well, he's not having panic attacks any more," Bracco offers, meekly. Her boss, David Chase, is typically blunt: "We're trying to depict real psychotherapy. So of course he gets nothing out of it." He's kidding. Mostly. "I sort of meant what I said," the Sopranos supremo shrugs. "I think he feels that she has had an effect in his life.... She helped him through a tremendous thing with his mother. I think probably, in the back of his mind, that's still playing, even if he would not like to admit it. "But really, I think he just enjoys going to this attractive woman once a week and talking. And she doesn't really interrupt him that much." In fact, Melfi gets an enthusiastic thumbs-up from many real-life psychotherapists, among them Glen Gabbard, author of The Psychology of the Sopranos, and a teacher who regularly screens Sopranos scenes for his psychiatry residents at the Baylor College of Medicine. But we thought we'd get a second opinion. Rosa Bergman is a local psychotherapist, a woman, and a long-time Sopranos fan. Or rather, now a reborn fan. She didn't watch at all last season, driven away by the series' relentless brutality. But now she's back. "I'm hooked again. I'm chomping at the bit." And she too feels that, though admittedly somewhat heightened, what goes on in Dr. Melfi's office is a more-or-less accurate reflection of the reality. "She is professional. She dresses professionally. She conducts herself well. She gives boundaries, which is very important. She tries to offer him a sanctuary, away from his crazy, mad world. "Although," Bergman qualifies, "when she talks about referring him to a behaviourist, I did have a reaction to that. Because there's a lot of work to be done with Tony, on a much more psycho-dynamic level. You can do both." Still, Melfi does get top marks for technique. "She knows what questions to ask at the right time. She seems quite astute and quite intuitive that way. She's completely in sync with him." And he with her? "Well," Bergman qualifies, "he's not in therapy to stop doing what he's doing. He's in therapy to be as healthy as he possibly can in the world that he lives in. Which is a paradox in itself. "He's not about to leave the `family' (not his biological one), because that's the code of conduct. Once you leave, you're dead. So he's trying to function as best as he can in that world, and be less neurotic." Of course, the real credit belongs to Chase. "What he's doing, really," she says, "is introducing us to the subconscious, in terms of the dreams, the fantasies, the therapy process ... a whole other dimension about the human condition. "Which I think is really important. We all have an unconscious, even though some of us don't talk about it, or even know we have one. "For television, I think, it's quite revolutionary. It kind of breaks new ground, into our societal psyche." So what about our initial question? Is Tony Soprano getting better? "Well, he's not having panic attacks any more," Bergman says, echoing her fictional colleague. Would she herself have treated him differently? More like, not at all. "I wouldn't," she says, "because of what he does. I'm not a moralistic person, but on principle, from an ethical perspective, I just couldn't do it."
Why do we love screen gangsters? Let us count the ways... By Mark Sauer -- UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER -- March 12, 2006 Tony Soprano is a vicious, gluttonous, philandering thug whose shark eyes go dead when his thoughts turn murderous. He is also a crude, ill-educated racist, a self-centered neurotic and a major-league racketeer. No wonder we love him so much. Nearly 12 million Americans are expected to tune in when “The Sopranos,” featuring Tony, his compromised, brassy wife Carmela and the rest of his bloody band of Mafia relatives, cronies and rivals returns to HBO tonight after a 21-month hiatus. Rapt viewers are dying to see how the gangsters and their families will carry on in their perverse, yet richly compelling, version of the American dream in the sixth season of a show many critics have called the finest television ever. Why do viewers find “The Sopranos” and a host of other well-told Mafia tales, including “GoodFellas,” “Prizzi's Honor” “Donnie Brasco,” “Once Upon a Time in America” and, of course, “The Godfather,” so seductive? Observers of popular culture say portrayals of gangsters, especially the Italian-American Mafia, exemplify an epic myth that binds up many complex, conflicting, often disturbing, yet appealingly romantic, American ideals. “America was born as a rebel country, and Americans have always had a soft spot for the outlaw,” said Maurice Yacowar, a professor of English and film studies at the University of Calgary who teaches a course on “The Sopranos.” “Westerns and the gangster films which largely replaced them in the 1970s have a tradition of individuals rising above and beyond the constraints of the law,” he said. “But that love for the outlaw is balanced by a sense of morality and justice – we know he will come to a bad end.” Rags to riches immigrant stories combined with neighborhood benevolence set in an atmosphere of vigilante justice, machismo and danger combine to satisfy something deep within the American heart, according to Robert J. Thompson. Advertisement “Viewers don't want to become Mafia killers themselves,” said Thompson, founder of the Center for the Study of Popular Television at Syracuse University. “But we all have this kind of fantasy of what it would be like to be a lone ranger able to transcend authority and escape the sleights and frustrations of everyday life.” Actor Vincent Curatola, who plays New York mob boss Johnny “Sack” Sacramoni on “The Sopranos,” said beyond appealing elements like empowerment and loyalty, mob figures connect with audiences because they inhabit the same urban world. “These are not normal people, but they are living day to day like the rest of us; there is enough of a connection to ordinary life,” Curatola said. “Yet, they know life can end quickly, that they live it on the edge, which fascinates people. “Mob guys don't sit around thinking about their 401(k)s.” This alluring alternative gangster world dates at least to the 1930s, with movies like “Little Caesar” (1930), starring Edward G. Robinson, and “The Public Enemy” (1931), starring James Cagney. (Robinson and Cagney appeared in 29 and 16 gangster films, respectively.) But it was 1972's “The Godfather” and its sequel two years later that introduced the intriguing elements of family and ethnic (Italian) tradition to the tragic outlaw/hero genre. It helped that the first two “Godfather” films were stunning in their richness, quality and depth, picking up 21 Academy Award nominations and nine Oscars between them while becoming cultural landmarks. Based on the best-seller by Mario Puzo, “The Godfather” saga captured audiences because at heart it was an epic about family, said George De Stefano, author of the just-published “An Offer We Can't Refuse – the Mafia in the Mind of America” (Farrar, Straus & Giroux). There is a reason, he said, why audiences warm to tales about Italian-American mobsters, while there has not been much demand for dramas about the adventures and foibles of Latino, Asian, African-American or other minority gangs. “When it comes to the Mafia, people love the colorful nicknames; the Omertà;, or code of silence; the food; the gritty neighborhoods – the whole thing – which is embodied in the Italians' experience in America,” De Stefano said. “Also, the Italian Mafia have this gestalt that's fascinating: the immigrant experience; the history of Sicilians being marginalized and oppressed in Italy; the creation of an alternative code of justice because Italy has been misruled for so long. “This mythology works so well on so many levels. ('The Sopranos' creator) David Chase has found ways to take the story in different directions that makes it very contemporary and relevant.” Tony Soprano, a self-indulgent grizzly bear played brilliantly by James Gandolfini, is boss of a New Jersey Mafia family. His wife, Carmela, played with great complexity by Edie Falco, is deeply conflicted over her life as a mobster's wife, her Catholic faith and conscience, and her love for Tony and their two children. But Chase added two delicious twists to the traditional Mafia tale: Tony's intimate, revealing and sexually tense relationship with his psychiatrist, Dr. Jennifer Melfi (played by Lorraine Bracco), and a marbling of the dark plot lines with comedy. Tony's psychological, family and moral conflicts are revealed, Maurice Yacowar said, in episode one's first scene, where the Jersey mobster is squirming in Dr. Melfi's waiting room framed between the legs of a bronze nude woman. The scene, he said, introduces the series' major issues: manliness, authority, responsibility, honor and identity. “Tony is uncomfortable with any abstraction, with any naked truth, and with the power of women,” Yacowar wrote in an essay last year. “Even the manner in which he wields his own power is evidence of his psychological insecurity and moral weakness.” Yet it is the gallows humor that draws many viewers. “It is a sleight of hand by David Chase to make the show a comedy,” according to Thompson. “There are plenty of places in 'The Sopranos' where a laugh track would be in order.” He cited the episode where Tony takes daughter Meadow (played by Jamie-Lynn Sigler) on a tour of prospective colleges and happens to spot a mob snitch. “Tony decides that, 'while I'm in the neighborhood, I might as well whack this informant,' ” Thompson said. What follows is a slapstick hunt and ultimate bare-hands murder by Tony, who manages to hide what he's doing from his daughter as they trundle from campus to campus. “Violence leavened by comedy is what makes this show hip,” Thompson said. “There are times when it's the funniest thing on TV all week. There is more comedy in one episode of 'The Sopranos' than in the entire run of 'According to Jim.' ” Actor Frank Vincent, who plays New York mob captain and Tony Soprano nemesis Phil Leotardo, said cast members view the show as more comedic than dramatic. “It is very much so a comedy – read the lines, there is great humor and irony throughout,” Vincent said. “Look at films like 'Casino' and 'GoodFellas,' there's a lot of comedy in them, too. “Comedy helps with all the violence. It makes the evil better.” A big question tonight will be how many of “The Sopranos” legion of fans will remain loyal after the 21-month absence – especially with competition at 9 p.m. from ABC's blockbusters “Desperate Housewives,” followed by “Grey's Anatomy,” shows that didn't exist when Tony & Co. were last seen. David Baldwin isn't concerned. “With the quality of this series and the impact as a cultural force it has had in this country, nobody here is worried about audience loyalty,” said Baldwin, HBO's vice president for program planning and operations. He noted that people line up at midnight for Harry Potter books, even though a few years may pass between them. “And a lot of people may have taken this (hiatus) as an opportunity to catch up on 'Sopranos' episodes they missed.” Unlike the networks, Baldwin said, “I don't make my money selling eyeballs at a given hour, but by providing shows worth paying for over 52 weeks a year. Thanks to high-quality programming like 'The Sopranos,' I'd say HBO as a cost-to-value proposition is hard to deny.” After starting its original programming 20 years ago with “some pretty tacky stuff,” Thompson said, HBO found its stride with shows like “Tanner '88,” “The Larry Sanders Show” and “Oz.” “Then came the one-two punch of 'The Sopranos' and 'Sex and the City' that put HBO on the map as having the most exciting things on TV,” Thompson said. “The buzz they generated was incredible.” HBO said goodbye to the critically acclaimed “Six Feet Under” and popular “Sex in the City” last year. “But 'Entourage' (now on break) remains hot, and I think 'Deadwood' is a high-quality show, though it has yet to draw a significant audience,” Thompson said. “ 'The Sopranos' will be a big loss for them when it finally ends its last spate of episodes in early 2007. But I'd say it's time for it to go. Nobody wants to see another 'L.A. Law,' a once-fine show that hung on way too long and became almost a parody of itself at the end.” Baldwin said dealing with the loss of hit shows is “a big part of this business.” “A lot of beloved shows – 'M*A*S*H*,' 'Cosby' 'Seinfeld,' 'Friends' – with massive audiences have bid farewell over the years, and the question is always asked: Where do we go from here?” he said. “The answer is always the same: Just keep putting on the best material we can.”
Brutality and Betrayal, Back With a Vengeance
By ALESSANDRA STANLEY -- The New York Times -- March 10, 2006 A RESTLESS employee inherits some money and asks his boss for permission to retire with his family to Florida. "What are you, a hockey player?" Tony Soprano retorts. "You took an oath. There's no retiring from this." The mobster's escape fantasy is a small subplot in the first episode of the sixth season of "The Sopranos" this Sunday, but it serves as an inside HBO joke. The series's creator, David Chase, has made no secret of the fact that HBO has done everything but kneecap him to prevent him from ending the series. The aside about Florida serves as a taunting reminder to his bosses that he means it when he says he wants out. (And perhaps to get their attention, he even names a new minor character after an HBO executive.) It's also a metaphor for Tony's predicament at the end of his family saga. In what is supposed to be the last chapter in the life and times of a New Jersey crime boss, Tony (James Gandolfini) is back full circle: in a psychiatrist's office expressing anxiety and ambivalence about his choices. After all they have been through, in therapy and outside, Dr. Jennifer Melfi (Lorraine Bracco) does not mince words. "You still, after all this time, cannot accept that you had a mother who didn't love you," she scolds. She explains that he is still blaming himself and repeats, "again, after all this time." Again, after all this time, "The Sopranos" returns to the basic elements that have kept the series so compelling. Big psychological themes are seamlessly woven into banal details that are comic until they suddenly turn and explode into brutish acts of violence. (The usual rule is that somebody gets brushed out after every meal.) The best series on television are those in which two opposite things are true at the same time, and "The Sopranos" is a perfect example: it has exhausted the material and remains amazingly fresh. It's very funny, except that it is also dead serious. This season is a lot like the others, except that it's different, and may be the most creative and richly imagined one yet: it begins by going over old ground and yet something new and totally surprising happens. The first episode opens with strange, foreboding music, but on the surface, things are looking pretty good for the Sopranos. Last season ended on a dark note, with the killing of Adriana (Drea de Matteo), Johnny Sack's arrest and Tony running in the snow like a lumbering bear to escape the F.B.I. sweep. Now, Johnny (Vince Curatola) is in jail, and Tony and Carmela (Edie Falco) are back in sync after she persuaded Tony to give her the money to start her own house construction business. They talk easily and share companionable sushi dinners at an expensive restaurant. A. J. (Robert Iler) is still a screw-up, of course, but Meadow (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) has turned out nicely. Janice (Aida Turturro) and Bobby (Steve R. Schirripa) have a baby girl, and Janice is just as deliciously insufferable as a new mother as she was as a spinster. Uncle Junior has gotten worse, however: he's still nasty, but his memory and his reason are even more eaten away by dementia. Janice and others want to put Uncle Junior (Dominic Chianese) in assisted living, but Tony angrily resists out of family loyalty and guilt, or what Dr. Melfi has called, somewhat dismissively, his "high sentimentality mode." Mr. Chase often makes coy use of television sets on his set, punctuating a scene's theme by panning to a screen showing a comically apt or incongruous scene from an old movie or television show. Last season, at a moment when Tony was fending off a rising rebellion among his troops, he raptly watched a History Channel documentary on Rommel. This season, he arrives at Uncle Junior's house to find the old man slumped on a couch, inattentively watching "Paths of Glory." The camera shows a snippet from the scene where the cold-blooded, double-dealing general played by Adolphe Menjou berates Kirk Douglas's character. "You've spoiled the keenness of your mind by wallowing in sentimentality," the general snaps. "You are an idealist, and I pity you as I would the village idiot." Death has always been part of the day job; now it is becoming a more eschatological preoccupation, at least for the men. Tony and Carmela are getting along, but the differences between the sexes in Sopranoland are growing starker. Wives are obsessed with cars, real estate and their husbands' rank and power in the organization, while the men, Tony and others, including of all people, Paulie, are having existential crises. The series has always distinguished itself by the quality of its actors, but this season Ms. Falco depicts even more deeply than before, if that's possible, the full range of a mother and wife's anguish. Dream sequences can be home box-office poison, but Mr. Chase is fearless: even Carmela has one that involves giving Adriana a tour of her spec house. Tony has long, far more complicated dreams that dredge up fears about identity, faith and death — and yet there is humor even in his murkiest subconscious. In his sleep, Tony finds himself adrift in a topsy-turvy wonderland where he is a mild-mannered salesman (one who climbs from patio furniture to precision optics) and Buddhist monks turn aggressive and even violent. Sadly, this episode marks the beginning of the end. The good news is that it begins with a badda bang.
The family guise Self-deception is the order of the day on "Sopranos" (and it's good to have them back). By Paul Brownfield, Times Staff Writer -- LA Times -- March 10, 2006 "THE SOPRANOS," hype-wise, is like "Harry Potter" for adults; no other series in the history of American television has unfolded quite like it, or caused quite the same paroxysms of expectation. I speak as somebody who found the DVD of four new episodes on his front porch one morning last week and immediately brought it inside with quivering hands, as if holding an abandoned infant, making a pledge to tell no one. It's silly, this feeling of involvement. "The Sopranos" is just a TV show (or just a Not TV show, in HBO-speak), but in the words of director Mike Figgis, who did DVD commentary for an earlier episode he directed: I have been dreaming these characters. It is in this way that "The Sopranos" is enduring fiction. In the other way it's just, if you like, a black comedy about a new-moneyed, suburban New Jersey mob boss with family problems — the one at home and the one at work, at the strip club he owns, the Bada Bing. . The thing about "The Sopranos" is that strands of character detail — Carmela Soprano's fingernails, the way Tony breathes through his nose when he eats — stay with you long after you've forgotten whose cut of a garbage route has precipitated a beef between which wiseguys. But given that it's been gone so long — "last season" was two years ago — and in the spirit of a Mafia family letter at the holidays, here are some news and notes: I'm pleased to report that Tony is doing fine after almost getting arrested at mobster Johnny Sack's house and fleeing the feds through the wintry backwoods of his suburb (Johnny, unfortunately, is now wearing prison orange and thanks you in advance for your cards and wishes). Carmela and Tony have patched up their marital difficulties after a trial separation due to Tony's repeated philandering. Tony even bought Carm a new Porsche Cayenne (turbo, 4.5-liter V8)! A.J. has started junior college, and Meadow has blossomed into a beautiful young woman; she plans either to become a doctor or lawyer. But it's not all good news; I'm sorry to report that Tony's cousin Tony Blundetto remains dead due to the fact that Tony shot him in the face, though T.S. remains confident that his cousin would have preferred being clipped to being tortured and then clipped for whacking Phil Leotardo's kid brother. Also on the still-dead front is Adriana, ex-fiancée of Tony's nephew, Christopher Moltisanti. Adriana, whom we will miss dearly, had the misfortune of becoming an FBI informant, and you know the Soprano family policy on this. She was last seen crawling through the woods, awaiting a bullet to the back of the head by Tony's right-hand man Silvio. On a more upbeat note, Carmela has set down the foundation on the new family spec home she's building! It's the same left off the highway Sil took to whack Adriana. With all this, the first line of dialogue in the new season is: "Nobody ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public." It's a throwaway line, two FBI agents in a car talking. Soon, one of them is vomiting, the result of a parasite he picked up in Pakistan, working the terrorism beat. It's a small scene, but it's emblematic of the way series creator David Chase uses his storytelling head-start — the culture's inherent fascination with organized crime figures — to comment on a wide swath of 21st century concerns. "The Sopranos" is full of passing laments on real-life topics that other TV series, locked into their conceits, either don't have their characters observe or have them observe too stridently, in very special episodes. 9/11 is one of them (Tony Soprano's way of life endures, it is suggested, in part because FBI resources are focused on a larger threat), but so is immigrant-on-immigrant racism and HMO bureaucracy and identity theft and Hurricane Katrina and the movie "Saw," this last giving Christopher (Michael Imperioli) an idea for a mob-themed slasher film. The show, in this way, can seem to be about everything — a modern-day pastiche juxtaposing the mundane with the grandiose, the topical with the primal. And yet, at its heart, it's mostly about self-deception. Chase starts this season in montage, reacquainting us with his characters through an extended sequence set to one of his bohemian music choices. In this case it's "Seven Souls," a steeped-in-the-Egyptians, spoken-word piece by Beat Generation icon William S. Burroughs, reading an excerpt from his novel "The Western Lands" to a funk-jazz musical arrangement recorded by bassist Bill Laswell and his band Material (OK, I had to look it up). As Burroughs croaks about ancient Egyptian mythology and the seven souls of man, about he who "directs the film of your life from conception to death," we get a corresponding Soprano family slide show: Tony's sister Janice (Aida Turturro) stares at the infant nursing from her tattooed breast while her husband Bobby Baccalieri (Steve R. Schirripa) loses himself in model trains; a mobster poses for a weight-loss program while another mobster-turned-informant walks on his treadmill, President Bush on the TV. Adriana appears to Carmela (Edie Falco) in a dream, the two of them standing in the skeleton of the spec house. The kids are seen in character repose — son A.J. still a miscreant, but with longer hair, sitting in the back row and taking pictures of his tongue with his cellphone, while older sister Meadow (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) does a striptease for her fiancé Finn. The opening foreshadows the ultra-symbolic, dreamily dark terrain that "The Sopranos" will cover in this, its sixth season (eight additional episodes will air in 2007). In therapy with his psychiatrist Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco), Tony describes being stopped at an intersection and seeing a nanny pushing a baby carriage going one way and a nurse pushing an old woman in a wheelchair in the opposite direction. "The circle of life," Melfi observes. "Circle jerk of life," Tony says. Sunday night's debut ends in stunning fashion, by which time Chase has established this autumnal tone, heaping on the circle-jerk-of-life symbolism. As Tony, Gandolfini is more lumbering, more palpably wearing his fatigue, Tony's lusts and aggression channeled into a sushi place at which he and Carmela graze. "I don't know about you, but ever since we found this place I catch myself fantasizing about this," Carmela says. "Me too," says Tony. "Sometimes during sex." They have never seemed so ordinary. She tells Tony about her Adriana nightmare and wonders about her whereabouts. "The Sopranos" will no doubt bury more bodies this year, but unlike past seasons, there so far is no wiseguy getting out of jail and jockeying for position in the family. "The Sopranos" this season seems poised to return to Tony, to begin to resolve, in some ultimate way, his inner and outer worlds. It all began with him in midlife crisis, strangely moved by ducks in his pool. They were migrating south for the winter. Now it's Tony staring at the winter of his life. It's "The Year of the Rat," and one of Tony's lieutenants wants to go the way of the ducks and retire to Florida. "What'you, a hockey player?" Tony says, smiling, and you know, right there, that this will end badly. All along, self-deception has been one of Chase's resonant themes, shot through nearly every major character. In building Tony Soprano into a cult antihero, Chase combined self-deception with the psychoanalytic (it feels like the one un-contemporary story choice, Melfi's Freudian tendencies). This was the main selling point of "The Sopranos" when it debuted in 1999 — mob boss meets therapist, reveals vulnerabilities. If it seemed like a trend ("Analyze This" came out around the same time), "The Sopranos" has burrowed much deeper into the nature of the therapy relationship. Tony's stasis (crushing family obligation mixed with unresolved childhood mixed with guttural grabbing of earthly pleasures) is at the show's narrative heart. Sunday's musical sequence ends with Tony and his Uncle Junior (Dominic Chianese) digging up what Junior, in his increasingly Alzheimer's-addled state, thinks is his cut of an old mob deal buried in his back-yard. And there is Tony in his loafers digging, having a nonsense conversation with his feeble relative. This is pretty much where Chase began his story, Tony trying to get his gruesomely overbearing mother Livia (Nancy Marchand) into a nursing home against her will and suffering panic attacks as a result of that and other life stresses (including the minor development that Livia had put out a hit on him). Only now it's Tony, encouraged by his sister to put Junior away, who insists nursing homes are deathtraps, unable to bear that same guilt trip again.
" ... you still, after all
this time, cannot accept you had a mother who didn't love you," Melfi The plot turn at the end of Sunday's episode precipitates a reckoning, which Chase and his writers render in a multi-episode, bathed-in-metaphor dream sequence. In "Sopranos" dream land, limbo is some identity-less, Costa Mesa office park sort of place, your wallet and briefcase mysteriously not yours, your hotel elevator broken, a stuffed animal sitting in a chair. "Please bear with us," the sign on its chest reads. It's a stunning construct, producing the best work from Gandolfini and the equally formidable Falco since, well, since the last time we saw them.
It's wrong, wrong and oh so right By JOANNE WEINTRAUB -- Milwaukee Journal Sentinel TV critic -- March 8, 2006 The first four episodes of "The Sopranos" this season feature greed, gore, bitter acrimony, murmurs of mutiny, a suicide, a fatal heart attack, the hint of a new vendetta and numerous whackings and attempted whackings, one of which is likely to make you lean in toward the screen and say something pungent. In short, everything is wrong in Sopranoland, which is to say, all is right with the world. As the sixth and final season begins, a year and a half has elapsed in the plot. Tony (James Gandolfini) and Carmela (Edie Falco) have had a real rapprochement, Janice (Aida Turturro) and Bobby (Steven S. Schirripa) have had a baby and A.J. (Robert Iler) has grown his hair so long and lank that Paulie Walnuts (Tony Sirico), that weisenheimer, calls him "Van Helsing." New York boss Johnny Sack (Vincent Curatola) is a vision in prison orange as he awaits trial on murder and racketeering charges. Big guy Vito Spatafore (Joe Gannascoli) has lost a very visible 150 pounds - Vito can thank Joe for doing VH1's "Celebrity Fit Club" last year - but risks losing the use of his legs unless he stops boring his buddies with details. Before long, Silvio (Steve Van Zandt) will get an unexpected promotion and Paulie will learn a devastating secret. Christopher (Michael Imperioli), whose heart seems to have been barely grazed by the bullets that did in Adriana (Drea de Matteo) last season, will take another crack at the Hollywood piñata. Needless to say, there will be collateral damage. Although a half-dozen or more excellent dramas have premiered in the years since "The Sopranos" debuted in 1999 - from HBO's own "The Wire" to ABC's "Lost" - the Mafia saga remains in a class by itself. Nothing else on TV shows such depth of characterization, breadth of moral and cultural territory, ingenuity of plotting or sheer virtuosity of acting, directing, editing and above all writing. Other dramas may start their seasons with montages; this one has the audacity to set its opening montage to the sound of the late William S. Burroughs reading from "Seven Souls," his riff on the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Other shows go on at length about family dysfunction; this one sums up a minor character's relationship with his kid with: "What's with this hostility all the time? You want a smack in the mouth?" If anything, this brilliantly dark series has grown darker over the years. Ghosts come and go, leaving dread in their wake. A protracted nightmare traps Tony in a parallel universe - where, among other things, he bizarrely pronounces the R at the end of "car" and "bar." Creator David Chase and his writers never let us forget that, despite all the laughs, the Sinatra tunes and the steam rising in heavenly clouds from platters of food, we're looking at murderers and those whose security depends on them. And it's not just the killings. You see it in the haste with which a neighbor leaves her yard when she spies Tony over the hedge. It's evident in the way a mob-connected optometrist squirms when Tony walks off with the most expensive sunglasses the man sells, leaving nothing but an insincere promise of payment and a threat that need not be spoken. Even the characters who have struggled with moral stirrings always find something to drown out an inconvenient conscience. Carmela has romantic little sushi dinners with Tony - "$40 for a piece of fish," he half-grouses, half-brags - and squeals with excitement when he gives her a new Porsche Cayenne. In a single, offhand line, we learn that even gutsy Charmaine Bucco (Katherine Narducci) is back with restaurateur Artie (John Ventimiglia), whose dealings with Tony once frightened and repulsed her. Perhaps inevitably, as the series has grown darker and deeper, it has also indulged a tendency toward the sort of embellishment that can only be seen with the help of the "pause" button, the "rewind" function, a good search engine or all three. Only a scholarly study of the credits, for instance, will reveal that a physician who appears briefly is named Dr. Ba, a reference - thanks, Google - to both the Egyptian and the Tibetan visions of the afterlife. One or two scenes in that opening montage make sense only after you've seen most of the rest of the episode. Grace notes, or just showing off? Depends on your willingness to watch every episode twice, I guess. Even the reckoning of seasons is more complicated in Mondo Soprano than elsewhere. Sunday's premiere is the first of 12 new episodes. Then the series takes a break until eight more episodes, beginning in early 2007, will conclude this final "season."
Museum-quality 'Sopranos' By Mary Pilon, USA TODAY NEW YORK — The Sopranos turned out at the Museum of Modern Art Tuesday night to mark another beginning. By Stuart Ramson, AP James Gandolfini, Edie Falco, Jamie-Lynn Sigler and Robert Iler were among the stars who arrived to view the first two episodes of their HBO show's sixth season, which starts Sunday. Fans have waited 21 months for The Sopranos' return. Lorraine Bracco (Dr. Jennifer Melfi) credits the show's hiatuses for allowing her to start a wine company in Italy. For the new season, she says, Tony Soprano "has all-new issues." When asked about the show's popularity, Sigler (Meadow), in a red and black Donna Karan dress, said, "I don't think I will ever fully grasp or understand the success." Tony Sirico hints that his character, Paulie, gets into a lot of trouble this season. "Paulie is never safe, but nobody in the cast ever is."
Sopranos (five out of five stars) Hal Boedeker | Orlando Sentinel Television Critic -- Posted March 7, 2006 The main question about The Sopranos, which starts its sixth season on HBO Sunday: How good is it? The thrilling answer: better than ever. A 21-month wait for new episodes would doom most series. But Sopranos creator David Chase has earned the right to work at his own pace, and when the results are this splendid, you don't complain. Rather, you acknowledge that this drama represents the peak of the 2005-06 season. The Sopranos unfolds at a more absorbing and imaginative level than TV's strongest series, from ABC's Lost and Grey's Anatomy to Fox's 24 and House. The new season opens with a spoken song about souls, secret names and the ancient Egyptians. The eerie sequence, which merits repeated study, foreshadows the personal and philosophical themes. The Sopranos are in turmoil. Carmela (Edie Falco) is worried all the time. Husband Tony (James Gandolfini) is more pessimistic than ever and warns son, A.J. (Robert Iler): "I don't care how close you are. In the end your friends are gonna let you down." Uncle Junior (Dominic Chianese) has slipped deeper into dementia. TV critics have seen the first four episodes, but revealing the central plot would be unforgivable. The family faces profound challenges. The first episode stuns. The second episode, which Chase wrote, is an original and unsettling hour that's destined to be a TV landmark. Even as the public and media have embraced The Sopranos, Chase has refused to glamorize the mob or let the show go soft. The series tells blistering stories about Gene Pontecorvo (Robert Funaro), who wants out of the gangsters' orbit, and Jason Barone (Chris Diamantopoulos), who runs afoul of the mob when he tries to sell his late father's garbage business. The Sopranos continues to deploy actors in fascinating ways. After a character dies, that doesn't preclude the performer's reappearance. Hal Holbrook gives a touching performance as a thoughtful scientist. Tim Daly returns as a screenwriter with a gambling problem. In future episodes, ER alumna Julianna Margulies portrays a real-estate agent, and Oscar-winner Ben Kingsley plays himself. The stars are in stellar form. Falco conveys Carmela's anguish and anger with remarkable intensity. The new season lets Gandolfini play addled and vulnerable sides to Tony. As the Soprano children, Jamie-Lynn Sigler reveals new maturity as Meadow while Iler ratchets up the childish ways of A.J. The early episodes skimp on choice material for Lorraine Bracco as Dr. Jennifer Melfi and Michael Imperioli as Christopher Moltisanti, Tony's nephew. The true standout is Tony Sirico, who savors his finest hour as Paulie Walnuts in the fourth episode. Sirico is equally frightening and funny as the pathetic, self-absorbed mobster. Despite the grim events, The Sopranos provides moments of stimulating hilarity. In a zany scene, the mobsters discuss moving into the movie business. Other topics producing sharp humor include dinosaurs, Viagra and rap stardom. To deepen the story, the series deftly mixes in pop-culture references, from the TV series Kung Fu to singer Marvin Gaye to "Over the Rainbow." HBO will offer 12 new episodes this spring and the final eight installments early next year. Then The Sopranos will definitely end, Chase says. In previewing the show for TV critics in January, Chase and his stars did their best not to divulge plots. The first four episodes suggest that was a wise strategy. They didn't want to ruin the story. I don't either because The Sopranos is as good as television gets.
The Gang of Four Entertainment Weekly -- 02/28/06 Online extras: James Gandolfini, Edie Falco, Michael Imperioli, and Lorraine Bracco break their omerta to talk about their favorite episodes, shooting in New Jersey, and those pesky protests from Italian-American groups by Dalton Ross I live out in Jersey, and I've seen the way people respond to you, because you guys are all from the New Jersey/New York region, and are telling a regional story. I mean, does it feel differently in that way to you? Is the reaction you get different here than, say, L.A.? Michael Imperioli They get excited, but they also feel like there's not such a big distance, like if Tom Cruise was walking down the street. They tend to feel much more approachability toward us. James Gandolfini Yeah, fortunately, or unfortunately, they recognize us in their lives, I think. They're just like, ''Tony, hey!'' and it's like saying hello to someone you kinda know. Edie Falco And it's weird because you don't know, you think: Did I meet that person and I just don't remember? Is that a relative of mine? So everything starts to blur. JG Almost everyone I meet is very nice, although I do say that the people that don't like you aren't gonna come up and say hello. But the ones that you do meet are very respectful and nice and very rarely are they annoying or disrespectful or any of that. I don't see that very often at all, which I'm very happy about. It gives me faith in human nature. Some of you all have been involved in some very tough scenes. I know that obviously goes with the territory, but Lorraine, I can't imagine, for instance, that that made your rape scene any easier. When you have a scene like that, or Michael, when you were choking Adrianna, or Jim, some of the things you've done on screen, how do you steel yourself before filming, and then how are you able to continually bring that same energy or emotion for take after take after take? MI You commit yourself, I guess, that's it. JG In many ways, you commit yourself. Lorraine Bracco And then they all come to Dr. Melfi! Writer Terry Winters says before each season he goes back and watches every single episode, while David [Chase] on the other hand says he never goes back and watches the old shows. What about you all? MI I don't watch 'em. JG After the year and a half break and I had done a couple of shows, and I pulled out some episodes, and I said: What? Is this right? Is this the same fucking guy? Occasionally, I'll look at something from the back to remind me, but not much. EF No. I see them when they're on. I see them when they air and that's it. LB I happen to like the Sunday night. I like the Monday-morning watercooler talk. Do you each individually have a favorite episode or performance you look back on? MI One of the best things I ever saw was ''White Caps.'' The arguments between you two guys [points to Gandolfini and Falco] at the end of the fourth season. JG The divorce, you mean? MI Yeah, and the scenes were really, really long. You know how arguments between people, they go and go and then they come down awhile and then they flare up again? That's was some of the best executed stuff I'd seen in anything. Acting, writing wise, direction. I couldn't believe it. David and I talked a lot about the Italian groups that have spoken out against your show and complained about you guys marching in parades, and… LB Oh, f--- them! Give me a f---ing break! JG There you have it. Lorraine Bracco, ladies and gentleman! But David had an interesting point. His point was instead of being so upset about you guys depicting this stuff, that they should instead ask themselves why people have such an appetite for it. What do you think? What is it about the Italian crime story, as opposed to the Russian one, for instance, that is so mesmerizing for people? MI They have really good senses of humor, they really do. LB They eat well. MI It's part of the culture. It's a cultural thing. Russians are very serious people. I'm sure it would be interesting, but I don't know how funny it would be. They're colorful characters. People like the sense of family that they bring. LB Art, food, culture — there's a lot of stuff there. JG There have been Italian comedians, Italian music. It's not just crime stories. It's some kind of expressiveness that Italians have. I don't think it's just the crime stories, I mean, they add another element, which is probably interesting. LB I think people like the whole underground thing. EF The stuff that it deals with — loyalty, family, greed, and passion. And it does have a lot to do with food, caloric intake, just Italian personalities.
Fortunate Son Lucky and Loathsome, Tony Soprano Returns Time.com Online Article -- By JAMES PONIEWOZIK -- March 2, 2006 If there is one question that defines The Sopranos, it is, "Why do good things happen to bad people?" As the HBO show returns from a nearly two-year hiatus (Sundays, 9 p.m. E.T., starting March 12), Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) continues to live his charmed life. The mafia business is booming. He is a free man, escaping the Feds through one lucky turn after another, while his ally/rival, New York boss Johnny Sack (Vincent Curatola) is locked up. He's fat and happy—as happy as Tony gets, anyway—in the prime of his career, shoveling $40-a-piece sushi down his gullet at dinner with his often-cheated-upon but newly reconciled wife, Carmela (Edie Falco). Of course, Tony is not so flush that he can't walk into an eyeglass store owned by a civilian connected to his business, impose on him for a huge favor, then pick out a pair of Armani shades and say, "You know what? I left my wallet in the car." For Tony, the money is not the point. The point is not having to pay. Every time The Sopranos returns, the first thing many fans ask is, "Who gets whacked?" While I won't tell who sheds whose blood—save that there's a doozy in the first episode—suffice it to say that there's Mafia red sauce in the first four episodes to satisfy the most bloodthirsty. But what makes The Sopranos a great, not just entertaining, show is that the most disturbing stories are about Tony's casual, selfish, bloodless cruelties. The ruin of another person is better than a slight inconvenience to him, and no matter how many promises he breaks or lives he destroys, he always believes himself more sinned against than sinning. He has toddled through the series like an overindulged two-year-old, protected from the conseq | |
