Friends of ours: Soprano Crime Family
They're all gone now.
Big Pussy: Gone. Richie Aprile: Gone. Ralph Cifaretto: Gone.
Gloria, Adriana, Vito, Tony Blundetto: Gone, gone, brutally gone.
But not, in the mixed-up mob-family world of "The Sopranos," forgotten. Like Shakespearean ghosts, the departed haunt the living, a reminder of the thin line between their desperate, shifty lives and a place six feet under -- or 60 feet under water, or buried in the woods, or decapitated and inserted in a bowling bag.
So the survivors smile over the anger and violence that lurks just beneath the surface, and cover it up with pretty suburban estates and snappy clothes and money -- always wads of money -- and try to stay one step ahead of the ghosts. But death awaits us all, and for "The Sopranos," the moment of reckoning has arrived. The HBO series about a mob boss, his family, his crew and his therapist -- widely hailed as one of the finest shows in television history -- begins its final season of nine episodes Sunday. (HBO, like CNN, is a unit of Time Warner.)
The stars have mixed feelings about the series' end.
"This is really hard. I've never had a job for 10 years before," Edie Falco, who plays Carmela Soprano -- wife of mob boss Tony (James Gandolfini) -- told CNN at the show's New York premiere last week. "It is really not easy."
"The Sopranos" made lots of reputations during its seven-season, nine-year run.
Creator David Chase, a TV veteran who had written for "Kolchak: The Night Stalker" and "The Rockford Files" and produced "Northern Exposure," can now write his own ticket in Hollywood.
Gandolfini, a beefy character actor, became a star -- as have many of his co-stars, some with such unorthodox backgrounds as guitarist (Steve Van Zandt, the longtime Bruce Springsteen sideman who plays Tony's pal Silvio Dante) and ex-con (Tony Sirico, who served time for some stick-ups before turning to acting, and now plays mobster Paulie Walnuts).
And HBO, which had had only mild success with original programming before "The Sopranos," became the go-to place for water-cooler TV series, including "Big Love," "Six Feet Under" and "Sex and the City" (which, although it predated "The Sopranos," caught fire after the mob drama began).
The series was an unusual smash: as intricate as a novel, with flashes of fierce violence and equally uncomfortable humor. The four major broadcast networks all had their shots before Chase took the show to HBO, but all turned it down.
With the scope, the pacing, the language and the darkness of the show, the rejections were for the best, said Sirico. "It could have never happened on network," he told CNN.
Producer Brad Grey, who shopped "The Sopranos" around, agrees. "I believed that the net[work]s would be open to taking some risks at that time," he told Vanity Fair. "I was foolish. ... It was basically a waste of time, really bad judgment on my part, because even if they had taken it, it wouldn't have been 'The Sopranos.' "
The show pushed the limits of television -- and HBO's patience. It was expensive from the outset, it was full of unknown performers (probably the best known at its debut was Lorraine Bracco, who plays Dr. Jennifer Melfi, Tony's therapist) and HBO didn't like the name, believing people would think it was about opera. And nobody was safe in Chase's underworld. Characters died -- and they died suddenly, with the risk of alienating viewers. The actors who played them also walked a tightrope of emotion, knowing they could be whacked at any time. "I was really, really sad," said Steve Buscemi (Tony Blundetto) at a gathering of performers who played killed-off characters. "That's really just about missing the greatest job I've ever had."
But the show also had many moments of humor -- often directly contrasted with the violence -- and was willing to be as brutally honest in dissecting family relationships as it was in showing a mobster's corrupt world. Some of the show's most dramatic moments have come between Tony and Carmela, arguing in their kitchen.
"It really pushed the envelope. I think people were expecting it to be just a mob show, but it's really not," Jamie-Lynn Sigler, who plays Soprano daughter Meadow, told CNN. "David uses it as a vehicle to express a lot of his opinions on social issues and family issues and political issues. ... I think people were afraid to do that for awhile. 'Sopranos' sort of broke the mold with that."
Naturally, the show's performers -- adhering to the mob code of omerta -- have been tight-lipped as to what's in store for the final run. "Everything you were waiting for, you're gonna see. Everything you've been waiting to feel, you're gonna feel. Trust me. Trust me," was all Sirico would tell CNN.
The series may have peaked a few years ago; ratings, which began strongly and have stayed high for HBO, topped out at 11 million viewers per episode in the fourth season; last season the numbers were closer to 8.5 million. With Chase sometimes unsure of whether to continue, there were huge gaps between some seasons. And in recent years, "The Sopranos" has been attacked for not always measuring up to its own high standards. But, even with the show available on DVD and in (expurgated) reruns on A&E, it will haunt -- like a ghost.
"It's been such a big part of my life -- it's been almost 10 years. I was 16 when we started and I've been through so much through this whole ride," said Sigler. "I only hope to do something half as good."
Thanks to CNN
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