The Ringer - All The Ringer’s Coverage of ‘The Sopranos’2021-12-01T10:17:27-05:00http://www.theringer.com/rss/stream/224669672021-12-01T10:17:27-05:002021-12-01T10:17:27-05:00The 12 Defining Scenes From ‘The Sopranos’
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<p>Ringer contributor Adam Nayman revisits 12 key scenes from ‘The Sopranos’ that prove how funny, profound, and gut-wrenching the show could be</p> <p id="yIgwyS"><em>Ringer</em> contributor Adam Nayman revisits 12 key scenes from <em>The Sopranos</em> that prove how funny, profound, and gut-wrenching the show could be. While YOUR personal favorite may not have made the cut (poor you), this list reflects the range of one of the small screen’s very best series.</p>
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https://www.theringer.com/video/2021/12/1/22811864/12-defining-scenes-from-the-sopranosAdam Nayman2021-10-05T08:32:18-04:002021-10-05T08:32:18-04:00Which ‘Many Saints of Newark’ Actor Did the Best Job Playing a ‘Sopranos’ Character?
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<figcaption>HBO Max/Ringer illustration</figcaption>
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<p>Many of the prequel’s thespians understood the assignment, but alas, a few ended up closer to an ‘SNL’ sketch</p> <p id="IMxfIJ">In the pilot episode of <em>The Sopranos</em>,<em> </em>mobster Tony laments to his new therapist that he “came in at the end”—of organized crime and its heyday, but also the American dream writ large. <em>The Many Saints of Newark</em>,<em> </em>the long-awaited prequel of sorts cowritten by <em>Sopranos </em>creator David Chase, takes us back to the middle. Starting in the late 1960s, <em>Many Saints </em>charts the rise and fall of Dickie Moltisanti (Alessandro Nivola), a man whose specter looms over the show, in large part through his son Christopher (Michael Imperioli). In <em>Many Saints</em>,<em> </em>the situation is reversed: it’s Christopher, killed by Tony near the end of the series, who narrates his father’s life from beyond the grave. Dickie’s time was a better one for the New Jersey mafia, not yet stamped out by aggressive enforcement of RICO and other federal statutes. But as we come to see, it wasn’t without its petty resentments or mortal dangers.</p>
<p id="OS2Kxw"><em>Many Saints</em>’<em> </em>sprawling ensemble cast is filled with figures new to the <em>Sopranos </em>universe. Some are known to us but were never previously depicted onscreen: Dickie, of course, but also to an extent Johnny Soprano (Jon Bernthal), Tony’s father who briefly appeared only in flashbacks. (It turns out he was not, as his wife Livia liked to say after his death, “a saint,” and neither were his colleagues.) Others are entirely new inventions from Chase and cowriter Lawrence Konner, brought to life by director Alan Taylor: Dickie’s stepmother turned <em>goomar </em>Giuseppina (Michela De Rossi), whose passage from Italy is the film’s inciting incident; his employee turned rival Harold (Leslie Odom Jr.), who provides a window into Newark’s Black underworld and simmering racial tensions; and Dickie’s father and uncle, both played by Ray Liotta in a stunning dual performance.</p>
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<p id="0syqgT">Still, <em>Many Saints </em>straddles the line between past and present, underscoring some of <em>The Sopranos</em>’<em> </em>enduring themes: family, inherited trauma, and how younger generations are doomed to repeat the sins of their parents. In keeping with that message, many characters in the movie are simply younger versions of iconic cast members from <em>The Sopranos</em>—chief among them Tony himself, played as a child and a teenager by William Ludwig and Michael Gandolfini, respectively. (The latter is the son of <em>The Sopranos</em>’<em> </em>James, which is obvious from the moment he saunters onscreen in plaid pants and an extra-wide tie.) These appearances have real symbolic value, but they also serve a baser purpose: fan service, pure and simple—a purpose all the more shocking given how rare it was in the original show. What’s that <a href="https://www.theringer.com/2017/6/9/16038326/sopranos-finale-influence-10-years-later-d0571c03f088">famous cut to black</a> if not the ultimate denial of closure to an audience craving resolution?</p>
<p id="qcUM09">There are deeper analyses to be done of <em>Many Saints </em>and how it fits into, or even alters, <em>The Sopranos</em>’<em> </em>legacy. This blog is not one of them. Instead, in the spirit of <em>The Sopranos</em>’<em> </em>underrated silly streak, we’re going to rank the performances that bring Tony and his crew back into our lives, if only for a couple hours. “I probably would have been content with impressions,” Chase <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-features/david-chase-many-saints-newark-interview-1211288/">told <em>Rolling Stone</em></a> of his cast’s efforts to channel iconic roles. “But I would’ve known that was wrong.” How many actors understood the assignment, and how many ended up closer to <em>Saturday Night Live</em>?<em> </em>Let’s roll the tape and find out. (Note that this ranking isn’t exhaustive; there are simply too many appearances from future <em>Sopranos </em>players, many extremely brief, so for the purposes of this post we’ve narrowed it down to the 10 best and/or most notable.)</p>
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<h3 id="n6AnuG">10. John Magaro As Silvio Dante</h3>
<p id="CnaWKp">I’m not sure we <em>needed </em>an origin story for Silvio’s iconic hairpiece, but I’m glad <em>Many Saints </em>gave us one (and that <em>The Sopranos </em>spared us six long seasons of that painful combover). As for the performance, Magaro ably channels Silv’s physicality—perma-scowl, hand gestures, and all. It’s the <em>voice</em> that takes us straight into <em>SNL </em>territory, a choice all the more baffling for just <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4CuFhbcmus">how much footage there is</a> of a young Steven Van Zandt from his rock star days. Steven is not Sil, but that squawk doesn’t come close to either. It sounds like it should be coming out of a Muppet.</p>
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<h3 id="73Ukf6">9. Lauren DiMario As Teenage Carmela De Angelis</h3>
<p id="qMxN2q">As shocking as it is to see Carm with nary a puff of hairspray (and relatively minimal nails), some things stay the same. The makeup! Spotting Tony a dime because she’s always taking care of him! Intervening on Tony’s behalf in a way that ends up only hurting herself! It’s a very brief appearance, hence the low placement here, but it is a good one. Shout-out to casting director Douglas Aibel; <em>Many Saints</em> is only DiMario’s third official credit, and her resemblance to a young Edie Falco is positively uncanny.</p>
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<h3 id="g3Gvoq">8. Corey Stoll As Corrado “Junior” Soprano</h3>
<p id="SiK3TD">I have no qualms with Stoll, a justly celebrated actor who’s <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2021/9/13/22670406/scenes-from-a-marriage-review-hbo-ingmar-bergman">also excellent</a> in <em>Scenes From a Marriage</em>;<em> </em>he’s become such a staple in prestige TV since his breakout in <em>House of Cards </em>that it feels only natural to work him into the <em>Sopranos </em>fold. I’m simply not prepared to live in a world where uncle Junior is objectively hot. <em>Uncle Junior! </em>The guy with the coke bottle glasses and the back pain, which gets its own not-totally-necessary explanation in <em>Many Saints</em>! (Along with the “varsity athlete” comment, unnecessary exposition where Junior is concerned becomes a running theme.) Learning about the particulars of Uncle Jun’s sex life, especially where cunnilingus is concerned, is one thing; accepting that he used to be a strapping middle-aged man above the all-important 6-foot threshold is another. The casting also makes Junior’s defining trait—the debilitating insecurity that leads him to put a hit on Dickie and later attempt the same with Tony—a little harder to buy. If you need me, I’ll be burning sage to cleanse myself of impure thoughts.</p>
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<h3 id="T3SeUb">7. Talia Balsam As Mrs. Jarecki As Dr. Melfi</h3>
<p id="TfTkgI">OK, sure: Tony’s high school guidance counselor is not, in fact, a character from <em>The Sopranos, </em>and Talia Balsam (a.k.a. Mona Sterling) is not Lorraine Bracco<em>. </em>But the scene when she confronts a young Tony about his teenage antics is such a beat-for-beat echo of his early sessions with Dr. Melfi—a meeting sparked by a troubling incident, quickly traced back to his relationship with his mother—that she might as well have a DSM on hand. Teen Tony proves about as receptive to her subtle suggestions as the adult version, but without panic attacks that force him to take his mental health seriously, he’s less willing to keep trying. Still, Balsam does an excellent job conjuring the spirit of an empathetic, if slightly disapproving, professional woman with an outsider’s take on Tony’s clannish, insular world.</p>
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<h3 id="wO1m75">6. Satriale’s Pork Store As Itself</h3>
<p id="QpVgJY">If New York was a de facto character on <em>Sex and the City, </em>then the sprawl of Northern New Jersey formed the backbone of <em>The Sopranos. </em>The Bada Bing was presumably just a glimmer in a young Silv’s eye when <em>The Many Saints of Newark </em>takes place, but a few other establishments make eye-catching cameos—including Holsten’s, site of the infamous Members Only encounter from the original finale. But the most welcome return belongs to Satriale’s, once and future site of gangsters smoking cigars, telling terrible jokes, and doing the Mafia version of water cooler talk. The Satriale’s of <em>Many Saints </em>is already a base of operations for Dickie, Johnny, and the rest of the crew, but it also looks like a functioning butcher, if one recently taken over by the mob. It’s nice to see the place in better shape, even if we know it’s headed for shabbier times.</p>
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<h3 id="CvZQdI">5. Billy Magnussen As Paulie Walnuts</h3>
<p id="fUcxdA">Paulie is a riff on Magnussen’s specialty: petty man-babies who wear their insecurities on their impeccably tailored sleeves. (Do check him out in <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2021/4/1/22361171/made-for-love-review-hbo-max">the excellent <em>Made for Love</em></a><em> </em>as tech bazillionaire Byron Gogol, a man whose money and genius can’t buy him emotional intelligence.) <em>The Many Saints of Newark </em>is a physical transformation for Magnussen, who’s unrecognizable under a wig and prosthetics. But once you know who plays the young Paulie, it makes perfect sense. The sheer indignation that a torture session might ruin his new mustard yellow jacket is both pure Magnussen and pure Tony Sirico—it’s the kind of unshowy transformation that’s the result of crack hair and makeup teams as well as great casting. The casual racism takes a little more range, but hey, that’s why they call it acting!</p>
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<h3 id="ckBBeO">4. The Baby Who Plays Young Christopher Moltisanti</h3>
<p id="noivEn">He may not be capable of verbal speech, but he still captures the essence of the character: whiny, prone to complaint, and correctly, instinctively afraid of his “uncle” Tony. What a great baby! </p>
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<h3 id="zqAsvr">3. William Ludwig As Young Tony Soprano</h3>
<p id="rv2Ods">Before Tony was a vicious criminal or even a teenage hoodlum, he was just a kid who wanted to hang with his cool uncle Dickie. Ludwig doesn’t have the genetic advantage of his castmate Michael Gandolfini, but that’s what makes his performance all the more impressive. As <em>Mad Men </em>once demonstrated, casting child actors is as difficult as it is all-important: you can get a wooden, expendable performance like the umpteen Bobby Drapers, or you can hit a gold mine of talent like Kiernan Shipka. Fortunately for <em>Many Saints</em>,<em> </em>Ludwig errs far closer to the latter in capturing boyhood against the backdrop of a criminal underworld.</p>
<p id="79wRcM">What childhood innocence exists in the <em>Sopranos </em>universe is largely moot by the time you can walk, talk, and most importantly, perceive. That’s the lesson of Ludwig’s performance; his Tony is a carefree kid who horses around and plays in the street, but just as often walks straight into the Newark riots—or his uncle murdering his own father. Tony idolizes his elders enough to imitate them and start a gambling ring at his elementary school. He’s also observant enough to be afraid of the dangers that come with the family profession. Adult Tony knows the only ways out of his job are prison or a body bag; young Tony just doesn’t want to get shot like his dad’s friend. Ludwig channels the sensitivity that lands Tony in therapy to begin with, then manages to win Dr. Melfi over with surprising pathos. Maybe it’s that even mobsters were once children free of sin, just like everyone else.</p>
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<h3 id="fGpKNb">2. Vera Farmiga As Livia Soprano</h3>
<p id="X66xrJ">Of all the core <em>Sopranos </em>characters, it’s the hardest to see Livia as an actual human being. Tony’s mother appears to us as an Oedipal specter, a woman who’s long since let her grievances take the driver’s seat. (Long before <em>Big Little Lies’ </em>Madeline Mackenzie, it was Livia who tended to her grudges like little pets.) But beneath the complaints, the bitterness, and the homicidal rage, there’s a woman who once raised her children to semi-functioning adulthood, navigating the same ethical minefields as successors like Carmela. We just can’t see her from Tony’s beleaguered point of view.</p>
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<p id="9TEfue">That gives Farmiga perhaps the hardest job of anyone in the <em>Many Saints </em>cast. Fortunately, she proves up to the task. Her Livia has the gloomy outlook and undiagnosed depression—though it turns out, not so much undiagnosed as chronically ignored—that is passed on to her kids. She’s also a harried, present mother, one who has to deal with the indignities of her husband’s philandering and hold down the fort while he’s doing time in prison. For the moment, at least, her resentments are justified; Farmiga’s Livia is more raw and vulnerable than Nancy Marchand’s, a performance that gives context for her later atrocities without excusing them. She’s also more of a victim. Whining about your kid may be annoying, but does it really deserve an empty gunshot to the hair? Life may have been even harder on Livia Soprano as she got older, but it was never exactly kind.</p>
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<h3 id="0dON4P">1. Michael Gandolfini As Teenage Tony Soprano</h3>
<p id="BuVCtd">Look at that face! Could you stay mad at him for stealing an ice cream truck, or forging his mother’s signature to play on the varsity football team? The answer is, obviously, no — because it’s such a relief to have not just Tony Soprano back in our lives, but a piece of the actor who played him.</p>
<p id="kVMT0w">Michael Gandolfini avoided <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-features/michael-gandolfini-many-saints-newark-interview-1216014/">even watching <em>The Sopranos</em></a><em> </em>for years, understandably put off by the looming presence of his dad. The younger Gandolfini was on a trip to Italy with his father when he died of a sudden heart attack in 2013; James was just 51 at the time, Michael 14. That didn’t stop the now-22-year-old from starting an acting career, with a decent-sized role on <em>The Deuce </em>as the son of Chris Bauer’s massage parlor manager. But taking on the role that made his father an icon is a different matter entirely. </p>
<p class="c-end-para" id="PKmj2Y">Bridging the gap between William Ludwig and James, Gandolfini’s teen Tony has gained some of the priggish entitlement that comes with being a middle-class white guy in general and the treasured only son of an Italian-American family in specific. Yet he isn’t yet hardened into the brute who’d strangle a man to death with his bare hands <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0705236/">in the episode</a> that redefined what it meant to be a protagonist on television. He’s sincerely wounded by Dickie’s rejection, and even before that gets lost in thought while blasting the stolen speakers his favorite uncle gifted him. It helps that Tony isn’t the center of this particular story; as a foil to Dickie, there isn’t too much pressure placed on Gandolfini, who can assist in his father figure’s journey rather than carry a full arc of his own. Put one way, casting an actor’s son in his most enduring role is cheating, an easy shortcut. Put another, it’s taking an opportunity, combining genes and talent into a performance you can’t help but believe.</p>
https://www.theringer.com/movies/2021/10/5/22709512/many-saints-of-newark-sopranos-characters-rankingAlison Herman2021-10-05T06:30:00-04:002021-10-05T06:30:00-04:00Becoming Paulie Walnuts
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<p>For Billy Magnussen, playing a younger version of one of the most idiosyncratic characters from ‘The Sopranos’ was about much more than getting the hair right </p> <p class="p--has-dropcap" id="tpDQIC">During the filming of <em>The Many Saints of Newark</em>, Paulie Walnuts had a sitdown with himself. While visiting the set one day, Tony Sirico met Billy Magnussen. The two men, born 43 years apart, have one thing in common: They’re the only people on earth who have played the mobster Peter Paul Gualtieri. </p>
<p id="SGxgrJ">Young Paulie and Old Paulie’s conversation was short, but it lasted long enough for the former to get a look at the latter’s legendary winged coif. That day, it was absolutely perfect. “I had to put on prosthetics and a fake wig,” Magnussen says, “and he was in the hair chair longer than I was.” </p>
<p id="Q4VcnX">Naturally, Sirico charmed his 36-year-old counterpart. By then Magnussen was deep into his turn as an earlier version of one of the most physically idiosyncratic gangsters ever brought to screen. Though as he’ll tell you, there’s far more to Paulie than his hair. “It was a fun process just building this up and finding the mannerisms of this guy and doing his shit,” Magnussesn says. “He had this little lisp thing. He talked a little bit out of the side of his mouth.” </p>
<p id="2RkQvB">The actor then demonstrated the character’s signature hand gesture, carefully folding down his right middle and ring fingers into his palm and pointing at me through a computer screen. The only thing missing was the black ring on his arrow-straight pinky. Clearly, he’d done his research. </p>
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<p id="DZa9qR"><strong> </strong></p>
<p class="p--has-dropcap" id="za1MmJ">The biggest challenge that the makers of <em>The Many Saints of Newark </em>faced was ensuring that it lived up to its source material. Fans don’t just love <em>The Sopranos</em>; they’re obsessed with it. Missteps, particularly when it came to the show’s characters, would be noted. Harshly. </p>
<p id="wieVKH">Paulie Walnuts was a particularly tricky role to cast. After all, it’s hard to capture his quirks without falling into caricature. To director Alan Taylor, Magnussen had what it took to leap over that pitfall. “He’s kind of got a star quality that is—it’s a cliché—a real thing,” Taylor says. “He’s got it. And I think to a certain extent, Tony Sirico, because of his weird, unique charisma, he’s always kind of performing. He needed somebody that had that kind of wattage.” </p>
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<p id="vP32J4">Like Sirico, Magnussen always seems to stand out from the crowd—even when the crowd is extraordinarily talented. Over the past 10 years, he’s had memorable parts in blockbusters and television series like <em>Game Night</em>, <em>Bridge of Spies</em>, <em>Maniac</em>, and <em>The Leftovers</em>. He’s been two princes (<em>Aladdin </em>and<em> Into the Woods</em>) and Kato Kaelin (<em>The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story</em>). And this year alone, he’s appearing in the HBO comedy <em>Made for Love</em>,<em> The Many Saints of Newark</em>, Barry Levinson’s Holocaust film <em>The Survivor</em>, <em>and </em>Daniel Craig’s final James Bond movie <em>No Time to Die</em>. </p>
<p id="8dIAyP">“I think it’s clear that Billy’s a movie star waiting to happen,” Taylor says. “We were lucky to get him.” </p>
<p id="gEPqyO">But to become a wiseguy, Magnussen knew that he couldn’t rely only on raw magnetism. “David Chase and the team kind of came to me and pitched, ‘Would you be interested in Paulie Walnuts?’” he says. “And I was like, ‘Yeah, let me figure out what you’re actually asking me to do.’”</p>
<p id="FA8xW7">When <em>The Sopranos </em>began airing, Magnussen was a teenager without premium cable. “I definitely didn’t have HBO,” he says. “I knew of the show. Knew it was a thing, but living in Georgia at the time, it was on the periphery. It wasn’t like, part of my world.” After getting cast in the movie, he had to start from scratch. That meant watching the series straight through, from the pilot episode all the way to when the screen finally cuts to black. When asked which specific scenes and episodes he used as reference, Magnussen smiles and then clams up. “That’s also my secret,” he says. “I get to keep those things.” </p>
<p id="bvbY5K">Apparently, when you play a made guy, you’ve gotta respect the omertà. </p>
<p id="jpG4hQ">For an actor, playing a character someone else made famous can be intimidating. So before shooting <em>The Many Saints of Newark</em>, Taylor says that he gave the cast the same general advice: “Imagine you’re playing a historical figure. Don’t imitate it; do your version of it.” </p>
<p id="lTYhXk">To get ready to embody Tony Soprano, Michael Gandolfini <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-features/michael-gandolfini-many-saints-newark-interview-1216014/">methodically familiarized himself</a> with his father’s work. John Magaro, the young Silvio Dante, hung out with Steven Van Zandt. “I do think John Magaro was almost over the top, but, to me, that was great,” Taylor says. “Because Steve Van Zandt was never<em> not</em> over the top.” In a recent feature about the making of the film, <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-features/many-saints-newark-behind-scenes-cast-crew-interview-1215918/">Alan Sepinwall of <em>Rolling Stone</em></a><em> </em>reported that <em>Sopranos </em>creator and <em>Many Saints of Newark </em>cowriter David Chase had Sirico record Young Paulie’s dialogue for Magnussen to study. For his part, Magnussen binged <em>The Sopranos</em> <em>and</em> also watched interviews with Sirico. “It’s just an actor playing some character,” he says. “So who’s that guy?” The answer to that question is simple. But it also disproves Magnussen’s theory. </p>
<p id="DVlh4O">Unlike the other actors on the show, Sirico wasn’t playing a character. He was playing a heightened version of himself. As <em>Sopranos </em>writer and producer Terence Winter <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2021/5/5/22417569/sopranos-pine-barrens-oral-history">recently put it</a>: “There’s a very, very thin line between Paulie and Tony Sirico. They’re practically the same person.” Taylor, who directed nine episodes of the series, agrees: “It’s very hard to distinguish where one stops and the other one begins.” </p>
<p id="C2S5mU">That made playing Paulie doubly difficult. Taylor once heard Chase call Sirico inimitable. “Because he’s sort of a compendium of mannerisms and tics and he’s got his own vivid culture that he created for himself,” says Taylor, whose credits include “The Fleshy Part of the Thigh” and “The Ride,” the episodes when Paulie finds out and then deals with the fact that his mother is actually his aunt by birth. “So it’s hard to go into it without immediately veering into impersonation.” </p>
<p id="PAtBwA">Luckily for Magunssen, he didn’t have to try to be Paulie from <em>The Sopranos</em>. That Paulie was fully formed. “He was already made,” Magnussen says. “And this guy in the film now is not. He’s not that. These are his building blocks.” </p>
<p id="UyptDR">Magnussen’s version of Paulie Walnuts is undoubtedly his own, but there are times in <em>The Many Saints of Newark</em> when the actor channels Sirico. “It was a really fun, challenging thing, creating this guy,” Magnussen says. “Well, not creating. But trying to catch his essence, more than anything.” </p>
<p id="9rGOMc">Young Paulie does biceps curls while watching <em>Soul Train</em>. He interrupts a brutal torture scene by getting upset at the prospect of blood staining his new mustard-colored leisure suit, a nod to the distinctively tacky ’90s leisurewear the character wears in <em>The Sopranos</em>. (“He got the most fun wardrobe of anybody,” Taylor says. “because that’s Paulie, too.”) Paulie’s fastidiousness also comes through on screen. After giving himself a manicure at the dinner table, he refuses to pass a pepper shaker to avoid messing up his freshly done nails. “I think that was Billy’s idea,” Taylor says. </p>
<p id="Pya5JE">Though playing Paulie required a certain amount of meticulous ridiculousness, the actor didn’t feel burdened by the character’s history or tendencies. “We’re shooting a movie at the end of the day,” he says. “I’m not going to be a fucking Method guy.” </p>
<p id="B6DvG5">At this point, Magnussen seems unfazed by anything Hollywood throws at him. He spent part of 2019 in Budapest filming <em>The Survivor</em>, an emotionally heavy period piece. That year he also shot <em>No Time to Die</em>,<em> </em>in which he plays a fair-haired CIA agent who Bond calls “Book of Mormon.” Preparing to make a Bond film was like nothing he’d ever experienced. “It was combat training daily with this great stunt team from France,” he says. “You’re in a fucking Bond movie. <em>This is unbelievable</em>. … The production, the training, everything I had to do was big.”</p>
<p class="c-end-para" id="YgacZk">The production of <em>The Many Saints of Newark </em>wasn’t nearly as big, but the character Magnussen plays in it is. It’s unlikely that any other role he lands in the coming years will be as over the top as Paulie Walnuts. And <em>none</em> will have better hair. </p>
<aside id="UztdNg"><div data-anthem-component="newsletter" data-anthem-component-data='{"slug":"ringer_newsletter"}'></div></aside>
https://www.theringer.com/movies/2021/10/5/22709370/paulie-walnuts-many-saints-of-newark-sopranos-billy-magnussenAlan Siegel2021-10-04T10:15:53-04:002021-10-04T10:15:53-04:00‘The Many Saints of Newark’ Exit Survey
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<figcaption>HBO/Ringer illustration</figcaption>
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<p>Now that we’ve met young Tony Soprano and his legendary uncle Dickie, it’s time to talk</p> <p id="YaFZpc"><em>Fourteen years after the lights went out in the middle of a diner, David Chase and Co. finally returned to the world of Tony Soprano. </em>The Many Saints of Newark <em>goes back to the beginning, with a young Tony following around his uncle, Dickie Moltisanti, like a puppy dog and only just beginning to be the man he’d become. And now that the movie’s out, a few questions need to be asked. </em></p>
<h4 id="FHcFUp">1. What is your tweet-length review of <em>The Many Saints of Newark</em>? </h4>
<p id="lCtybs"><strong>Alan Siegel: </strong>A potentially interesting movie wrapped in a rubber-band ball of fan service, which felt odd considering that <em>The Sopranos </em>rarely, if ever, engaged in that kind of thing.</p>
<p id="bwkcdw"><strong>Julianna Ress: </strong>At least we got the <a href="https://images.app.goo.gl/KwGfZWTeH3CbtSdq6">Ray Liotta laughing face</a>.</p>
<p id="UN0Ugr"><strong>John Gonzalez: </strong>Two Ray Liottas was two too many Ray Liottas.</p>
<p id="KJozUR"><strong>Bridget Geerlings: </strong>I needed more scenes with food.</p>
<p id="Zlas61"><strong>Andrew Gruttadaro:</strong></p>
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<blockquote class="twitter-tweet">
<p lang="en" dir="ltr">The Many Saints of Newark (2021) <a href="https://t.co/EksZOMcV0i">pic.twitter.com/EksZOMcV0i</a></p>— Andrew Gruttadaro (@andrewgrutt) <a href="https://twitter.com/andrewgrutt/status/1443935236715339778?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 1, 2021</a>
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<p id="CHCHYe"><a href="https://www.theringer.com/authors/justin-sayles"><strong>Justin Sayles</strong></a><strong>: </strong>Every extra hour spent in <em>The Sopranos</em> universe is a gift. It’s just ... <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmWcbuM6csA">does it have to be a pair of socks</a>?</p>
<aside id="L1uLKH"><div data-anthem-component="readmore" data-anthem-component-data='{"stories":[{"title":"The Ghosts of ‘The Sopranos’ Loom Over ‘The Many Saints of Newark’","url":"https://www.theringer.com/movies/2021/10/1/22702998/many-saints-of-newark-review-the-sopranos-prequel-movie"},{"title":"The Ringer’s Definitive ‘Sopranos’ Episode Ranking","url":"https://sopranos.theringer.com/?_ga=2.118784649.1484588335.1633348715-437920616.1605149108"},{"title":"Top Five ‘Sopranos’ Episodes and ‘The Many Saints of Newark’ With David Chase","url":"https://open.spotify.com/episode/0KzYuhIxpZkdKBvIgU3aPH?si=Hf5Qmk1vTMyxjEt9dqM3Qw&dl_branch=1"}]}'></div></aside><h4 id="wU7MaO">2. What was the best moment of the film? </h4>
<p id="2dlc12"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>I’ll pick two, one for each of the movie’s main characters: the burger scene with Livia (Vera Farmiga) and Anthony (Michael Gandolfini), which added depth to an already <em>deep </em>relationship while also being a spot-on pantomime of Nancy Marchand and James Gandolfini; and then the “it’s the wanting” scene with Dickie (Alessandro Nivola) and his uncle (Liotta), a thesis statement if there ever was one.</p>
<p id="f2WlEg"><strong>Siegel: </strong>It wasn’t explosive or very consequential, but I loved the scene when Livia talks to Tony’s guidance counselor about his misbehavior. It subtly humanized someone who’s often painted as a malevolent force. Also: Vera Farmiga managed to re-create Nancy Marchand’s cadence without doing a cartoonish impression.</p>
<p id="mtNtXX"><strong>Sayles: </strong>The kitchen scene between Farmiga’s Livia and Michael Gandolfini’s Tony shows the difficulty Tony had growing up in that household, but also adds a layer to Livia’s character that makes her more sympathetic. </p>
<p id="Kb2ki9"><strong>Ress: </strong>When Livia makes the smallest effort to show Tony affection (through food, of course) only to abandon it when he suggests that the antidepressants her doctor recommended may actually help her. Not only did we see flashes of the bitter, vindictive woman Livia would become as played by Nancy Marchand, but it also reflected the strained ways Carmela would try to make lasting connections with her kids.</p>
<p id="yiSbwu"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>When Dickie and Giuseppina drive to the beach in the middle of winter while Van Morrison’s “Astral Weeks” plays. The soundtrack was pretty impeccable throughout the film, but this song choice won it all.</p>
<p id="Z5s86i"><strong>Gonzalez:</strong></p>
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<p lang="en" dir="ltr">I am mixed on MANY SAINTS overall but this exchange is perfect <a href="https://t.co/Tf8EnEOkOc">pic.twitter.com/Tf8EnEOkOc</a></p>— Alison Herman (@aherman2006) <a href="https://twitter.com/aherman2006/status/1443996516125917187?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 1, 2021</a>
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<h4 id="vk1XBZ">3. What was your least favorite part of the movie?</h4>
<p id="W5NCGS"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>I didn’t wanna know who did the Dickie hit.</p>
<p id="TysbfH"><strong>Ress: </strong>Anytime Silvio was onscreen, I cringed myself into the fetal position. </p>
<p id="deXLf3"><strong>Gonzalez: </strong>Ray Liotta sex grunting noises. Ray Liotta kicking a woman down the stairs. Ray Liotta dying but then somehow staying in the film. Ray Liotta being in every gangster movie ever. (I admit this feels like an attack on Ray Liotta and I apologize.)</p>
<p id="Re6vld"><strong>Siegel: </strong>The ending.</p>
<p id="diyx3V"><strong>Sayles: </strong>The ending was as un-<em>Sopranos</em>-like as it gets. After several viewings, I’m still trying to figure out how the same man who cut to black in the show’s finale (and didn’t care what anyone thought about it) settled on something so saccharine here. </p>
<p id="3pGTom"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>I could have done without the TOOTH-DRILLING SCENE, THANKS. Some of us eat snacks while watching movies, ya know? </p>
<h4 id="Xhd4N0">4. Finish the sentence: “Michael Gandolfini as Young Tony was …”</h4>
<p id="uX6fpb"><strong>Ress: </strong>… surprisingly fun stunt casting that didn’t just feel like an impression.</p>
<p id="tBy7ut"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>… so good it was eerie at times. </p>
<p id="XzQp8V"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>… way better than Young Sheldon, who does <em>not</em> deserve an entire television series that has lasted four seasons.</p>
<p id="YDytgY"><strong>Sayles: </strong>… not terrible! While living up to James Gandolfini’s performance on the series is an impossible task—for him or anyone—I thought Michael did a great job at playing Tony equal parts conflicted and fun-loving. In a lot of ways, he reminded me of A.J., except with <a href="https://youtu.be/SCpgbbLM5Ss?t=231">all the prerequisites to lead young men onto the field of sport</a>.</p>
<p id="lOoMEH"><strong>Gonzalez: </strong>… better than expected but still the second-best Young Tony in the movie. (Youngest Tony was the best Tony.)</p>
<p id="lz9ayc"><strong>Siegel: </strong>… nothing short of hypnotic. Like his father before him, he made Tony both charming and menacing—often at the same time. </p>
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<cite>HBO</cite>
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<h4 id="mt3yi2">5. What was the best <em>Sopranos </em>callback? And what was the worst?</h4>
<p id="Z3uUhl"><strong>Ress: </strong>I really enjoyed seeing the genesis of character traits and relationships that would become key features of <em>The Sopranos</em>. Dickie’s temper and ego would later be mirrored by Tony, and his abusive, volatile relationship with Giuseppina would resurface through Christopher and Adriana. These subtle callbacks were much more satisfying than hearing, once again, that Tony didn’t have the makings of a varsity athlete.</p>
<p id="pVxMaA"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>I loved Paulie checking on his nails. I hated Junior making the “makings of a varsity athlete” comment. </p>
<p id="DYcsmc"><strong>Sayles: </strong>I got emotional when I saw the TV trays. All the way on the other end: The “never had the makings of a varsity athlete” line was so telegraphed I mouthed along the first time I saw the film.</p>
<p id="q6S0wx"><strong>Gonzalez: </strong>Best: Vera Farmiga doing an amazing Nancy Marchand as young Livia Soprano. (“His goomah told him it makes him look like Robert Goulet.”) The eye rolls alone were enough to make you have a panic attack.</p>
<p id="TMr9dH">Worst: Billy Magnussen and John Magaro doing Tony Sirico and Steven Van Zandt impressions as young Paulie Walnuts and young Silvio Dante.</p>
<p id="LEXqKN"><strong>Siegel: </strong>Best: The pristine basketball hoop hanging on the wall of Satriale’s brought me back to <a href="https://twitter.com/Mut_Master211/status/1002598352960278530">Bobby Bacala’s inexplicable dunk</a>. </p>
<p id="AfzxM0">Worst: As soon as I saw that a shotgun-riding Livia’s hairdo/scarf combo was as tall as a Kentucky Derby day hat, I knew <em>exactly</em> what was coming. Occasional fan service can be fun, but the moment felt too obvious.</p>
<p id="9GNZ8F"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>The best was when the greatest theme song of all time closed out the end credits of the film. The worst was when young Carmela shows up and the actress is trying <em>very hard</em> to nail down Edie Falco’s facial expressions. Actually, I might just be more annoyed with this scene in general because what is up with HBO’s agenda to <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2021/5/13/22432202/mare-of-easttown-ranking-tiny-details-pennsylvania-kate-winslet">promote Rolling Rock</a> in all of its content this year? </p>
<div id="Z82mUN"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 152px; position: relative;"><iframe src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/episode/0KzYuhIxpZkdKBvIgU3aPH" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen="" allow="encrypted-media;"></iframe></div></div>
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<br>6. <em>The Sopranos</em> historically struggled to tackle issues of race. Does <em>Many Saints</em> do any better with Harold and the Newark riots?</h4>
<p id="4BORwj"><strong>Sayles: </strong>It was disappointing that the Harold story line felt like it ultimately was there to be a red herring.</p>
<p id="yic92b"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>It wasn’t <em>Sopranos </em>bad, but <em>Many Saints </em>doesn’t deserve much more credit than that. The story line was interesting, and Leslie Odom Jr. was great as Harold, but it was all pretty surface level—a good idea the movie just didn’t have enough time to prioritize. </p>
<p id="XiLIyD"><strong>Ress: </strong>I am intrigued by the potential ideas brought up by setting <em>The Sopranos</em> during the Newark race riots, but there just wasn’t enough time for them to fully come to fruition. If <em>Many Saints</em> was cut in half, turned into a pilot, and developed as a miniseries, Harold and his crew could have been more than severely underexplored minor characters. </p>
<p id="p294N7"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>They could do better by giving me a whole series dedicated to Harold.</p>
<p id="Su8wDs"><strong>Siegel: </strong>Harold was fleshed out and he even ended up on top. In that sense, the movie did a better job than the show.</p>
<p id="LxH5KZ"><strong>Gonzalez: </strong>Harold has more depth (and lines) than any Black character that appeared on the show, but sadly that’s a low bar. With the riots, the focus is primarily on the looting while the film essentially yada-yadas the police brutality that incited the riots in real life. If that represents an improvement, it’s not much of one. </p>
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<cite>HBO</cite>
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<h4 id="CAJQ2A">7. We now know who took out Dickie Moltisanti. Your thoughts?</h4>
<p id="RIb5HS"><strong>Sayles: </strong>This was the one thing I didn’t want to know going into the movie. I was worried it would ruin a personal favorite episode: “For All Debts Public and Private,” when Tony facilitates Chris getting revenge on the man who Tony said killed Dickie, only for the ending to leave it ambiguous as to whether the guy actually did it.</p>
<p id="SETlyz">With that said: I thought the Junior reveal was fun in the moment, but ultimately hollow in retrospect. We know Junior Soprano fancies himself a proud man who won’t suffer even the smallest indignity, but having a made guy killed over something so petty felt inauthentic. </p>
<p id="zsRdcz"><strong>Ress: </strong>Another body on Junior’s conscience to eventually be lost to the ether of time. <a href="https://youtu.be/1o34mnI2Az4?t=144">That’s nice</a>.</p>
<p id="4lv3oF"><strong>Siegel: </strong>Dickie Moltisanti is a made guy in an all-out war with another gangster who happened to <em>sleep with his mistress</em>. Also, canonically he’s an addict. And yet he’s done in neither by his rival nor by his self-destructive tendencies, but rather the fact that he laughed at someone when he fell on his ass after a funeral. It didn’t seem true to the story. </p>
<p id="tndCnv">Though, I do admit that Junior’s sensitivity to being laughed at harkened back to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xpd_iZe-knI">a conversation in the show</a> that he had with Tony about Ralph’s cruel joke about Ginny Sack: “In my day, John was right. A man would never be expected to stand for a remark like that.”<strong> </strong></p>
<p id="N45Xif"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>I’m still mad that they so willingly revealed this. That said, it fits Junior Soprano to a T—apparently he’s always been a man who’s funneled his inferiority complex into calling in hits. </p>
<p id="YHaOJ6"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>My only thoughts are that I’m going to need an edited video of Junior falling and failing to stand up as “Get on Your Feet” by Gloria Estefan plays on loop.</p>
<h4 id="uemjtP">8. Does this movie change how you feel about <em>The Sopranos</em>?</h4>
<p id="onM1JH"><strong>Geerlings: </strong>If anything, it makes me want to open a <em>Sopranos</em> chain restaurant, really bad.</p>
<p id="LYdsQi"><strong>Ress: </strong>No. While the film had flashes of insight, there was never enough to change the way I thought about how everything transpired on <em>The Sopranos</em>. That said, I’m still interested in what happens between <em>Many Saints </em>and Season 1. Where are the Apriles? And what about Tony’s card game robbery?<strong> </strong></p>
<p id="Kt6Ljm"><strong>Gonzalez: </strong>It was more of a reminder that, over many more hours, the show generally had a point.</p>
<p id="C0WpGa"><strong>Siegel: </strong><em>The Sopranos</em> was revolutionary because it showed that modern mob life was anything but cinematic. The mere existence of a broad, glossy, self-contained prequel rejects that premise. In other words, the movie made me appreciate the series even more. </p>
<p id="FOMsEi"><strong>Sayles: </strong>I spent most of my time watching it wishing I was watching any random episode of the series, so no. (Speaking of: If you need help picking out any random one to watch, may I interest you in an <a href="https://sopranos.theringer.com/">exhaustive<em> </em>ranking/episode guide?</a>)</p>
<p class="c-end-para" id="zn1iIv"><strong>Gruttadaro: </strong>If it does, it only does so positively. My opinion on <em>The Sopranos </em>is too gold-plated to be negatively swayed. But if I’m ever rewatching a Season 1 episode, maybe I’ll remember Michael Gandolfini eating a burger and telling his mom, “I’m always accused!” And that’s not so bad. </p>
<aside id="35a3LL"><div data-anthem-component="newsletter" data-anthem-component-data='{"slug":"ringer_newsletter"}'></div></aside><p id="kW5h8C"></p>
https://www.theringer.com/movies/2021/10/4/22708644/many-saints-of-newark-exit-survey-sopranosThe Ringer Staff2021-10-01T06:00:00-04:002021-10-01T06:00:00-04:00The Ghosts of ‘The Sopranos’ Loom Over ‘The Many Saints of Newark’
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<figcaption>HBO/Ringer illustration</figcaption>
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<p>At its best, the prequel centers on a young Tony Soprano and his uncle Dickie Moltisanti enhances the overall story. At its worst, it comes off like little more than a nostalgia play.</p> <figure class="e-image">
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<p id="S9Ovw4"><em>The Many Saints</em> <em>of Newark</em> opens with a choice that would’ve felt out of place in any episode of <em>The Sopranos</em>: voice-over narration from a long-dead character. The camera pans through a cemetery, and as it passes each grave, voices from the beyond pile atop one another to create a cacophony of noise. The frame ultimately lands on a tombstone with a name that viewers of the famed HBO series will recognize: Christopher Moltisanti, Tony Soprano’s nephew and protégé who died at the hand of his uncle late in the show’s run. Reprising the role, actor Michael Imperioli’s voice immediately yanks viewers back into this world. “After he murdered me, Tony gave my wife and infant daughter his pocket change,” he says. “But that was much later.” In other words: This story will be familiar, but it won’t be what we’re used to. </p>
<p id="VoFHwM"><em>Many Saints</em>, the prequel film cowritten by <em>Sopranos</em> creator David Chase and directed by series veteran Alan Taylor, arrives in theaters and on HBO Max in a much different world than the one Tony and Co. left in June 2007 <a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2019/01/the-sopranos-finale-david-chase-comments-is-tony-dead">under famously ambiguous circumstances</a>. The show, one of the most acclaimed in TV history, is arguably more popular than it’s ever been thanks to memes, <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2019/12/3/20986241/sopranoscon-the-sopranos-james-gandolfini-david-chase-the-many-saints-of-newark">conventions</a>, <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2020/4/21/21227647/actor-recap-podcasts-sopranos-scrubs-office-west-wing">podcasts</a>, a <a href="https://www.gq.com/story/the-sopranos-is-the-hottest-show-of-2020">fresh set of first-time viewers amid the pandemic</a>, and younger generations who identify with its pitch-black humor and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/09/29/magazine/sopranos.html">end-of-the-American-empire vibes</a>. At the same time, any return to North Jersey has seemed nearly impossible for years given the 2013 death of James Gandolfini, the actor who played the famed antihero at the show’s center. Add in Chase’s longtime reluctance to revisit his greatest creation and the fact that <a href="https://www.theringer.com/tv/2020/4/22/21230887/better-call-saul-season-5-prequels">prequels typically don’t work</a>, and it seemed you would’ve had a better chance <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QURrCwDnakI">winning at the executive game </a>than betting that another <em>Sopranos</em> story would make it to the screen, <a href="https://melmagazine.com/en-us/story/millennial-sopranos-proves-we-all-want-a-piece-of-the-action">no matter how millennials shitposted about it</a>. But as it turns out, a few things gnawed at Chase: As he told <em>Rolling Stone</em>’s Alan Sepinwall, he’s been interested for years in capturing the era <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-features/many-saints-newark-behind-scenes-cast-crew-interview-1215918/">when Tony’s father and Uncle Junior</a> ran Newark, something <em>The Sopranos</em> had shown only in brief flashbacks. And one never-seen character who loomed large over <em>The Sopranos </em>appealed to him—Dickie Moltisanti, the father of Christopher and mentor to Tony who was killed decades before the events of the series but was mentioned throughout. “I had interest in him as a character, Christopher’s father, the whole story,” Chase told <em>RS</em>. “That Christopher <em>had</em> a father.” </p>
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<p id="sd42UP"><em>The Many Saints of Newark</em> is the end result of that interest. Despite <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXMzT-D3SJo">what the trailers</a> and casting of Gandolfini’s son, Michael, as young Tony might indicate, the film is a Moltisanti family affair—the last name is Italian for “many saints”—and Dickie, played with a suave confidence by Alessandro Nivola, is the centerpiece of the film. He’s a window into the New Jersey mob of the 1960s and ’70s—a world where tracksuits don’t exist and the gangsters drive De Villes instead of Escalades, and an era that feels far from Tony Soprano’s new-money suburban hell. But despite the superficial differences, Dickie deeply resembles the Tony we came to know through six seasons: He’s undeniably charismatic, loved by many, yet also a bottomless pit searching for a fill, capable of imposing great violence on the people closest to him. </p>
<p id="aynwHX">Being able to see the grown-up Tony in Dickie isn’t an accident: At its best, <em>Many Saints</em> pulls at the thematic threads it shares with <em>The Sopranos</em>. Intrafamily violence and generational trauma haunt this world as much as those spirits haunt that graveyard. Like Tony, Dickie lives under the thumb of a larger-than-life parent—here it’s his gangster father, Hollywood Dick. After a pivotal moment between them, Dickie seeks the guidance of a wise outsider. (His Dr. Melfi stand-in is his long-imprisoned Uncle Sally.) Dickie also considers himself better than his wife-abusing dad, but soon learns he can be just as reprehensible, a fact made all the more gutting considering his son would ultimately inherit his worst traits. And when Tony’s <a href="https://youtu.be/SCpgbbLM5Ss?t=229">intelligence, personality, and leadership potential</a> are on the verge of being snuffed out by his dysfunctional home life, Dickie is positioned as the only one who can save the teen’s soul; it doesn’t work, just as Tony’s presence in Christopher’s life wouldn’t help the younger Moltisanti years later. Everything in this cinematic universe is cyclical, and when Chase et al. manage to connect back to <em>The Sopranos</em> in a way that complements the overarching story, it enriches both the film and the show.</p>
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<p id="rh7LnO"><br>What <em>Many Saints</em> can’t do, however, is evoke the feeling of even an average hour of <em>The Sopranos</em>. That may be an impossible demand for a movie based on a revolutionary show that ended 14 years ago, but it’s one that many viewers will have. Much of the series’ appeal was its pacing, as Chase and his team of writers spent 86 hours and six seasons plumbing the depths of Tony’s psyche and developing rich secondary and tertiary characters. Here, Chase and cowriter Lawrence Konner have two hours to stuff a scattershot plot that covers five years and grapples with Dickie’s increasingly bleak world, the miseducation of Tony Soprano, the Newark race riots of 1967, and a Black associate of Dickie’s (Harold, played by Leslie Odom Jr.) who tries to step out on his own. (Given <em>The Sopranos</em>’ troubles tackling issues of race during its run, a relatively fleshed-out story line featuring Black characters marks progress, even if the film doesn’t know fully what to do with it.) With the need to fit in all that plot, the <em>Sopranos</em>’ trademark humor and insight into humanity comes only in all small doses, like when Livia (Vera Farmiga) says of Johnny Boy’s mustache that “His goomar told him it makes him look like Robert Goulet” as she ashes a cigarette over a baby Barbara. These small asides make you remember what made this world so addictive in the first place, but they come sparingly.</p>
<p id="SOI5qD">In the absence of those <em>Sopranos</em> hallmarks, <em>Many Saints</em> offers Easter eggs and fan service, a somewhat surprising development given Chase’s repeated refusal to give viewers what they wanted. (That said, you still won’t find out <a href="https://screenrant.com/sopranos-show-russian-after-pine-barrens-what-happened/#:~:text=David%20Chase%20is%20quoted%20as,was%20sent%20back%20to%20Russia.">what happened to the Russian</a>.) Some of the nods to the canonical text feel forced, like when Junior (played by a stellar Corey Stoll) drops a “never had the makings of a varsity athlete” reference early in the second act. Others are more rewarding, like the revelation of who was really behind the hit on Dickie. (Turns out Dickie was indeed carrying TV trays.) And some are welcome comic relief—everyone knew Silvio wore a wig, so why not have fun with it? These moments feel antithetical to the series Chase created, but in <em>Many Saints</em> they’re necessary comfort food. </p>
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<p id="SdFTZx"><br>To that end, many of the beloved characters from the series appear in the film, in roles both big and small. The most high-profile casting decision—putting Michael Gandolfini in Tony’s letterman jacket—reaps the most dividends. Young Tony doesn’t factor into the plot as much as the tagline <a href="https://pbs.twimg.com/media/E-xmUykVcAIaGx0.jpg">“Who made Tony Soprano?”</a> would indicate, but <em>Many Saints</em> offers a glimpse into a more innocent time in his life, when he had dreams of making the NFL and just wanted to score a six-pack of beer. Gandolfini has the seemingly hopeless task of stepping into his father’s most iconic role, but he acquits himself nicely, playing Tony with equal parts mischievousness and melancholy while capturing the character’s mannerisms and flights of rage. (In one late-movie moment, he hurls a pair of speakers from his bedroom window while shouting “I don’t want any part of this.”) It’s perhaps no coincidence that his strongest moments come opposite Farmiga, who turns in the film’s best performance as Livia Soprano. She plays the Soprano family matriarch with such pathos that it turns one of the most terrifying creatures to ever appear on the small screen into a sympathetic figure—Tony always said <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvIZVI_w8Ks">Livia wore Johnny “down to a little nub,”</a> but in <em>Many Saints</em>, the inverse appears to be true, as her husband’s lifestyle and emotional abuse turn her skittish and paranoid. </p>
<p id="nXrfkJ">Further down the credits, the results are mixed. Stoll’s performance as Junior Soprano adds layers to the character, and Billy Magnussen honors Paulie Gualtieri in limited screen time without veering into caricature. But others play like impersonations: John Magaro’s Silvio feels as though he’s stumbled in from an <em>SNL </em>sketch, and little Big Pussy is a nonentity who gets only one big punch line. But the gang’s all here, even if the likes of Carmela and Artie Bucco make merely blink-and-you’ll-miss-them appearances. </p>
<p id="rOJbxp"><em>Many Saints </em>can at times seem purely like a nostalgia play, but depending on expectations, that mostly works. What may not work for fans—particularly those who would never <a href="https://www.denofgeek.com/tv/the-sopranos-melfi-therapy-scenes/">skip the Mefli scenes</a>—is the movie’s ending. In a callback to an earlier scene, when Tony pinky-swears to Dickie that he’ll do better after he’s expelled from school, Tony stands over his slain mentor’s casket. Suddenly, Dickie’s hand lunges upward and the two lock pinkies as the opening bars of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nW3LikcBL68">“Woke Up This Morning” fade in</a>. It’s clearly (hopefully) just a figment of Tony’s imagination, but it’s about as far from the Holsten’s cut-to-black as you can imagine, and feels contrived in a way the series rarely did—a Hollywood ending for a story that always shunned them. </p>
<p class="c-end-para" id="S7p2HF">One of the most sage lines ever spoken on <em>The Sopranos</em> came from the mouth of one of its least reliable narrators: “The dead have nothing to say to us,” Janice tells a mourning Bobby Baccalieri in Season 4. “It’s our own narcissism that makes us think they even care.” And while that may be true, ghosts made a lot of noise on the show—whether it was deposed foes appearing in dream sequences or children falling into the same patterns of trauma as their parents. In <em>The</em> <em>Many Saints of Newark</em>, David Chase gives a true voice to the dead for the first time. It turns out they only occasionally have interesting things to say, but after so many years spent away from this world, simply hearing those voices is enough. </p>
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https://www.theringer.com/movies/2021/10/1/22702998/many-saints-of-newark-review-the-sopranos-prequel-movieJustin Sayles2021-09-30T19:15:20-04:002021-09-30T19:15:20-04:00‘The Many Saints of Newark’ and the Legacy of ‘The Sopranos’
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<p>Plus, more ‘Squid Game’ analysis</p> <div id="Fb5JZC"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 152px; position: relative;"><iframe src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/episode/4ZauOJdmR2fwPN47lfaNHQ" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen="" allow="encrypted-media;"></iframe></div></div>
<p id="DvfJTP"><br><a href="https://open.spotify.com/episode/4ZauOJdmR2fwPN47lfaNHQ?si=c7figb1ZQbOj1bGAqAfg2Q&dl_branch=1&nd=1">On the eve of its release</a>, Chris and Andy talk about <em>The Many Saints of Newark</em> and why <em>The Sopranos</em> still holds so much cultural relevance more than a decade after its final episode (1:00). Plus, dipping a toe back into the movie-theater experience (36:19) and more <em>Squid Game</em> talk (45:15).</p>
<p id="uQZZVd">Hosts: Chris Ryan and Andy Greenwald<br>Producer: Kaya McMullen</p>
<p id="2RDBRc"><strong>Subscribe:</strong> <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/3IcA76e8ZV0NNSJ81XHQUg?si=y_oT-MnKSR-KxdRTokKqMw">Spotify</a> / <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-watch/id1111739567?mt=2">Apple Podcasts</a> / <a href="https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/the-ringer/the-watch">Stitcher</a> / <a href="https://www.theringer.com/rss/the-watch/index.xml">RSS</a></p>
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https://www.theringer.com/2021/9/30/22703321/the-many-saints-of-newark-and-the-legacy-of-the-sopranosChris RyanAndy Greenwald2021-09-30T06:30:00-04:002021-09-30T06:30:00-04:00The 12 Defining Scenes of ‘The Sopranos’
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<figcaption>HBO/Ringer illustration</figcaption>
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<p>Before ‘The Many Saints of Newark,’ it’s worth revisiting key moments from the original series—scenes that prove how funny, profound, and gut-wrenching it could be</p> <p id="8JLrz8"><em>Editor’s note: January 10, 2024, marks a quarter century since the first time Tony Soprano walked into Dr. Melfi’s office and talked about ducks. Since we’re loyle to our capos, we wanted to celebrate. In honor of the 25th anniversary of</em> The Sopranos<em>, we’re resurfacing a few of our favorite pieces on the show that changed television history forever.</em></p>
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<p id="oxyACs">A word of warning: Your favorite scene from <em>The Sopranos </em>is probably not on this list. Yes, that one—the scene whose absence immediately invalidates everything you’re about to read. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMaSh20qBbg">Poor you</a>.</p>
<p id="2I6Vxe">The thing about lists of great moments from canonical shows is that they’re always wrong. Still, the futility of the exercise comes with its own form of validation. You could probably ask 100 die-hard<em> </em>fans to each list the key scenes from <em>The Sopranos </em>and get minimal crossover: This shows not only the sheer number of high points the series hit during six (and a half) seasons, but also the multitudes it contained. </p>
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<p id="WBcfSK">For instance: If you thought <em>The Sopranos </em>was primarily a show about a mob boss teasing out his troubled relationship with his mother in therapy, your roll call would be heavy on Livia and Dr. Melfi; if you took it as a diagnosis of twisted masculinity, you might gravitate toward the various beatings and figurative dick-measuring contests. If you’re a literature professor, you’d tally up a running syllabus that runs the gamut from Melville to Flaubert to Yeats. Or maybe you’d just pick all the stuff with Christopher and Paulie in the woods from “Pine Barrens”—like the latter hungrily scarfing up ketchup packets while freezing half to death in a van—and call it a day.</p>
<p id="fKhWoU">“Pine Barrens” is not represented below, and neither are a few episodes widely and correctly considered to be <a href="https://sopranos.theringer.com/">among <em>The Sopranos</em>’<em> </em>very best</a>: “College,” “University,” “Whoever Did This,” “The Second Coming,” and “Made in America.” God forbid somebody writes another analysis of the latter’s final scene, which may be the most deconstructed four minutes in television history. The selections below give an impression of a show whose perspective was fused to a singularly complex protagonist, yet which managed incredible breadth and depth. </p>
<h3 id="drx0gC">“Nobody Knows Anything” (Season 1, Episode 11)</h3>
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<p id="iPGl9Z">In the beginning, <em>The Sopranos </em>was mostly a show about how a boy’s worst enemy was his mother: The common denominator between the series’ analyze-this gimmick of a Mafia boss in therapy and its proliferation of mob-genre tropes was the lurking threat of Livia Soprano, a master manipulator living lavishly at Green Grove (not a nursing home but a <em>retirement community</em>)<em> </em>and also rent-free in her son’s head. As played by a brilliantly cast Nancy Marchand, Livia was the show’s greatest schemer, filtering Machiavellian schemes through arias of obnoxious self-pity; nobody was better at incepting bad ideas into others under the guise of idle chatter. Case in point: this miniature masterpiece from Season 1’s pivotal “Nobody Knows Anything,” with Livia letting it slip to Junior—oops—that Tony has been using Green Grove to hold off-the-book meetings with members of his crew. “I just don’t like being put in the middle of things,” she gripes, even as that’s exactly where she’s plunking herself down. Meanwhile, the thrill of watching her use Junior’s paranoia against him, jujitsu style, is offset by the real and complex sadness underpinning her decision to tattle. On one level, Livia knows that she’s signing Tony’s death warrant by implying Tony’s insubordination, but her reasons for doing so stem from deep-seated and painful feelings of abandonment. Tony doesn’t want his Ma to live with him because she’s unbearable, and deep down, she knows it. Marchand’s acting always captured the precise ratio of misanthropy to self-loathing that turned a tired old woman into a viper. </p>
<h3 id="cb7Yn1">“The Knight in White Satin Armor” (Season 2, Episode 12)</h3>
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<p id="AahDRh">The title of Season 2’s penultimate episode goofs on a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjUqfRrWwcM">1967 hit</a> by the Moody Blues, with Tony’s Russian girlfriend Irina conflating the song’s tragic tale of unrequited love with an ancient, Arthurian archetype of chivalry. The real damsel in distress, though, is Janice, who, having hitched her carriage to the recently paroled Richie Aprile, realizes that (1) the little guy is not up to the task of taking over Tony’s crew, and (2) he’s liable to take out his frustrations about that (and everything else) on her. And so, out of a mix of calculation, self-defense, and basic instincts inherited from a family full of killers, civilian Janice carries out what was, to that point, the single most shocking—and riotously funny—whacking of the entire series, effectively doing her brother’s dirty work for him by eliminating a dangerous rival. (Gandolfini’s expression when Tony arrives on the scene is one of his greatest moments; his flicker of joy and surprise feels genuinely involuntary and spontaneous.) </p>
<h3 id="j3CeWw">“Employee of the Month” (Season 3, Episode 4)</h3>
<p id="mJbTks">This might be the <a href="http://%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8Bhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iAhJoa4BXo">most hair-raising line reading ever on <em>The Sopranos</em></a>:<em> </em>“No.” It’s in reply to Tony’s (relatively) innocent question to Jennifer Melfi—after she’s been sexually assaulted, unbeknownst to him—if there’s anything she wants to tell him. The statement shows us something important about her character—that as much as she recognizes and desires Tony’s power, she’s unwilling to have him wield it on her behalf. At least not when she’s awake: In her slumbering unconscious, Dr. Melfi imagines Tony as an attack dog, ready to be sicced on her assailant now that his identity and whereabouts were revealed to her. By not making her dreams a reality, Melfi exercises the kind of restraint that allows her to feel like she’s different than Tony, and yet the scene’s emotional power comes out of Tony’s distinctly humane concern and empathy. In a beautiful piece of staging, Tony actually rises from his chair and crosses the imaginary axis in the center of Melfi’s office, collapsing the professional distance between therapist and patient in a gesture of chivalry and kindness. It’s hard not to like Tony here, and harder still not to fantasize about what he might do if he ever ran across the despicable “employee of the month.” But he won’t. Melfi’s curt, hard-edged reply guarantees that. And then, with nowhere else to go in a plot arc, we cut to black. </p>
<h3 id="LISDg9">“Second Opinion” (Season 3, Episode 7)</h3>
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<p id="YnOjyc">The difference between enablement and good advice from a therapist gets measured in Season 3’s superlative “Second Opinion,” which finds Carmela seeking professional help to assuage her guilt over her complicity in Tony’s crimes. But Sully Boyar’s acerbic Dr. Krakower offers only a cold shoulder to cry on—and his client’s crocodile tears freeze on impact. In lieu of absolution, the good doctor lays things out with the sort of blunt clarity that Dr. Melfi has long since abandoned. The contrast is intentional. If Melfi was to some extent an audience surrogate, measuring her attraction and interest in Tony against her recognition of his basically evil nature, then Krakower is the equivalent of the guy who takes pride in not watching <em>The Sopranos </em>at all. (He probably doesn’t even own a TV.) </p>
<p id="5CDMaz">“Many patients want to be excused for their current predicament because of events that occurred in their childhood,” he chides Carmela, implicitly critiquing Melfi’s MO. What he’s preaching is nothing less than the gospel of accountability, and his one-scene appearance—which concludes with him flatly advising Carmela to take the kids (“or what’s left of them”) and leave her mansion subsidized by blood money—hangs over the rest of the series. It’s no coincidence that David Chase gave his truth-teller the same surname (spelled differently) of Siegfried Kracauer, whose work critiqued Western capitalism and probed the roots of fascism in his native Germany. It’s a high-minded reference for a scene that plays like a pop-culture phenomenon’s greatest confrontation with its own loyal fan base. </p>
<h3 id="xJjvV1">“Army of One” (Season 3, Episode 13)</h3>
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<p id="z2m22w">Paulie’s sit-down with Ralphie over the matter of $50,000 is not a particularly important scene in the history of <em>The Sopranos, </em>or even within the flow of the all-time great episode “Army of One,” which juxtaposes the trajectories of A.J. Soprano, who’s flunking his way toward a date with military school, and Jackie Jr., who’s just been killed off for robbing a weekly card game. In fact, part of what makes the scene so amusing is how little patience Tony—who’s preoccupied with the problems of both boys—has for his underlings’ mutual bitching. But sometimes a scene doesn’t have to be important to be great. It can just be relentlessly, pricelessly funny. Every single element here is perfectly calibrated: Paulie’s sputtering rage; Ralphie’s taunting contempt; Sil’s haplessly placating vibe; the tacky outdoor cafe setting; poor, shot-up Furio’s slapstick face-plant on the ice, complete with hysterical Neapolitan curse words. </p>
<p id="vpz94g">A word of respect for Joe Pantoliano on his only appearance on this list: Nobody in the show’s ensemble did hateful better than Joey Pants, mainly because he understood that hatefulness is a many splendored thing. Ralphie’s frankly despicable response to his quasi-stepson Jackie’s death (which he ordered) is to complain that it’s made the kid’s mother so sad he can’t get any sleep at her place, and yet it’s impossible to watch him mocking Paulie and not smile at the character’s skill at twisting the knife. “I don’t believe this!” Paulie exclaims at Tony’s verdict. “Why not?” Ralphie smirks. “Last year, you believed that a flying saucer was over East Rutherford.” [Mortal Kombat<em> voice</em>]: Flawless Victory. </p>
<h3 id="LZrdGz">“The Strong, Silent Type” (Season 4, Episode 10)</h3>
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<p id="5K7C01">“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone” is a nice idea, but it doesn’t work in the context of a Mafia intervention where nobody’s slate is clean. So instead, the efforts of Adriana, Tony, et al. to get Christopher to straighten up immediately descends into absolute chaos; in lieu of taking the high ground, the attendees just keep taking potshots. From Sil’s unsympathetic recollection of Chrissy’s struggles in the bathroom at the Bada Bing (“your hair was in the toilet water … disgusting”) to Paulie’s straight-up vicious put-down (“you’re weak”) to Tony’s escalating rage at the revelation that Adriana’s dog Cosette was collateral damage in his nephew’s latest binge, the bad vibes are contagious, despite the futile attempts of Elias Koteas’s soft-spoken facilitator. On a show in which the characters often tempered their ethical delusions with attempts at self-improvement, Christopher’s humiliation at being called on his bullshit is devastatingly well-acted by Michael Imperioli, who had an alchemical ability to rein in the character’s broad, sometimes cartoonish stupidity and expose the thoughtful, wounded insecurities underneath. Watch his face when Carmela recalls thinking that Christopher was high at Livia’s wake—it’s the look of a man who can’t even pantomime denial. The climactic fisticuffs manifest the kind of macho slapstick comedy that’s easy to laugh at, but Imperioli’s performance before all hell breaks loose is sobering stuff. </p>
<h3 id="CUxoHr">“Eloise” (Season 4, Episode 12)</h3>
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<p id="a2jNLK">You’ll notice that this list doesn’t include Silvio’s <em>Miller’s Crossing </em>moment with Adriana in Season 5’s “Long Term Parking,” an omission partly born out of the potential obviousness of the pick. Everyone remembers Ade’s execution, and it’s absolutely a heartbreaker, especially the choice to keep her death out of view, as if not even the camera can bear to see her gunned down. But I’ve opted instead for a less famous, but no less chilling and impactful example of an innocent who is collateral damage in what Tony and company call “this thing of [theirs]”: poor, doomed, obnoxious senior citizen Minn Matrone, who catches Paulie red-handed trying to steal her life savings from under her mattress and ends up being choked to death. “You were always a little bastard,” rasps the old lady after threatening to tattle to his mother, Nucci, a long-standing frenemy who Minn has tormented (much to Paulie’s chagrin). The woman’s hostility to Paulie’s Sainted Ma only partly justifies his improvised act of violence; the irony is in a lifelong Mama’s boy smothering a woman who could be Nucci’s mirror image. Paulie’s motives are also mercenary: He’s stealing the money to give to Tony, who had considered taking a pillow to Livia’s face back in Season 1. If one of the running jokes in <em>The Sopranos </em>is that its made men are really nothing more than overgrown lost boys, the show was admirably committed to showing us the grotesqueness of their middle-aged Peter Pan acts. Paulie’s base irredeemability had been established long before “Eloise,” but the scene with Minn feels cruelly definitive. What a little bastard. </p>
<h3 id="xOe5Ie">“Whitecaps” (Season 4, Episode 13)</h3>
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<p id="DsM70t">The least they could have done for Edie Falco after “Whitecaps” was give her an Emmy: Her acting in the scenes when Carmela throws Tony out of the house for his decades of cheating and a second, even nastier confrontation a few days later transcends for-your-consideration posturing. If Carmela’s encounter with Dr. Krakower in “Second Opinion” was a rare example of <em>The Sopranos </em>stepping outside of itself to offer a kind of meta-commentary on the series, “Whitecaps” is as immersive and visceral as the show ever got, granting its female lead a proverbial moment of clarity and then letting Falco show how painful—and rapturously, ecstatically cathartic—it is for her to act on it. Every line reading and physical gesture during the encounter is extraordinary, but what sticks out most is how Falco cinches a consistent expression of absolute recognition<em> </em>even as her voice and posture swing from rage to regret to resignation. She makes us see Tony through her tired, red-rimmed eyes, and the effect is wildly disconcerting. </p>
<p id="HbVLrP">It’s not just that Carmela calls her husband on his bullshit (”Who knew all this time you wanted Tracy and Hepburn?”) but that she briefly unburdens herself of the self-loathing that kept her quiet in the face of Tony flaunting his indiscretions. Carmela is sad here—heartsick, betrayed, and terrified—and yet she’s also palpably exhilarated by her own courage at letting it all out. “I have things to say!” she bellows, a line that sets up a Season 5 arc that finds her, sadly and inevitably, retreating from the edge of self-actualization and back into the same precise cozy, materialistic, Mafia-wife orbit that Tony accuses her of occupying during their fight. As much as “Whitecaps” asks us to take a good hard look at Tony’s faults, we also understand that he sees his wife at least as clearly as she sees him. </p>
<h3 id="vdsnh7">“Where’s Johnny?” (Season 5, Episode 3)</h3>
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<p id="sAf9el">On a show that often reveled in the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fpwtZLluu2c">rampant malapropisms</a> and intellectual naivete of its wiseguy characters, Junior Soprano’s one-liners were like precision strikes—always on target, and always drawing blood. Whether talking to FBI agents, his niece and nephew, or just muttering to himself, the old man was <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLuygsGAOD4">devastatingly funny</a>. Which is why, as the series wore on, Junior’s fading mental health became such a source of pathos, as well as an unsettling, beguiling ambiguity about whether he was just playing possum. The main plot of Season 5’s “Where’s Johnny?” focuses on Junior’s worsening dementia, which leads him to wander the neighborhood, seemingly in search of his late brother. That evening, after a series of unfortunate events and arguments catalyzed by his uncle’s misadventure, Tony pays a visit. Junior is still querulous, cantankerously ordering Tony to shut the refrigerator door properly. They sit in Junior’s dimly lit living room; a nature program is on the small television and we hear narration about prairie dogs. After several questions about Junior’s health, Tony, whose need for avuncular approval is like a gaping wound, asks his uncle why everything he says has to be so “mean.” “I mean, don’t you love me?” he asks plaintively. </p>
<p id="7pWEc7">Tony clearly knows that Junior is fading out—foreshadowing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1o34mnI2Az4">the toothless, demented old man</a> we’ll see at the end of the series. Junior, his mind wandering, focuses on the TV and notes: “There’s the coyote.” It’s a throwaway line that deceptively serves as a description of Junior himself—a wily, resourceful survivor and opportunistic predator—as well as the condition that’s ruthlessly stealing away his sense of self. There he is, indeed. </p>
<h3 id="kYvVf1">“Mayham” (Season 6, Episode 3)</h3>
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<p id="qOZSAq">Picking between the eponymous subconscious odyssey at the center of Season 5’s acclaimed <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yq9vChB0bz0">“The Test Dream”</a> and the Season 6 two-parter featuring a comatose Tony living a double dream life as Kevin Finnerty is a tough call. Both plotlines push the oneiric aspects of <em>The Sopranos </em>as far as they can reasonably go and arguably beyond; when “Mayham” aired, there were hostile responses from even die-hards who felt that it represented one purgatorial detour too many. In retrospect, though, the whacking and showdowns were mostly what we sat through in order to get to the good stuff like this. </p>
<p id="kMAv8d">After getting stranded without his wallet or ID on an out-of-town business trip, the erstwhile Mr. Finnerty is offered the chance to return “home”—a location represented by an idyllic yet terrifying country estate guarded by the ghost of the dearly departed Tony Blundetto. Steve Buscemi’s smiling line readings evoke his bellhop-of-the-damned character from <em>Barton Fink, </em>and the idea seems to be that by entering the premises, Tony (as Kevin) is entering his own personal hell. In the space of just a few minutes, writer Matthew Weiner and director Jack Bender score a series of visual and conceptual knockouts around the themes of mortality and acceptance that always lurked beneath the series’ narrative intrigue. Tony’s terror at glimpsing the out-of-focus specter of Livia stalking the house gives way to his relief at being called back to the land of the living by Meadow’s voice, which wakes him from his nightmare once and for all. With its rich, horror-movie imagery and life-or-death stakes, the scene is a distillation of everything that’s scary, existential, and original about the show’s vision. </p>
<h3 id="jAHzps">“Stage 5” (Season 6, Episode 14)</h3>
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<p id="4FH2JP">A word about Frank Vincent as Phil Leotardo: Scene for scene, rant for rant, Uncle Philly might be the nastiest antagonist on <em>The Sopranos</em>,<em> </em>just lacking Richie’s drive, Ralphie’s wit, and Johnny Sack’s manicured elegance. What drives Phil is a seething, insatiable contempt for anybody in the game who hasn’t made the sacrifices he has to his omertà—as he’s so fond of reminding people, he did his 20 years in the can and never made a peep about it, like a man. He’s so old school he’s sociopathic, and Vincent’s decision to play the character as a blunt instrument hammering away in the name of mob traditionalism is brilliant, especially when combined with his knack for embodying the worst kinds of macho hypocrisy. </p>
<p id="ArebmH">The closest the show ever got to truly humanizing Phil was the coda to Season 6’s tragic “Stage 5.” At a private party meant to celebrate his ascent, he instead focuses on the clerical error at Ellis Island that rebranded his family’s surname from Leonardo—an avatar of Old World brilliance and artistry—to what Phil calls a “ballet costume”; what a difference one consonant makes. For Phil, that substitution is at the heart of all his perceived bad luck, and, glancing angrily at the photos above the bar of Johnny and his late younger brother Billy—the latter killed by “that animal” Tony B. and never satisfactorily avenged—he resolves to rewrite his story. “No more of this,” he promises Butchie, as John Cooper Clarke’s aggressively vexed song-poem “Evidently Chickentown” fades in, its anxious percussion promising us that, as the show enters the homestretch, there will be blood.</p>
<h3 id="O4bcV6">“Kennedy and Heidi” (Season 6, Episode 18)</h3>
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<p id="X8w2jx">The strange beacon perceived by Tony in his dream life as Kevin Finnerty pops up a few more times in the final season of <em>The Sopranos: </em>It’s glimpsed flashing against the Paris skyline by Carmela in “Cold Stones,” who doesn’t glean its significance, and again as a blinding solar flare during the desert-set outro of “Kennedy and Heidi” as a sweaty, disheveled, peyote-addled Tony looks to the heavens for a sign. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0F1q5XopWEs">“Same principle as the solar system,”</a> he’d informed his female companion during a winning streak at Vegas’s roulette tables. The sense that, by the end, the character and the series were grasping for something cosmic finds its apotheosis in the episode’s vision-quest imagery. Tony believes his good luck is a direct result of killing Christopher and that he extinguished his erratic nephew as a source of bad juju, yet Tony is trapped in his own vicious circle, a vortex of monstrous rationalizations that keep him from making any moral progress. </p>
<p id="Fnmbvo">Same principle as the solar system, and at the end of “Kennedy and Heidi,” Tony’s worldview finally goes supernova. Crying out “I get it” as he and his latest tryst gaze into the horizon, he’s literally blinded by the light, which in turn keeps him from actually seeing it.</p>
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https://www.theringer.com/tv/2021/9/30/22701010/sopranos-best-scenes-ranking-top-momentsAdam Nayman2021-09-24T08:09:22-04:002021-09-24T08:09:22-04:00‘The Sopranos’ Hall of Fame: The Bobby-Tony Fight
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<p>Bill, Van, and Wos discuss the Sopranos’ family vacation gone awry </p> <div id="bjV8Bl"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 152px; position: relative;"><iframe src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/episode/0BDtZGDwbvs4a2uAaaG8A9" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen="" allow="encrypted-media;"></iframe></div></div>
<p id="PzuGL7"><br><a href="https://open.spotify.com/episode/0BDtZGDwbvs4a2uAaaG8A9"><em>The Ringer</em>’s Bill Simmons is joined</a> by Van Lathan and Wosny Lambre to discuss <em>The Sopranos</em> Season 6, Episode 13: “Soprano Home Movies.”</p>
<p id="X9smRd">Host: Bill Simmons<br>Guests: Van Lathan and Wosny Lambre<br>Producer: Kyle Crichton</p>
<p id="P01azY"><strong>Subscribe: </strong><a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/5tObaoAimbLiA7vtj3f7RS">Spotify</a></p>
https://www.theringer.com/2021/9/24/22691116/the-sopranos-hall-of-fame-the-bobby-tony-fightBill SimmonsVan LathanWosny Lambre