2. The Sopranos
How can I talk about The Sopranos in 2021? It's a show that really needs no introduction at this point, enjoying huge amounts of acclaim for the entirety of its original run, as well as a resurgence in popularity over the last year or so, but I suppose I can start off by talking about where I came in with the show. Like a lot of people, I didn't watch The Sopranos until last year, so I was well aware of its mighty reputation. I'm no hipster or contrarian -just look at the amount of awards-botherers on my list- but something about just how heavy the acclaim for The Sopranos was made me a little... hesitant. Could it really be that good? Yes, and then some. There's a constant debate around a handful of the prestige shows (namely Mad Men, Breaking Bad, The Wire, and of course this), about which one deserves the label of the greatest of all time. And while there's one other show I prefer over it, it's hard to think of any drama series that packs the same amount of heft or punch as David Chase's monolithic gangster saga
So what makes it such a great crime show? Well, for starters, it's not really about the crime. The Sopranos is a character study of Tony Soprano: father, husband, son and head of one of the major crime families in New Jersey. The show never frames Tony's criminal exploits as the main source of the action, instead just painting all of the robbery, extortion and murder as another part of his daily grind. It's a lot more domestic than its flashy gangster contemporaries, and because it's set in a world where The Godfather and Goodfellas exist, it's extremely self-aware in how it uses mafia tropes, spending most of its run dissecting and subverting them wherever possible. Not that the show doesn't play any of it straight-the interconnecting politics of the mob are frequently fascinating- but the main focus is squarely on the character drama, and Tony's struggles with severe anxiety and depression
It's a portrait of what it means to be a man in the 21st century, set in the most hyper-masculine of worlds, where Tony's duties deny him of any vulnerability, constantly requiring him to perform the role of a cold, stoic crime boss, when really, he's just a man trying to make up for a lack of love in his life. The show never excuses any of Tony's many, many sins, but it makes use of a fascinating duality to show how a man like this contains multitudes. His hardships are real, and occasionally recognisable, and the show finds space to empathise with him even when he's crossing the line. He kills, steals and cheats, but does that make his pain any less real? This is where the therapy scenes come in and make the show something really special, a place where Tony can be completely open and reveal a side of himself that doesn't really have a place in any of the spaces he occupies. The dialogue in these scenes lay out Tony's inner monologues, but it's not just exposition- this is where the show gives itself time to fully develop the drama and process how it's affecting Tony. Melfi is a great character here because in many ways, she's us: listening to this man and his most honest and emotional and trying to understand what makes him tick
It's a vital part of the show that I just can't fathom skipping, especially with how frequently electric the back-and-forth between James Gandolfini and Lorraine Bracco is. This is one of the best casts on television, make no mistake about that, and every actor is putting in a practically perfect performance. Because the show is essentially orbiting around Tony and his many crises, every character represents another thorn in his side, but it's how dynamic and full each performance is that prevents them from ever feeling like one-dimensional inconveniences. All of them are nuanced and layered enough to support individual analysis, but I would like to single out Paulie Walnuts for a second as an example of how well the show understands how to develop a character
Paulie is perhaps the simplest character in The Sopranos. He doesn't have much of an arc; he's practically the exact same person in the last episode as he is when we first meet him, and yet he's one of the greatest creations in the history of television. He's a man who's sole existence is to either aggravate or be aggravated, and yet he never feels anything less than human, even at his most animated. It's a perfect combination of performance, writing, and a little bit of alchemy that I'm not sure I fully understand, and it's a testament to how well the show understands its world and all of the players in it that this literal cartoon character becomes one of the most enduring and bizarrely likable in the entirety of the medium
A huge part of that also comes from the incredibly specific tone. This is an uber-heavy mob show about a man with serious mental health issues, but Chase excels at finding the comedy in just how ridiculous the world of the mafia can be. There's no sole source of comic relief here. All of it is over-the-top and a natural source of humour, but the show always knows how to balance the light and the dark, effortlessly transitioning from the gut-wrenching sight of an embittered mob boss succumbing to a terminal illness to the high farce of two hapless wiseguys lost in the woods. The strength in this ensemble lie in how much personality each of them bring to their respective characters. They're heightened and larger-than-life but that's precisely what makes each of them so unforgettable. Even the minor characters make an impression, and the strength of all of these clashing personalities makes this show so much richer than practically any other show of its kind
But in terms of performances, I have to give special kudos to James Gandolfini. His is the greatest performance I've ever seen, in anything, hands down. Every expression, every little gesture and mannerism is perfectly tooled to paint a detailed an complex portrait of a man in constant freefall. This is the show credited with starting our collective fascination with the difficult man archetype, but none of the characters he inspired are quite on Tony's level in terms of sheer depth and complexity. The show explores his inner life in such forensic detail, from the dueling aspects of his home life to his surreal, often strangely beautiful dream sequences, and all of it is tied together by the absolute masterclass from Gandolfini
It's every bit as good as its reputation suggests, and there's a reason it's endured as well as it has. The epic saga of Tony Soprano is as close to perfection as TV gets, and its a testament to how well David Chase and team told his story that the audience is constantly growing even 14 years after the show finished. Speaking of the finale, it might have been controversial at the time, but now, it's harder to think of a show with a better ending. The cut heard around the world may have brought the narrative to a crushing halt, but that's sort of the point. By leaving Tony on a candidly observed high, Chase leaves his immediate future unknown, but his ultimate fate all but confirmed by the grim endings that so many of the characters have faced up to this point. This isn't the end of his story, but it's where we as an audience bow out and leave him to it. We were, after all, just passengers on his chaotic journey through life. But it's crucially open to interpretation; whatever your theory is of where Tony ended up, it's important that you don't stop believin'
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