Greatest Mob TV Series?

After the fall of the Gotti regime and the rise to prominence of the nondescript Genovese Family as the most powerful Mafia group in NYC, it appears that, for most criminologists and crime buffs, 'the thrill is gone'. There's still FBI busts and uncovered Mob graveyards here and there, but the high-rolling days of the Capones and the Gottis, the glamor and glitz of GoodFellas and The Godfather appear to be gone for good. Yet, take heart, Cosa Nostra fans, here come The Sopranos as a nostalgic blast from the past.

Writer David Chase deserves enormous kudos for deftly avoiding all the pitfalls that could have turned this into a flash-in-the-pan. Seeming to borrow more heavily from Vince Mc Mahon than Quentin Tarantino, he instinctively developed some characters at a slower pace than others, raised and lowered profiles at a pop-up toaster rate, and shuffled scenarios and plot twists like a Vegas pit boss. As a result, just when we thought the First Season had made its mark, it was eclipsed by the Second Season. We didn't think he could take it much further, but, voila! the Third Season provided the cure. Still we remained skeptical, and now we have the Fourth Season keeping us eager for Number Five.

This is not a show for the Religious Right. Chase broke lots of rules in tossing in softcore porn during Seasons #2 and #3 that, along with Scarface-class profanity, made this off-limits to family viewing. He may have shot himself in the foot in doing so; despite garnering a great share of Emmy awards, he placed this far and away from the hopes of moving on to Big Four (ABC/CBS/NBC/FOX) exposure that would have led to the immortality it may have deserved. Yet he has made his mark: Sopranos is unquestionably the first cable series that will ever be compared to its regular TV counterparts as one of the all-time boob tube greats.

What makes this work is its appeal to the Boomers market, featuring a cast of characters losing their battle with Father Time. Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini), billed as an 'average guy' Mob boss in New Jersey, is going through a major mid-life crisis, chasing all the tail he can find despite the long-suffering forbearance of his wife Carmela (Edie Falco). Their kids Meadow (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) and AJ (Robert Iler) are living in denial, though by Season Four they more than suspect that their Dad isn't just a waste management executive.

Tony lives under the harrowing pressure of a NYC Family led by Carmine (Tony Lip) and his underboss Johnny Sack (Vincent Curatola), trying to undermine his continuing excursions into HUD racketeering. The 'have and have not' mentality is eating away at his top enforcer Paulie (great job by Tony Sirico), while his pimp consiglieri Silvio (Steven Van Zandt) does his best to hold the fort with his 'old school' philosophy. Things are falling apart as a ruthless predator, crew captain Ralphie (Joe Pantoliano), grows more powerful, and heir apparent Christopher (Michael Imperioli), Tony's nephew, wanes under his heroin addiction.

One stroke of genius is the introduction of Dr. Melfi(Lorraine Bracco), Tony's psychiatrist, who doubles as deus ex machina and mother confessor throughout the series. It is here where we are able to delve into the psyche of the prototypical mobster, as well as review the logic behind Tony's sociopathic behavior. We see how his dysfunctional childhood is represented by his Uncle Junior (Dominic Chianese) and the Old Guard continuing to distract the evolution of the Family in dealing with a 21st century playing field. Melfi supplies Tony with artificial providence, a silent deity listening as Soprano wrestles with his demons in coming up with answers to questions he buried in his subconscious like corpses of his victims on the Jersey shore.

We're treated to it all: strip palaces, bacchanalian banquets, drive-by shootings, shakedowns, internecine feuds, trips to Italy, yachts, mansions, the Lifestyles of the Rich and Infamous. Chase keeps it rolling, cutting to everyday scenes at the Soprano home as Tony and Carmela deal with the hormonal explosions of their adolescents, then to FBI HQ and impending doom, and back to some wiseguy hoseplay at the Bada Bing! strip club. It's Dallas meets Donnie Brasco, with Chase's kaleidoscope revolving so quickly that the effect seldom has a chance to wear off.

The fun part in Season Four is when Christopher is brought to a recovery meeting in which he is confronted by the Family in a closed-door session with a counselor. This parody will be remembered as an immortal scene in TV history as the Sopranos find it impossible to conform to social standards in dealing with Chrissie's problem. The unfortunate subject finds himself in an emergency room with a hairline skull fracture as a result. If this weren't enough, Chase caps it off with the gruesome murder of one of his main characters with some gory details that will also go down in TV history for obvious reasons.

Many Christian groups will condemn The Sopranos for having gone above and beyond, but I'll have to disagree. This is an extraordinarily well-done series, with soundtracks and editing that have set a standard for early 21st century TV. Its ironies are calculated and incisive, and the moral of the story is the futility of short-track living in finding lasting reward and achievement in contemporary society. If not for the language and nudity, the decline and fall of Tony Soprano should be a modern-day fable for its generation, just as Scarface should've warned the gang-rappers about the inevitability of the grave two decades years ago.

Buy The Sopranos and keep it away from the kiddies. It's a ton of viewing pleasure and a smorgasbord of food for thought.