Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this- T. Soprano, Jersey philosopher and "waste management consultant"

I’ve been thinking for quite some time that television truly is an instrument of the Devil (well, if I believed in the Devil, I would think that). Like most people who grew up in Western civilization, it played no small role in my early development, but whatever value the glass teat once had to me has been drowned in a sea of reality shows, pointless singing auditions (what the hell is American Idol if not an overhyped karaoke session?), and depressing news. I’ve taken up the lost practice of reading to fill up my evenings, and feel much better for it.

Every now and then, a TV show does happen along that comes close to reinstating my faith in the tube as a legitimate medium for real creativity. Most recently (in the past ten years, anyway), HBO has hosted two series that I wish more television producers would learn from. Deadwood was tragically killed in the crib after a mere three seasons, but it made every Western series and half the cowboy movies ever made look quaint and almost silly in comparison (that said, I’m still a huge fan of Rawhide). And then there’s The Sopranos, agreed by many to be one of the best TV dramas of all time.

It took me a few episodes to warm up to The Sopranos, and I was initially turned off by what seemed to be an uncomfortable similarity to Analyze This. However, by episode two or three, I was reeled in by the depth of the characters (like series creator David Chase, I thought James Gandolfini made a perfect gangster after seeing him in True Romance). The tangled plots, the internal conflicts, the measured use of violence, the ambiguities of everything from organized crime to religion to married life- it’s amazing how deep Chase and his team of writers go. Throw in no small amount of humor, a willingness to take risks (how they got away with some of the racial stuff is beyond me), a whole lot of New Jersey scenery (including the kind that dances without a top), and some outstanding acting, and what you have is a masterpiece that transcends the notoriously tight strictures of the Mafia genre.

In case you’ve never bothered to take notice, the series, season one in particular, is about a Jersey mob boss named Tony Soprano (Gandolfini). An almost perfect blend of gentleman and psychopath, Tony is having problems with his crew, his domestic situation, his health (a series of panic attacks and blackouts force him to seek the help of psychiatrist Dr. Melfi, played by Goodfellas alumnus Lorraine Bracco), and just about every other aspect of mob life in general (he constantly bemoans the lack of good men in the Mafia in modern times). His mom is a roaring pain in the balls, his wife is bitchy and always on his case, and he can’t find a way to keep his mouthy kids in line. And then there’s the government, forever waiting to drag him to the nice long prison stint.

Season one consists of thirteen episodes, and is by far the most light-hearted. Chase reveals in the interview that’s part of the special features that he didn’t have any real idea where he was going with the storyline, and things do seem a little less structured than they’d become over subsequent seasons. That, of course, is in no way a bad thing; I like the fact that the writers allow us to ease into the world of the Sopranos slowly at first. There’s plenty of violence, swearing, in-jokes, and complicated turmoil between the characters, but a few of the episodes (like “College” in particular, where Tony takes his daughter Meadow on a visit to a university, and runs into a former associate) are nearly self-contained stories. In fact, Chase indicates in the interview that his original intention was to have more of these stand-alone vignette-type episodes, but that the demand for a running storyline became too strong.

Again, the strength of the show and this season lies primarily in the area of character development. While guys like Paulie Walnuts (played by real-life mobster Tony Sirico), Silvio Dante (a role created for Bruce Springsteen guitarist Steven Van Zandt, who had no prior acting experience), and hothead playboy Christopher Moltisanti (played by Michael Imperioli, who starred in Goodfellas as the kid who gets killed by Joe Pesci’s character) seem more like Mafioso caricatures than serious villains, there’s something both dangerous and likable about them, which I consider a real feat. In fact, it’s Tony’s own mother Livia (played by Nancy Marchand, who actually died of lung cancer a few seasons in) that seems to be the character with the fewest redeeming qualities. Given the nagging nature of his relatives, it’s no wonder that the guy feels more at home with criminals, hustlers, and assassins.

Anyway, if you want to see a show that thoroughly lives up to every bit of its hype, make a mad dash for The Sopranos. Season one is the sensible place to start, since most of the main characters are introduced to viewers there, although each season has its own temporary players that sometimes don’t make it out alive. The special features include a couple of featurettes and the David Chase interview, which is quite informative to anyone interested in learning how a fairly minor screenwriter/producer (I know he won some Emmys back in the day, but I don’t regard The Rockford Files or Northern Exposure, both of which he wrote and produced episodes for, as TV essentials) went on to single-handedly create a series that’s every bit as hard-hitting as the Jersey capos that fill its frames.