Sopranos III

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My son Jake has been watching the ‘Sopranos’ for the first time.

He sent me a message on Thursday letting me know that he was ready to watch the last episode of the first season.

“Want to watch it with me?” He asked.

Of course, I did.

We didn’t stop….

…back on the Sopranos train for the 3rd viewing.

It’s an impossible show to turn away from.

Gandolfini, Falco, Marchand…

…the acting was amazing. The writing was even better.

Just television perfection.

And like the first two times through I was struck by the phrases and flashes of temper that were ever-present in the generation of men who shared Tony’s timeline.

“Why are Italian men like that?” My wife asked.

I don’t have anywhere near the temper that my Dad or a couple of my brother’s have…but I’m not ‘Mr. Happy Go Lucky’ either.

“We just idle a little higher than other people,” I said.

And the food!

Tony is always going to the fridge and grabbing a handful of capicolla.

The sauce always looks perfect.

I got a message from an Italian-American childhood buddy.

“I have a question,” he said. “Did your father or grandfather ever call tomato sauce ‘gravy’?”

“Never!” I responded. “Sauce!”

They say ‘gravy’ a lot in ‘The Sopranos’.

There’s only one heartbreaking thing about this viewing and that’s knowing that Gandolfini is gone.

I still can’t quite fathom it.

Yet, the art lives on and it’s worth watching again and again and again.

“Is this the best series ever?” Jake asked.

“Yep. By a wide margin.”

Can’t look away.

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