Nine years ago this Father’s Day, on June 19, 2013, James Gandolfini died of a heart attack while on vacation with his 14-year-old son, Michael. The Sopranos star was 51.
If the misadventures of his iconically shrunken-down, yet nevertheless larger-than-life mob boss alter ego proved anything, it’s that all broken families deserve a second chance. But most importantly, they are owed the removal of the ‘broken’ denotation, considering most on the outside looking in tend to let their assumptions run wild. And who could blame them? Tragedy welcomes pain, and pain can last.
But pain is not undefeatable.
Look no further than season 5, episode 8 of HBO’s 1999-2007 flagship program to examine proof-positive evidence: at the heartbeat of the series, the “Tony Soprano” character, and the man himself, was a family man through and through. He was a barbecuing giant sincerely keen on delivering you this virtue, too, on an antipasto-fantástico platter at all costs. And we, The Sopranos family, and especially his real-life family, lost their fearless, scene-stealing leader far sooner than anyone should ever have to utter that dreaded final goodbye.
In “Marco Polo,” tensions are high and our principles couldn’t be in more denial. The episode commences with prodigal New York crew heir “Little Carmine” Lupertazzi belching out West Hempstead and Freeport pride whilst introducing the motif set to hang over the episode’s events: a painting of his entitled “Trompe-l’œil,” he says, translates to “fool the eye.”
What lies ahead: constant lies to mask what’s really going on in our conflicted characters’ eyes. Body language battery mates never seemed more in sync than through the lens of the patriarch and matriarch duo of perennial Emmy-winning James Gandolfini and Edie Falco as Tony and Carmela Soprano, respectively. They have spent the entire season separated, supposedly so hellbent on expediting rounds of divorce chicken that you can tell neither of them actually have the desire to sign the papers sign the papers. In fact, there is such speechless longing depicted between this prestige TV tandem, it’s a wonder “Linger” by The Cranberries didn’t find its way into the soundtrack selection for this movingly on-brand movie-like episode.
Oftentimes, it takes a village; but here, it takes but Carmela’s roofing father Hugh DeAngelis (Tom Aldredge) taking a fall from the rooftop for a family in shackles to return its priorities to order. In hindsight, the best thing ever for the tribe: aging Uncle Junior’s compulsive gossiping, for Hugh’s reaction to Carmela letting her mother manipulate her into withdrawing Tony’s invitation to his surprise 75th birthday bash is everything. The five-time Tony Award nominee operated as a vanilla background character up until this point, then spared no tool in the showman arsenal to make the most out of his fifteen minutes in the New York salzicc’-salivating high personality spotlight.
“I’ve known him 20 years, it’s his house! I’m not coming if the man of the house isn’t there,” Hugh screams as he storms off from the Tony-less Soprano dining room table. Tony and Carmela do spend a few acts withholding what they really feel in fear of unveiling vulnerability tossed aside during therapized Tony’s brief sabbatical from psychoanalytic treatment. However, Carmela’s hasty surrender to Hugh’s wishes foreshadows what fans most want to see unfold.
By the grace of Tony, she bumps and sets for him the perfect smackdown sent over a metaphorical backyard volleyball net that’s other end consists of the DeAngelis’ snobby “cultural” Italian friends who couldn’t have more disdain for Tony’s dressed-down schtick. In ultimately unreserved defense of Tony, Carmela confronts the reverence she very much still holds for the man she first fell head over heels in love with. His infectious charm that’s movie star-lit in all rooms he’s ever a part of, even when by the faint flame of a single tiki torch, compels her to give into Tony’s advances when they reunite in a rare romantically charged poolside scene when everyone’s gone off to bed (and Artie Bucco’s drifted away into drunken beach chair la la land).
In the episodes to come, Tony and Carmela will ironically agree to a conditional marriage reunion and Tony’s return to the home. But until Tony is hospitalized via gunshot in the following season, both will sadly ignore the reality things really are different this go-around. Such is the plight of the promiscuously-pulled strip club proprietor also sporting mafioso proclivities. And so too is the burden experienced by the mother to his children; someone who has much more on the horizon than eyerolls and intimations she doesn’t still hold love for he who wears it all on the hot sauce shirt sleeve despite a professional obligation to work in a cloak of cold-blooded captaincy.
Isn’t this what being a part of a big family in these parts is all about, anyway? Responding to absolute blowouts with cartoonish, Groundhog Day logic? Issues may not be 100 percent resolved, but everyone is still at the dinner table the next night despite their fiercest vows to eat in solidarity from the point of insult moving forward. When dinner time rears its head around again, each member of the household realizes a lot certainly happened to them that day. Sure, they may not necessarily be quick to offer up everything, anyway; but at least they know they can be around the people they would first want to share it to without getting kicked out – save for a threat to be shipped off to military school here and there, sorry A.J.
To the show that taught even the most masculinity-embroiled men in a growingly mental health-aware world to reveal the fullest depths of their souls with shameless vigor, we thank you. And to the vessel through which we were able to deal with our own woes, then apply it to self-discoveries that eventually sounded less like ramblings and more like prose, we thank James Gandolfini.
We wish his family, and all families, forced to confront the loss of the head of the house annually this day the best as they avoid being enraged by all the fun things others are doing with their fathers today, as per their social media feeds. They may have their fathers, but only you had your dad. And once a bond is made, it can never be erased. Because those who are gone, but not forgotten, are forever wrapped in your memory like chains.
The Sopranos is currently available to stream on HBO Max, and will be indefinitely. “In some way, everyone can relate to that show, regardless of whether you’re Italian or not,” said Nick Mancuso, 28, of Hauppauge. “They made that show realistic with the family aspect. Nobody turns out perfect, there’s not always a happy ending, but it just feels real.”
To those left hurting on the third Sunday of June every year – brush it off, be a man, fire up The Sopranos and the grill or order a pizz’. Your family is waiting.
