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THE SOPRANOS Reviewed by Brad Meltzer (These reviews originally appeared on e.findlaw.com, and the best part of the deal was, Brad got to watch each episode a week early!) Go to Episode Review: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 January 23, 2000 EPISODE 2: They Sent It To Me For Free! So there I am, sitting in front of my favorite TV (or—as we called it when we were little—"Mommy"), waiting for the second episode of The Sopranos to start. More important, unlike the first episode, I didn't have to wait until Sunday night to watch it. Indeed, now that I'm a bigshot reviewer, I got an advance copy from HBO in one of those cool, black videocassette boxes they usually reserve for wedding videos and other moments of physical awkwardness (home movies, graduation scenes, you, in the cape from your old Batman costume, even though it's six months after Halloween and you're twenty-four). Anyway—and here's the disclaimer—by sending me the copy early, HBO guaranteed I'd already like it. That's right—I admit it—you send me something free and I'm in love. How else do you think they got those fantastic blurbs for You've Got Mail? ("The best date movie since Benny and Joon!" "Skip, don't walk, to the theater!"). I'm thinking once I stuff it into the VCR, all I'll have to do is pick out my praiseworthy adjectives. And then, disaster strikes. It's a few minutes into the episode, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, one of the characters (mobster Tony or sister Janice—I'm too blown away to remember which one and far too lazy to rewind) says, "Let's not go there today." My body tenses. I physically wince. Did one of my favorite shows on television actually just vomit up an awful cliché? No, it was out of context—it couldn't be. And then, it happens again. In the midst of an already-melodramatic African-American rally, another character says they've been "picketing the place 24-7." 24-7? Did he say "24-7?" Again, I brush it off. I focus on the good . . . the happy . . . the moment when Tony—to show concern for his ailing Uncle June—blurts, "Now what's all this shit I'm hearing about your heart?" And then it hits. I hear the worst (okay, not the absolute worst) three words you can say on television. It comes right at the moment when daughter Meadow gets her driver's license. The family's sitting around the dinner table...the announcement is made...her father smiles...and Meadow's Aunt Janice leans over and says—here it comes now—the whole thing happens in slow motion for me, and I hear in that warped voice they use for dream sequences and voicing Satan: "YOU...GO...GIIIIIIIIRL!" I look up in shock. All I can think about is that day last year, when I had an inspired idea that I quickly scribbled into my vast idea-book (read: scrap of napkin I had just wiped my mouth with). It was a scene I was dying to write—a scene where two characters playfully use every cheesy cliché imaginable. It'd go something like this: "You go, girl!" "Go, girl? Talk to the hand!" "Don't go there, girlfriend." "Trust me, I've already been there—done that." "Let's get a forest green car and some Pottery Barn accessories!" "No, let's quote more Seinfeld episodes—even the bad ones!" "Mmmmmm, I wanna sex you up!" Okay, you get the idea. A funny thing happened, though: the Austin Powers sequel did it first. Am I bitter? Of course not (pasty, brown-toothed Brit-bastard!), but the point of the Mike Myers scene was that it was supposed to put all of America on notice: no more of those damn cliches! And yet what do we see on what is one of the best written shows out there? "You go, girl!" You go, girl? As if! (Just testing you there.) Of course, being The Sopranos, there are other moments that make up for the lack of judgment: when son, A.J., tells his Mom he has to do a science project on DNA, his Mom gasps in helpful excitement and, in a moment that so brilliantly real that it hurt, blurts out her single best source for up-to-the-minute scientific research, "I just saw...on Inside Edition...!" Or this inspired exchange between mobster Tony and a World War II vet: "Do you ever watch the History Channel?" "Television?" "Naw, it's the History Channel." It's those moments that make it all worth it and convince me the clichés were just momentary aberrations. I mean, let's not forget head mob boss Uncle June wondering if he should get new glasses because he doesn't like how he looks when he's being cuffed on TV. Or better yet, Grandma Livia's classic sourpuss reaction while watching Emeril Lagasse: "He's not even washing his hands!" (I'm telling you, these people are my family!) Plus, just to make sure we weren't dozing off, they do another singing-in-the-car scene (see my review of Episode 1). Last week's singing-in-the-car was used to flesh out Tony's character. This week, it is used to develop sister Janice's (after a forced-but-nice meeting with her mother, she's singing Paul Simon's Mother and Child Reunion while smoking dope and driving at the same time). Call me the-slowest-most-dense-reviewer you've ever met, but I'm sensing a theme here. The dichotomy (total uses of the word "dichotomy" in my two reviews: two) between brother and sister; the parallels between siblings; the fun-ness of singing in the car (total uses of the word "fun-ness" in the entire intelligent universe: one). So what's the result? It's only the second episode! I know it has to set up the plots and fill in some new motivations—I just hope they'll do it without Tony wearing a Wild Thang T-shirt. Otherwise, The Sopranos will quickly become what it was created to avoid: just another mob show. LAW-BREAKING MOMENT OF THE WEEK: Bribing the local preacher. 'Nuff said. © Brad Meltzer 
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