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 30, 2000 EPISODE 3: How to Build a Mob Villain In the Post-Joe Pesci Era Here's how I got this week's episode delivered to me: first, HBO had it (duh, right?). They send it to Cindy at FindLaw. She sends it to Brandt, who's the only one who has the address of my Kennebunkport-style compound. So now, as this week's deadline looms and we're running out of time, Brandt has to figure out how to get the tape to me. But...and I stress the but... Fed-Ex is closed... the messenger services are done for the night... and Brandt and I are both determined to make this thing happen without actually having to do it ourselves. So what do we do? We give it a little...mob style. What's mob style (notice italics), you ask? Lookie here: Brandt runs down to the street, hails a cab, and tells the cabbie, "Here's twenty bucks, a videotape, and Brad's address—bring him the tape." It's a good plan, you're thinking, but how do we know the cabbie won't just toss the tape out the window and cackle to himself as he jets off to the Sizzler buffet bar? Where's this famous... mob style? Well, Brandt cunningly adds, "When you get to Brad's, they'll be another ten-spot waiting for you." Impressed with Brandt's use of the word "ten-spot," the cabbie drove the three blocks and handed me the tape. But until he got there—I was actually a bit nervous. Would the tape get here in one piece? Would I make the deadline? Would my legion of fans (read: my mother and the rest of the family, who've just learned to use the Internet) be disappointed? The whole experience had me a little concerned. But was I scared? No—never. Why? Because in this scenario, there was no villain. No threat. No one working against us. (Ready for the big, oh-so-subtle transition?) Here it goes: Topic sentence: In many ways, that villain-vacuum is what series creator David Chase is currently dealing with in the third episode of The Sopranos. You see, after killing, arresting, and giving-a-stroke to his three major villains from last season, he needs a new black hat around town. So, how do you build a villain? Do you just make him mean? Tough? Unflinching? Or do you just give him a black mask and a cape and tell him, "Breathe heavy... and, oh yeah, go kill that blond kid with the two droids and the light-saber. Yeah, yeah, your son." In truth, villains are hard. No, I take that back. They're really hard. And mob villains? They're impossible. I mean, they're easy to design—give the actor a baseball bat and ask him to do the full-Joe-Pesci—Do I amuse you? Do I amuse you!? Or even better, give him the cotton and have him go for the Brando—Blah blah blah blah blah, Fredo. But when it comes right down to it, we've seen that a good million times. Indeed, it's not easy to beat the cliché—but as always, Chase & Friends never disappoint. This week, in order to deal with their recent lack of a villain, they offer us Richie, played by David Proval. Proval is a great actor, complete with steely dark features, but is that all you need for a villain? Not a chance. First you've got to make us scared—which is why Richie takes a full coffee pot (I'm talking the restaurant kind) and smashes some guy in the head with it. Nice touch. Later in the episode, he runs over the same guy with a car (then backs up and runs over him again). Also, nicely done. But are we scared? Naw, Pesci's already done it with a lot more frothing at the mouth. So where do you go from there? The best place of all: inside the character's head. Just released from a ten-year prison sentence, Richie tells us, "I did a lotta meditating in the can." Okay, he thinks he's a thinker. Then, we see him doing yoga at the local health club (a mobster doing yoga!?). Okay, maybe he is a thinker. Then, we see him in the mall (at Sharper Image!) meeting with Tony. It's a brilliant move by Chase—put the character in a setting we all know and suddenly the caricature starts looking frightenly real (and allows for lines like, "I'm walkin' through the Food Court, this fuckin' kid spills fried-rice all over me!") And once Chase is done there, he supplements the flesh-out by letting Richie interact with the other characters as well. In the span of a few minutes, we learn that Richie wants to rekindle his old romance with Tony's sister Janice (one way to hurt Tony); that he's going to be spending some dark time with Tony's rival, Uncle Joon (second way to hurt Tony); and that he knows Tony's mother Livia from the old neighborhood (third way to hurt Tony, and the source of this great exchange between Richie and Livia): "Remember me—you used to yell at me for beeping my car horn when I came over to pick up Janice?" "Pimps beep." Now we're getting somewhere. We're seeing where Richie fits in—we're seeing who he is. Of course, it's not all heavy-handed—we get it in the context of The Sopranos 'great everyday family moments: we watch Janice's intellectual explanation of daughter Meadow's biological need to walk on the wild side (to which Tony tells his frizzy-haired sibling, "Why don't you go get a fuckin' permanent or something); we see Tony eating Honey-Comb (Honey-Comb!) cereal and reading the back of the box!; and we hear Meadow use the f-word in front of her parents. Their response? Tony: "Oh!" Carmela: "Eh!" Tony: "Oh!" Best of all, we get another, yes another, character-singing scene (not in a car, but that's now three shows with three scenes of characters singing! I'm feeling pretty, I tell ya! Real pretty!). This time, it's Meadow and her friend singing TLC's No Scrubs as they make themselves breakfast. I'm not sure of the symbolism just yet (daughter hates daddy—Electra on the loose), but I'm telling you, I'm onto something. And when we finally get back to villain-to-be Richie, we see him getting his first taste of sex after prison with the Bada-Bing girls (they actually said, "Here are the Bing girls!"). The sad part is, we're sitting there watching as Richie the New Villain can't get it up. That's the masterstroke—I mean, if a ten-year, sex-deprived mobster can't get it up, you better believe there's some sick nastiness floating around that brain. And when we see him waiting for Tony—standing outside the brightly-lit front window of Victoria's Secret and staring coldly at the bra-and-underwear clad, headless mannequins, we know there're dark days ahead. It's a disturbing recipe for a villain and one we'll be enjoying all season long. I got me a fork and spoon—and the napkin already tucked into my shirt. Mob-style. LAW-BREAKING MOMENT OF THE WEEK: Uncle Joon's use of his cardiologist's office to hold a meeting. Doctor-patient privilege means it's the one place the Feds can't bug (and I quote, "Federal Marshals are so far up my ass, I can taste Brill Creme."). Recipe for a Villain By David Chase (yummy good) 1/4 Cup: Strong, silent, angry type 1 Tbsp: Mob-style short-cropped hair 10 Yr: Prison sentence 1 Bag: Silk shirts and pulled-too-high shiny slacks 1/2 Tbs: Yoga 3 Tsp: Old family connections 2 Piercing eyes 1/4 Cup: Can't get it up with the Bada-Bing girls 1/2 Tbsp: Coffee-pot in the head A pinch: Run over guy with your car (Repeat) 1 Box: Honey-Comb © Brad Meltzer Previous Episode | Next Episode