Schrödinger’s Mob Boss: The Sopranos Sessions

Matt Zoller Seitz and Alan Sepinwall’s critical compendium gives a three-dimensional view of planet Sopranos and Chris Bateman delights in the details

The man’s eyes begin to swell behind his glasses as the cable tightens around his neck, suffocating him. A grin (or is it a grimace?) slowly plays out on the perpetrator’s face; he is enjoying the moment.

Two gangsters sit together in a van deep in the woods, one has a wound to the forehead, the other is missing a shoe. Somewhere outside, a psychotic Russian gangster is on the loose, probably wanting to kill them. Freezing cold and hungry, they find some condiments in the glove compartment and in their desperation eat them, while trying to orchestrate a way out of the dangerous circumstances they find themselves in.

A psychiatrist, hands by her side, sits in her angular, modernist chair, struggling to keep her composure. She readjusts her glasses to distract from this momentary lapse in her cool as she gently probes her angry patient, slowly provoking him into realising his emotions, exposing the dark forces that drive his psyche into an increasingly self-destructive rage. 

Trivial Raised Up

From its debut in 1999, through seven seasons and 86 episodes, David Chase’s The Sopranos changed how television dramas were made. It lit the creative flame for a medium which was once regarded by the New Yorker as a place where the “trivial is raised up”, into the medium that today many argue has become more powerful than cinema, a place where assumptions are challenged, thrills and shocks are issued, all the while sending us into hysterics (and tears). The Sopranos also commented on us, on society and our roles in it, and just about everything else you could squeeze into a one-hour episode on a Sunday night. It is a well-worn statement to make nowadays, but The Sopranos paved the way for our Golden Era of television, laying down the path for Breaking Bad, Game of Thrones, The Affair and countless other high quality television dramas. It also set in motion a new way of consuming television: box sets, binge watching, on demand and streaming services all came of age in a post-Sopranos world.

Deserving of a show of such complexities, and the near-universal praise it continues to receive, Abrams Press has published The Sopranos Sessions, by Matt Zoller Seitz and Alan Sepinwall. A compendium of encyclopaedic writings and commentaries on every single episode of the show, it also includes essays, long-form interviews with creator David Chase and a selection of the authors’ writing from the archives. An immense collection of knowledge, discussion and critical reflection on practically every aspect of the show built over the years that Seitz and Sepinwall spent writing about The Sopranos for the New Jersey Star Ledger – the very same newspaper that Tony picks up off his lawn at the beginning of all but one of the seven seasons (namely season five when, we are reminded, it is instead run over by Meadow’s car) – this is a book that will satisfy even the most hardcore Sopranos fan.

Obliterated in the Sweep of History

From a huge reveal by Chase in the opening lines (or is it?) to some academic-level detail and analysis in the footnotes (want to know the past career of that extra in Season 6, episode 4? – it’s in there). Despite providing enough detail to satisfy even the most ardent fringes of Sopranos fandom, The Sopranos Sessions also caters well for the general reader, offering enough context to the analysis to keep you on track. So rich in detail, while dotted with the sort of flair that has earned the two critics such a strong reputation (among other books they have written on television, they literally wrote one called TV: The Book), The Sopranos Sessions isn’t only for reading while watching, it also works well as a casual acquaintance dipping in and out to remind yourself of classic episodes or simply to enjoy the great writing. The images presented at the introduction to this review are some of those that remain emblazoned in your mind’s eye when you cast it back to The Sopranos. Where the beauty of this book lies, is that as well as taking you inside such images, Seitz and Sepinwall connect them up, evoking a three-dimensional view of planet Sopranos where everything has context and you don’t miss out on the intricacies.

One of the book’s strong points is how well it delves into the psyche of our (anti) hero, Tony Soprano, and in particular, whether the show’s finale actually told us of his ultimate demise or not. Over 12 pages, our two authors explore the question of what actually happened at the end of the final episode, offering us possible explanations from his death being foretold in Carmela’s earlier Paris monologue “about individual woes being obliterated in the sweep of history” to a Schrödinger’s cat version of events that has the mob boss both dead and alive after the scene fades to black. The truth, which our authors revel in speculating over, is that we don’t know what happened and, as they explain, the constant pontificating over it is an attempt at a “means of reasserting control over the show” which, for the most part, explained itself very clearly and left little ambiguity around the plot for fans to debate over. Sometimes, they offer, it can be fun to be “baffled or challenged or frustrated by art”.

Less Yakking, More Whacking

Alongside the excellent analysis and discussion, roughly one fifth of the book and one of its most insightful sections is committed to a series of interviews with David Chase. These interviews give a greater depth of perspective and context around the show. The first part of the David Chase Sessions, which take the form of transcribed interviews, delves into his background, the origins of his career and how he discovered James Gandolfini – “a sweetie-pie (but)… nasty and unpleasant if he had to be”. Another enjoyable aspect of the interviews is that they demonstrate Chase’s ability to instinctively drive the plot towards much darker, more violent themes. In trying, unsuccessfully, to pitch the show (Fox had already turned him down), he reveals the moment he realises that the show needs more violent gangster tropes, or “less yakking, more whacking”. Hence the genesis of the above mentioned “College” episode, where we first see Tony commit murder, strangling former rival gangster turned informant, Fabian Petrulio. Again and again, this insight and detail serves us well in providing a more contextualised, and better informed viewing (and re-watching) experience.

The Sopranos Sessions may, to the unquestioning eye, be marked down as a fan’s companion piece, something for the diehards alone. However, to do so would be to wholly miss the point of this fascinating, authoritative book. Across essays, interviews and reflections, it tells the story of The Sopranos, probably the most influential television show of the modern era and one that serves as a reflective artwork, holding a mirror up to America, to capitalism, to notions of masculinity and so much more. An absolute must for Sopranos fans, ‘Sessions is also recommended to anyone who enjoys reading great criticism, or who has ever watched any of the great television of the 21^st century and wondered what sort of mind can come up with such incredible, powerful storytelling.

The Sopranos Sessions by Matt Zoller Seitz and Alan Sepinwall is published by Abrams.