Letters to the Editor

This letter is associated with the following article:
As "The Sopranos" enters its final chapter, Tony reluctantly faces his past -- and we reluctantly face the end of this brilliant series.
  • A good article about an indifferent series.

    I've been one of the biggest Havrilesky haters here, although I think she hates herself and life itself even more than I could. However, this is one of the best articles she has ever submitted. It shows sensitivity and understanding of The Sopranos that she has never lavished on any other series.

    The thing is...after years of trying, I've never been able to warm to this series in the slightest, after renting season disk sets and trying to watch new episodes. There was a previous TV series that effectively and quickly established the same kind of pathos and sense of wasted life that it's taken The Sopranos seasons to establish.

    That series never got heavily into the personal sorrow and anger of family life that The Sopranos detailed. It was blasted by critics and politicians for the violence it brought to broadcast TV. It was seen as selling violence to a generation - oddly, in a decade where government was selling it far more efficiently. But the old Quinn Martin-produced series The Untouchables, "Starring Robert Stack as Elliot Ness...and narrated by Walter Winchell" told the same story week after week.

    By the time the series produced "The Frank Nitti Story," the farewell to Bruce Gordon's performance as the series's regular nemesis, I could feel more sorry for the mob boss betrayed by a mysterious Mafia council than for the fumbling and wimpy Tony Soprano. And yes, The Untouchables fictionalized most of its stories; it is no more realistic than Soprano's affairs. (The real Nitti committed suicide due to being investigated over his corruption of the movie industry - including the companies and the exectives involved with The Untouchables. Too close for comfort.)

    Maybe this generation prefers to chew over its tragedies and make them more tragic, and feels the need to drag in sexuality and sentimentality, as if sex was an answer to anything. I just prefer my Greek tragedies to be finished within fifty minutes and accompanied by the ominous music of Nelson Riddle than dragged out over seasons full of crappy pop tunes.