Miss ya, Livia

The Sopranos slogs on

by Robert David Sullivan

Don't stay at home just to watch the third-season opener of The Sopranos (Sunday at 9 p.m.), and don't let anyone watch it who isn't already a fan of the series. HBO is running the first two episodes together this weekend because they're too weak to stand by themselves -- a strategy akin to an overpriced restaurant's serving double portions of spoiled meat. The third episode is an improvement, but it will still cause new viewers to wonder why this gangster drama inspires such devotion.

It was hard for me to watch the new episodes with an open mind, since I saw last year's finale as a fitting end to the entire series. The reason has to do with producer David Chase's original premise for The Sopranos, which opened with New Jersey mob boss Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) consulting a therapist about his anxiety attacks, many of them triggered by his manipulative mother, Livia (the late Nancy Marchand, who briefly appears in Sunday's second episode). A few of my friends with mental-health backgrounds found this sensitive-killer gimmick tough to swallow, but they appreciated the satire of Prozac psychiatry. Things got even better when Tony used his therapist's advice not to get out of crime but to get more out of it. Still, much of the dramatic tension on The Sopranos came from not knowing how Tony might change after delving into his own soul. I never expected him to enter the Witness Protection Program, but it seemed possible that he'd tone down the violence in his crime family (a goombah Gorbachev?) or do more to shield his children from it. (Or maybe his efforts to get in touch with himself would simply dull his reflexes and get him killed by one of the young morons in his crew.)

Last year's finale made it pretty clear that Tony is, and always will be, a psychopath. His execution of long-time friend "Big Pussy" Bonpensiero was a satisfying end to the storyline that had Big Pussy turning government informant, but it took some of the mystery out of Tony's character. Any genuine change in his personality now would be even more implausible than it was in the pilot, and it's getting tougher for us to stay on his side. I enjoyed watching him outwit his monstrous mother and his charmless Uncle Junior, but the leftover enemies at the start of the new season -- including his sister Janice and some nondescript FBI agents -- are too ineffectual to take seriously. As for Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco), it was clear from the beginning of the series that she's not the top shrink in the tri-state area. Her infatuation with a bad-boy client now makes her seem pathetic.

And irrelevant. She's missing from the season opener, as are Uncle Junior and Livia -- and, of course, Big Pussy and Richie Aprile, both killed at the end of last season. The sudden absence of so many characters gives the episode an empty feel reminiscent of Three's Company's trying to carry on without Suzanne Somers and the Ropers. Temporarily leaving Godfather territory, Chase provides an update of the film The Conversation, with the FBI stepping up its surveillance of the (biological) Soprano family. This plot device gives us an overview of the characters (Meadow at college, Carmela at tennis lessons, etc.), but without the deftness of last year's montage set to Sinatra's "A Very Good Year." It also leads to broader comedy than we've become used to on this show (e.g., fun with skimpy tennis outfits) and a barrage of pop-culture references (a meshing of the theme from Peter Gunn and the Police's "Every Breath You Take" is clever before it's run into the ground). I do like the FBI's code names: Tony is tagged "der Bingle," referring to his strip-club hangout (Bada Bing!) and doubtless an allusion to Bing Crosby, another problematic father figure. Anthony Junior becomes "Baby Bing."

Episode two includes a scene with Livia that's been written to match -- sort of -- leftover footage with the now-deceased Marchand (it's reported that some computer wizardry was also involved). She's never in the same shot with any other actor, and Gandolfini looks uncomfortable yelling at someone who isn't there, as if he'd been dropped into Who Framed Roger Rabbit. We can be thankful that the Lord takes her in the same episode, but a scene at her funeral reception is long and not terribly funny, unless you can't get enough of the transparently selfish Janice (Aida Turturro).

The third episode has beefier storylines about Christopher (Michael Imperioli), who finds that it's tough to be a "made man," and the two Soprano kids. The focus on the younger characters breathes some life into the show, as does a new emphasis on politics. Peter Riegert joins the cast as a corrupt New Jersey assemblyman (how do they come up with this stuff?), and Uncle Junior, sounding like a bitter Republican under Bill Clinton, tartly dismisses Tony's claim that the family business is prospering under his leadership: "This economy is so robust, you get credit for shit you had nothing to do with."

As long as HBO doesn't let Clinton push his way onto the set for a cameo, The Sopranos may be able to shake its rotting-fish stink.