Commendatori

The four stooges (Tony, Chris, Paulie and Sil) travel to Naples to broker a car smuggling deal with a don who, it turns out, is too far gone to deal with. His lovely daughter (Sofia Milos) fills in for the old coot, which initially throws Tony off his game, having to deal with a woman boss. Chris spends the whole time stoned. Tony meets Furio and decides he wants the pony-tailed boy. Back at home, Pussy is still dealing with the feds, and growing increasingly uneasy about having to do so. The episode was shot in part in Naples, and the beautiful locations contrast vividly with gritty New Jersey. Paulie gets some big laughs in his efforts to speak Italian.

Tony goes to Italy to discuss a business deal.

I never tire of watching 'Commendatori' as it has a bit of everything.

The best aspects of the episode are the brilliant character moments involving the likes of Tony, Carmela, Paulie and Christopher. Certain myths and strongly held beliefs are dispelled by the reality and 'regularness' of life.

Paulie is absolutely hilarious in his blinkered, romanticised attitude towards Italy. Every scene involving this character is a pleasure to watch and Tony Serico's performance is perfect.

Carmela supports (and gossips) when her friend Angie Bonpenseiro goes through a difficult time. These scenes are brilliantly made, not only for the drama and performances but the quality of the writing. It addresses the issues that Carmela has with her own marriage in a relatively unsaid way. Toni Kalem and Edie Falco are excellent throughout and Aida Turturro also contributes wonderfully in one excellent scene. Related to this the scenes involving Big Puss, though nasty, are very compelling.

Tony, who means business in so much of the episode, makes a surprise discovery in Italy and his scenes interacting with the Italian characters are all great. James Gandolfini leads the story brilliantly as always.

Christopher goes to Italy with full intentions of seeing the sights, but what happens is not just darkly ironic but important in his overarching character arc.

I love the cynicism of this episode in how it presents the reality behind various romanticised aspects of life. This is told in numerous scenes with fantastic visual storytelling.

For me it's a 9.5/10 but I round upwards.

It's 30 min past the beggining and it's already the third time bocelli's score begins to play. Is it supposed to be funny? Because I think it's ridiculous and hilarious. It's amazing to rewatch the sopranos because it's easier to catch these hysterical, brilliant moments, like the fact that the old fart mafioso keeps relying on the only english he has - the street names. Lol.

I watch the Naples episode of The Sopranos for probably the sixth time and am convinced more than ever that this is the finest television I've ever seen. I am awestruck by Edie Falco's kitchen scene and hallway departure at the end with Aida Turturro ("Janice"). Janice goes on one her condescending rants about the inadequacy of Mafia momma's-boy manhood, including her brother, Tony Soprano. Carmella reminds her that she's one to talk, having recently thrown her flab at the despicable, repulsive Richie Aprile. The final bit of dialog (Jovanotti's "Piove" playing in background) goes something like this:

Janice: Carm, Richie, because of his life experience in prison, he—he has a sensitivity to the plight of women.

Carmella: Oh my God. (laughs heartily). I am not even going to touch that one. But you had me going there for a while there, you really did. Oh, Janice, honey, I gotta love ya. Rick?—(laughs).

Carmella walks away from the kitchen at this point, and in an eight-second close-up as she pauses, her face becomes a study in great acting, in subtle nuances of transition. Her grin is set on cruise control, but those eyes tell you four stories. Showing genuine laughter at first, they morph into the merest hint of self-doubting introspection (Is Janice right, am I nothing but a pathetic goombah housewife?) then yield to yet a third look of "f**k it, Jan's the screwed-up one, not me. What a hoot." Yet at the same instant the eyes exude some kind of miraculously sincere warmth behind it all. All in eight seconds. Hand it to director TimVan Patten, he knew brilliance when he saw it, and brought out the best in Edie. Small wonder she got the burger-biggie awards recognizing her as the finest actress on television--ever.

It is particularly fitting that this episode opens with Tony and his crew trying to watch a bootleg DVD of The Godfather on a player that doesn't work: no matter what the boss thinks, they will never be as classy as the gangsters in Coppola's masterpiece; perhaps the broken DVD player serves as a metaphor to indicate the huge distance between Vito Corleone and Tony Soprano, the glorious past and the murky present.

That the situation is radically different emerges from another fact as well: as Tony, Chris, Paulie and Silvio travel to Naples to discuss a deal with a distant relative, they discover said man is in worse shape than Uncle Junior and has put his daughter (Sofia Milos) in charge of the family affairs. Back in the old days, no one would have given all that power to a woman, and Tony, who has always believed in male dominance when it comes to his line of work, is shocked by this revelation, not least because it marks the first time he starts having sexual fantasies involving one of his business associates. In the meantime, Pussy is in an uncomfortable position of his own, as he finds it increasingly hard to cope with his new double life.

The most notable thing in Commendatori, aside from Paulie's lame attempts at speaking Italian, is the setting: a solid half hour of the show takes place in warm, sunny, gorgeous Naples, with the visuals providing an almost lyrical beauty that contrasts nicely with the grittier look of New Jersey. At the very beginning of the episode, Tony says his favorite scene in the Godfather trilogy is the one in Part II where young Vito returns to Sicily and kills his father's murderer in the most beautiful villa. Again, the thematic relevance is clear: the natural seductiveness of Southern Italy has very little to share with the blood-soaked legacy of America. Even Tony becomes aware of this, and expresses his reservations neatly while walking on the beach with the female boss. When asked if he wants to sleep with her (actually, she uses a more vulgar word), he replies: "Yes, I do. Very much. But I don't sh*t where I eat." Sonny Corleone wouldn't have come up with a better expression.