What is it that compels people to sin and give themselves continuous self-inflicted pain? This is one of the central questions raised in the otherwise largely incurious “The Many Saints Of Newark,” David Chase’s prequel film to his “Sopranos” series on HBO. To pose a related question, what coerces the elite few who have already ascended to the mountaintop of their field—Michael Jordan, George Lucas, David Chase— to want to take another crack at recreating perfection and perhaps mar their legacy in the process? To hear it from Chase’s ‘Many Saints’ character, Aldo “Hollywood Dick” Moltisanti, played by Ray Liotta—uncharacteristically spouting Buddhist wisdom—it’s the wanting, the desire in life that never subsides in us. The wanting is never-ending; whether it’s greed or filling the gaps of whatever is missing in us, we never stop wanting for more. While this is a meaty idea to explore—this fundamental flaw in human nature— it’s never really investigated with any meaningful depth in Chase’s latest “Sopranos” story, a largely uninvolving tale that raises one of the worst questions possible in cinema or TV: What is the point of all this?
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The point seems to be telling the story about the man who created Tony Soprano (played here by a young Michael Gandolfini) and some related context, but depth beyond that is sorely lacking. The man, whose dark influence is said to be responsible for Soprano’s eventual murderous reign as a mafia New Jersey don, is not Tony‘s father Giovanni “Johnny” Soprano (Jon Bernthal), but instead Dickie Moltisanti (Alessandro Nivola), the father of “Sopranos” character, Christopher Moltisanti (Michael Imperioli).
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Speaking of Christopher, the movie begins with him, at his final resting place, speaking from beyond the grave, narrating the film for the audience, reminding them that it was Tony who killed him, Tony who gave his wife and child pocket change after he murdered him with his bare hands. It’s Christopher (again, the voice of Imperioli), popping in here and there to remind the audience, “That’s Tony Soprano from The Sopranos,” like one of those hilarious memes where a man in a theater whisper and points out the obvious to his date: the titular character? Yeah, that’s him right there.
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Dickie Moltisanti isn’t an evil man, but he does have wants and desires. He does covet his dad’s hot, fresh-off-the-boat, much younger Italian wife, Giuseppina (Michela De Rossi), and he seemingly wants some from life beyond his wife and family. Still, if you’re looking for a meaningful tale about the kind of lust for power or influence that turns men to the dark side, you’ve come to the wrong place. “Many Saints of Newark” sets up the context of the “pre-Sopranos” age, low-level mafia guys, led by Aldo “Hollywood Dick” Moltisanti (Liotta), who rule this little corner of Jersey running bets and bookie operations and the likes. Guys mill about, collect dough, make their jokes, bust balls, etc., and the movie meanders in that milieu for the first act while establishing all the “Sopranos” family tree characters. There’s little in the way of traditional plot, obstacles, goals, etc., but the movie’s point of no return that seemingly activates the film is the death of Hollywood Dick by his son Dickie.
In a rage that is not at all properly set up, nor is the friction between father and son established at all, Dickie accidentally kills his father for beating his new wife, smashing his head on a car steering wheel, seemingly furious at him because this new assault reminds him of all the time Hollywood Dick battered his mother. It’s meant to be nothing more than, “old man, you are not doing this again (also, because I’m also hot for your wife”), but Dick is now old, and the wrath gets out of hand.
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Soon, Dickie is trying to frame the murder as an accident as part of riots that are concurrently taking place and burning up much of the city. Yes, the Newark race riots during the “long Hot Summer of 1967” are a central element to the film, and they introduce the “new” character Harold McBrayer (Leslie Odom Jr.), a foot soldier to Dickie Moltisanti. Odom Jr. is great; this new element is terrific and eventually sets up a revenge feud between McBrayer and Dickie years later. But thematically, it doesn’t amount to much; the racial tensions aren’t telling any deeper story other than they existed then (and they exist now as if current relevance somehow makes them more potent). Throughout the movie, it’s as if Chase is telling several TV-like threads, an A-story, B-story, C-story tales that are all surface and lacking much subtext.
The A-story is Dickie’s “journey,” what that is, isn’t very clear other than this vague theme of wanting, which is spoiler alert, not really as tragic as it should be (don’t scream spoilers, you’ve seen “The Sopranos” haven’t you?). The B-story is Tony’s coming-of-age during this tumultuous time, trying to figure out who he is and whether he’ll follow in his uncle’s footsteps or not, and the C-story is McBrayer vs. Dickie, and which one will kill the other first (which just feels like conflict padding).
The A-story should be its best. Nivola is solid, an underrated actor if there ever was one, and there are also threads about him struggling with identity, who he is, who he wants to be, and how and when he should atone for his sins. In an elusive dream-like device (that Chase typically doesn’t want to discuss), that doesn’t work as well as the creator thinks it does. Dickie goes to visit his father’s brother in jail. It’s Ray Liotta again. Is it his brother’s twin? Is it more of a dream or a hallucination? The movie won’t say, but it’s here where Dickie grapples with all the awful things he’s done, the sins he’s committed, and the self-delusional, self-deceiving ideas he has about making amends for unforgivable trespasses to get him off the hook. Whatever it’s meant to be, it’s Dickie wrestling with his conscience, but it’s either too on-the-nose in dialogue or too nebulous.
The B-story is just Tony prequel stuff that’s pretty routine, but it’s deeply frustrating when a young Tony—who idolizes Dickie, and seemingly has no interest in ever doing the right thing—suddenly grows a conscience and debates whether he should take a stolen gift from his Uncle. It’s like a previous scene has been missing. Since when—in the young Tony that we’ve witnessed here— has this kid ever demonstrated having a moral code? (An idea that could have been a great theme in this movie, a young man losing his way, that isn’t at all scrutinized.)
Much of it feels very personal to Chase, but so little of it is essential that it feels nearly baffling. It’s Chase ruminating on his broken family, his Jersey upbringing, the race riots he personally witnessed, his passion for rock n’ roll and soul (the soundtrack probably costs as much as an indie movie with its use of the Rolling Stones, and every classic ’60s and ’70s nugget you can cram into it).
All told, “The Many Saints of Newark” feels like an underwhelming unforced error on the part of Chase and totally unnecessary, not illuminating much about the past or Tony, and really, for die-hard Sopranos fans only. Handsomely crafted by director Alan Taylor, easily his best feature film work after the disasters of “Thor: The Dark World” and “Terminator: Genisys,” the journeyman filmmaker does his best to make scenes look evocative, sinister, and one particular scene on the beach involving a murder—strangely beautiful in its confusion—but the craft on display can’t save the picture.
Ride or die ‘Sopranos’ fans will likely love the younger appearances of fan-favorite characters “Junior” Soprano (Corey Stoll), Livia Soprano (Vera Farmiga), Paulie “Walnuts” (a nearly unrecognizable Billy Magnussen), and Silvio Dante (John Magaro, who wins the MVP of all these actors for capturing the essence of the original actor). But a lot of it is the Where’s Waldo? spotting of characters that are in no way significant to the storyline other than, yes, they were there at the time, and they all knew and worked closely with Dickie Moltasanti.
Moltisanti translates to “many saints,” where the film derives its would-be clever title. Choose your guardians angels or mentors carefully; Chase seems to be saying in this largely misguided, head-scratching, and largely superfluous prequel. Because who knows, if you don’t know really know your angel, maybe you’ll pick some Stoogatz who’s a real Jersey jerk-off, not worthy of your idolatry. [C-]
“The Many Saints of Newark” hits theaters and HBO Max on October 1.
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