"What exit are you?" is a relatively frequent response when I
tell people I'm from New Jersey. The exit joke, used most often by
New Yorkers, refers to the New Jersey Turnpike, which runs the
length of the state from New York City to Delaware. Another dirty
lie about the state is that it is, well, dirty. Both of these gags
are represented in the opening credits of HBO's The
Sopranos, as Tony leaves the Lincoln Tunnel to drive into New
Jersey in his Chevy Suburban to the tune of A3's ragged "Woke Up
This Morning" (it begins, "You woke up this morning/ Got yourself a
gun").
For locals, a big part of the draw of watching The
Sopranos is the "I know where that is!" factor. There are few
places I can go in New Jersey that don't involve passing the Satin
Dolls strip club (Bada Bing on the show) en route. It
becomes a game to see how many places New Jerseyans can identify.
We watch the show to see small pieces of our lives reflected on the
television.
To wit, a scene in which a garbage truck exploded was filmed
across the street from my father's factory. Sopranos
executives inquired if the "boss" was at the factory in order to
get permission to film someone getting whacked on the loading dock.
Unfortunately, the manager was not in and the scene never got shot.
Tony Soprano beat someone about the head in an industrial park
right off the ramp of Exit 160 of the Garden State Parkway, another
fine Jersey roadway.
Some New Jerseyans insist on pressing the point that just
because the show is filmed at authentic New Jersey locales doesn't
make it authentic. "People drive the New Jersey Turnpike and think
it's full of factories and oil refineries. They think the mob is
apparent in everyday life. The Sopranos is a caricature of
New Jersey. That lifestyle might exist, but we never see it," says
my dad, Michael Blanchfield.
But good caricatures are grounded in experience. The
Sopranos succeeds on the strength of its believable
characters. Meadow and Anthony Jr. could just as easily be
substituted for anybody I went to high school with, except their
father is a mob boss. Carmela's accent works because most of my
family talks like that, too.
A, uh, mutually beneficial relationship exists between those who
provide New Jersey backdrops for filming and those who film. Local
organizations appreciate the business the publicity can bring them,
and counties vie for a piece of the action. The County of Passaic
Motion Picture and Television Film Commission believes The
Sopranos "increases the positive image of the county."
Well… OK. But even if you don't think watching
Chris-tah-fuh slap his coke-snorting girlfriend Adriana around, or
seeing Tony and crew whack Big Pussy or pushing a drug dealer over
the Great Falls will add to a county's "positive image," there is a
certain allure that the show confers. The Sopranos may or
may not glorify the mob but it certainly makes New Jersey life seem
darker and more interesting.
Because Tony & Co. are not hardened city-slicking thugs but
mushy suburbanites, the show whets the imagination of Garden
Staters. The guy running the pizza place around the corner probably
doesn't have mafia ties, but, then, maybe he does. And how does
Susie's dad, the coach of your daughter's soccer team, make his
living again? The Sopranos succeeds with New Jerseyans
because it makes us wonder what's going on next door.
topics:
Television, Business, Law, Oil
