“Wise Guy: David Chase and The Sopranos” is a triumph of storytelling. It’s as much about the creator as it is about the creation.

Alex Gibney directs with respect for Chase and “The Sopranos”, but avoids excessive hero-worship. The documentary presents an honest, well-rounded portrait of its subject.

The documentary is grounded in Chase’s own words.

A replica of Dr. Melfi’s office serves as the primary setting. It’s a brilliant move, evoking the introspective tone of “The Sopranos” itself.

Here, Chase is at his most candid. He revisits pivotal moments that shaped his career and the cultural revolution of “The Sopranos”.

The documentary is split into two parts. Each offers a different lens on the show’s evolution.

Part one explores Chase’s early struggles as a network television writer. We see his fight to find his voice in an industry resistant to darker, personal narratives.

Gibney excels in showing Chase’s transformation. From an industry outsider with a rejected mobster script to the visionary behind “The Sopranos”.

The second half shifts to the show’s production. It’s an insider’s look at the alchemy between Chase and his ensemble cast.

Archival footage feels like gold to series fans. Early auditions and behind-the-scenes moments offer fresh perspectives on familiar characters.

The documentary goes beyond nostalgia. It invites viewers to rethink “The Sopranos” through Chase’s complex relationship with his Italian-American roots.

Family dynamics that haunted Chase are explored in depth. They provide insight into the show’s psychological underpinnings.

Interviews with key cast members are revealing. Edie Falco and Michael Imperioli offer touching reflections on James Gandolfini.

Gibney doesn’t shy away from addressing the final episode. Chase, historically tight-lipped, provides just enough insight without demystifying its ambiguity.

“Wise Guy” is more than a documentary. It’s a love letter to fans who’ve walked the streets of New Jersey with Tony Soprano.

It also serves as a psychological portrait of a man who rewrote television’s rules. Chase’s balance of dark and light, personal and universal, shines through.

Gibney and Chase have created something worthy of the series itself. It’s nuanced, complex, and utterly compelling.

“Wise Guy” captures the essence of both Chase and his creation. It’s a fitting tribute to one of television’s most influential series.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Hollywood’s appetite for big spending has metastasized from film to television, and it’s a foreboding swagger.

Despite recent labor settlements, the entertainment world faces a new challenge: streaming platforms pouring billions into shows with mixed critical and audience reception.

Here’s a snapshot of the most expensive productions:

• The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power: $465 million for the first season.
• Citadel: $300 million for Amazon’s spy series.
• Stranger Things: $270 million for season four.
• The Acolyte: Disney invested $180 million in this Star Wars spin-off.
• Halo: $90 million for the video game adaptation.
• Game of Thrones: $90 million for its final season.
• The Mandalorian: $100 million for the first season.
• WandaVision: Marvel spent $225 million on this series.

These TV budgets dwarf the $65-80 million average for feature films. Even tentpole blockbusters rarely see the kind of spending that’s become standard in television.

What’s driving these costs? High-end visual effects and star-studded casts are overshadowing the nuanced storytelling and character development that defined TV’s recent golden age.

These financial behemoths aren’t exactly lighting up the internet: Citadel scores just 53% with fans on RottenTomatoes; Acolyte stands at just 13%.

The challenge now is to find a balance between ambition and fiscal responsibility.

Here are some shows that managed the balance:

• Succession (HBO): This critically acclaimed drama proves that sharp writing and stellar performances can create a cultural phenomenon without relying on special effects.
• The Bear (FX/Hulu): This breakout hit showcases how a focused, character-driven story can captivate audiences and critics alike.
• Abbott Elementary (ABC): This mockumentary-style sitcom has garnered both popular and critical success, demonstrating the enduring appeal of well-crafted comedy.
• The White Lotus (HBO): Despite its luxurious settings, this anthology series racks up awards without breaking the bank.
• Baby Reindeer (Netflix): This intense, autobiographical limited series showcased how a deeply personal story, told with raw authenticity, can create impact.

Each of these shows was produced at a fraction of the cost of their big-budget counterparts, yet they’ve achieved critical acclaim, audience engagement, and cultural relevance.

Hollywood has chosen spectacle over story in its pursuit of movie riches. Here’s hoping it resists the same rabbit hole on the small screen.

Fernando Meirelles’ “City of God” (2002) was a cinematic lightning bolt. It grabbed us by the collar and dragged us through Rio’s chaotic favelas with raw power and brutal honesty.

Now HBO gives us “City of God: The Fight Rages On.” A faded Xerox of a masterpiece.

Where the film was a visual symphony, this series is a tepid cover band. The gritty authenticity has been replaced by soap opera gloss.

The series takes Meirelles’ ingredients and produces a bland smoothie. Innovative cinematography? Gone. In its place, paint-by-numbers camerawork.

Most egregious is the dilution of social commentary. The film confronted harsh truths: cyclical poverty, child soldiers, police corruption, racial inequality, limited social mobility, and the normalization of violence. It forced us to witness the brutal realities of favela life.

The series, however, uses these weighty themes as mere backdrop for melodrama.

Characters once vibrant now feel like cardboard cutouts. The film’s urgent rhythm has been replaced by plodding serialized pacing.

Fans tuning in will experience déjà vu – not because it captures the original’s essence, but because it mimics every crime drama of the last decade.

“The Fight Rages On” serves as a stark reminder of the original’s brilliance. It’s a cautionary tale about trying to bottle lightning twice.

The series casts a long, dreary shadow over the film’s legacy. The fight may rage on, but the spirit has long since left the battlefield.

If nothing else, perhaps this pale imitation could serve as a reminder that the original masterpiece exists.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ That is work watching.