“Harold and Maude” is my favorite film, and Maude my personal hero. But I’d bet a hundred bucks her favorite film is “The Graduate.”

There’s a delicious irony in imagining the free-spirited Maude relishing the tale of Benjamin Braddock’s suburban ennui.

Yet, “The Graduate” speaks to that same restless spirit, that yearning to break free from societal expectations that Maude embodies so wonderfully.

Mike Nichols’ 1967 masterpiece captures the zeitgeist of its era with a precision that still resonates today. Dustin Hoffman’s portrayal of Benjamin, adrift in a sea of affluence and hollow ambition, is a study in understated rebellion.

His fumbling romance with Mrs. Robinson, brought to life by the magnificent Anne Bancroft, crackles with tension and forbidden allure.

The film’s visual language is a feast for the eyes. Nichols and cinematographer Robert Surtees paint a picture of sun-drenched California malaise, punctuated by moments of absurdist comedy. Remember Benjamin in his scuba gear, sinking to the bottom of the pool, a perfect metaphor for his suffocating existence?

But it’s in the film’s final act that “The Graduate” truly soars. The mad dash to stop Elaine’s wedding, set to the iconic strains of Simon & Garfunkel, is cinema at its most exhilarating.

And that final shot – Benjamin and Elaine on the bus, their expressions slowly morphing from elation to uncertainty – it’s a moment of pure cinematic perfection.

“The Graduate” doesn’t just capture a moment in time; it speaks to the eternal struggle of youth against the machinery of adulthood. It’s a film that dares to ask, “What next?” without pretending to have all the answers.

In its ambiguity and artistry, it’s a film that I can imagine Maude sneaking into the cinema to watch over and over again, fist pumping at Benjamin’s rebellion.

And who knows? She might even have liberated a poster or two on her way out, just for the thrill of it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

“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.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​