The Many Saints of Newark Fail

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The Many Saints of Newark is now on Netflix. It’s Tony Soprano’s original story. Before he got to be a mob boss. The best thing about it? I didn’t have to pay nothin’ or get out of my track suit to watch it.

I gotta a couple of problems with this thing of theirs. For one, there’s no humor. For another, it ain’t got no menace. And last, the plot don’t make no sense.

Hang on. I think that’s three. Let’s take ‘em slow. You know. One at a time.

Humor

Look at that face. What a fucking sourpuss. All of the guys in this movie? They’re all fucking sourpusses. Sourpi? Whatever.

Sure, the mob guys do the mob thing. They eat Italian, smack each other around, treat women like shit. But they ain’t got no sense of humor. So I couldn’t give a shit about any of them.

Here’s a pic of the movie’s crew of merry fucking men.

Joy to the fucking world. Anyway, get this…

The guy in the car, Dickie Moltisanti, he’s driving along, goin’ somewhere, when he gets tired of his wife’s whining. He whips out his revolver and shoots her – straight through her hair. Big hair, ‘cause you know, seventies.

Did he miss? Was it a joke? I don’t fucking know. But this is my not laughing face. It was just… stupid. And for sure he wasn’t gonna get laid that night. See? I know humor.

Menace

A good mob movie does… hang on… I got this… Tension and release. Uh-oh. Something’s bad’s gonna happen… Holy shit! And now it’s over. Like that.

The Saints got about as much dramatic tension as a used bungee cord. Characters get whacked out of nowhere, without so much as a “how you doing?”

The torture scene lasts, what? A minute? He’s down! He’s up! Bang! Bang! Bang! He’s dead. What the fuck?

Saints don’t even make a race riot look a big deal. I half expected to hear Miley Cyrus’ Party in the U.S.A. on the soundtrack. That’s a fun little song.

Tony Soprano

Saints is ‘sposed to tell us how Tony Soprano became, you know, Tony Soprano. We meet Tony’s asshole father and fucked-up Mother. But I ain’t buyin’ that diss function family shit.

Don’t be fooled by them glower power photos. Tony’s a sweet goofy kid. Dickie’s even gotta twist Tony’s arm to take some hot speakers ‘cause Tony don’t want to fuck up his college to NFL dream.

So here’s the thing: Tony’s “uncle” Dickie is supposed to be like that Swedish guy. What’s his name? Sven Galli. The guy leading Tony to life of crime.

Only Dickie is a pussy with a bad temper. He coaches blind kids’ baseball after killing his old man. What the fuck?

Dickie don’t show Tony a good time. We don’t get one of them Mount Taj things. Like in Goodfellas, where Henry Hill reveals in his work for the mob. Rebels? Ah, you know what I mean.

At the end of the movie pussy Dickie shunts Tony. Ignores him so he don’t go into “the life.” Tony’s like seriously bummed. Then Dickie gets whacked and Tony mopes around like a fucking girl. End of story. Roll credits.

That’s Tony’s motivation to become a top mobster? ‘Cause he lost the love of a father figure? Get the fuck outta here!

Thank God for Netflix

It’s hard to believe they put The Many Saints of Newark into the movie theaters. It’s easy to believe it was a flop. A mafia movie‘s gotta compete with all them great ones they already done. And The Sopranos.

Anyway, like I said, I didn’t pay nothing to see Saints and I could eat my dinner while I watched. Ziti with a meat sauce. It was good too. Came from this little market down the block. You should try it.

This movie though? Fuhgeddaboutit.