Arriving in a cab at the massive Cathedral of Saint John the Divine was like driving into a movie shoot itself, something Coppola would do. Crowds were amassed on Amsterdam Avenue from West 110th to 114th Street, with every television station in New York City’s video vans and their huge antennas leaning in for a look at the tribute. My 24-year old son, Michael, was with me to battle the crowds, which were fortunately quite orderly and respectful. The first one I ran into was an actor friend of mine, with whom my son and I bonded for the service.
As the block-long line started to move steadily and quietly forward then turned to climb the long steps of the massive cathedral, you could see the swarm of police, plainclothes and in uniform, and the black SUVs of VIPs idling two deep at the curb, and more police scanning the 1,500-plus people entering into the vaulted space of St. John’s without a hitch. That, in and of itself I thought, was a place truly big enough to hold the departing spirit of the 262-pound James Gandolfini.
The massive granite columns soared as if weightless towards the many-storied ceiling as if to defy gravity and touch the heavens. From the entrance doors to the final altar must take up the length of a city block. Hundreds of benches on each side of the marble walkway to the altars seated the more than 1,500, who had come to say goodbye to Gandolfini. James’ father had been a stonemason, as was Sopranos’ Producer David Chase’s, and actor Dominic Chianese’s, who played “Uncle Junior.” So there was a bond beyond drama and film that bound the attending: hard work.
The amazing stained glass window at the rear of the cathedral is made of some ten-thousand pieces of dark blue stained glass, which seem to cool the hot summer sun that filtered into the air-conditioned space as well. The hum of silence accompanied it like a low note on the huge pipe organ, an awesome instrument that had to be heard to be believed. Each person received a program with James John Gandolfini’s smiling face on the cover. Already you felt at home and comfortable as you sat.
David Chase, producer of The Sopranos began to speak, saying the actor brought the traits of a sad boy, “amazed and confused,” to the role of Tony Soprano. “You were a good boy,” David Chase said. Chase gave his eulogy in the form of a letter to Gandolfini, in the present tense. The actor’s widow, Deborah Lin Gandolfini, and two family friends, were also speakers at the service.
Chase remembered that Gandolfini once told him that “you know what I want to be? A man! That’s all. I want to be a man.” Chase said he marveled upon hearing that, since Gandolfini represented a man so many others wanted to be. Paradoxically, Chase said he always felt he was seeing a young boy. “A sad boy, amazed and confused,” he said. “You could see it in your eyes. That’s why you were a great actor.”
The 51 year-old James John Gandolfini, best known for his role as both volatile but friendly mob boss Tony Soprano in the HBO series died of a heart attack last week while vacationing with his son Michael in Italy. His son was photographed walking into the church.
Celebrities and fellow actors were in the audience, along with members of the public who wanted to salute Gandolfini’s work. From “The Sopranos” was Edie Falco, who played Tony’s wife, and whom I saw on the street after the ceremony speaking to friends. Also, there was Joe Pantoliano, Dominic Chianese, Steve Schirripa, Aida Turturro, Vincent Curatola and Michael Imperioli. A surprise guest was New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, who made an appearance. Dick Cavett chatted with actor Steve Buscemi near the front of the church before the ceremony started. It was quite a cast of personalities, though tears appeared on some of those famous faces and makeup ran on others.
As I stated, some 1,500 seats had been set up. A private family wake was held for the actor Wednesday in New Jersey. Susan Anton, who was Gandolfini’s longtime dialogue coach and collaborator, spoke of how the actor struggled with his work. It was a very touching and truthful analysis of his process that shed light on the very nature of acting.
“He worked hard,” Anton said. “He was disciplined. He studied his roles and did his homework. But when the cameras rolled, his work was an act of faith that carried him to an uncharted place,” she said.
New Jersey accents were easy to hear among members of the public waiting outside the cathedral and waiting for a chance to get in. A few people spoke in Italian.
“I’m a fan,” said Saul Stein, 60, from Harlem. “I came to pay my respects today because he’s a character I identify with, a family man.”
One casual meeting with Gandolfini was enough to bring Robin Eckstein to the funeral.
“I had friends that worked with him,” she said. “I had the pleasure of meeting him a few times and he was just lovely. So warm . . . As soon as he knew you were a friend of a friend you were his friend too. He’ll be missed. I missed a meeting at work today. I told them I had a funeral to go to.”
Broadway theaters paid tribute by briefly dimming their lights last Wednesday night. Gandolfini was nominated for a Tony Award in 2009 as an actor in “God of Carnage.”
Gandolfini had a very active schedule before his death last week. He recently wrapped up filming Fox Searchlight Pictures’ crime drama, Animal Rescue, with Tom Hardy, which is due out in 2014. Also on tap was a role in an upcoming comedy from director Nicole Holofcener, starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Catherine Keener. Gandolfini was also poised to make a return to HBO in a limited series called Criminal Justice.
The service presided over by The Very Reverend Dr. James A. Kowalski was excellent, including the quotes of scripture and prayers. Since Gandolfini was Catholic, the ecumenical service offered communion to anyone of any faith who wished to partake in it. My son looked at me in a challenging way, as did my actor friend, and I said, “I’m taking it.” It had been decades and probably at some prior family funeral that I had taken the host. And now, I felt like a boy making his first holy communion.
The doughy host, symbolically the body of Christ, gave me a shiver as it dissolved in my mouth, administered by a pretty young woman in her congregational robes. And then I moved on to a middle-aged woman in her robes, who offered me a chalice of wine, containing the symbolic blood of Christ. As soon as I tasted it, I winced and whispered “I can’t drink alcohol.” And she understood. Jesus would have to give me a pass on this one to maintain my 20-year sobriety. Just that taste made my head spin.
As I walked back to my seat, my son smiled at me. And then we were asked to sing the closing hymn of Psalm 90 that was five choruses long, repeating its melody in all verses. It was recorded by a full orchestra and in the last three verses joined by an incredible chorus of “sopranos” that lifted the piece through the roof into the chiaroscuro sky of this very memorable June 27, 2013, day.
Somehow, in less than two hours, the congregation had managed to become “one voice” to praise a man, who with his extraordinary talent, had brought us to understand both the brightest and darkest elements of what made us human. For the light and darkness you could summon, R.I.P., J.J.G.
Somehow leaving that great cathedral, walking down its long steps into the waiting crowds outside, with my son and actor friend who had to return to work, I felt a catharsis, a feeling of strength for nearly not making this funeral due to my own insouciance. I owe it to son who jumped into his clothes and pushed me out the door to Broadway, where we grabbed a cab to the cathedral. Mike, you’re the best, but you have to neaten up your room.
Jerry Mazza is a freelance writer and life-long resident of New York City. An EBook version of his book of poems “State Of Shock,” on 9/11 and its after effects is now available at Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com.He has also written hundreds of articles on politics and government as Associate Editor of Intrepid Report (formerly Online Journal). Reach him at gvmaz@verizon.net.
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Saying goodbye to James Gandolfini
Posted on July 1, 2013 by Jerry Mazza
Arriving in a cab at the massive Cathedral of Saint John the Divine was like driving into a movie shoot itself, something Coppola would do. Crowds were amassed on Amsterdam Avenue from West 110th to 114th Street, with every television station in New York City’s video vans and their huge antennas leaning in for a look at the tribute. My 24-year old son, Michael, was with me to battle the crowds, which were fortunately quite orderly and respectful. The first one I ran into was an actor friend of mine, with whom my son and I bonded for the service.
As the block-long line started to move steadily and quietly forward then turned to climb the long steps of the massive cathedral, you could see the swarm of police, plainclothes and in uniform, and the black SUVs of VIPs idling two deep at the curb, and more police scanning the 1,500-plus people entering into the vaulted space of St. John’s without a hitch. That, in and of itself I thought, was a place truly big enough to hold the departing spirit of the 262-pound James Gandolfini.
The massive granite columns soared as if weightless towards the many-storied ceiling as if to defy gravity and touch the heavens. From the entrance doors to the final altar must take up the length of a city block. Hundreds of benches on each side of the marble walkway to the altars seated the more than 1,500, who had come to say goodbye to Gandolfini. James’ father had been a stonemason, as was Sopranos’ Producer David Chase’s, and actor Dominic Chianese’s, who played “Uncle Junior.” So there was a bond beyond drama and film that bound the attending: hard work.
The amazing stained glass window at the rear of the cathedral is made of some ten-thousand pieces of dark blue stained glass, which seem to cool the hot summer sun that filtered into the air-conditioned space as well. The hum of silence accompanied it like a low note on the huge pipe organ, an awesome instrument that had to be heard to be believed. Each person received a program with James John Gandolfini’s smiling face on the cover. Already you felt at home and comfortable as you sat.
David Chase, producer of The Sopranos began to speak, saying the actor brought the traits of a sad boy, “amazed and confused,” to the role of Tony Soprano. “You were a good boy,” David Chase said. Chase gave his eulogy in the form of a letter to Gandolfini, in the present tense. The actor’s widow, Deborah Lin Gandolfini, and two family friends, were also speakers at the service.
Chase remembered that Gandolfini once told him that “you know what I want to be? A man! That’s all. I want to be a man.” Chase said he marveled upon hearing that, since Gandolfini represented a man so many others wanted to be. Paradoxically, Chase said he always felt he was seeing a young boy. “A sad boy, amazed and confused,” he said. “You could see it in your eyes. That’s why you were a great actor.”
The 51 year-old James John Gandolfini, best known for his role as both volatile but friendly mob boss Tony Soprano in the HBO series died of a heart attack last week while vacationing with his son Michael in Italy. His son was photographed walking into the church.
Celebrities and fellow actors were in the audience, along with members of the public who wanted to salute Gandolfini’s work. From “The Sopranos” was Edie Falco, who played Tony’s wife, and whom I saw on the street after the ceremony speaking to friends. Also, there was Joe Pantoliano, Dominic Chianese, Steve Schirripa, Aida Turturro, Vincent Curatola and Michael Imperioli. A surprise guest was New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, who made an appearance. Dick Cavett chatted with actor Steve Buscemi near the front of the church before the ceremony started. It was quite a cast of personalities, though tears appeared on some of those famous faces and makeup ran on others.
As I stated, some 1,500 seats had been set up. A private family wake was held for the actor Wednesday in New Jersey. Susan Anton, who was Gandolfini’s longtime dialogue coach and collaborator, spoke of how the actor struggled with his work. It was a very touching and truthful analysis of his process that shed light on the very nature of acting.
“He worked hard,” Anton said. “He was disciplined. He studied his roles and did his homework. But when the cameras rolled, his work was an act of faith that carried him to an uncharted place,” she said.
New Jersey accents were easy to hear among members of the public waiting outside the cathedral and waiting for a chance to get in. A few people spoke in Italian.
“I’m a fan,” said Saul Stein, 60, from Harlem. “I came to pay my respects today because he’s a character I identify with, a family man.”
One casual meeting with Gandolfini was enough to bring Robin Eckstein to the funeral.
“I had friends that worked with him,” she said. “I had the pleasure of meeting him a few times and he was just lovely. So warm . . . As soon as he knew you were a friend of a friend you were his friend too. He’ll be missed. I missed a meeting at work today. I told them I had a funeral to go to.”
Broadway theaters paid tribute by briefly dimming their lights last Wednesday night. Gandolfini was nominated for a Tony Award in 2009 as an actor in “God of Carnage.”
Gandolfini had a very active schedule before his death last week. He recently wrapped up filming Fox Searchlight Pictures’ crime drama, Animal Rescue, with Tom Hardy, which is due out in 2014. Also on tap was a role in an upcoming comedy from director Nicole Holofcener, starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Catherine Keener. Gandolfini was also poised to make a return to HBO in a limited series called Criminal Justice.
The service presided over by The Very Reverend Dr. James A. Kowalski was excellent, including the quotes of scripture and prayers. Since Gandolfini was Catholic, the ecumenical service offered communion to anyone of any faith who wished to partake in it. My son looked at me in a challenging way, as did my actor friend, and I said, “I’m taking it.” It had been decades and probably at some prior family funeral that I had taken the host. And now, I felt like a boy making his first holy communion.
The doughy host, symbolically the body of Christ, gave me a shiver as it dissolved in my mouth, administered by a pretty young woman in her congregational robes. And then I moved on to a middle-aged woman in her robes, who offered me a chalice of wine, containing the symbolic blood of Christ. As soon as I tasted it, I winced and whispered “I can’t drink alcohol.” And she understood. Jesus would have to give me a pass on this one to maintain my 20-year sobriety. Just that taste made my head spin.
As I walked back to my seat, my son smiled at me. And then we were asked to sing the closing hymn of Psalm 90 that was five choruses long, repeating its melody in all verses. It was recorded by a full orchestra and in the last three verses joined by an incredible chorus of “sopranos” that lifted the piece through the roof into the chiaroscuro sky of this very memorable June 27, 2013, day.
Somehow, in less than two hours, the congregation had managed to become “one voice” to praise a man, who with his extraordinary talent, had brought us to understand both the brightest and darkest elements of what made us human. For the light and darkness you could summon, R.I.P., J.J.G.
Somehow leaving that great cathedral, walking down its long steps into the waiting crowds outside, with my son and actor friend who had to return to work, I felt a catharsis, a feeling of strength for nearly not making this funeral due to my own insouciance. I owe it to son who jumped into his clothes and pushed me out the door to Broadway, where we grabbed a cab to the cathedral. Mike, you’re the best, but you have to neaten up your room.
Jerry Mazza is a freelance writer and life-long resident of New York City. An EBook version of his book of poems “State Of Shock,” on 9/11 and its after effects is now available at Amazon.com and Barnesandnoble.com. He has also written hundreds of articles on politics and government as Associate Editor of Intrepid Report (formerly Online Journal). Reach him at gvmaz@verizon.net.