Soprano Silenced

By now  you’ve heard the news…James Gandolfini, of The Soprano’s fame, has died.

James Gandolfini (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

At 51.

In Italy.  A suspected heart attack in his hotel bathroom.  Discovered by his teenaged son.  Pronounced dead at a local hospital.

At 51.  At 51 years young.

For someone 20, he may seem old, but for the rest of the world, he was young.  Dying at 51, out of nowhere, is hard to swallow.

I was in shock when I heard the news – which was texted to me last night when I was out having dinner with a friend – “Gandolfini dead?” – read the brief text.

What?  I thought.  I looked to my friend and asked her as if she would possibly have had this inside information and not shared it.  Her response was the same disbelief.  How out of the blue, how sudden, how unexpected.

I, of course, don’t know Mr. Gandolfini personally, nor professionally (though I did do stand-in work in one episode on The Soprano’s, a mere brush with infamy.)  So I can’t speak to the man he was, but I did enjoy his work on The Soprano’s as well as the numerous other acting roles he embraced.

He was good.  That was clear.  And his portrayal of Tony Soprano changed the television landscape for the years it swept through our homes.  He was fortunate to land such a role and he knew it.  He became a household name….such so that all one had to get was a text asking Gandolfini dead? and anyone would know who it was.

For me, it’s yet another poignant reminder that nothing, and I mean nothing, can stop the inevitability of death.  Not fame.  Not fortune.  Not plans to attend a film festival in Sicily just days later.  Nothing.  It is, as they say, the great equalizer.  All of us are headed in the same direction – regardless of our financial or infamous successes.

I think we tend to forget that.  We tend to put those well-off or well-known in a different, impenetrable category.  As if they have the secret to longevity or the good life.  That because of their societal status, they are immune to the difficulties, pains and sad surprises that life can throw our way.  But they aren’t.  They are just like the rest of us – full of human frailty.

The shock here, in Gandolfini’s case, is not so much that he died (as we all will) but that he left us before his time.  That his gift as an actor is now silenced.  That he still had so much to do, see, feel, and experience.  That’s the kicker for me.  Because inside each of us, I believe we have this constant yearning to live life as fully as we can until our time has come.  I often need to remind myself that this road is limited.  There is an end.

RIP Mr. Gandolfini.  Thank you for entertaining us – you will most certainly be remembered and missed. – BB