An Hour of Peak TV: ‘The Sopranos: College’ (S01E05) — Murder and Honest Conversations

A retrospective look at the famous episode that became a turning point in the HBO show’s history both on and off the screen.

‘An Hour of Peak TV’ is a column in which I celebrate and dissect some of the most iconic and beloved episodes of acclaimed shows that aired on television from 1990 onwards.

There’s no other small-screen antihero as likable as Tony Soprano. That might sound like a bold statement, but it really isn’t. The fifth episode of Season 1, “College,” demonstrates that superbly within its first ten minutes during a conversation between Tony (James Gandolfini) and Meadow (Jamie-Lynn Sigler). “There’s no Mafia,” says the capo of New Jersey to his daughter as a response to her question earlier (phrased more like an allegation) about whether he’s in it. It’s a hilarious and ironic line that possesses the same bite regardless of how many times you hear it. It never feels dated. But it's the rest of the conversation that separates Tony Soprano from any antihero we saw before and after him on television.

Tony's first reaction is shock and surprise, not necessarily due to the nature of the question but the fact that his teenage daughter had the balls to ask it. He nervously laughs it off, but there's a sense of pride reflected in his eyes about the bright girl he raised (Gandolfini was a master of conveying feelings with a single look). His immediate instinct is to lie, which he does, acting like he’s been deeply insulted by his own kid. But Meadow sees through the bullshit instantly, so Tony drops the act and tells some of the truth.

We know he's sugar-coating it (and perhaps Meadow does, too), but the unexpected honesty immediately turns him sympathetic in our eyes, even though he just admitted to being a criminal. He doesn't win the "Father of the Year” title for it, but Meadow appreciates his uprightness, and we see that it makes him feel good. By momentarily embracing his biggest moral flaw, allowing us to see a softer side to him as a parent, he temporarily exonerates himself from being a gangster until a little later.

It’s a masterfully written dialogue — layered so carefully it tastes like a juicy Italian sandwich you can never get enough of — but Gandolfini's delivery is what makes it truly iconic. And that can be said for the rest of the episode, too.

"College" was the first time in the show's history when creator David Chase really had to put his foot down. HBO wanted nothing to do with the overt and raw violence that was on display here, but Chase knew that’s what was going to separate his drama from anything else that was on TV at the time. He wanted to remind the viewers that the protagonist they watched for four episodes wasn't just some jokey wise guy breaking balls with his buddies but a career gangster who honored the code — which meant he was ready to kill whenever he had to. The episode became a turning point on and off the screen, a showcase of moral ambiguity, frequently jumping between right and wrong, utilizing two separate yet thematically intertwined plotlines and a handful of characters.

The main attraction, naturally, is Tony and Meadow's trip to Maine, visiting colleges, which gets semi-interrupted by an old "associate" of Tony's, whom he spots at a gas station and chases down. His name is Fabian Petrulio (Tony Ray Rossi), aka Fred Peters, after joining Witness Protection, whom Tony mostly refers to as the rat. A small-time drug dealer who flipped on Tony’s father and his crew over ten years ago when he was caught dealing heroin. Once Tony makes sure it’s really him, after some consideration, he decides to whack the guy with his own hands.

Meanwhile, Carmela (Edie Falco) is back home, coming down with a nasty cold, when she gets a surprise visit from his favorite priest, Father Phil (Paul Schulze). Although the holy man claims, somewhat embarrassed, that he "has the jones” for her baked ziti, we know there’s a mutual attraction between the two. But instead of getting physical, Carmela connects with him on a spiritual and emotional level. By having an intimate conversation that extends overnight, she not only shares her most private thoughts but also confesses to Father Phil about the sins of her husband. Admitting that she knows exactly what kind of man her spouse is and that she generally turns a blind eye to his wrongdoings in exchange for a wealthy lifestyle.

The contrast between these two storylines couldn't be more poignant and straightforward. While Carmela expresses guilt and regret for Tony's sins (and for silently being a part of them), he’s out there literally murdering a guy (committing the worst sins of all) who couldn’t be more insignificant to his current life, when he’s supposed to bond and spend precious time with his daughter. It’s the first episode when we’re allowed to see Tony’s worst (the vicious, merciless mafioso) and best (the loving, thoughtful father) side within the same hour.

And while I know that the bad should outweigh the good in him — at least that’s a part of Chase's intention by showing us the brutal monster he can be — I’m unsure if it actually does. Can we condemn Tony for killing someone who broke the oath they both took long ago? Sure. But whether we really want to is a better question. Our moral compass suggests that men like him (criminals, wise guys, mobsters) are evil savages who deserve punishment of some kind. They’re immoral, wrong, and wicked. That's crystal clear, yet we grow fond of Tony’s persona for reasons we might find hard to admit.

The brilliance of The Sopranos lies in its profoundly layered portrayal that constantly makes us uncertain about how to feel about these characters — especially Tony. By showing his humane and family-loving side as equally as the cruel gangster in him, the episode (and the series) creates a specific kind of ambivalence that makes human beings real. In Tony’s world, killing Petrulio isn’t a bad thing, in fact, it's a somewhat honorable deed that brings on respect and a sense of justice. If you talk to the feds and dishonor the omertà, the consequence you have to face is potential death. In the viewer's world, murder is the most unforgivable and vilest crime that there is. If you’re caught, your punishment is imprisonment or death. However, it's up to us through which world (or view) we choose to see Tony — and by laying out all the cards on the table, “College” puts us in a very tough situation to form a decision. That’s why it’s one of the best episodes of the show, capturing the essence of The Sopranos with nuance and clarity.

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