By Rabbi Ben Kamin
SAN DIEGO — Like so many folks, I loved James Gandolfini. With his bulk and not-so-leading-man looks, he reassured those of us men who are, well, not necessarily debonair yet think of ourselves as creative and worthwhile. But I worried about him—exactly because his agility as an artist was as large as his girth.
His directors and coaches may have approved of his audible breathing issues, even as he commanded the screen and the script in The Sopranos and other productions that revealed his versatility and gifts. But in the end, Mr. Gandolfini, reputedly a nice man with a good heart, was a fat man with a vulnerable heart.
Being overweight is a threat to life and that is more certain than even the dangers of being a gangster in Essex County, New Jersey. When I’ve watched the brilliantly realized episodes of The Sopranos, I’ve marveled at Galdofini’s mobility and dexterity but also fretted about his obvious lack of fitness and health. It tugged at me as I delighted in the televised scenes from my one-time sojourn in the South Orange, NJ environs.
It was evident to me in his poignant performance as a disenchanted husband in Welcome To The Rileys and his nimble turn as the CIA director in Zero Dark Thirty.
Years ago, when I weighed 100 pounds more than I do now, I actually shopped in the Men’s departments of reputable department stores and upscale fashion retailers; I purchased XX shirts and pants that I naively termed “Tony Soprano clothes.” In New Jersey, it was Bamberger’s (now Macy’s); in California, it was Nordstrom.
I justified that if the wistful, adroit, and “successful” gangster/star from the neighborhood I once actually lived in could look good in these garbs, then I’d be appealing and sexy in these un-tucked tops and forgiving, pleated slacks as well.
Tony was glamorous-looking like this; why not me?
The Sopranos was wrapped and in longstanding reruns for years when I decided that the way “Tony” inhaled and the way he looked was neither appealing nor healthy. Life as an obese man was hardly the stuff of Hollywood mysticism nor long-term survival. I did something about my weight and all the attendant rationalization of heart murmurs, hypertension, sweating, and insecurity that were as burdensome as the unwelcome mass of my existence.
God rest your soul, James Galdofini. I genuinely regret and mourn for the fact that you will live only in syndication. I will bless your name as I continue to live in my anonymous life of love, creativity, and laughter.