Mr. Chase's obsessive control over every aspect of The Sopranos elevated it to what many saw as art, even as he grumbled throughout the show's run about being confined to what he considered a demeaningly commercial medium.

The motion of my blood no longer keeps time with the tumult of the world. It leads me to seek for happiness in the lap and love of my family, in the society of my neighbors & my books, in the wholesome occupations of my farm & my affairs, in an interest or affection in every bud that opens, in every breath that blows around me, in an entire freedom of rest or motion, of thought or incogitancy, owing account to myself alone of my hours & actions.

Perhaps unsurprisingly — apologies to the good people of 1956 Miami — the reception amid the swizzle sticks and shuffleboards was general nonplusment.

spilling sangria on white trousers when you are gattered is bad tho'.