Made In America

Meadow: "What I said was, the state can crush the individual."
Tony: "New Jersey?"

As usual, your sense of satisfaction--or otherwise--following the Emmy telecast on Fox comes down to deciding if aesthetic injustices were perpetrated. If you believe that James Gandolfini and Edie Falco set an unmatched television standard--and gave even our better film actors something to shoot for--by breathing nuanced, ever-fascinating life into Tony and Carm, you weren't that happy to see James Spader and Sally Field walk off with the best actor and actress statuettes. (The cringe moment for those on the orchestra floor? When the presenter began with "James..." and the Sopranos cadre, one beat too soon, began to stand up.)

Spader was smart enough acknowledge what amounts to an asterisk on his win with a Mafia reference--and a dig at the show's circular seating scheme. Field, as usual, was slightly steroidal and even had a word bleeped from her, "If the mothers ruled the world, there would be no goddamn wars in the first place."

All credit to Ricky Gervais, who's on a par with fellow greats Steve Carrell
and Alec Baldwin in the Actor In A Comedy bin, but he was probably getting belated recognition for his The Office character as much as his work on Extras. Leave it to Jon Stewart (whose show picked up a fifth straight Emmy), Stephen Colbert and Carrell to supply the broadcast's best moment thus: "Ricky Gervais couldn't' be here tonight so instead we're going to give this to our friend Steve Carrell!"

Carrell's a great ad libber, but I'd bet good money the trio discussed this prospect well before he made his faux-exultant sprint to the stage. The ensuing frantic celebration, as might be expected from this bunch, made its own sardonic point about the overblown importance of the entire extravaganza. That said, any polling that properly awarded Sopranos creator David Chase for his writing (and the show as best drama series) and one-woman-army Tiny Fey's 30 Rock for comedy series, can't be dubbed clueless.

Then again, featuring Ryan Seacrest (and luckily, some talent off the bench) as the host was fairly crass cross promotion for Fox and it's American Idol juggernaut, yet resulted in the worst Emmy audience numbers since 1990.

The after-party of choice, HBO's Thai-themed cornuocopia that filled the courtyard of the Pacific Design Center, was as expertly executed as any such Hollywood event I've ever seen. The Sopranos bunch assembled in a small grouping of tables, seeming--very Soprano. Gandolfini (who's got a current stake in things HBO with his admirable Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq) documentary), shuffled slowly through the crowd with a retinue of security, etc., operating like tugboats before him. Aida Turturro had some cross-table instructions for small-screen husband Bobby `Bacala' (Steven Schirripa), and Michael Imperioli (`Cristo-fuh!' we onlookers all twittered to each other) handed Gandolfini a folded sheet of paper with the gravitas of mob soldier handing over the week's waste management take. And Steve Van Zandt, back with his head scarf and looking more like the Boss's most loyal lieutenant of guitars than Tony's most loyal limbs-lopper, sidled in a bit later.
And as partygoers gaped about--look, it's Furio! --and the likes of Buzz Aldrin and Brad Grey (clutching one of the mob mob's statuettes) circulated, the d.j had the sense to play that Sopranos-finale-topping Journey song, "Don't Stop Believing".

Meanwhile in another corner, Time Warner heir apparent to the C.E.O. chair Jeff Bewkes sat calmly as a string of well-wishers stopped by to, as one observer put it, "kiss the ring". Whatever moves he may take to partition up and sell off parts of the empire to appease stockholders, he would be well advised to keep the kingdom known as HBO on board--even if Sopranos has left an intimidatingly large hole to fill.