James Gandolfini's Most Human Moments

The reality about the late, great James Gandolfini: No matter how many eulogy essays come out about his superlative work as a character actor in the movies, he'll always be Tony Soprano. He'll always be remembered as the star of HBO's industry-shifting The Sopranos, the groundbreaking mob drama in which Gandolfini and creator David Chase broke all of TV's rules by making a murderer into a lovable man. Without Tony Soprano, there'd be no Vic Mackey, no Don Draper, no Walter White. And because of that, Gandolfini's legacy was cemented long before his tragic, untimely passing yesterday, at 51, from cardiac arrest.

Frankly, there can't be enough written about The Sopranos and Gandolfini's importance as its leading man, but there were also the sides to the Westwood, New Jersey, native that haven't been so well documented. Not that he wanted them covered, either. Gandolfini wasn't one for interviews, earning a reputation for being physically uncomfortable during media opportunities, though not unpleasant. As Vulture critic Matt Zoller-Seitz, who interacted with the actor numerous times during his Sopranos tenure, puts it in his eloquent tribute piece, "Anybody who had even the slightest contact with Gandolfini will testify to what a great guy he was, how full of life he was, how extraordinary he made other people feel. Yes, absolutely, he had problems…but so does everybody, to one degree or another. But whether he was feeling well or poorly, or living smartly or stupidly, there was always something about the guy that you wanted to embrace."

As longtime admirers of Gandolfini's work, as our Director of Content Strategy Joe La Puma's earnest essay makes clear, Complex felt compelled last night honor the man's lesser hailed performances and off-camera acts, the times when he wasn't Tony Soprano, the ruthless gangster, but James Gandolfini, the guy who could melt hearts by wearing his heart on his proverbial sleeve. These are James Gandolfini's most human moments.

RELATED: Where Have You Gone, Tony Soprano?

A Visit With Floyd

As Seen In: True Romance (1993)

Going back and watching True Romance now, it's easy to forget that James Gandolfini was acting in just his sixth feature film. But rather than be typecast forever as "Thug No. 6," his Virgil-though unmistakably a thug-was a little bit more nuanced than that. He shares his first scene with the cataclysmically stoned Floyd (played with Spicoli-esque panache by Brad Pitt) whom he interrogates. It's a playful interrogation, delivered with a small smile that never leaves his face, and entirely through a screen door that never opens. The scene is just over a minute long, but the roots of Tony Soprano's personality-menace delivered with a chilling note of seemingly genuine friendliness-are laid right here. —RB

A Glint of Humanity

As Seen In: True Romance (1993)

On the surface, there's nothing particularly tender about Gandolfini's role as vicious gangster Virgil in Tony Scott's True Romance. But two subtleties in the scene in which Virgil attempts to beat the location of some stolen drugs out of Alabama (Patricia Arquette) reveal the depths of Gandolfini's character. The first is a brief moment at the very beginning, when Gandolfini punches Arquette straight in the face. And hard. In the seconds following the connect, Gandolfini makes a strange but telling face; it's the kind of thing that most directors probably would have cut, but-in a split second-seems to reveal the character's guilt for what he know he must do.

The second moment is less subtle, but just as telling: As Alabama lies on the floor, beaten and bloodied, Virgil sees a glint in her eye that tells him she's still got some fight left. And he's impressed. So before he deals a fatal gun shot to her head, he bends down closer, opens his shirt and allows her one last swing at him with the corkscrew she has somehow commandeered. It doesn't end well and nothing about the scene is pretty. But it's one of Gandolfini's most iconic scenes in which he proves his ability to shift gears and emotion, playing tough, funny and (sort of) sensitive all at once. —JW

Teddy Bear

As Seen In: Get Shorty (1995)

Movies would be blander than rice cakes without stuntmen, but if you ever see their mugs in a picture, somebody screwed up in the editing suite. In Barry Sonnenfeld’s adaptation of Elmore Leonard’s novel Get Shorty, Gandolfini brings not only a face, but also pathos to one of these anonymous cinematic heroes.

After failing to set up out-of-town loan shark Chili Palmer (John Travolta) by giving him the key to a federally-monitored airport locker filled with dope money, L.A. drug dealer Bo Catlett (Delroy Lindo) orders Bear, a veteran Hollywood stuntman turned henchman, to retrieve the key. Incredulous that Catlett would now expect him to surrender it, Chili laughs in the big man’s face. Bear realizes that the job sets the bar high for idiocy, but as a dedicated blue-collar worker, he nonetheless attempts to intimidate, despite the fact that Chili grabbed him by the balls and threw him down a flight of stairs the last time he tried to menace him.

Easily bested with a quick combination of punches, Bear wheezes for breath on the ground and looks like the biggest, saddest Teddy ever stitched together. He grows even more sympathetic when Chili questions why a successful stuntman would work for a bum like Catlett and Bear lets out a sigh that says more than any dialogue about regrets could. When he reveals that he injured his quadriceps on the stairs, and then grins childishly when talking about the stunt work that he clearly takes great pride in, you want to give him a hug. Like most of Gandolfini’s tough guys, it’s evident that there is a human being underneath all the brawn, and in this case his biggest muscle is his heart. —JM

Blowing the Whistle

As Seen In: A Civil Action (1998)

In order to prove corporate misbehavior on a grand scale, there's got to be an insider willing to brave the consequences to come forward and tell the truth. In Steven Zaillian's A Civil Action, Gandolfini is that man. In the movie, based on a true story that was adapted from Jonathan Harr's book of the same name, Gandolfini plays Al Love, a native of Woburn, Massachusetts and employee of a local tannery that has been contaminating the town's water supply for years, resulting in several cases of cancer and leukemia. Love is the guy responsible for receiving and tracking all of the company's chemical deliveries. And when he realizes that many of his co-workers have lied in their depositions, he realizes that he's part of a cover-up and comes forward to share everything he knows.

Though Gandolfini's role in the film is integral, it's not a huge part. Yet he steals the movie-yes, even from over-the-top co-star John Travolta-as a blue-collar guy with a heart of gold. —JW

The Ducks

As Seen In: The Sopranos, "Pilot" (Season 1, Episode 1)

Despite the tensions in his life, Gandolfini's Tony Soprano was a man of many smiles: the soft, Daddy's-little-girl one he saves for Meadow; the glinty one that appears when he's talking especially vicious business; the I-will-suffer-fools-but-only-with-a-smirk one for idiots and Meadow's boyfriends.

But those are smiles of affection, menace, and frustration, not the truly happy one that suffuses his face when sees his precious ducks in the first episode of the series. It's maybe the happiest Tony Soprano ever was, and it lasts not even 10 seconds. One moment he's the diligent dad, studiously tending to the grill. Then the worries of the world are washed away completely as he catches sight of the ducks. The smile is pure and unalloyed: symmetrical (unlike a smirk) and swelling.

And in a matter of moments, it's gone. Worry replaces pleasure, confusion trumps mindless happiness. The transformation is fast and brutal, and totally believable, a testament to the breadth of Gandolfini's acting chops as he navigates the extremes of an extreme character. —JE

The Fridge

As Seen In: The Sopranos, "Proshai, Livushka" (Season 3, Episode 2)

Television acting has never gotten better than Gandolfini stress-eating. After Tony's had a talk with his mother, or a fight with Carm (whose name rhymes with parm), or, here, met Meadow's new college boyfriend, who happens to be black, his instinct is always to go straight to the fridge. He yanks open the door, pulls out a deli-packet of capicola, tears away the wrapping and maws down-huffing and puffing and chewing like a bear. Wordless funny sad pathetic. America. —DB

"Don't you love me?"

As Seen In: The Sopranos, "Where's Johnny?" (Season 5, Episode 3)

Television acting has never gotten better than this, either. Watch Gandolfini's eyes when he talks to Uncle June while they watch a Discovery Channel show about wildlife on the American Prarie. "Why's it gotta be mean?" Tony ask. "Why can't you repeat something good?" Junior turns back to the TV screen. "There's the coyote." Watch how Gandolfini's eyes get thin, like a wince that stays there. Listen to his voice tighten when he asks, "I mean, don't you love me?" And try not to well up yourself. —DB

Christmas Cards for TV Critics

As Seen In: n/a

As the story goes, James Gandolfini was so moved by all of the critical praise his performance as Tony Soprano received throughout the HBO show's debut season in 1999 that he wanted to acknowledge their kindness in some way. That Christmas, he personally wrote out and mailed "Thank You" cards to many of the critics who'd written so positively about his acting, an atypical move for your garden variety Hollywood actor, but one that suited Gandolfini. —MB

"Poppers and weird sex."

As Seen In: The Sopranos, "All Happy Families..." (Season 5, Episode 4)

Gandolfini was famous for his heft, a trait that allowed him to infuse Tony Soprano with an appropriate aura of menace. But it was his face that made him a great actor.

When confronted with a son who's blown off curfew and returned home with his eyebrows shaved off, Gandolfini's Tony automatically assumes the worst, as filtered through his own supremely out-of-touch context: amyl nitrate and kinky sex.

The scene shows Tony to be a bad father of spectacular proportions: absent (so absent he doesn't immediately recognize that his son's eyebrows are missing), yet not entirely so, so that he's a schizophrenic presence in his family's life, entirely unpredictable. In the course of two minutes, Tony goes from pinning his son to the wall to completely undermining Carmen's parental authority. They're all the things that are wrong with Tony as a parent-jumping to conclusions and then backing down when faced with the dirty work of discipline-which ultimately means that they're all the things that are real about Tony as a parent, and it's all revealed in Gandolfini's face, particularly the eyes. The clenched jaw doesn't relax much, there's too much stress in Tony's life for that. But the eyes change as he realizes that true parental responsibility will involve more effort than he's will to expend. They turn from menacing to conspiratorial, as he gives A.J. an out, like he'd feed an underling a cover story: "You had a couple beers." Bad parenting is as human as human nature can get, and Gandolfini pulls it off brilliantly here. —JE

A.J.'s Suicide Attempt

As Seen In: The Sopranos, "The Second Coming" (Season 6, Episode 19)

Tony Soprano only ever wanted the best things in life for only son, Anthony, Jr. (Robert Iler). He spoiled the disobedient kid who frequently disrespected his mother and grew into a young adult obsessed with the world's tragedies and paranoid about life's uncontrollable nightmares. As any caring father blinded by love would do, Tony tried to see the good in A.J., even when he gave his father little reason to. But in the emotionally devastating final season episode "The Second Coming," A.J. reached his life-is-hopeless limit.

In a half-assed and pathetic, yet no less devastating suicide attempts, A.J. wraps a plastic bag around his head, ties a cinder block to his foot, and leaps into the family's in-ground pool. When he decides that he wasn't in fact ready to die, he pushes himself up back to the water's surface, but can't free himself of the rope. As A.J. desperately cries for help, Tony comes home early, sees what's happening, and jumps into the pool to bring his son back to the surface. Father saves son.

Not that the already heart-wrenching scene needs anything extra, but Gandolfini's visceral reaction to his fictional son's near-death experience elevates the sequence to phenomenal heights. Coddling A.J. as if he were a helpless, scared infant, Tony breaks down, weeping, saying to his little boy, "Come on, baby. It's OK, baby."

Very few television moments have come close to matching this one's emotional workout. And only James Gandolfini could've pulled it off so immaculately. —MB

"A Man Without Love"

As Seen In: Romance & Cigarettes (2005)

John Turtorro's Romance & Cigarettes was one of those films that made you glad Roger Ebert was around; although it received largely mixed reviews, his high profile endorsement correctly identified the film as one freed from convention ("an anarchic liberty," he called it). A story about a long-lasting couple on the rocks (Gandolfini playing opposite Susan Sarandon, and cheating on her with Kate Winslet), Gandolfini was one of the only actors who could have pulled off the film's almost contradictory (and simultaneous) moods of playful, exuberant romance and deeply-felt drama. Despite the novelty of a comedy-musical with A-list actors singing (and those are really their voices), there's something at stake in the relationships between the characters in this film, and we're drawn to their story.

Gandolfini's best moment is the "A Man Without Love" number. Only someone of his gravitas could pull this off: He takes to the streets after his wife discovers his affair, singing along with Engelbert Humperdinck in that netherworld between reality and fantasy that perfectly captures the role music plays in our lives. —DD

Working With War Veterans

As Seen In: Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq (HBO documentary, 2007); Wartorn: 1861-2010 (HBO documentary, 2010)

James Gandolfini wasn't one to embrace the fame, spotlight, and the perks that come with being an Emmy-winning Hollywood icon. He was notoriously shy and uncomfortable around interviewers, and once sent in a taped message for an award acceptance speech rather than attend the Emmy ceremony. The New Jersey native was more interested in using his celebrity status to positive ends, chief of which was showing love to war veterans, particularly those who'd come back from fighting in Iraq.

Utilizing his clout at HBO, Gandolfini produced a pair of loving, moving documentaries, Alive Day Memories: Home From Iraq and Wartorn: 1861-2010, the latter focusing on soldiers' bouts with post-traumatic stress disorder. For Alive Day Memories, Gandolfini went beyond the responsibilities of a producer and sat down with 10 injured Iraq War vets for in-depth, warm-hearted interviews.

Most, if not all, of the eulogies surrounding James Gandolfini will center on The Sopranos, which makes sense, but hopefully his dedication to our men and women in combat won't go unacknowledged. He was more than just an exceptional actor. —MB

The Kiddie Calculator

As Seen In: In the Loop (2009)

Playing Tony Soprano, Gandolfini left no doubts about his funny bones, even when he was, you know, cracking kneecaps. In Armando Iannucci's absurd takedown of the Iraq War, In the Loop, Gandolfini delivers his funniest film performance ever, as Lt. Gen. George Miller. Gandolfini's such a carefully physical performer—each breath or puff of the chest tells you something. Playing military brass allows him to spit and bark plenty, but his most charming moment arrives via a chunky pink children's calculator.

To explain the potential death toll of the fast-approaching conflict while at a party, he settles down onto a bed in a child's bedroom and grabs the closest toy. It manages to be hilarious, chilling, and disarming, all at once. He's like a father helping with homework. —RS

"I don't even know what comes after dust."

As Seen In: Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

When Maurice Sendak's 1963 classic children's book Where the Wild Things Are was adapted into a feature film, fans who had grown up with the vibrant story were concerned-would the movie capture the intricate emotions of the text? These fears proved to be groundless, as Gandolfini was cast to play the primary Wild Thing, Carol, who serves as a foil for the riotous Max. Gandolfini's depiction of Carol reflected Max's childish tantrums and wide-eyed existential fears with an honesty and believability that landed the CGI-heavy film on many year-end lists. In fact, it's by observing Carol's destructive behavior that Max grows up enough to leave the fantasy world and return humbled and apologetic to his mother. What Gandolfini was able to capture-with just his voice, mind you-was the confusing heaviness of growing up, how naive, innocent people come to terms with the endless expanses of life on earth, and its eventual termination.

Most telling, is the scene where he and Max discuss the cycles of life through the physical metaphors of desert formation and the impending death of the sun. Gandolfini strikes the perfect notes of disbelief, fear and sadness, both when he admits that he doesn't know "what comes after dust" and through his refusal to accept that the sun could die when they're both so much bigger and more powerful than the sun. His portrayal of unbridled, guileless disbelief in this scene is just one of the many poignant moments in the movie, and this role in particular, reveals the multi-faceted sentiments Gandolfini consistently delivered. He was able to communicate human emotions through the guise of a fantastical, furry monster-the gravitas he added to this role heightened the quality of the entire film. —CW

"They take a bit of a toll."

As Seen In: Inside the Actor's Studio (2009)

Gandolfini's appearance on Inside the Actor's Studiorevealed much about the actor's past, including gems about a gig managing a nightclub, but the most surprising moment comes while discussing She's So Lovely. The little talked about 1997 feature includes a brutal moment where Gandolfini's character, Keifer, attacks his neighbor. At this point in the interview, Lipton asks Gandolfini about on-screen violence. You can see it in his posture, the slumped shoulder, and his downward gaze-Gandolfini isn't like these violent men. "They take a bit of a toll," he tells Lipton. As was the case with his best roles, Gandolfini lets his body speak for his interior. —RS

Relieving Tension

As Seen In: Zero Dark Thirty (2012)

For those who obsessively follow film blogs, James Gandolfini's cameo as CIA director Leon Panetta (a name never explicity stated) comes as no surprise during Zero Dark Thirty. However, even if you're already anticipating him, the moment he steps into the board room, where the CIA operatives are planning an attack on bin Laden's compound, still hits like a wave a relief. Considering he plays the most important role in the organization, it's impressive how he manages to play Panetta like a regular, fallible guy, one who isn't as high strung as those beneath him, more specifically Jessica Chastain's exhausted Maya. —TA

"Get the f***** guy."

As Seen In: Killing Them Softly (2012)

There are just two scenes in Killing Them Softly that Brad Pitt and James Gandolfini share, reuniting the men two decades after they first worked together on True Romance. The weariness undercutting their banter speaks volumes about the actors, how they've grown, and how crime movies have changed since the caffeinated '90s. Killing Them Softly is a bitter, sad film, and nothing gets at this quite like the second scene between Pitt's Jackie and Gandolfini's Mickey.

Jackie's flown Mickey down to New Orleans to take care of something. In other words, to kill someone. Mickey's tired. He holes up in his hotel room, drinking and fucking prostitutes, and when Jackie shows up to see what's what, all Mickey wants to do is reminisce. He's become the kind of aging gangster Tony Soprano would've grown impatient with. "Leave me alone," he says to Jackie. Jackie explain that he's got a guy who will take Mickey to do the job. "No, I can't go out," Mickey says, defeated, but with a sliver of a smile, the closest he can come to asking for sympathy. It breaks your fucking heart. —RS

Father and Son Dinner

As Seen In: Not Fade Away (2012)

Not Fade Away, the 2012 release that reunited Gandolfini with Sopranos' creator David Chase, isn't a great movie, but it hums with potential. Obviously a passion project for Chase, the coming-of-age tale takes the temperature of the '60s via a wannabe rock band from Jersey. Gandolfini plays the father of Douglas (John Magaro), the band's most talented member, and he dominates all of his scenes. For most of the film, he's the tough stoicism of the older generation personified. A brick wall, this guy. His kid's grown out his hair and dresses like he just got off the boat at Ellis Island.

After he finds out he's dying of cancer, he asks Douglas to get dinner with him. In a scene so dynamic and sad it makes you want to call your own dad, he tells his son about falling in love with a woman he met during treatment. The man who has up until this point has only lurched about and griped breaks into a smile at the memory. He talks about how he considered leaving Douglas' mother, but how he couldn't. This candor-if there's such a thing as man to man, this is it. —RS