I’m not a fan of sequels or prequels. They’re less about expanding stories in a creative way and more about squeezing another dollar out of popular narratives and characters. With rare exceptions, they're disappointing. But when The Many Saints of Newark, a prequel Soprano’s movie, was announced, I was thrilled with the chance to reconnect with the characters. I anticipated the premiere for months. On Saturday night, perched on the edge of my seat, I pressed play. Two hours later, when the movie ended, I was stretched out, glasses perched on the end of my nose, glad it was over. I expected a violent, dark film. It's the New Jersey mafia. What I didn’t expect was a plot that wandered back and forth, lost in characters who in their 1990s version were loved but who in their earlier lives are unsympathetic and cartoonish.

East of the Mountains is the story of a man with cancer confronting his death. It’s a moving story of love, loss, grief, family, reconciliation, despair, and hope. And even more – it includes a dog. In his first role front and center in a movie after all these years, Skerritt plays it to perfection.

 The Hollywood marketing machine promised me a five-star meal and gave me overcooked leftovers. Some computer code shook me down for the price of a hamburger and rewarded me with prime cut filet mignon. Entertainment virtue is missing from The Many Saints of Newark, but it abounds, East of the Mountains.