I don’t remember Godfather II well, but I do remember Michael Corleone staring out at Lake Tahoe, I believe, after his pyrrhic mafia victory. Doesn’t Tony, sitting alone by the lake, remind you of the alienated don, Michael Corleone? The lake is a cipher for Tony’s North Caldwell pool. The nanny sings duckling songs and birds fly away. Tony longs for a happy family; yet, despite his gun and his golf clubs, the gift that really matters -- the one that stings -- is the DVD of his family of origin. Janice can tell that her brother is miserable, lounging in his chair. Perhaps she sees their father’s pain knotted in Tony’s shoulders. Sibs can read each other, especially sibs who’ve experienced the trauma of life under the roof of Johnny Boy and Olivia Soprano. Tony may be turning 47 (he’s a stripling, barely a Boomer), but he seems more the lost lion in winter. He’s another Michael Corleone.