If you watch the video you'll see that the sauce in which the Abruzzese lady finishes cooking the "polpettine" (after frying them) is a version of the Italian American "gravy", started, however, with the holy trinity of more northern cooking: carrot, celery and onion, and using different meats, as do Jovailis' parents, who are Italians from Italy, not really Italian Americans.
As for what usually passes for Italian American "gravy", it can sometimes be good, depending on the cook. My Neapolitan grandmother in law was an excellent cook, and hers was good.
In general, Italian American cooking, imo, is often "too much" of everything, especially too much onion, and WAY too much garlic in a lot of cases. Marinara sauce in so called "Italian" restaurants is usually stewed tomatoes with tons of garlic, and way too acidic.
It should say something that I absolutely NEVER order a pasta dish with a tomato sauce unless I've tasted someone else's dish of it because I usually absolutely LOATHE it.
Lydia Bastianich, an immigrant from Istria, has created an empire out of Italian food. Her original restaurant, Felidia, was, and still is, an excellent one. Like all such really good, authentic Italian restaurants, however, it costs an arm and a leg to eat there.
https://www.nytimes.com/2006/08/30/dining/reviews/30rest.html
Here's her menu and some pictures of the food.
https://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaur...7-Reviews-Felidia-New_York_City_New_York.html
Her son Joe, who should know better, has massively expanded her "empire". His central Manhattan Restaurant, Becco, should have a huge black X painted on it to warn people away. It's a tourist trap which serves atrocious food.
I broke my own rule there and ordered a simple pasta with tomato sauce, knowing Lydia was his mother. I sent it back, which I never do. It was garlic laden enough to scare off vampires, acidic enough that it was clear they used cheap domestic tomato passata, with the obvious addition of sugar to try to get rid of it, and the pasta itself was an overcooked, gluey, sodden mess. I've rarely been so angry about a dish I've ordered in a restaurant, because, as I said, he knows better.
I refused a substitution, and made my husband refuse to pay and leave. He was furious, but I uncharacteristically won that argument because I was even more furious. I would have given a lot for him to have been there so I could personally give him a good dressing down.