So, you know The Sopranos ended the other night. I do, indeed, watch the program even though I rarely write about it here.
Let’s just start here: watching The Sopranos is a family affair. My brother, sister-in-law and I converge at my Mom’s house so that she can make us fillets of talapia that she saw Giada prepare on the Food Network. Then we wash the dishes, settle down and watch the show, bobbing our heads in synch to the theme song (a years-long ritual). For the finale, my brother and sister-in-law dove into their Sopranos cookbook and made baked ziti and Carmella’s Ricotta pie. It’s totally Norman Rockwell, but with Jews. And organized crime.
This last season has been, for me, colored by my own bloodlust. I’ve never really sympathized with any of the characters — struggling to see the humanity behind the murderers. The only likable people remain on the periphery (like the elder daughter, Meadow). Therefore, I just wanted to see everyone die. All of them. Tony, gone. Paulie, gone. Phil, definitely gone. Hell, get rid of A.J. for all I care (and, for what it’s worth, that what I thought they were going to do).
That said, I know a mass murder probably wouldn’t be the best thing from a story perspective. However, that’s not to say I enjoyed the ending for the finale at all. I didn’t and here’s why:
A really long story with no ending.
For starters, let’s compare The Sopranos’ closing moments with the closing moments of its HBO cousin, Six Feet Under. In the Sopranos finale, the closing moments involved the Soprano nuclear family gathering at a diner as Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” plays in the background. Tony arrives, Carmella arrives, A.J. arrives and says (a propos of God knows what) to “focus on the good times.” As Meadow grows increasingly frustrated with her attempts to parallel park her car, the editing and direction get taut. A menacing dude in a members-only jacket goes to the men’s room and you think he’s going to whack Tony or, who knows, maybe all of them. The final shot is of Meadow bursting through the front door to join her family. Fade to black. No resolution, no answers. Nothing.
On the complete flip side there’s Six Feet Under (don’t read the next two paragraphs Maggie, etc. if you ever plan on watching this show).
The best show ever.
Big brother/series hero Nate has already died and been buried (in a fucking agonizing penultimate episode, by the way). In the final moments of the finale, Alan Ball starts flipping calendar pages and chronicles the demise of each main character. Ruth dies first of old age. Keith dies in an armed robbery. David dies at a picnic table surrounded by his multi-ethnic family after daydream/hallucinating an image of a young, robust Keith (this scene, in particular, is the one planned by the producers to send me into hysterical weeping). And finally, Claire dies in a hospital bed, old enough to have had Willard Scott wish her happy birthday a few times over.
Put these two side by side and there’s an obvious contrast. Whereas the Sopranos finale has been criticized for underdelivering, the SFU finale has been criticized for overdelivering. That is, explaining too much. But looking a little deeper, the SFU finale makes perfect sense because, since day one, it was a show about death. Especially in the final season (promoted with the tagline “Everything ends”), the whole show was about endings and resolutions and, yes, dying. It may have seemed over-the-top at first, but it was really natural when you think about it.
What have we got with The Sopranos then? Theories abound. Some say we were witnessing Tony’s final moments. When you get whacked, you never see it coming — so that final shot of Meadow was Tony’s last vision. Then there’s the theory that given the way he has lived his life, he always has to live in fear of being killed and thus “remember the good times.” Or whatever.
Point is, no one knows and stupid David Chase isn’t budging. I feel like the only people who were really pleased with the finale are the people who a) would have been happy with it no matter what, and b) have intellectualized the answer to a point where they have complete disregard for narrative closure. Like it’s completely beside the point.
What do I think of the final moments of the finale? It was shitty storytelling. It’s like those ghost stories that end with the flashlight-holding storyteller yelling “boo!” and making everyone jump. It’s tittilating for a moment until you realize they completely robbed you of an ending. And if you don’t have an ending you haven’t told a story.
That’s not to say there wasn’t some closure to certain things. Phil got whacked and that was very satisfying, bringing that whole clash of families to a close. But this is a whopper to leave us dangling on, and what happens to Tony and family is really what people cared about.
This is what Chase said in the interview I linked to earlier today from The Star Ledger.
“I have no interest in explaining, defending, reinterpreting, or adding to what is there. No one was trying to be audacious, honest to God. We did what we thought we had to do. No one was trying to blow people’s minds, or thinking, ‘Wow, this’ll (tick) them off.’ People get the impression that you’re trying to (mess) with them and it’s not true. You’re trying to entertain them.”
To which I say, “Really?” Did he seriously not think people would be enraged by this? And justifiably so, given that it’s taken so incredibly long for this series to end?
His tight-lipped nature is expected, but frustrating.