The Sopranos

I've been reluctant to add my voice to the endless--and it really seems to be endless--bitching and backslapping around the last episode of HBO's The Sopranos. But who can resist?

I fall firmly into the backslapping category; however, it had to grow on me. At first, the looooong blackout had me thinking the cat sat on the remote and turned TiVo off. But after a good night's sleep I began to understand its genius.

The show itself was intense yet oddly meandering, sublime and perfectly ordinary. Doesn't it make perfect sense that the last few minutes of the series would be all of those things, all at once? To be as ambivalent as any of the characters, plots, or themes?

As for the bitchers, let's chalk it up to rabid, loving fandom. I've seen fanboys throwdown over Star Trek vs. Star Wars. This is no different. Lame, true; but no different.

For the best example of this, read Tony Hendra's review at HuffPo. Clueless and weirdly antagonistic. If he felt like the guy at the party no one talks to, that should be his first clue. For added fun, read the comments to his post. My fav:

I agree. Everything I heard about the Sopranos--killing, cussing, pseudo-psycho-analysis --so turned me off that I never watched a minute of any episode. In spite of being somewhat deprived of such a piece of pop culture, I don't regret it. Such art as this, that glorifies the basest sort of behavior, is little more than scrawlings on the walls of the commode that 40 years of right wing assault on our society have turned our culture into.

Yes, she never watched it. Brava!