THANKS TO THE kind folks at HBO, I was able to get a sneak peek at the first two episodes of The Sopranos‘ final season. By the end of the second episode, “Stage 5,” I could hardly believe what had transpired. Who would have guessed that Tony would cooperate with the feds after the untimely death of his wife, Carmela?
I’m kidding. There will be no spoilers in this review, not to worry. Nor will there be any deep psychoanalysis (see Dr. Glen O. Gabbard’s The Psychology of the Sopranos, Chapter 1, “Bada Being and Nothingness”). Over the last seven years, there has been an abbondanza of books about The Sopranos (Tony Soprano on Management: Leadership Lessons Inspired by America’s Favorite Mobster by Anthony Schneider) as well as books by the Sopranos (Wise Girl: What I’ve Learned About Life, Love, and Loss by Jamie-Lynn Sigler, A Goomba’s Guide to Life by Steven Schirripa), not to mention The Sopranos Family Cookbook featuring Artie Bucco.
Critics have likened The Sopranos to Greek tragedy, Shakespeare, and Chekhov. Others compare it to miniseries like I, Claudius and Brideshead Revisited. All of which point to the obvious question: What more can be said?
Judging from the latest magazine covers, the answer is a lot. But specifically, what can we expect from this seventh and final season and, more broadly, just what made The Sopranos one of the greatest shows on television?
As was apparent in the sixth season and now continuing into the seventh, death is in the air. Tony is constantly reminded of his own mortality as well as the mortality of others. He ponders who could be his successor and, most of all, how to retire–a feat he is determined to accomplish or at least die trying.
As far as series finales go, any number of endings can happen. As with Newhart and St. Elsewhere, this could all be a dream, with Tony Soprano as northern Jersey’s Walter Mitty. Or, similar to Cheers, life could simply go on, with the final shot looking down on Satriale’s butcher shop and Tony’s crew sitting around, passing the time. Or Tony’s archnemesis, Phil Leotardo, could have the last laugh.
Could Tony decide to work with the FBI, going against everything he has held sacred? It seems highly doubtful. Then again, who would have guessed that a real-life underboss like Sammy “The Bull” Gravano would turn on his associates when faced with a long prison sentence? Still, this scenario remains unlikely. Besides, if Tony did become a “rat,” fans would be disappointed.
Every Sunday during Sopranos season, millions of viewers find themselves in this moral dilemma, rooting for a man who is unfaithful, corrupt, and murders (mostly without remorse). As Stephen Holden of the New York Times once explained, “In forcing us to empathize with a thug whom we watch committing heinous acts, The Sopranos evokes a profound moral ambiguity.” Holden’s colleague at the Times, Caryn James, adds that the “brilliance of The Sopranos depends on the trick of letting us see Tony’s worst qualities and getting us to identify with him anyway.” Perhaps we are holding out for redemption.
Mostly we enjoy living vicariously through Tony and, at least for one hour each week, relish the boss’s ability to live above the law, loved by some, feared by most. The impulse is not uncommon. As actor Joe Pantoliano, who played the ill-fated character Ralph Cifaretto, said, “How many times have you been insulted in your life or embarrassed by someone, where you fantasized on the way home how you could bash that person’s brain in for doing that to you?” It was what drew former mobster Henry Hill into organized crime, though as Goodfellas makes painfully clear, it is ultimately not a life worth living. As The Sopranos comes to a close, with Tony trying to find his way out, this point is made once again.
It is often forgotten that this show, with all its Emmys and Golden Globes, almost didn’t make it. CBS and Fox turned down the initial script. And had they accepted it, the networks would have cast someone either more famous or more attractive than James Gandolfini. (CBS would have gone with Anthony LaPaglia. Interestingly, HBO almost went with Steve Van Zandt, currently Tony’s consigliere, Silvio Dante. And Lorraine Bracco initially tried out for the role of Carmela Soprano before becoming Tony’s therapist, Dr. Melfi.)
Fortunately for us (and HBO), the show succeeded–precisely because many of the actors who were cast were not superstars. And of course The Sopranos worked because of the creative genius of David Chase and his staff of writers and directors. Pantoliano described how “the writers love getting [the characters] in compromising situations. They love getting them up a tree and then figuring out how you get them down.” (Pantoliano should know, considering his character turned out to be a sexual deviant and in one scene is violated by Tony’s sister, Janice Soprano. “David, why Janice?” pleaded Pantoliano. Chase could only laugh.)
Not that every episode was free of gripes (of which I am sure Chase has heard plenty). Personally I had hoped for a resolution to the missing Russian, and I cringed during the Gay Vito-Johnny Cakes love affair, though overall, there will be much to miss: Who can forget the “Pine Barrens” episode or “The Happy Wanderer” featuring the Executive Game? Remember the suddenness of Janice killing Richie Aprile? Or when Tony is fooled into playing golf with Dr. Cusamano, hoping to get invited to join a country club, only to realize he is being used to impress Cusamano’s friends?
David Chase once told the Times that “there is a point at which a television series becomes a walking dead parody of itself. I hope we see it and shoot ourselves in the head first.” With only a handful of episodes left and fans longing for more, that is as likely to happen as Tony and Phil making peace.
Victorino Matus is an assistant managing editor at THE WEEKLY STANDARD.
