With neither a bang nor a whimper, David Chase just pulls the plug.
OK, as in other season enders, the family is having dinner, this time in a diner, Meadow is having trouble parking the car, there is talk of a turncoat going over to the Feds, a shifty character goes to the men’s room and...Silence and darkness. It’s over.
Traditionally, gang bosses end up in pools of their own blood.
In 1931’s “Little Caesar,” a bullet-ridden Edward G. Robinson breathed, “Mother of Mercy, is this the end of Rico?”
In 1949, James Cagney, a mother-loving psychopath in ”White Heat,” went out atop a burning oil refinery, screaming, “Made it, Ma! Top of the world.”
In 1983’s “Scarface,” Tony Montana walked into a storm of bullets with a machine gun, yelling “Say hello to my little friend!”
Not our Tony. Is his creator (small “c”) telling us that “The Sopranos” level of art does not call for melodrama? Is Uncle Junior’s Alzheimer the metaphor for real life swallowing eight years of our involvement with these people? Do we turn off the set and fuggedaboutit?
Arrivederci, Sopranos. It was great while it lasted, even though a little weird how it ended.