Facing the first Sunday of the rest of their lives, addicts should consider Dick Cavett’s question: How is a person supposed to live without “The Sopranos”?
To answer, we must first deal with last week’s ending and the growing consensus that the sudden blackout signified Tony’s death. A dissent on aesthetic grounds: If David Chase had intended that to mean Tony’s loss of consciousness, the camera would not have been on his face but seeing the room through his eyes.
Be that as it may, put aside the survival of Anthony Soprano while considering spinoffs to assuage our grief:
The Melfi Files: Haunted by loss, the therapist embarks on dramatic, dangerous encounters with patients from various fringes of society, to the constant consternation of her mentor, Dr. Eliot Kupferberg.
The Hunt for Junior’s Gold: Janice has to fend off con men and fortune hunters attempting to penetrate her uncle’s Alzheimer’s and find his hidden stash. Sub-theme: Is Corrado just faking it to throw off the Feds?
Nine Lives of Christopher the Cat: Twilight Zone fantasies centering on the feline inheritor of the Moltisanti spirit hovering over and protecting his wife and baby while devising devilish ways to keep making Christopher’s collections for them.
Meadow Soprano Esq.: Heartwarming tales of a public defender saving the lost souls of our society, featuring a different ethnicity each week.
The Artie Bucco Kitchen Capers: Comedy series featuring colorful patrons and a special Italian recipe each week. Guest appearances by Stanley Tucci and Tony Shalhoub.
A.J.’s Entourage: Loopy stories about Hollywood losers coalescing around a Mafia prince.
There is no cure, but these pale palliatives would be intended to help Soprano Syndrome sufferers through unbearable Sundays when DVDs of the original series are not strong enough to ease the pain.
Showing posts with label David Chase. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Chase. Show all posts
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Sopranos' End? Start Here...
Among the pleasures of “The Sopranos” has been the feeling you get when the world discovers someone or something you’ve appreciated for a long time.
David Chase’s writing has been giving me pleasure since the 1970s when he did the scripts for and later produced more than a score of episodes for “The Rockford Files” with James Garner.
Many of the attitudes and themes of “The Sopranos” are there inchoately--fascination with the Mafia, insecurities and ineptness behind the bravado, dicey family relationships. But the furor over the series’ finale keeps bringing back echoes of one Rockford script that had nothing to do with the Mob.
It was called “Irving the Explainer,” with an over-the-top plot about Hollywood history, Nazis, a missing painting, French police, unsolved murders and so much more that Rockford has to hire a logician to try to untangle it all.
At the end, when he finally thinks he has it nailed, along comes one of the characters with yet another dying confession to bollix up all his theories.
All the deep thinking about last Sunday’s final chapter of “The Sopranos” keeps reminding me of Chase’s playfulness about rational explanations for everything and of something else he said some time ago:
"Network television is all talk. I think there should be visuals on a show, some sense of mystery to it, connections that don't add up. I think there should be dreams and music and dead air and stuff that goes nowhere. There should be, God forgive me, a little bit of poetry."
Chase has given us all that and more--no forgiveness needed.
David Chase’s writing has been giving me pleasure since the 1970s when he did the scripts for and later produced more than a score of episodes for “The Rockford Files” with James Garner.
Many of the attitudes and themes of “The Sopranos” are there inchoately--fascination with the Mafia, insecurities and ineptness behind the bravado, dicey family relationships. But the furor over the series’ finale keeps bringing back echoes of one Rockford script that had nothing to do with the Mob.
It was called “Irving the Explainer,” with an over-the-top plot about Hollywood history, Nazis, a missing painting, French police, unsolved murders and so much more that Rockford has to hire a logician to try to untangle it all.
At the end, when he finally thinks he has it nailed, along comes one of the characters with yet another dying confession to bollix up all his theories.
All the deep thinking about last Sunday’s final chapter of “The Sopranos” keeps reminding me of Chase’s playfulness about rational explanations for everything and of something else he said some time ago:
"Network television is all talk. I think there should be visuals on a show, some sense of mystery to it, connections that don't add up. I think there should be dreams and music and dead air and stuff that goes nowhere. There should be, God forgive me, a little bit of poetry."
Chase has given us all that and more--no forgiveness needed.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Arrivederci, Sopranos
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.
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.
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