THIS is why I love reading posts on Salon!! Excellent post!!

Being There

At first, all this conjecture and deep analysis about Chase's last episode, especially the ending, reminded me of "Being There," the Peter Sellers film where every word of a gardener's meaningless pronouncements were taken by a needy world as profound wisdom. But then it all became clear. It's the onion rings, stupid: They're round, see... symbolizing the law of karma and the infinite. What's more, they're ONIONS... with their endless layers-- peel one back and there's another and another. So it's all about life's Journey-- get it? Why am I always the one who has to explain everything?

The screen went black, and I thought that my TIVO had malfunctioned. Unfortunately, the problem was with the writers of The Sopranos and not with my TV. They (or let’s just blame David Chase, the man in charge) created characters about whom many people in America and abroad cared. Tony Soprano may be a killer, but his foibles and domestic disputes reminded us of our own. But here’s the problem with being a devoted viewer (at least in the opinion of Chase), we (as a people) care too much about this fictional crime family and not enough about the actual world in which we live. It was the first thing that I thought once the credits started rolling, and I'm happy to see that Heather Havrilesky agrees because I've enjoyed her analysis of the series.

What? That might be a hell of an extrapolation...but wait. Was A.J.’s recent transformation from a snotty brat to a possible enlisted soldier to a snotty movie exec just haphazard writing? Or was this transformation (and subsequent retransformation as soon as Tony offered a suitable bribe to his shallow son) an indictment of those (like Tony and A.J.) who dwell in a state of denial? Immediately before the disappointing final scene, A.J. returns to his habits of laughing (in that silly baby voice) in front of the television with another disposable girl, and Tony has eliminated Phil Leotardo and resumed his life of hurting people, ruining the environment with asbestos, breaking the law, running his businesses, and living in his McMansion digs. The entire Sopranos family (even Meadow who has abandoned medicine as well as public interest law and suddenly declared interest in a cushy position at a prominent firm) enjoys material pleasures without considering the human costs of these trappings.

Despite my irritation with the last scene, I got to thinking.

Perhaps A.J.’s decision to forget the army and laugh in front of his parent’s TV is a reprimand to the entire viewing public of the Sopranos. Instead of satisfying the viewers by concluding the show either in prison or in a blood bath, Chase decided to ratchet up the tension and leave us hanging. Instead of indulging our Sopranos-centered fantasies and revealing the fates of our favorite characters, he exposed these characters as fictional. We will never know the ultimate fate of Tony Soprano because, in fact, Tony Soprano doesn’t really exist. We will never read his obituary in the paper, and Chase has denied his viewers this satisfaction. Tony is immaterial, and we have been watching TV. Despite Journey’s plea, we cannot keep believing. Now, are we all supposed to wake up, watch the news, join the army, leave our morally objectionable husbands, become doctors, quit our lives of unthinking consumerism, and (most of all) cancel our subscriptions to HBO?

Here’s the problem. By defying audience expectations and exposing the immateriality of his own characters, Chase has insulted our intelligence. Yes, the U.S. has a serious problem in that our foreign policy is morally objectionable, and perhaps the average viewer has spent too much time pondering Tony Soprano instead of the people dying all around the world, but how dare Chase wag his finger at his own viewers. Because viewers get caught up in the lives of fictional characters, does that mean that they function in a state of denial?

What is the purpose of fiction? Fiction offers its audience a view of the world, and The Sopranos in all its specificity achieved this task. We cared about the nuances of this mobster’s rages and breakdowns. And in offering this worldview, Chase has always highlighted Tony’s (and perhaps many Americans’) self-involvement. However, fiction not only presents a worldview, but also creates a world. By undermining the entire fictional world of The Sopranos with his decision to leave Tony’s (admittedly fictional) future so infuriatingly unresolved, Chase has mocked us (his viewers) for ever caring about his show or Tony Soprano. Perhaps Americans need to pay more attention to their real-life responsibilities, but must we be deprived of all our fictions? By assuming that all Americans eschew thoughts of war and terrorism for cushy couches and chances to laugh (or in this case, cringe) in front of the TV, has Chase correctly criticized current American culture? Or has he underestimated his audience? People turn to fictions at the end of a hard day, but these fictions do not replace serious concerns. Fictions take us away from our daily lives briefly, but if Chase actually thinks that the majority of Americans care more about Tony Soprano than about foreign policy, dying soldiers, and dying Iraqis, I believe that he is sadly mistaken. He has deprived us of a resolution in the final episode, and so he has deprived us of a little pleasure at the end of a very long, hard day. That is all that this show ever afforded to the majority of Americans, and if Chase believes that his viewers are living in denial and only enjoying shallow, material pleasures (like his little show), he has underestimated us.

From episode 1, this whole show has been about Tony Soprano. Not only the character and the stories built around him, but seeing the world through his eyes and engaging with him on an emotional level as well. We are challenged to feel the way Tony feels. The sessions with Dr. Melfi were a primer to Tony's current state of mind, then we sit back and experience those anxieties, fears, joys in his everyday life.

The final scene in the diner was the pinnacle of David Chase's genius. Tony sitting in the booth, watching people entering the diner. We all felt that anxiety of perhaps, this the guy who is going to whack Tony. Or from Tony's perspective: is this the guy who is going to whack me? A reality that Tony Soprano goes through every moment of his life. At that moment, we all WERE Tony Soprano.

And as Tony, we saw Meadow enter the diner, then...nothing. Blackness.

Death

At that moment, Tony was murdered. Just like Bobby said in the first episode of the season: At least you'll never see it coming. Tony didn't and neither did we. Just like Tony, we'll never know who it was who pulled the trigger. Tony will never know he was killed.

I think, knowing how so many other of Tony's crew and associates, and victims, died. Tony not only got what he deserved, but was fortunate enough to go quickly and unaware of his own death.

It was a culmination to the best show of my generation. And I loved every minute of it.