Here are two great pieces about the finale of this season of The Sopranos. <\/p>\n
SHOCK TREATMENT, by Nancy Franklin in The New Yorker. <\/p>\n
A couple quotes: <\/strong> Also:<\/strong> Then there’s Carina Chocano’s Divorce Italian style from Salon.com. Chocano is a terrific reviewer (again, like I mentioned in a post a while back, she reviews the acting in a very sensitive way, pointing out the subtleties of the performances, the gifts of the actors). <\/p>\n For example: <\/strong> Absolutely. The long extended fight scene which made up the majority of the finale was superbly done. Superbly written, directed, and acted. Stunning. <\/p>\n More on that fight: <\/strong> It was a lesson in acting, for me. Watching Edie Falco and James Gandolfini work together in that way. Unbelievable.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Here are two great pieces about the finale of this season of The Sopranos. SHOCK TREATMENT, by Nancy Franklin in The New Yorker. A couple quotes: Tony’s inability, or unwillingness, to reform is one of the things that have kept … Continue reading
\nTony’s inability, or unwillingness, to reform is one of the things that have kept the show fresh; like most of us, he has more self-awareness than he is able to use (“All this fucking self-knowledge. What the fuck has it gotten me?”), and his behavior reflects his preference for eliminating conflict rather than resolving it. Talking things out may have its place, but sometimes only a good whack job will do. <\/p>\n
\nHis brainstorm this season was that from now on he would trust only blood relations, like the smack-addled Christopher. He says to him, “You got your whole life in front of you, Christopher. You throw it away on drugs?” Good point\u2014except that he says it as they’re walking to the edge of a ravine to dump a dead body. <\/p>\n
\nIf the “Sopranos” season overall was somewhat of a disappointment, the fight scenes between Tony and Carmela were worth the price of admission alone: They were more brutal than any whacking and astonishingly gimlet-eyed. <\/p>\n
\nWatching the end come in waves and stages — of hysteria (“Don’t ever touch me again!”), cynical sang-froid (“That’s what you came out here to tell me?”), blame (“I’m going to hell, remember? Nice thing to tell a guy going into an MRI”), guilt (“I always regretted saying that”), woeful nostalgia (“You were my guy — you were so sweet sometimes and no one could make me laugh like you”), bitter sarcasm (“What you really crave is a little Hyundai and a simple gold heart on a chain”) and petty revenge (“I have been dreaming and fantasizing and in love with Furio”) — it’s hard not to wonder how creator David Chase and his writers manage to remember it all so perfectly, precisely, painfully well. <\/p>\n