It doesn’t matter, you see? Tony got whacked/Tony went on as before — it doesn’t matter. That’s not what The Sopranos was about. Ever.
David Chase has said time and time again that The Sopranos is about family. Now you add that to the recurring theme of the show — criminal-level self-delusion — and you have your answer. It doesn’t matter.
The ultimate scene of the entire series actually happened the week before in Dr. Mefli’s office. She finally realizes what an abyss Tony is, that she has made no progress, that she has been used in the service of Tony’s dysfunction. She kicks Tony out acknowledging her failure, he turns to her declaring, without a hint of irony, that what she is doing is “immoral.” (Note how he instinctively starts the charade again with A.J.’s therapist.)
Tony is hopeless. Whether it was referring to himself as a “soldier” or a “captain of industry” he could always build a fortress of justification around himself. But what about the family? Carmella, whose conscience once tortured her and sent her to therapy and to her priest desperate for redemption doesn’t even think about it anymore; she just focuses on her real estate career. A.J., who for a brief moment seemed to gather up the courage to act in some way, is bought off with a BMW and two-bit job in the film business. Meadow is headed for a career in civil rights law, convinced that the horrendous criminality all around her is really just a reflection of society’s prejudices.
Their apparent happiness is just more self-delusion. Tony’s criminality and the need to live with it everyday has claimed its ultimate victims, the ones he most wanted to save. Whoever came through Holsten’s door didn’t matter. As Carmella from Season One might have said, they are all going to Hell. The moment of potential salvation is gone. One minute everything is fine, but once the moment for salvation is past, there is nothing but blackness. As Bobby Baccala says, “When it comes, you don’t even hear it.”
Three more things:
First, this marks the end of the Mafia as an American movie paradigm. How can it not? Even if you’re another Scorsese or Coppola, there is no way you top The Sopranos with a two-hour film, even if you add in four hours of sequels. The genre is done. Everything that could have been said has been said. (Except for the inevitable "courageous" film about a pair of gay wiseguys.)
Second, Gandolfini has pulled off what is almost certainly the greatest extended acting tour de force in history. Not an episode went by where I was not amazed by the pitch perfect emotions, manners, and delivery. Even in the episodes when the script was weak, Gandolfini sold me. Just flawless. His performance should be watched closely by every student of acting from now on.
Lastly, on a personal level I am very sad to have seen the last of these characters we shared for the last eight years, but all good things… And of course, I am already totally intrigued by John from Cincinnati. If anyone can top David Chase, it’s David Milch.
