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Review By J. THOMAS – Soft Serve News Monday, February 5, 2007 When I first heard HBO was going to re-air the first half of season six of “The Sopranos," I cringed. Season six made metal spikes come up through my couch. Never did an hour last so long. It stretched into days then weeks, then months, then years. Epochs came and went. New species were born, thrived, and died out and still the hour-long episode continued. What had I done? What sin did I commit? Why did they make Season 6 so boring? You Can Not Change the Channel Change the channel on a new Sopranos' episode? It can’t be done. The characters were too good. You were chair-chained for the duration, because at any moment it might get better. It’s the space between the notes that makes the music. That was the Sopranos’ style. After a long Dr Melfie session, or what have you, things would pick up. But in season six, the good notes were just too far apart. So I sat there. And waited. And watched and hoped. Alone. Or was it with someone? I can't remember. I try not to think about it. The show had “grown.” It was now, apparently, “uncompromising.” The truth was the show was still a phenomenon. And that success brought power, and power corrupts -- or at the very least brings freedom. More specifically, freedom for the show’s creators. "The Sopranos," now so huge, was untethered from the demands of mere entertainment. The writers decided to till other soil. And till they did. The culmination of the assent, or slide, was Part One of Season Six. Tony, Can You Please Wake Up? Seriously. After Tony was shot we were treated to yet another long meaningful-meaningless dream sequence. Of course Tony’s dream must have been a metaphor. Maybe it was a metaphor for Bush, or the war, or maybe it was a metaphor for metaphors. Perhaps it meant nothing. Who knows. Tony of course did not know he was dreaming, that he was not a mere businessman, but we knew. So we just sat there and waited for him to wake up. Eventually he did. What was the point? Season six was also preachier than normal. Johnny Cakes were flying everywhere. (Those things can put an eye out.) But us dumb rubes had to be taught that it is bad to kill a mobster for being gay. “Hey, in the final shot, let’s zoom in on his picture.” Fade to black. Ok, I get it. And then there was Carmela’s existential trip to Paris. “When you actually die, life goes on without you. Like it does in Paris, when we're not here.” Male writers think like this. Italian women from Jersey with two kids however do not. Now, am I saying it's against the laws of physics for a mob wife to have these thoughts? Yes I am. It can’t happen. It would have been more believable if Carmela melted the Eiffel Tower with her X-ray vision. Also the show was getting depressing. Everyone was sick. Tony was hobbling around for most of the season. Silvio couldn’t breathe and went to the hospital. Uncle Junior fell deeper into dementia. Poor Eugene, sick with despair, killed himself. Christopher relapsed again. Paulie was depressed about his mom really being a nun (always a downer) and then he got cancer. And just before he could launch a gang war with Tony, Phil Leotardo has a heart attack! Get the pattern? As the strength drained out of these characters, so did the show’s energy. After most episodes of season six, part one I found myself thinking, “Hmmm . . . that stunk.” You, Sir, Are Too Dumb to Really 'Get' "The Sopranos" Many would say the show was simply over my head. I could never truly understand it. I couldn’t see past my craving for rage and thuggery. My simian mind could not perceive the subtle undercurrents and wisdoms dancing like so many angels. Didn’t I understand that the show’s sweep was about the decay of the mafia, the decay of these men? Why yearn for Tony’s strength, his infallibility, his vigor? These things must fade with time. True, but was it so silly of me to demand that these stories of decline be told in an interesting or compelling way? Still, I have to admit the season wasn’t all bad. It was hilarious when Little Carmine helpfully reminded Lauren Bacall to “Enjoy your success.” There were other fine moments too. The actors were brilliant as usual. Each bringing their characters skillfully to life. And even in the stories there was something there. They were stylistic. There was a flavor. There was a weaving of some fabric. A cooking of some memorable soup here and there. But in the end, it just didn’t come together. The greatness the of the first few seasons cast too long a shadow. The large tactical battles of a war-like mafia family were pushed to the background. I squirmed in my seat. It was just one long Dr. Melfi session. It was as if they took these great characters and gave them to a film student who was going through some tough times at home. The show was self indulgent, slow, distant and depressing. Maybe in some other venue. Maybe if the show hadn’t been so great in the past. If it weren’t "The Sopranos." You, Sir, Are Committing Treason And yes I feel treasonous for criticizing such a great show. But for me that’s all it was. A compelling, well-crafted show. Not high art or a source of wisdom. Perhaps that’s my loss. I never saw anything else in it. But hey, I was busy. And when they scooped out the entertainment part in season six I grew annoyed. It took up my time and returned little but frustration. So why shouldn’t I throw a rock at the mansion Soprano before I run off to play stick ball with my knuckles dragging behind me? Maybe these guys might even be motivated to consider the show’s actual dramatic entertainment value as they put the closing touches on the final nine episodes coming in April. That’s unlikely at this point though. I’m sure when the series first aired they wanted to make great shows. Perhaps now that’s irrelevant. They wish to guide us, or somehow recreate some early childhood echo. Or show each character’s decline in detail to fully replicate the real world’s suffering. Or teach. Or experiment. Beats me. If the new episodes continue down the same path, the critics will no doubt find brilliance on the canvas left so blank with tedium. But not me. Boredom interrupted by suffering is way too close to real life. That’s everywhere. No need to make a show about it. It was a great show though. With great characters. Who knows? Maybe they’ll make the final episodes better. Or perhaps the writers feel if the audience doesn’t “grow” with them, they can just eat crap. I guess I can stomach nine more bowls of it. I got my spoon. See you in April. |
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