The Best Worst Episode Ever

And the rush is on, as bloggers, newspaper columnists, entertainment personalities, and graduate students race to comment on The Sopranos series finale.

As a die-hard Lost fan, I've generally left The Sopranos alone. They're both smart shows with demanding audiences, though each caters to different tastes. One is a an epic mystery told through chapters that sometimes play like character studies. The other is a series of character studies told through one-act plays. Personally, I hate plays, because they don't normally have a budget for polar bears, sharks, and smoke monsters, and if they do, singing is usually involved. But Sopranos fans have had to put up with the same short-sighted arguments that Lost viewers have, like "Why don't you kill more/less?" So I gave them a pass in the hopes that those who write for major newspapers would stop bitching about Lost.

My bad.

The primary defense for the drawn-out final season of The Sopranos (it started in March 2006) was: "It's like real life! Isn't it great how this show defies our expectations by not following up on what happened in previous episodes? A television series where loose ends are never tied up or investigated? Brilliant!" (Note that these apologist praises are the same complaints that dogged Lost throughout its third season until the finale.) That's all fine and good if you really believe that, but to me, the direction The Sopranos took in the long run led to three possibilities:

1) Lazy writing on par with Star Trek and The X-Files in terms of disinterest in continuity
2) Pretentiousness unparalleled by any HBO series this side of Cathouse
3) David Chase, creator of The Sopranos, is a total dick

I don't know whether I should be pissed or admire the fact that after watching the series finale, I've come to conclusion number three. David Chase hates you so much for liking to watch people get whacked that he turned The Show That Changed Television into a shaggy-dog story.

No doubt, the finale of The Sopranos is the best worst episode of television ever. It has everything long-term viewers have been dying for, most notably an unexpected but humorous execution. It remembers that the show has an ensemble cast and it ends on a family dinner scene. And there's no denying the tension of the final setup. Tony and his family arriving one by one at the restaurant. Journey playing on the jukebox. The suspicious look of the guy who goes into the men's room (obvious Godfather reference!). The repeated cuts to Meadow trying to parallel park her car before she rushes across the street to the restaurant. The door opens and then--

Black.

Black like it looks like you cable went out black.

For long enough to convince you that your cable actually went out.

And then credits.

Congratulations, David Chase. You've found a way to be the biggest asshole in the history of television and make everyone praise you for it. I salute you, you arrogant bastard.