The 'Sopranos,' one day later

Just finished re-watching the final Sopranos, convinced more than ever that we all witnessed a classic, something that held me (at least) spellbound for most of its hour. What I missed the first time--or forgot, actually--was the extent of Butchie's frustration with Phil, and the accompanying intransigence of Phil that becomes Phil's undoing.

The sit-down in the freezing cold, the performance of Hairy FBI Guy, the varied nuttiness of Paulie and Uncle June--these are things that approach perfection. Tony's last scene with the exasperating Janice, the bargain-basement variation of Micheal Corleone's changing relationship with Connie.

And, that final scene. One thing.

There was no hit. This piece of the puzzle comes courtesy of Dean Barnett, aka the Sainted Soxblog. Barnett posits that:

*If seven seasons (and the past few weeks) have demonstrated, hits are complicated endeavors. Writer Chase made a point of making Holsten's a last-minute decision made withing the small-f family (unless you count Rhiannon as a potential rat--anyone think so)? No way Butchie or anyone else could set up a hit that fast.

*Phil was whacked with the implicit approval of Butchie, who is due to move up to Boss. All quiet on the Hudson Front.

To which I would add:

*No way Bathroom Guy is the shooter, someone who would sit, stare, then go to the restroom. Tony's sixth sense would be too strong for such a risk. (The notion that the gun was in the toilet, ala Michael Corleone's take-out of Sollozzo, is prepostrous. For one thing, I'm guessing even Holsten's doesn't have the old-fashioned toilets sported by Louie's in the Bronx, and the whole point of planting the gun was that Michael was frisked by the crooked cop.)

*Cub Scout Guy and Girlfriend Guy aren't even worth mentioning. Old Guy, too.

*The two black guys at the end? A reminder of the second time Uncle June went after Tony (using, as Christopher wrote, "Boys II Men"), and the attempt was a disaster. The guys were more interested in the food than anything.

*Finally, the worst-kept secret in Jersey is that Tony is facing, finally, some serious legal problems. Why not let the Feds do your work for you?

So, then, the final scene.

My extended family comes not only from that region, not only from that state, but that extended series of metropoli; my father reports he passed Satriale's hundreds of times.

This series had its basis in Tony Soprano's psyche: his depression, his panic attacks; but also his sociopathology, his self-pity, his compartmentalization, his narcissism. (Does anyone remember its comparison with the long-forgotten film Analyze This?) Vito Corleone took to crime in desperation, only after being fired as a grocer's helper, and then took to murder only when a local crime boss threatened this new livelihood. He did what he did ("I don't apologize") to feed his family; the rationalizations came later. Tony Soprano was born into the life, brought in by his father and Uncle June when, as a middle-class white male, he was free to choose from a thousand different other professions. Something in him wanted the money, the big house in Jersey, the jewelry for his wife. Something in his sociopathic mind enjoyed what he did, and what it brought him . . . but at the same time, given his native intelligence, he could not escape the realization that his enemies were real, and armed, and that his victims were flesh and blood.

The first episode was Dr. Melfi, the panic attacks, and the ducks. The last episode was Holsten's. As an analogy, we proceed from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest to A Beautiful Mind: from an external manifestation of psychotic disorder to an inside-out dramatization of the actual experience. Tony may serve a stretch on the gun charge--leaving, ugh, Paulie in charge. He may be killed tomorrow. What we saw in the last scene was a Tony's-eye view of the world, in all its paranoia and dread.

Bathroom Guy? Are you kidding me? But if you're Tony Soprano, something like Bathroom Guy is enough to make you physically ill, every time, for the rest of your life.

So, the blackout--for a count of ten--that caused tens of millions to jump from their sofas. Message: that's it. The crap is gonna come without warning.

Other obserevations, chronologically:

1. Again with the casket . . . organ music tinkling into classic rock; I'm more convinced than ever that Chase wanted to give us a few seconds, at the beginning of the episode, to think Tony was dead.

2. Darkness turning to light at the airport runway, illuminating Tony's face: shades of the first appearance of Orson Welles's first appearance as Harry Lime in The Third Man.

3. Carm (seeing Rhiannon come down the stairs, pull on a boot): "That bothers me."
Tony: "Who's she gonna tell?"

4. At the Wake: Vivaldi's "Winter."

5. Paulie; "You can take Two Thousand and Seven and give it back to the Indians."

6. Butchie, in the cold, on the same street used for the Italian festival in Godfather II, for my money the best sequence of either original or sequel: DeNiro's stalking, and killing, of Fanucci.

7. In the SUV, a demonstration--yet again--the Bob Dylan has done more damage to narcissistic youth than any Post-War American artist besides JD Salinger.

8. Line of the night. AJ: "We need to break our dependence on foreign oil!"

9. Priceless: The expression on Carm's face when she discovers that Meadow's loser girlfriend is in her second year of med school. Really? Great!

10. AJ roaring into the school parking lot with his Beamer. Guess he's okay.