That David Chase, he's a motherfucker. Damn him and "physic mess." We give him credit for being ballsy enough to get that ending past the HBO suits, but it's a giant copout. Some of our friends are screaming genius, but we say "let's string 'em along until the movie" is more apt. Open endings are for novels, not TV. We've invested eight years in The Sopranos; no book takes eight years to read. We don't know if Silvio lives or dies, if Paulie commits suicide (which is the theory we're floating), if one of those shady characters in the restaurant caps Tony, or even if Janice gets to keep Bobby's kids.
The beauty of the Lost season finale was that, in effect, it could have acted as a series finale. We didn't get all the answers we'd been begging for, but we got some - and the ones we didn't get were offset by the revelation that, yes, they do get off the island. We liked the use of Journey over the final moments (we've lived in Jersey, and it totally fits), but we were like everyone else seconds later. "The fucking cable went out!"
No, it didn't. That was one of the most influential and, arguably, highest quality TV shows going out with a "what the shit?" rather than a bang. And with this show, we have to say, were we really expecting anything more?
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