But, for a number of reasons - not having satellite TV at the time, my lack of interest in anything Mafia-related (I haven't even seen The Godfather), moving to Tenerife and having even less TV channels... you get my drift - we just never got hooked first time around. I heard people talking about it, I wondered what all the fuss was about, but none of it really made me want to watch it. But then James Gandolfini died - far too young, and knowing what I know now, we've lost an extremely talented actor. And because of his untimely death, interest in The Sopranos suddenly piqued in this house. Well, to be honest, my hubby watched the first episode, loved it, and made me sit down and watch it myself because he thought I'd love it, too. But I was sceptical. I didn't really think it was my thing. How wrong was I?
Last night we watched the final ever episode, and I can't stop thinking about it. I can't get it out of my head, I can't concentrate on anything else except how sad I am that we no longer have these people in our lives. To some, that may sound weird. It was a TV programme, those people weren't real, and even if they had been they weren't always the nicest people to have around. But we have just spent every single night for a good few weeks with those characters in our lives. We got the whole six seasons watched in a very short space of time, and that's why I think it's affected me so much - and it's been a long, long time since a TV programme has affected me the way The Sopranos has. Even now, six years after the show ended, people are still talking about that final episode, that final scene - a scene I just cannot get out of my head. Everything from the directing to the music playing in the background, to the way a strange kind of tension built up because you just knew something was going to happen. You just didn't know what, exactly. Except that, when it did happen, for a few brief seconds you'd be forgiven for thinking something was up with your TV. But when you replay it back, when you read the explanations, it all makes sense. And in a strange kind of way, if you take the general consensus about the ending - that Tony Soprano was murdered, and that those seconds of blackness at the very end of the episode represent that fact - I can't help feeling sad. In the back of my mind, I suppose, I wanted a happy ending for the Soprano family. Things were just starting to come together for them, or were they? Could Tony ever really be free? Wasn't he always destined to be living his life constantly looking over his shoulder? And, in reality, wasn't death the only fitting end for a man who, quite frankly, did some pretty horrific things in his time? Surely crime couldn't be seen to pay? Not ultimately.
|Tony and his crew...|
|Tony and Christopher - a messed-up relationship that, ultimately, ended sadly.|
|A still from that infamous final scene... just before it happens...|
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