The Sopranos 5/13/07

Is that enough action for you? Is the story finally developing fast enough. Tony Soprano has finally crossed over, all of the years of therapy and the near dwath experience have left him with no remaining guilt or hesitancy, totally ruthless and unapologetic. For weeks I've been hearing complaints that nothing was happening, but I suspect that those will cease. I didn't stop shaking until over an hour after the episode ended. Maybe I'm too involved

The State of Things

It would be delusional to think that anyone checks this page anymore. I am an unforgivably lazy blogger; so much so that is almost foolish to describe myself as such. Most of my snark these days goes straight to my corporate masters. The effect is that of a formerly mostly benign bemusement clashing with the hardened cynicism of capitalism, Needless to say that I find myself to be somewhat embarrassed to show my face here again I do, however, have something on my mind...

With the American Idol juggernaut charging forward seemingly invincible, it very well have escaped your attention that the finale of Gilmore Girls has been set for next week. It is certainly possible that this was common knowledge, I was totally ignorant of this reality until it was announced immediately following last night's episode. Admittedly, I have piked up a habit of flipping to Idol during Gilmore commercial breaks and I am a bit out of the loop, but this was news.

It was news that I expected. The show has been dying a slow, painful death for quite some time now and most people who think about things like this, anticipated its demise. It stings ironically, though. As I remember, part of the contract dispute that the Palladino's had with the network last year was that they only wanted to do one more season. The network held out for two (there was probably money involved as well) and now we'be been subjected to this bizarro-Gilmore Girls for the last year where everything feels a bit off and nothing is compelling.

But, I've been watching this whole time, through all the bad episodes to see how it would end. I was invested and I couldn't resist. I didn't want to resist. I'd wasted a lot of time wathing the Gilmore Girls and I was entitled to a satisfactory ending goddamnit! Such an ending, it seems, is not to be. Rory and Logan broke up even though they love each other because he wants to get engaged and she doesn't. Lorelai and Luke will certainly get back together, probably engaged. Richard and Emily seem to have "lightenedup" just a little. None of it feels complete. So maybe Luke and Lorelai will get engaged again. It's not like we haven't seen that before. I guess Rory will decide to leave and that will give it a logical reason to end. I don't know exactly what I'm saying, but I feel after stagnating for so long, the show owed its fans a more plausible conclusion and not your typical mediocre TV show conclusion, because, at some point, Gilmore Girls was better than your typical mediocre TV show. Much better. well, it's like they say "Everything turns to shit."

Speaking of turning to shit, it seems that a lot of folks out there seem to think that's just what The Sopranos is doing. I'm not sure how I feel. Thee episodes certainly aren't the best that the show has offered, but whether ithey are markedly worse that previous seasons I can't say. It seems to me that each episode of this season aims to "wrap up" a crucial character. sure more will happen, but these episodes linger on characters as if we will never focus on them again. This is heartbreaking. I used to say that I couldn't be objective than the Gilmore Girls because I loved it too much. It seems that this is the case with The Sopranos. These characters are far too real to me. I can't comment on aesthetics when I feel too close to the subject.

Which brings up an interesting point: Since I no longer feel too close to the Gilmore Girls to omment on it, does this mean that the characters "died" to me already, or ceased to be real in my mind. Perhaps, they never were. Heroes, for instance, is a show that watch every week and am totally involved with the narrative. However, it is the narrative, not the characters, that I find compelling. Certainly, there are characters who I would not want to see killed off, but I see the characters as characters, not as people as I do on The Sopranos and as I once did on the Gilmore Girls. Perhaps, when Heroes turns to shit, I won't feel so bad.

Speaking of shows going to shit or dying slow deaths or thoroughly disappointing me or whatever, Veronia Mars took one of the fastest dives from "Wow! This is one of the best shows on TV!" to "What the fuck is this? One Tree Hill?" in the history of modern TV. Considering that there is like a 99% chance of it being cancelled outright at the end of the season and 1% of it being overhauled and set in the futiure in D.C. while Veronica is at the FBI academy or whatever, one would think that they would be working to a half-decent way to end the show. But, it seems like the writers abandoned that ship a long time ago. It just flat out does not work without an overarhing mystery. It does not work without class tensions. The mini-mysteries are pathetic and the shift of the emphasis from dark mysteries and serious emotional issues to light teen drama nonsense has taken away any center that this show had. One would think that a show as good as Veronica Mars once was would have been worth it to its creator (Rob Thomas) to at out with a bang when your time has come to go. But, instead it lumbeers like a wounded animal to die an unceremonious death.

Whatever you do, don't turn it off...

It's been a really long time since I've posted anything. My rationale has been that I shouldn't say anything if I don't have anything interesting to say, I shouldn't say anything. If I don't have anything to say, then I must be watching less... I thought I was getting better.

Now, I find myself at 1:35 am on a Saturday night and I'm reading the Craigslist rants and raves section (which in Philly means that I am reading the clash of the hopelessly dumb and sincere and the horrible racist homophobes) while watching Showtime at the Apollo in the background.

Watching isn't exactly the right word. Its presence on my TV means that I, as usual, did nothing this Saturday night and somehow wound up watching a Saturday Night Live rerun. Of course, I didn't really want to be watching SNL either as it was a particularly unfunny episode (i really don't get this whole Andy Sandberg thing...at all), but i got tired of flipping and left it on. So at some point some pop-punk band (who it turned out was not the one that I like) is playing their crappy ass musical guest music and I need to check myspace or yahoo or something to give my tiny little mind something to fix on other than uncatchy pop-punk. Do I turn off the TV? No, I'm too lazy and made anxious by the implications of the blank screen. If it's off, then what am I doing? Nothing. As long as it's on, I can be somewhat distracted from the fact that I am not doing any of the things that I should be doing or going to bed. As long as it's on, I don't have to think about work or this mess my life has turned out to be.

And then, suddenly, Showtime at the Apollo is on and there's bad dancing and bad singing and bad standup (I think it's Amateur Night or something) and its like American Idol and So You Think You Can Dance and Last Comic Standing all rolled into one, except without mean-spirited judges the whole thing is torture and is actually making me even more anxious which means I am even more reluctant to turn off the TV, but of course I am reading all of the racist Rants and Raves so I can't be bothered to actually flip through channels which I know will be futile because all I will find are ads for Jesus and girls that really want to meet me. Me, really? So, I am exposing myself to torture from both ends and I can't stop it.

Tomorrow, The Sopranos comes back. It won't come back again. Never again, can I grumble that no other show would have the balls to wait so long in between seasons. I am more focused on the fact that it won't come back again, then that it's coming back. I know that the shit is finally going to hit the fan in the next two months or so and then it will be over. One more thing to feel anxious about. Maybe when it's all over, I'll cancel Comcast. I'm pretty sure that when this round of cable was signed up for, it was done so specifically to have The Sopranos. Now, it will be gone. I could conceivably get an antenna and only watch Heroes. Too many other cable shows enter the brain as "what abouts". I can feel the anxiety racing from my feet to my chest to my head and back. Maybe I should change the channel...

Midseason Malaise

I keep forgetting what day it is. I am usually very up on this sort of thing. My week is guided by a schedule. Now, everything is thrown off. All of my nightly commitments that guide my week are on hiatus, I'm staring at the reflection of the window in the dark screen. I know that there is nothing there for me in that box. Besides, if I turn it on now, it will be on all night. But I can't stop staring at it.

And Then I Seacrest a Darkness

Lately, I've seen a darkness in the Seacrest. Sure he's always been a little dark and vaguely self-loathing. But he always seemed OK with his place in life. His skill was always his ability to remain totally unfazed by the paradoxical personalities of the show. He moved seamlessly between the celebratory and the mocking; the cruel and the uplifting. He seemed totally unconcerned with both his own shallowness and that of the show. He simply hosted; for that was what he was born to do.

I think it's starting to get to him. I can see it in his eyes. Pure unadulterated hate. He hates his coworkers. He hates the fans. He hates the contestants. Most of all, he hates himself. He hates that he is known across the universe as an empty vessel. A carrier. A genetically engineered reaity show host. He sees himself through our eyes and he is totally horrified.

Tonight, he randomly sat in the audience and talked to an old woman about how exciting it all was. The banter dragged longer than it should have. The Seacrest has always excelled at filler but this came across as forced. As the cameras were about to move on to something else, he told us she was his Nana. She looked stunned. I wonder if the Seacrest just ad-libbed that. Could he have been trying to convince us that he was indeed naturally created; that his having of a Nana would imply his having of a Mama and thus that he was not created in some sort of laboratory somewhere in a basement in Hollywood? Does he see himself as needing that one last excuse used for Nazis and mass murderers, "He's somebody's son," to justify his overpreened, overpaid existence?

It's an old story: Man sells his soul. Man lives it up on his riches and bounty. Man loses his taste for riches and bounty and is stuck soulless. Man mourns loss of his soul. Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance. He has ridden Denial for a long time, but it seems Anger has at last arrived. Is this whole Idol Cares or whatever the fuck they're calling it Bargaining?

Some might argue that grief is more complicated and that hs is just bouncing between Anger and Acceptance. However he is dealing with it, I feel sorry for the Seacrest. As sorry as one can feel for someone who has millions and millions of dollars.

A New Schedule for It

It spent the whole day staring at a screen with very little movement except the arm motion that It took to click, drag and paste. It came home bleary-eyed and dazed; the lights had seemed so bright coming on to the street. It came in and immediately picked up the little screen as It tried to catch up on all of the things that It had missed during the day. However, this seemed too similar to the day's earlier monotony, so It turned on the TV. The new work schedule had started to alter Its viewing habits. Gone forever would be early evening 90210 reruns. Prime time came sooner now. There would be less waiting. Of course, the new schedule could prove problematic at some point. The beginning of the eight o'clock hour might now be something more precarious, a source of stress. Would It not make it in time some nights? Also, what would happen when 90210 did indeed come back to the end and beginning? Would It really miss out once more on Donna and David's wedding and Brandon and Brenda's first day at West Beverly?

Future woes aside, It really did have quite a run tonight. With Its Thursday routine additionally shaken up by reruns of those estrogen twins on ABC, It decided to experiment. First It watched the show about the white trash Scientologist and his friend Tuna and his ex-wife who is not Brittany Murphy or Tara Reid. It had only seen this show once before when it was brand new and It had not cared for it. But It was totally diverted by it tonight. Absurdist comedy and totally randon stylistic shifts kept It fully amused. Then It started to watch the show about the sad, quirky people and their mundane, undiginified lives before It came to the terrible realization that It had missed three-quarters of the really, really popular show with the crazy ex-Laker girl popstar and the cranky snooty British man and the bad and good singing things and the Seacrest. It, of course, immediately changed the channel just in time to see one of the good or bad singing things get voted away. It pondered the sad fate of the thing that was way too ugly to remain. It wondered whether if this thing had gotten rid of its goatee and pompadour it might have been more palatable to those who decide which remain. Then It remembered that the thing was a horrible singing thing and that even if the thing shaved its goatee, it would still have a disgusting fat face. Then It felt a moment of pity for the trashy rich thing from New Jersey. True, this thing had proven itself to be, possibly, the most reprehensible seeming thing on the show this season; but It couldn't help but think this thing's nudie picture hobby might have a remained a secret from any Porsche-driving meatheads who may have one day married this thing and kept it as their trophy which would probably ahve been the brightest future for which this thing might have hoped. Now, trophy seekers would look elsewhere for similarly stupid, awful things who had not embarrassed themselves on national television and on the internet and gotten nothing to show for it except that total strangers now think it's a whore. Except It had rooted against this thing to begin with and so, in this case, It got what It wished for, sort of.

Anyway, the show ended and four victims had been dispatched and It did not did not want to watch the quiz show with the children and the terrible comedian or the show with the guys from Clueless and Garden State playing silly doctors, so It was, temporarily, at a loss when It remembered music videos. It had forgotten the overwhelming joy that these had once provided It. But, a pure sugary bubble gum 80s throwback Akon track and the discovery that Jordan Catalano had started a band that apparently wants to be that other emo pop punk hard rock band with the chemicals and the romance and he had directed one of the most self-indulgent videos evert. And then Gwen Stefani brought It even more 80s cavity inducing sweetness and she was calling herself a bad girl, nonetheless.

It felt like It was in the middle of a happy, happy baked dream of TV creme-filling goodness, but it was not to be. Something like Omarion followed the Gwen Stefani and something like Beyonce followed that. Then It flipped to find something like Alabama on the country channel and Its mellow was officially harshed. But, for a blissful 70-75 minutes, It had felt almost at ease.

I think I've gone all Fonzie in Hawaii

It all started a handful of Tuesdays ago. I can't remember specifically whether it was at the moment that Richard Gilmore collapsed in his class in front of Rory or if it was the next week when we worried throughout the whole episode whether he would actually die. But one thing is certain; they had me. I was, for the first time in a long time, totally engrossed in an episode of the Gilmore Girls. Christopher was practically nowhere to be found and for a brief moment, the Bizarro universe that the show had become with its wretch-inducing saccharine nuclear family bullshit faded into the background. Since then, Christopher has gone and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thus far, nothing. I, certainly, haven't been as riveted as I was when Richard's life was on the line and Emily was in full-on Emily form, but I haven't had the urge to punh myself in the face several times an episode.

This concerns me.

Could it be that all it took to hook me back into a Stars Hollow bender was for the writers to get rid of Christopher and throw in a few episodes with Miss Patty and Babette and Mrs. Kim and I would fall for this bastard Rosenthal's 2.0 vision of the show?

I convince myself that I am simply in a state of shock from how bad the episodes from earlier in the season were. Nothing could remain that bad without either Gallagher or Carrot Top attached. It had to improve and that improvement has come as such a pleasant surprise that I have been fooled into thinking that the show is almost back to form (Season 6 form, not Season 2 or 3 form). I convince myself of all this and I assure myself that everyone has their guilty pleasures and mine is that I want to see this "story" played out until the end.

But, then, just as I am reassuring myself, Veronica Mars comes on. Veronica Mars, the show to which I am a latecomer. Veronica Mars, the show which I have spent hours trying to convince my friends that if they just watched it, they would see just how great it is. And I realize that I can't remember what's going on. I realize that I barely care what's going on. Keith's the sherriff now? All of the mysteries have been neatly solved. Logan and Veronica are on again/off again. Blah blah blah.

Without a long arc mystery with the emotional resonance of Lily Kane's murder or the bus crash, the minutiae of life in Neptune and its "little" mysteries leave me cold.

I understand that those bastars at CW are putting enormous pressure on Rob Thomas and his crew of writers to get ratings up. They don't want to scare anyone away with anything that doesnt' make sense in one sitting. But, let's face it: basically everyone who thinks or writes about these things is sure that this is the last season for Veronica and the gang, so why not make it a good last season? Why cave so easily to your network masters and alter the format of the show, if they're going to pull the plug anyway?

It makes me suspect that he's a born-whore and it makes me suspect that maybe I, and not all the doubters, have been the one who has been wrong all along.

Have I "jumped the shark"? I start to think about the ways that I spend my time lately and I can count two instances in which I watched Las Vegas because Gina from 90210 is on it. I can think about all of the times that I've tuned into the CW on Tuesdays just hoping that Gilmore Girls would be a rerun so I could watch American Idol. Then, I think about all of my Wednesdays spend actually watching American Idol and all of the time afterwards that I spend staring at myself in the mirror afterwards thinking about which song that I would sing in my audition and how Simon would respond.

I'm overcome by self-doubt and wishy-washiness. I find myself telling a friend who is a comic book nerd that he should really be watching Heroes because it's really and in the next breath equivocating that its good for TV. Because I have no idea. TV is pretty much my only reference point. I used to be TV guy who was well-versed in "smart people thing". I could talk about books and music and movies and philosophy. Now, the closest I get to "smart people things" is my daily does of Jeopardy at 7. I've lost my frame of reference and I can't tell you why I like what I like. I've lost my edge. I mean Jesus Christ I just admitted to watching Jeopardy (which I can't even spell)!

But it only lasts for so long because in five minutes American Idol starts and tomorrow Grey's Anatomy can follow up that train wreck of a trilogy of episodes and soon enough that warm blurry haze will wrap itself around me and make me forget.