David Chase--what a dick.
The Sopranos creator wasn't content coming up with one of the most polarizing, talked-about, open-for-interpretation finales in TV history, with Tony and his brood chowing down on onion rings in a suspicious-looking-person-filled ice cream shop in Jersey. But as of late the man has been seen bitching in GQ and in a new Sopranos book about the disgust he had for those who wanted some "bloodthirsty" closure, chastising those loyal viewers for caring so much about the characters and the show he created when there's war going on, dammit.
But The Sopranos' abrupt, what-happens-now coda, not to mention Chase's ego-tripping arrogance, could serve as metaphors for the current state of television. With the writers' strike making so many shows come to a screeching halt, and the WGA drawing up demands that have more to do with looking powerful than right (we want control of the reality-show writers too, bitch!), this season may never get back on track.
But then again, it wasn't like these new shows were wowing us anyway. No matter how many articles Entertainment Weekly publishes about Gossip Girl, it still can't cover up the fact that it's a show called Gossip Girl--and who the hell would get caught watching that?
As usual, both viewers and writer/producers found solace flocking to the creatively limitless possibilities of cable. AMC's Mad Men became such a heavily buzzed about show, I almost felt compelled to watch it a couple times. Showtime started to get a more credible rep than HBO this year, as shows like Weeds, Dexter and the salacious new The Tudors satisfied viewers. (Although I have to admit, I found myself shamefully tuning into the shameless Californication, just to see how Fox Mulder was gonna get some chick to fellate him each week.) As for HBO, I have only three words: John From Cincinnati.
I can't wait for the last season of The Wire to hit next month. And I'm sure when that ends, the show's creator (also named David) won't be dissing the audience for caring too goddamn much.
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