I’m so often in the minority when it comes to TV finales- I spent this past year beating Lost haters off with a stick- that I was really looking forward to The Sopranos’ conclusion. Despite watching the show for the first time in 2025, I’d managed to get all the way through completely blind, aside from the knowledge that it’s one of the most controversial series finales of all time. In this instance, I have to say I’m with everyone- it was not for me. But the thing that surprised me the most: it didn’t make me love The Sopranos any less.
I generally find finales to be incredibly make or break. I try to reserve my judgement until I see a series through because endings can completely change how a show makes me feel. Shows I’ve loved dearly have taken a turn in the final minutes and even seconds that completely changed my perception and enjoyment- they showed me that they were never really about what I thought they were. I ate up every second of Ozark and Ted Lasso, but now it’s hard for me to think of them fondly- if I think about them at all. And yet, I’ve thought about Tony Soprano a lot since watching “Made in America”. I miss him the way you miss any comfort character. And I think that sentiment is why the whole show worked- except the ending.
I’ll set the scene- and tell you where I thought all of this was headed. I’ve always liked Tony. James Gandolfini deserves every bit of his place in TV history; the entire show is built on the complexity of his charisma. We saw him cry over migrating birds, dead horses, a lack of affection from his mother. Carmela, Meadow, Dr. Melfi- all the most sane and rational characters were never under any misconceptions of who he was or what he did with his time. Yet we saw them love him, care for him, and defend his character countless times.
His position as boss served, in large part, to insulate us from the abundantly gruesome nature of his work. He rarely participated in day-to-day killings so as not to risk getting arrested, which in turn meant we rarely had to see that side of him. When he did choose to involve himself, it was almost somehow selfless, an act of responsibility and honor. His personal murders of Pussy and his own cousin, Tony Blundetto, were preceded by long stretches of emotional torment and struggle. By the time he finally chose to act, his only other option was to let others do the dirty work for him. We’ve traveled far enough down this rabbit hole with him that we understand that that would be cowardly; that given the circumstances, he did the classiest thing possible.
In the last few episodes, something changed. Our trustworthy characters who, through their own complicity, gave us permission to enjoy Tony Soprano, started seeing him in a new light. Dr. Melfi finally began seriously entertaining the possibility of Tony being a sociopath, and we finally learned that all the little bits of his personality that consistently earned our forgiveness- his love of animals, children, family, his inexplicable magnetism amidst his blatant flaws- were all textbook manipulative tendencies. She certainly had access to this information all along, but her insistence on continuing to treat him is well explored. The pacing of her eventual acceptance of this reality is perfectly timed to make us question our own perception of Tony with little time to sort out the implications.
At the same time, the stakes are raised at work and Tony’s business life is starting to bleed more and more into his family life. Not only do we witness other people starting to view Tony differently; we start to see a different side of him ourselves. In rapid succession, Tony kills Christopher (a book could be written on that alone) and attacks Coco Cogliano (member of the Lupertazzi family who drunkenly harassed Meadow in a restaurant). It’s clear in the moment that Tony killed Christopher- or more accurately, finished the job of an extreme car accident- he was thinking of Christopher’s newborn daughter who would’ve died had she been in the car that Christopher was driving high. However, it’s the aftermath that’s chilling. Tony dreams of a session with Dr. Melfi where he reveals his utter contempt for Christopher- his addiction, his weakness, his obsession with Hollywood, an industry that Tony has always believed has done a disservice to Italian Americans. In the dream session he goes on and on about his lack of regard for Christopher, which turns into an admission in no uncertain terms to the killings of Pussy and Tony Blundetto. Tony wakes up in a cold panic over the admission of guilt, not his cruel- and clearly true- comments about Christopher.
In a real session amid a flurry of memorial events, Tony really does go as far as to say that he isn’t sad or grieving. That he feels better now that Christopher is dead and seeing others grieve or pretending to himself makes him angry. The theoretical risk to Christopher’s daughter that kept us in our chairs was not actually his sole motive. Was it even his primary motive?
Shortly after, Meadow reluctantly clues Tony in on the unwarranted and inappropriate comments Coco Cogliano made to her when he ran into her at a restaurant. It was demeaning and predatory, but it didn’t warrant what Tony did next which was so brutal I don’t even want to describe it. This is a far cry from the man who lost sleep over potential executions even a mere few episodes ago.
At this point I was pretty stunned by everything The Sopranos had just pulled off. I felt that I had been duped not by the craftsmanship of the show, but by Tony himself. I was feeling turned around just the same way as those in his life who knew him best. I really thought “Made in America” would confirm that that’s what the show was all about. My guess was that Tony was going to get arrested or killed. I thought this up until the credits rolled; it would be all the more impactful if it had happened at the last second, if we were forced to grieve Tony with no time to. If we were left with the complicated task of missing someone we’d just learned was really bad news. I wish that’s what happened.
The ending they went with made a very different point, and despite my lackluster feelings about it, I do think I understand what they wanted it to be. The final moments of the show would be completely unremarkable if not for excessively suspenseful editing and their placement at the very end of the story; after narrowly avoiding a hit on Tony’s life, the four members of the Soprano family arrive one by one at a diner. Tony’s first. He flips through the jukebox and eventually pays for a play of “Don’t Stop Believin’”. He and a man at the bar seem to be sneaking suspicious glances at each other. Carmela is next and AJ isn’t with her. They were supposed to be coming together. She sits down. He’s driving separate. Everything’s fine. Tony tells Carmela that the man who helped broker the deal for his safety has flipped, and more than likely, Tony will be arrested. AJ arrives. Onion rings come to the table. Meadow struggles to parallel park. She pulls out and tries again one, two, three times. Is the restaurant gonna explode? Is she gonna get t-boned? These are clearly the questions we’re supposed to be asking ourselves. Finally, she parks, trots across the street. The man at the bar stands up, heads for the bathroom. Or is he heading for Tony? He looks serious. Meadow enters the restaurant. Her mouth opens and her eyes widen in surprise. I’m on the edge of my seat, like I have been since for six seasons. And then I lose power or my TV breaks or something. And then the credits roll.
As I approached “Made in America”, I assumed everyone was pissed about this ending because Tony died or went to prison. It genuinely never occurred to me that what was gonna happen would be nothing. I’ll even bite and say that ultimately, the point they’re trying to make is that what happens next doesn’t matter. The feeling of unease that overwhelms that scene, overwhelms an average family dinner, the suspense, the looking over your shoulder, the sizing up everyone in the room, that is the point. Because even if Tony lived a long life as a free man, he spent the whole entire thing feeling like that.
But it was just too heavy handed. It was the first and only moment in the entire series that reminded me that I was watching a TV show and not just peering into their life. My immediate reaction was to laugh out loud and I can’t imagine that’s what they were going for. Ambiguous endings can be beautiful and powerful. But giving every indication that something huge is going to happen, and pulling the plug five seconds before it does, isn’t the same thing. It feels like a cheap trick and we, the audience, are the butt of the joke.
Nonetheless, I have to admire the balls. It’s not that they didn’t know how to end the show: The New York Family was closing in and so was the FBI, but there was still a narrow escape route that would be thrilling yet plausible for Tony to squeeze through. Meanwhile, personal tragedy was afoot at home with AJ’s suicide attempt, Carmela’s diminishing affections for Tony, and Tony’s own health scares with benign cancer and a gunshot wound courtesy of an addled Uncle Jun’. The Sopranos had perfectly set itself up for three or four potential endings that all would’ve been sound and impactful. Almost as if to make sure we knew that they deliberately didn’t pick a single one.
So all that to say, for me, it was a swing and a miss. But part of me still commends the swing. I’ve always known that The Sopranos was The Show of All Shows, and now I know that it’s for good reason. There’s infinitely more to be said about it, so if you’ve seen it, I want to know! Did that ending work for you? Is it crazy that I felt endeared to Tony for as long as I did?
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