That’s not the only change. Those who follow this blog might have noticed a change in the frequency of posting. A large part of that is due to the need to write things that actually pay when I have the chance, and between that and the vast amount of time spent consuming fine alcoholic beverages, I simply have less time to post. There’s another reason, though — another big, and very unwelcome change: I have less to say about television.

It doesn’t make sense. I’m doing a masters in Film & Television Studies, and as the only television-focused student in the group, I spend a lot of time defending the small screen. I talk about TV all the time. Surely, I should be able to transfer some of it to this page?

I still love TV, even though it’s trying very hard to push me away. These days, if TV was a lover, it would be staying out late and forgetting our anniversary on a regular basis. Instead of bringing me roses in the form of shows like The Wire, it is stopping at a convenience store on the way home to pick up a bunch of pink carnations in the form of Fringe and The Eleventh Hour. TV, I fear, is taking me for granted. It’s just stopped trying.

I still watch most of my old favorites, but today I tallied up all the shows I still watch, and it averaged out to fewer than two hours a day. TWO. Okay, yeah, that might be a bit much for the average sort, but I am no average TV viewer. I am a TV blogger. It is my sacred duty, imposed upon me by the gods of Wordpress and the Google search function, to watch as much TV as I can possibly get away with.

Maybe it was the strike. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the fact that the networks insist that my life will be better if I watch crap like Worst Week or The Ex List. Maybe it’s the long span of time before Battlestar Galactica and Lost start up again. Whatever it is, TV and I are in a slump. It just doesn’t excite me like it once did.

How are you and TV getting along these days? Are you still close, or has the spark gone out for the moment?

a

No, I didn’t have some sort of epiphany about how I was wasting my life on the sofa, or decide that turning off the TV would reduce my carbon footprint. I simply ran out of time. Apparently, running two sites about television and doing a degree in Film & Television Studies means that I don’t have enough time left to actually watch the damn shows. That’s a cruel twist of fate, that is.

So, I had to make a choice — give up the blogs (never!), forget about school (not the most forward-thinking choice) or watch less TV. And so, as of this week, I am streamlining my viewing schedule, limiting my sofa hours to only those shows that I love. No more will I watch shows that just mildly entertain me, or ones I think I must watch just so I can write about them. It’s time to separate the wheat from the chaff.

FOX didn’t come out so well in my cleaning binge. Fringe was already off the list, but Prison Break and The Sarah Connor Chronicles are now in the waste pile, as well. By giving up these three shows, I not only save myself three hours a week, but also the additional hour required to make sense of the gaping continuity errors and inexplicable plots.

Reality shows are taking a hit, as well. Years after everyone else tuned out, I finally figured out that Survivor might have gotten a little repetitive. Despite not watching this season, I’m pretty sure there will be fights about who does the most work in camp and who betrayed whom, and lots of pretty people in bikinis will gang up on the old and weak. It’s like I’m psychic, it is. Surprisingly, I think I’m also done with Project Runway. I’m a little sad that it’s come to this, but after a season in which every challenge felt familiar and nearly every contestant was someone I wanted to slap repeatedly, it may be time to go our separate ways.

And, after trying to break up with Grey’s Anatomy for ages now, I think I’m finally ready for a trial separation. I was willing to give it one more chance after it made all those sweet promises to me at the end of last season, swearing that Meredith was over her issues. As soon as I relented, though, it started back up with the whining. Perhaps we’ll reunite if it ever grows up, but for now, I’m walking away. It’s about self-respect, you know.

I feel lighter. I feel a bit freer. I feel a bit less like an overgrown sloth. And, most importantly, I now have time for Dollhouse when it premieres in January. It’s about priorities, you know.

What about you? Have you decided to remove any old and stale shows in your own fall cleaning?

a

Lately, though, my favorite shows have not been making it easy for me. All of a sudden, there appears to be a stunt-casting free-for-all, as shows frantically raid the gossip columns for their guest stars. Casting directors seem to be reading DUI reports and mental health evaluations as much as they’re checking out head shots and resumes. Sure, these, ahem, actresses may be uninsurable on the big screen, but apparently TV shows are willing to risk that they’ll make it through an episode or two. So far, How I Met Your Mother and Ugly Betty have been bitten by the stunt-casting bug, and I’m worried that, as network ratings continue to drop in this post-strike world, more dubious casting choices will be foisted on the poor, innocent viewer.

Here’s the thing: by and large, stunt-casting is a terrible idea. It’s not just that the stars lending their wattage to the small screen can’t act, although that can certainly be true. It’s that it easily changes the dynamic of the show, if only for an episode or two. After all, writers construct their plots around the regular characters, based on previous actions and their eventual vision for the series. It should be — and please forgive me for using this term — an organic process. Stunt-casting, however, completely derails that process. Suddenly, the writers have a star they have to write around. They must find a way to shoehorn them into the program, and the series is no longer about characters and stories. It becomes a vehicle for some star of questionable merit.

We saw this on HIMYM with a certain young mother from Louisiana, who could not a) act or b) believably portray an actual human, and yet every time she was on screen, there might as well have had a neon sign around her, announcing, “Look at me! I am not on drugs or flashing any sexual organs! Prepare for my comeback, America! Mwah ha ha!” Okay, perhaps I added that last bit, but the basic idea is sound. She brought nothing to the show and yet still managed to steal attention away from its genuinely talented stars. And, I fear, she’s returning next week.

What about Ugly Betty? At the very least, the famous redheaded recovering alcoholic they’ve hired has turned in a few strong performances in her career, though I’m pretty sure that bubble skirts were still in fashion the last time she made a decent film. Perhaps if she was playing a version of herself, as the show has done in the past, I wouldn’t even mind. Unfortunately, she’s been written as a fast food employee that interacts directly with the show’s titular heroine. In other words, she’ll be acting, and though it’s entirely possible that she’ll do a credible job, it’s also likely that she’ll dominate the screen, and not in a good way. If viewers are watching for signs of a relapse, can they possibly get lost in the actual show? It turns out that she’s signed on for a six episode arc, beginning with the upcoming season finale, so we’ll find out soon enough.

It’s not that I’m against giving these woman a second chance. Hell, I’d love to see them out of the gossip columns and back at work, but that’s not what’s happening here. In both cases, these are characters created specifically to inspire buzz and to bring in those all-important ratings, creative integrity be damned.

Sometimes, high-powered guest stars do work. I recently wrote a post full of examples, in fact. In all of those cases, however, it was show first, showcase second. The series integrated their guest stars into the recurring plots, rather than adapting to fit them. Perhaps if the current shows did the same, I’d even consider writing out the actors’ full names.

Nah, probably not.

Your turn. How do you feel about celebrity guest stars turning up on your favorite shows?

a

After waiting months for The Office to return, it does so with an episode set almost entirely in Michael’s condo, and while the episode contained all the awkward, borderline painful humor we’ve come to expect, it didn’t include the supporting characters that make the show so perfect. It’s been months — couldn’t they let us know how Stanley is doing? It didn’t help that the episode focused too much on Jan, since my one issue with the show is the way they’ve assassinated her character.

What about How I Met Your Mother? It came back with a much-heralded guest appearance by a certain pop starlet with mental heath issues, but hasn’t felt newsworthy otherwise. Part of the show’s charm comes from the lunatic convergence of multiple plots, and recent episodes have only had one predictable story to tell. Barney deserves better, damn it.

Granted, it can’t be easy to get back into the writing groove after months of walking the picket lines, but something feels off on so many shows, and I’m not sure whether it’s because the writers are out of practice writing or I’m out of practice viewing. After all, there are plenty of shows that weren’t affected by the strike that still haven’t been very good.

Men in Trees had all of its episodes filmed long before the strike, and it’s still boring me senseless. Sure, the show is a light-hearted character drama, but shouldn’t it contain some basic signs of a plot? I’m not asking for much, just enough so I can remember what happened the next day. At the moment, the only thing I’m sure of is that some new hockey player is in town and someone else still has amnesia. If it wasn’t for the fact that it feeds my longtime fantasy of living in a mountain cabin in Alaska, I’m not sure I’d be tuning in at all.

Then there’s Ashes to Ashes, a show I was downright giddy to see premiere and then quickly forgot about. Even the divine presence of Gene Hunt couldn’t hold my attention from the self-conscious and soulless depiction of the 80s. I found myself actually forgetting to watch it when it aired and eventually even stopped catching up on the BBC iPlayer. So far as I know, Alex Drake is forever trapped in 1983. She may never get to hear the Purple Rain soundtrack, in that case, a far crueler fate than being forced to relive the fashion.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Battlestar Galactica, a show that is so damn good I want to tongue-kiss everyone who makes it, I’d worry that I was bored with television. That can’t be, can it? It’s got to be just a phase, one that will certainly end this month with the return of Gossip Girl, Ugly Betty and Supernatural, right? I’ll get my fabulous characters and stories back, and won’t have to resort to any desperate measures like, you know, getting off the sofa.

What about you? Are you enjoying the return of scripted television, or are you finding it hard to get back into the swing of things?

a

Now, it’s been fairly well-established that I am Joss Whedon’s bitch (although even I won’t defend Season 6 of Buffy). I think he possesses a unique creative sensibility, and, since the death of Angel, I have sorely missed having a Whedon show to look forward to each week.

Reading the Angel comics reminded me of one thing Joss did better than anyone: he hurt the audience. No, really. He frequently killed off likable characters, or corrupted them in some way, or forced Riley on us for an entire season. He never seemed to be bound by what the audience wanted, and the shows were stronger for it.

Lots of shows kill off good characters, but they’re usually given lengthy arcs leading up to that sacrifice, providing a sense that the death has been dramatically earned. Not so with Whedon — any fan of his shows can remember several times when characters were there one minute, gone the next. Whedon once claimed that he gave the audience what they needed, not what they wanted. Arrogant as hell, sure, but it worked for him. It was one of the reasons I tuned in each week, why I would refuse to answer the phone or the door for that hour. (Also, see above re: geek.) I never knew what would happen, and every episode had the potential to surprise.

Most shows don’t hurt the audience. They don’t want to take the risk. I remember watching an early episode of Lost, when Ethan hangs Charlie in the jungle. He seemed to be very dead, and I was quite excited by this — and, at that point, I didn’t even have anything against Charlie. Neither was it my dormant gothic tendencies asserting themselves; I was excited to think that this was a show that would dare to kill off its main characters. It would mean that anything was possible. Of course, once they cut him down, he sputtered his way back to life, and no number of dead Shannons or Ana Lucias could make me forget that cop-out. The show didn’t dare to hurt me.

Veronica Mars had its moments, but, of course, it’s canceled. Prison Break throws twist after twist at its viewers, but it’s only hurting me by keeping T-Bag alive for another season. Even my beloved Dexter can be a fairly predictable serial killer. Show after show aims for dramatic impact without really daring to cross that line and upset its viewers.

It’s television’s weakness. In order to keep their audience, shows need to please the viewers and are therefore wary of taking risks. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how many cliff-hangers or crazy twists or new characters a show brings in; if they’re not willing to shock the viewer, the emotional impact will always be limited. You want to gut us? Give us what we don’t want. We’ll thank you for it later.

What shows hurt you so good? And are there any current shows that would benefit from being a bit more Whedon-esque?

a

RTVW answered with an explanation of why they watch, which is something I’ve been thinking about a bit recently. See, television ratings haven’t actually dropped since the strike. There are fewer and fewer original programs left to air, but people keep tuning in to whatever crap reality TV is on that night. We lose The Office, and American Gladiator becomes a huge hit. That ain’t right, people.

It can’t be that we watch just because we have nothing else to do, can it? Or out of habit? Or because, if we don’t watch television each night, we might have to talk to each other? I have been a staunch defender of television, and part of my argument is that people choose to watch because they enjoy characters and good stories, not because they are sad and pathetic drones who would rather be passively entertained than think for themselves. And I still believe that’s true, despite the fact that people chose to watch Crowned. Maybe I’m a blind optimist, but I’m okay with that.

Why do I watch? Because when television is good, it can create a whole new world. This can be the mythology-laden world of Buffy or Battlestar Galactica or the painful realism of The Wire. No one ever has to apologize for reading books, but the most common argument in favor of reading is that it opens new worlds. Well, I’m pretty sure I never would have made it to Dillon, Texas without Friday Night Lights, so I’m not apologizing for watching TV, either. I can already hear the nay-sayers, insisting that books demand imagination while television spoon-feeds its viewers. Clearly, these people have never tried to interpret one of Michael C. Hall’s expressions or visualized the Firefly universe beyond what was shown on screen. Perhaps they have difficulty viewing the television from their soapboxes.

I watch TV for the stories. I’ve already gone on at length about this subject in this blog’s very first post, so I won’t repeat myself. I’ll only add that I’m eager to wrap this post up so I can watch the third episode of The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I want to know what happens. I’m curious and intrigued and already building scenarios in my head, because that’s what a good story does. It carries you away and involves you. When captivated by a story, you draw parallels to your own life, consider things from a new perspective, find new things to care about. There is nothing passive about it.

(Edited to add that I just watched the episode, and it really wasn’t very good. Stupid Fox, trying to ruin my perfectly valid point.)

I watch TV for the characters. Yes, I know they’re fictional…except, not really. Each character came from a writer’s pen, drawn from their own knowledge and desires and fears, and then brought to life by an actor, who infuses the role with their experiences, and then watched by a viewer, who interprets it through their experiences. You get the idea. Watching complex characters interact over multiple episodes is a crash course in psychology. Television can’t be a place to hide from the real world; it’s all right there on the screen.

Maybe people are still watching because the hamtastic posturing of American Gladiator can temporarily fill that need for characters, for stories, for other worlds. But it’s just a placebo, and I can’t see the effect lasting for too long. Eventually, we’ll need the real deal. And I hope that’s not just the blind optimism talking.

What about you? Why do you watch?

a

Twin Peaks was the start of something very special for the US networks, and for television in general. A prime-time, big-budget drama serial co-authored by the decidedly un-prime-time David Lynch, the show was one of ABC’s biggest hits and ran two seasons before being wound up and cancelled. It spawned enthusiasm for a raft of similarly right-brained projects, including Cop Rock, a short-lived musical version of Hill Street Blues, and more recently that big-screen ethic has given us Heroes, Lost and Alias. In 1990 the message was clear…TV could do weird every bit as well as the movies. Well…almost.

What network TV can’t do as well as the movies is deliver a blockbuster. Film executives want stories that open big, build and build, twist and turn and dump the audience out the other end thrilled, charmed and exhilarated. TV executives want all that too, but without having to end it. This creates a problem that writers of smash-hit dramas are yet to overcome. Writers refer to stories as having arcs, like an object travelling through the air. If you ask the world archery champion to hit a target, the chances are they’ll get it. They’ll factor in the wind speed, the distance, the weight of the arrow and let fly. But what happens if you move the target back after the arrow’s been fired?

That’s essentially the problem TV writers face when they find themselves delivering a hit. They’ve got the whole journey planned out, beginning, middle and end…but now the network wants them to keep it in the air for another 26 weeks. So they have to start padding.

The simplest solution is to convert your show into a soap. Soap’s not a dirty word in this context…indeed some of TV’s longest running and most popular shows are essentially soaps: Desperate Housewives, Grey’s Anatomy and ER. The big driving plot idea isn’t such a big deal here. There are only a few settings, a big ensemble cast and it’s all about the loves, lives, wants and needs of the characters. People come, people go, but the drama of life goes on forever…and so, potentially at least, could your show. That’s why the ‘Others’ turned up in Lost and why new Heroes are certain to keep revealing themselves. It works, up to a point…and that point is where your audience realises you’re not going to deliver on The Big Idea. Will we all still be watching Prison Break in season five, when Michael Scofield turns out to have a business plan for opening a cosy, out of the way coffee house, full of curmudgeonly but lovable characters tattooed on his thigh? Not too likely.

Exceptions do occur, of course. The BBC’s Life On Mars, an instant ratings and critical hit, was never meant to run for more than two seasons, and short UK seasons too. From the first moment Sam Tyler appeared 33 years in the past, the questions of how and why were played to the fore. To try and delay answering them would have been like lying to a much loved friend, and when the answers came…ah well, let’s not spoil it for you.

The moral of this story is a simple one. TV executives, deliver on your promises. If you start big, you have to end bigger. We’re the audience! Entertain us! Satisfy us! Surprise us!

We love it when you do that.

a

Now, you would expect the food to be a bit different, and it was. The British menu is far more likely to include cabbage and Christmas pudding (a dense fruitcake that has nothing in common with the US definition of pudding) and you will probably find Christmas crackers on every table, which are opened to reveal paper crowns or some sort of random gizmo. Last year, I got a tape measure, which makes me question what I was meant to be doing on Christmas Day. Was I expected to measure for a new outfit? Do some impulsive DIY? Still, the trees, decorations and presents all remain the same in either country.

The real difference, however? Christmas TV.

I’ve had a lot to adjust to since moving here: measured shots in bars, incomprehensible banking laws, the alternative definition of “toss.” None of those made me furrow my brow quite so much as a glance at the UK Christmas TV grid.

In the US, Christmas television is a wasteland of old films, nostalgia cartoons and the occasional sporting event. Families are, it seems, expected to talk to each other on this most joyous of holidays. If they do choose to gather around the television, it will be to watch something they’ve seen so many times before that it doesn’t actually require any of their attention. It’s a Wonderful Life is a genuinely good film, but no one has actually watched it from start to finish in about twelve years. It’s background noise at Christmas, an accompaniment to the kids putting together their new train sets or the clatter of pans in the kitchen. In my extremely sexist traditional family, the sporting event was a way to keep the men quiet while the women cooked. No one was actually meant to watch the programs.

In the UK, however, they bring out their big guns. The Doctor Who Christmas special, new BBC originals, the Queen’s speech — they expect you to be watching. Newspapers print complicated listings to help you best prepare for the holiday marathon in front of the television, and families often plan their Christmas meal around a special episode of EastEnders, in which someone will almost certainly die or commit adultery in a truly festive way. It’s still considered family time, as the wealth of kid-friendly programming suggests, with one key distinction: on a UK Christmas, the telly seems to be part of the family.

The watching of massive amounts of television on Christmas day still feels a bit odd to me, but there’s one thing the UK got just right: Boxing Day. While the 26th is a letdown day for Americans, a day of cleaning and packing up and preparation for work the next day, the British made it into an extension of Christmas itself. From what I can gather, it’s an extra day off work for the sole purpose of lounging in front of the fire, eating leftovers and watching really good television. I’m fairly sure we can all recognize the pure genius of that plan. I may never develop a taste for Christmas pudding, but from now on, I plan to celebrate Boxing Day wherever I live — starting now. Pass the remote, please.

What about you? Are you a Christmas television watcher? What shows claimed your attention this year?

a

Shark-watch 2007 started early this season. Heroes‘ shaky start had lots of people predicting disaster. House fans wanted to know if the cast shakeup would cause irreparable damage to the characters’ chemistry. And Friday Nights Lights, which has inspired a tiny but rabid following, had to cope with fans closely watching every scene for the slightest hint that the show was pandering to some undetermined network agenda.

Here’s the thing: none of these shows are even close to the proverbial shark. The term comes from an episode of Happy Days, in which the Fonz goes water-skiing in Hawaii and literally jumps over a shark. It was ridiculous, out-of-character, and completely against the spirit of the show. It wasn’t just that the show made some bad decisions; it suddenly felt like a different show altogether. The three shows above haven’t committed any such crimes. They’ve simply written some plot lines that loyal viewers don’t like. And, to those whining about this, I can only say: tough. No, really. Disagreeing with a storyline is not the same thing as the storyline sucking.

Let’s start with Heroes. Everyone, including me, has complained about the vast number of new characters and the glacial pacing. And, yeah, the series has certainly been off to a painful start this year. However, with the exception of Hiro, all the characters are behaving exactly as you would expect them to. Parkman is still a neurotic mess with daddy issues. Niki still whines about how unfair her powers are. Suresh still refuses to show evidence of the IQ that supposedly earned him his doctorate. The writers may have overestimated our patience in terms of revealing the major plot points, but they haven’t committed any egregious errors against the show’s mythology. Sure, it looked like they might be sitting on the beach, strapping on those skis, but they’ve got a long ways to go before they’re hopping over any great whites.

House was a bit more daring this season, moving three of its leads to periphery roles. Perhaps this might have mattered if the show was anything other than a testament to the wonder of Hugh Laurie, but the simple fact is that House lives and dies on the strength of its lead. If House himself suddenly renounced the cure-all properties of Vicadin in favor of hug therapy, we’d have a problem. Pretending that most viewers watch this show for anything other than Laurie’s magnetic performance is downright silly. Sure, Chase is pretty, but when House is unleashing his wit on his new whipping boys, I forget Chase was ever on the show. The sharks dream of the day they can get close enough to Laurie to take a bite.

And, finally, my beloved Friday Night Lights. Everyone began panicking early this season, when the first episode ended with Tyra and Landry murdering a man and then covering it up. And, yes, it seemed silly, but not once has the show taken this dangerous plot down the easy melodramatic route. The characters, though not behaving exactly as the viewers might wish, are still behaving exactly like Tyra and Landry. People complain about Jason trying some ludicrous surgery in Mexico, overlooking how he has been desperately claiming that he will walk again since his accident. Some people say there is too much football; others say too little. People are upset that Coach Taylor left Dillon at the end of last season, despite the fact that his departure set up the primary conflict for this year. It seems that people are so invested in what they perceive as a perfect show that they get upset whenever it’s not perfect for them, too. I’ll tell you what: this show has never been perfect. I hated last season’s steroids plot line and couldn’t wait for Waverly to get off my screen. I’m also willing to accept that they don’t make this show just for me, and occasionally I will disagree with its choices. That doesn’t mean the sharks are circling. It means this complicated, wonderful show gives me something to think about every week, and I hope it keeps doing so for years to come, sharks be damned.

What do you think? Have you been seeing sharks this season, on these or any other shows?

a

Mr. Frost is right, you know. At the moment, I have an episode of Dexter waiting on my hard drive and watching that will likely be the high point of my evening (which isn’t quite as sad as it sounds because, as I have pointed out previously, Dexter is one of the best damn shows on television).

I know I’ve brought up the idea of audience theory before, but I’m feeling especially pedantic today and in a mood to go into a bit more detail (skip to the jump if you just want to read about Hugh Laurie). The uses & gratifications theory states that audiences consume media in order to be gratified in some way and breaks the reasons into four categories. The first is diversion and escapism, such as with fantasy blockbusters. The second is personal relationships, the idea that people begin to feel close to these characters and want to spend time with them. This is the only explanation for the continuing existence of Two and a Half Men, though I would dearly like to have a word with anyone who encourages Charlie Sheen to continue acting. Next you have personal identity, in which the audience takes their cues on how to behave from the media. Best case scenario, this means that your house is inspired by Top Design; worst case is that you spent the late 90s wearing the “Rachel” haircut. Lastly is surveillance, the acquiring of information through the media. Think news and documentaries or, for that matter, Sesame Street. Hey, Bert has some extremely valuable knowledge to impart. On the surface, that all sounds like a straight-forward and valid theory, but where the hell does a serial killer fit in? I’ve decided to add a fifth category to this popular media concept: vicarious cruelty.

After all, I don’t watch Dexter to escape, because a murder-ridden Miami isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing vacation. Personal relationships? Well, the guy is charming, but I’m not looking forward to introducing him to my mother. I’m certainly not taking cues on how to be a better serial killer from him, so the last two are out. It’s not just Dexter, either. He is merely the latest card-carrying member of the Television Anti-Heroes Society, a club that includes Greg House, Tony Soprano, Al Swearengen, even Archie Bunker, if you feel like going old school. Sure, it might be interesting to have them over for a dinner party, but you’d have to make your guests sign a waiver before serving the first course. So why do we invite them into our house on a weekly basis?

Hugh Laurie plays a self-centered misanthrope with a deliberately broken impulse control switch. He is also a genius. He gets to say or do anything he wants because, at the end of the day, people need him. Can you imagine what you would do with that power? Well, I’d likely call in sick to work before spending my days perfecting my piña colada recipe, but that’s what makes me far less inspired than House. He spends his days making racist comments and admiring his female colleagues anatomy in a way Clarence Thomas would have considered blatant, and people just roll their eyes in exasperation. He’s House! What are you gonna do? And the audience eat up every snappy one-liner and wish, just once, they could get away with even one of his off-color remarks.

Tony Soprano, of course, would know what to do with House: he’d shoot him. He might beat him up first, if he was feeling a bit cranky. And for six seasons, Tony was the dark id of much of middle America. He was thuggish, violent and uncouth, but people loved him. Someone may dream of being as quick as House, but very few aspire to be a New Jersey mobster. (If I am wrong, please do let me live in ignorance. My readers are all gentle, fluffy bunnies!) We wanted him to escape the Feds, or the rival mobsters, so that his violence could live to entertain us another day. Of course, people are tricky, and many complained when Tony was not killed in the final episode. People might cheer him on through some of the most vile acts, but we also wanted him to be punished. It was the only way to close the door on the violent impulses that he appealed to; if Tony died, so did the depravity he represented. By continuing to live, albeit offscreen, those urges were never fully silenced.

I do believe that most people are genuinely good and kind-hearted. We want to be that way. But maybe, in order to be good and kind every day, we sometimes need to glimpse the dark side. We need to see the alternative, and we need to choose to walk away from it.

What do you think? Am I completely off-base? Or are you too busy playing Grand Theft Auto to say for sure?

a