Comparing a minor talent like David Chase to RAINER WERNER FASSBINDER!!!
Where was there any sense/example of even competent mise en scene ever displayed in a single episdoe? The best sequence in THE SORPANOS cannot even begin to match the complexity and genius of the least moment of BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ.
Edie Falco trumping Hanna Schygulla? Not on her best day with the divine Hanna laid up in bed with a cold.
Can anyone explain to me the appeal of the THE SOPRANOS?
Its mawkish heterophilia was always a little too self-serving and pitying for this hard-edged queerboi, but the outpouring of grief over the end of this series is stupefying by even the most generous of standards. Is wallowing in maudlin/endless self-absorption the fate I avoided by being queer (among many others)?
Maybe Kander and Ebb were wrong and life isn't a cabaret, but a diner in New Jersey. Or maybe Nietzsche was right and some people have a will to diner and some a will to cabaret.
Brian