It doesn’t matter, you see? Tony got whacked/Tony went on as before — it doesn’t matter. That’s not what The Sopranos was about. Ever.
David Chase has said time and time again that The Sopranos is about family. Now you add that to the recurring theme of the show — criminal-level self-delusion — and you have your answer. It doesn’t matter.
The ultimate scene of the entire series actually happened the week before in Dr. Mefli’s office. She finally realizes what an abyss Tony is, that she has made no progress, that she has been used in the service of Tony’s dysfunction. She kicks Tony out acknowledging her failure, he turns to her declaring, without a hint of irony, that what she is doing is “immoral.” (Note how he instinctively starts the charade again with A.J.’s therapist.)
Tony is hopeless. Whether it was referring to himself as a “soldier” or a “captain of industry” he could always build a fortress of justification around himself. But what about the family? Carmella, whose conscience once tortured her and sent her to therapy and to her priest desperate for redemption doesn’t even think about it anymore; she just focuses on her real estate career. A.J., who for a brief moment seemed to gather up the courage to act in some way, is bought off with a BMW and two-bit job in the film business. Meadow is headed for a career in civil rights law, convinced that the horrendous criminality all around her is really just a reflection of society’s prejudices.
Their apparent happiness is just more self-delusion. Tony’s criminality and the need to live with it everyday has claimed its ultimate victims, the ones he most wanted to save. Whoever came through Holsten’s door didn’t matter. As Carmella from Season One might have said, they are all going to Hell. The moment of potential salvation is gone. One minute everything is fine, but once the moment for salvation is past, there is nothing but blackness. As Bobby Baccala says, “When it comes, you don’t even hear it.”
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