The two greatest endings for a television series are The Sopranos and Succession (in no particular order; they are too different to rank with respect to each other). The gap between these two and the third best (30 Rock) is large, so I believe it makes sense to single them out.
This post is going to spoil the endings of The Sopranos, Succession, and 30 Rock. I do not recommend reading on unless you have seen these shows already. That said, the endings of The Sopranos and Succession grow more satisfying on repeated viewing (and 30 Rock is a joy from start to finish), so all is not lost if you accidentally learn how these shows end.
Achieving a strong series ending is a significant accomplishment. First and foremost, the show itself has to be outstanding; a brilliant ending can’t save a lackluster show. In addition, many outstanding shows are cancelled before they even get a chance at a proper ending. Others are forced to go on much longer than is healthy for them, and this makes it impossible for them to go out on top. Lost may be the saddest such case: a planned bankruptcy scheme as in The Sopranos, Season 2, Episode 10 (“Bust out”).
Before getting to my top two, I want to mention 30 Rock. The seeds for the ending of 30 Rock are planted all the way back in the first season, and they finally blossom into an absurdist fantasy. This is very pleasing. Liz Lemon grows by embracing her true self, and Jack Donaghy finally recognizes his fundamental limitation as a TV executive but innovents a solution. The final episode is a masterclass – essentially perfect. Jane Krakowski’s performance of “The Rural Juror” makes my heart swell every time. For me, the primary limitation of 30 Rock’s ending is that it leaves us with no puzzles to solve, no inherent tensions to wrestle with, and no counterfactuals to consider as we rewatch. It is brilliant, but not transcendently so.
The ending of 30 Rock has a feeling of inevitability about it, and in this way it resembles the ending of Succession. However, Succession’s ending runs very deep, and the more you study it, the more true resolution seems elusive. The first two times I watched the show, I enjoyed thinking of the siblings in terms of the game Rock/Paper/Scissors. Scissors beats Paper, so Scissors should run the family business. Oh, but wait, Rock beats Scissors, so Rock should be in charge. But what about Paper’s superiority over Rock? I still enjoy thinking of the show in these terms, and I think it can be seen as an explanation for why none of the children prevail in the end, but I now think this is too simplistic.
On my most recent watching, I felt that the crux of the entire show is Shiv. Of the three primary siblings, she is the only one who is intrinsically (in terms of her character, temperament, and intelligence) capable of running the family business. However, the world she inhabits is insidiously and powerfully sexist, and this leads her to build a career outside of the family business, with the result that she is in point of fact not qualified to run the family business. In principle, she is capable of overcoming this obstacle, but she lacks confidence. In every instance, at the critical moment, self-doubt leads her to elevate one of the lesser men in her life – her brothers, her husband, even a rival CEO – in the hope that she will at least get to remain in the game. By the final episode of the show, Shiv is trapped. She is able to stop her brother Kendall, but this simply elevates her ex-ish-husband Tom. The entire series famously ends with Kendall wandering around feeling sorry for himself, but the more powerful scene is the one of Shiv uneasily resting her hand in Tom’s as she comes to terms with what she has orchestrated.
I’ll have to watch the series again soon. Shiv’s story seems personal and internal, but there is an allegorical reading of it that is primarily about how institutions tend to select for properties other than excellence. In addition, Shiv’s story coexists with equally rich stories about Tom (the most ambitious, mercenary character in the show) and Roman (the smartest, most grounded sibling after all?). (By comparison, Kendall’s strengths and fatal flaws seem clear, and clearly disqualifying for leadership, but there may be subtleties I am overlooking.) All these stories lead to the same final scene in the final episode. And I haven’t even mentioned the ways in which all these characters are doomed from the start to reenact their relationship with their father – seems a bit on the nose to me right now but I might come around, and this is certainly another undercurrent to the final scenes.
The ending of The Sopranos seems straightforward by comparison. I realize that this might sound surprising, since there are hundreds of articles and videos seeking to determine whether and how Tony got whacked in the final scene. Aren’t we meant to be left guessing and speculating endlessly about what really happened? My own answer is: in a way, yes, but not quite in the expected way.
What happened at the very end of The Sopranos is that you – the viewer – got whacked. This doesn’t seem up for debate to me: the screen abruptly went black and that was it for you in terms of learning about the Sopranos. In particular, you didn’t see Tony get whacked – this is indisputable. Moreover, even though you were warned throughout the final season that you wouldn’t see it coming if you got whacked, and even though you almost certainly knew you were watching the final scene of the final episode, you didn’t see it coming.
Years ago, I heard rumors that David Chase had confirmed that Tony got whacked at the very end. This troubled me so much that I didn’t try to track down the specifics. I just assumed that David Chase was wrong about his own show. I was therefore extremely happy and relieved when I watched the documentary Wise Guy: David Chase and the Sopranos. Chase confirms my theory of the ending. He says, “I think what I was thinking about was, the universe goes on and on. You may not go on and on, but the universe is going to go on and on. The movie’s going to keep going.”
This is enough for an excellent series ending to one of the best shows of all time: it’s disquieting to think about yourself, as a viewer, getting whacked. However, this alone is not enough to elevate The Sopranos’ ending to one of the greatest of all time. The truly remarkable aspect of this ending is how it reinforces the core of the entire series. The Sopranos is simultaneously a study of Tony Soprano as a person and of the United States. In the very first episode, Tony says, “Lately I’m getting the feeling that I came in at the end. The best is over.” When he says this, it is not clear whether he is talking about the Mafia or about America. He continues talking in a bitter, entitled way, acknowledging his privileged place while complaining about it. (In this moment, we see the front page of Tony’s newspaper: “Clinton Warns Medicare Could be A Bust in Yr 2000”. I believe this date has since been updated to 2036 or so.) Production of the show was interrupted by September 11, and this too becomes an aspect of Tony’s personality as it did the nation’s, and it seemed to infuse the show, as a show, as well. When I am watching The Sopranos, I always feel that I am watching a character study; when I think about the show at other times, it is usually as a way of coming to terms with the tide of American politics and culture.
The final episode of the show is called “Made in America”. This evokes the personal and institutional level at which the show operates while also suggesting the meta-level of the final scene. We got to know Tony, his family, and his associates for a brief period, and we get to experience the universe for a brief period. Then, suddenly it is over for us. We know it is coming, but we are still somehow surprised. In the Wise Guy documentary, an HBO executive says, “The ending is whatever you want it to be.” This seems exactly wrong to me – you are dead, after all – but some people seem to find it comforting to think otherwise.