Point: Hey, remember the last episode of HBO’s The Sopranos?
Counter-Point: Yeah, the one everyone hated?
P: No, the one that ended in the middle of that Journey song.
C-P: That’s the one.
P: I always loved the end of that show
C-P: You know, most people hated it. Especially those who didn’t watch the show but heard about it.
P: I loved how it left the end undetermined… like the Sopranos’ world just kept going. As if an infinite number of possible endings were all left hanging out there in the ether.
C-P: That’s exactly why it sucked.
P: Why? Because you felt the need for resolution, no matter the creative cost to those who labored over the original and unpredictable content of a groundbreaking and influential show that now resides in the Pantheon of television history?
C-P: I just wanted to know what happened.
P: You don’t want to be challenged? Intrigued? Surprised by something original?
C-P: I just want to be entertained.
P: But without imagination and originality, the result is devoid of artistic inspiration and completely bland… or worse, saccharine and derivative. Rather than delivering what no one knew they always wanted, it’s giving them something they already have and therefore devaluing the experience and in turn those it’s ostensibly intended to please. It’s lazy onansism masquerading as art. It’s akin to answering a question no one asked.
C-P: I have no idea what you’re saying right now. Can’t you just enjoy what it is, for what it is?
P: Have you noticed just how profoundly punctuation can affect meaning?
P: Don’t. Stop believin’.
C-P: So, are you going to Rock the Park Saturday night?
P: Definitely. I wouldn’t miss fireworks.