![]() ![]() ![]() Sometimes, a show just ran out of source material, as in M*A*S*H’s self-explanatory “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen” - the war ends, so the characters say … goodbye, farewell, and amen. And there was Seinfeld’s misanthropic middle finger: sending the central quartet to prison. There was the meta grace note: The Cosby Show breaking the fourth wall by panning out to the studio audience, and Newhart retroactively framing itself not just as a dream, but the dream of its star’s last lead sitcom role. Elsewhere two years later this option was jaw-dropping in the moment, but at the expense of cheapening everything the audience had spent months or years investing in. There was the infamous “it was all a dream!” maneuver, the instant cliché codified by the one-two punch of the ninth season of Dallas in 1986 and St. Prior to The Sopranos, finales could shock and surprise, but they always did so in fairly specific, limited ways. Series finales, meanwhile, fight against TV’s every impulse they are the end of the road, so to speak. Characters can come back from the dead, or reappear in flashbacks, or return for a check-in after being written off one season’s long-teased romantic payoff can be the next’s beleaguered relationship. Television’s goal is to keep going, and its writers will renege on any number of plot developments to meet that goal. The television finale has always been a tricky gambit a series’ end is a chance to deliver on the one thing TV is expressly designed not to provide: conclusiveness. Just as The Sopranos revolutionized our idea of what a great TV series can be, “Made in America” revolutionized our idea of how a great TV series can end. Ten years later this Saturday, we’re still feeling the aftershocks. Within hours, theories proliferated (what was with the bathroom guy?), blog posts raged (what a cop-out!), and all the while, the creative team kept their mouths firmly sealed - an omertá creator David Chase still hasn’t broken. More specifically, 10 seconds of pitch-black silence that blindsided us to the point of wondering if our TVs were malfunctioning. Yet almost none of these moments made a lasting impression, because none of them drove the show’s audience into as much of a collective frenzy as what came next: nothing. And in a scene that delivers the pathos we’d expect from a beloved and long-lived series saying its goodbyes, Tony comes to terms with the extent of Uncle Junior’s dementia. decides to join the Army - in the middle of the war in Afghanistan, no less - only for Tony and Carmela to bribe him with a “development executive” role on a Tony-financed movie. Elsewhere" and "Cheers" crossover episode.It’s easy to forget, but plenty happens in the final episode of The Sopranos: Someone gets shot in the head in broad daylight. The outlet noted that Lloyd has the TV history distinction of being in the "St. Stay interested." The Jersey City native died on at age 106, per Deadline. The dignified Lloyd acted until he was 100, finishing his career with Amy Schumer and Judd Apatow's "Trainwreck." After appearing in his improvisatory role, he offered Inside New Jersey readers (via NJ.com) some advice: "If there is a secret to living a long and happy life, I think that's it. In the show's last season, Auschlander suffers a stroke, which claims his life in the series' final episode. It was revealed that he was diagnosed with metastatic liver cancer, but in Seasons 2 and 3 he goes into remission following chemotherapy treatment. Lloyd was a recurring character on the show's first season, then a regular cast member during the second season and through its finale. Eligius Hospital, who is a sage father figure of sorts to the younger medical staff. Daniel Auschlander, Chief of Services at St.
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