Bada Bing!

'Sopranos' ready for its final whacks

They're all gone now.

Big Pussy: Gone. Richie Aprile: Gone. Ralph Cifaretto: Gone.

Gloria, Adriana, Vito, Tony Blundetto: Gone, gone, brutally gone.

But not, in the mixed-up mob-family world of "The Sopranos," forgotten. Like Shakespearean ghosts, the departed haunt the living, a reminder of the thin line between their desperate, shifty lives and a place six feet under -- or 60 feet under water, or buried in the woods, or decapitated and inserted in a bowling bag.

So the survivors smile over the anger and violence that lurks just beneath the surface, and cover it up with pretty suburban estates and snappy clothes and money -- always wads of money -- and try to stay one step ahead of the ghosts.

But death awaits us all, and for "The Sopranos," the moment of reckoning has arrived. The HBO series about a mob boss, his family, his crew and his therapist -- widely hailed as one of the finest shows in television history -- begins its final season of nine episodes tonight.

'It really pushed the envelope'

The show pushed the limits of television -- and HBO's patience. It was expensive from the outset, it was full of unknown performers (probably the best known at its debut was Lorraine Bracco, who plays Dr. Jennifer Melfi, Tony's therapist) and HBO didn't like the name, believing people would think it was about opera.

And nobody was safe in Chase's underworld. Characters died -- and they died suddenly, with the risk of alienating viewers. The actors who played them also walked a tightrope of emotion, knowing they could be whacked at any time.

"I was really, really sad," said Steve Buscemi (Tony Blundetto) at a gathering of performers who played killed-off characters. "That's really just about missing the greatest job I've ever had."

But the show also had many moments of humor -- often directly contrasted with the violence -- and was willing to be as brutally honest in dissecting family relationships as it was in showing a mobster's corrupt world. Some of the show's most dramatic moments have come between Tony and Carmela, arguing in their kitchen.

"It really pushed the envelope. I think people were expecting it to be just a mob show, but it's really not," Jamie-Lynn Sigler, who plays Soprano daughter Meadow, told CNN. "David uses it as a vehicle to express a lot of his opinions on social issues and family issues and political issues. ... I think people were afraid to do that for awhile. 'Sopranos' sort of broke the mold with that."

Naturally, the show's performers -- adhering to the mob code of omerta -- have been tight-lipped as to what's in store for the final run.

"Everything you were waiting for, you're gonna see. Everything you've been waiting to feel, you're gonna feel. Trust me. Trust me," was all Sirico would tell.