Aristotle said evil brings men together, which must be why so many Americans — or at least those with premium cable — are enamored with "The Sopranos." Creator David Chase has long talked about the show as a kind of magnum opus, but any discussion of whether of not Chase was able to pull off his epic vision — which as of this writing has only four more installments — is going to have to hold off a few years until "Sopranos"-mania subsides. In its seventh year, the show has settled back into the same stilted, tenuous rhythm that has colored the show from Season 4 onward. Chase has long maintained he knows exactly where the show is heading. This may lend credence to the media myth of Chase as some sort of pop-culture Svengali, but it's given the show a disquieting feeling of inevitability. In a way, Chase is a victim of his own success. "The Sopranos" came of age just as the Internet revolution was booming, and the writing staff is faced with the relatively new problem of having every new episode treated as major events. The bum leads Chase has taken over the years (the entire "Johnny Cakes" fiasco, Tony and Carmela's separation) have only been magnified by the merciless gaze of bloggers and television critics. Taken as individual units, the first four episodes of the seventh season all have a certain plodding quality to them. They word slightly better if you can watch them all back-to-back, but it's important to remember that television is a medium meant to be digested one piece at a time. In comparison to the spastic flights of fancy of Season 6, this restraint plays like a welcome relief. However, one can't help but wonder where the show's spontaneity and nonlinear sensibility has gone. Would Chase stray from his vision to devote an entire episode to two characters getting lost in the woods, the way he did in season three with the classic "Pine Barrens"? Season 7 hasn't descended into the kind of dark, depressing psychobabble of Season 4 (remember the death of "Pie-O-My"?), but rather, it has simply become static. Directors Tim Van Patten, Alan Taylor and Phil Abraham all have taken to shooting the episodes with odd, constricting framing, and have staged a disproportionate amount of scenes in cars and sitting around kitchen tables. There is no movement or energy in the staging. Even the goofy flights of fancy — long a "Sopranos" staple — have lost a bit of juice. Much was made of the movie spoof "Cleaver" (famously described by Christopher as "'Godfather II' meets 'Saw'"), but the execution was surprisingly tepid and toothless. Also, can we put a halt to Tony's malapropisms? The one episode to have broken out this year was "Chasing It," broadcasted last Sunday. It was a classic episode, a wonderfully delicate balancing act between the absurd (Phil Leotardo telling his emo nephew that he "looks like a Puerto Rican whore") and the profound (Tony's examination of his escalating gambling problems and how they pertain to his perpetually misguided sense of energy) that was in the classic "Sopranos" mode. The ultimate endpoint of the show has been up in the air for some time, and in watching Season 7, it seems increasingly apparent Chase does not have any big tricks up his sleeve. Part of the appeal of the show over the years has been how it refuses to play by standard television rules. But if Chase doesn't find a way to break the show out of its conservative rut, the resolution won't be satisfying for anybody. Chase's vision of an epic television program is sprawling and noble, but it's in danger of being swept away by indecision. It would be a shame to see such a wonderful achievement slowly sink to the bottom of the Hudson like so many dead wiseguys. Ray Gustini is a sophomore majoring in English and journalism. Do you fear for the legacy of "The Sopranos?" Send your questions, comments and cries of outrage to Ray at [email protected].