Deconstructing Tony

Like millions of others, I'm addicted to "The Sopranos," so much so that I must catrch every episode during its first airing -- although its repeat all week -- to avoid hearing details from the media or friends.
A key to this show's success is clearly the great casting and fine acting, particularly by the male and female leads, James Gandolfini and Edie Falco as Tony and Carmela Soprano. But there's something more here. Why are millions of people tuning in (can you call cable viewing tuning in?) to watch the travails of a depressed mobster, his family and associates.
Myself, whenever I watch Tony Soprano go about his business I find my radar searching for some shred of decency on display. Here is a man who is a sociopathic homicidal criminal. And yet he's concerned about his family and friends, and at turns has showed compassion at odd junctures, for a dead racehorse or a murdered prostitute. Far from black and white, Tony is a complex character, and thus unpredictable. TV viewers can love a character or hate him, but if he doesn't regularly surprise them or make them think, the channel will be changed (especially in an era when there are so many hundreds to choose from).
As fascinating though he may be, few people would actually want to be in Tony Soprano's volatile orbit. That's another reason I think the show is so successful. We like our mayhem from a safe distance: Watching a shark chew on beachgoers, or the Titanic sink, Freddy Kruger running rampant, or Tony's mob whacking a deadbeat satisfies some inner craving for danger without consequence, that same craving that puts us on roller coasters.