THE most hotly anticipated – but ultimately disappointing – season of “The Sopranos” went out last night like a lamb – a nice, slightly overdone Christmas lamb.

Aside from the token bombing of the wire room, the episode was both boring and pretty darned interesting. What was interesting – interestingly enough – was not really what happened but what might happen – that constant waiting around for the show to get back to its former greatness.

This season, everybody’s favorite mob show went from consistently great television to bad Ibsen. (Is that an oxymoron?) And last night was more of the same, punctuated with tiny, maddening glimpses of its former self.

After the bombing scene, the finale degenerated first into a remake of “Sid & Nancy” – and finally into “A Very Brady Christmas.” The jumps, for one thing, were disconcerting.

Two weeks ago, AJ was a slacker, going to high-end Manhattan discos with his trust-fund-baby friends.

This week, he was not only diligently working construction but hanging out in a working-class Jersey bar that was straight out of “Deer Hunter.” And then there was Christopher. A couple of weeks ago, he got married out of nowhere to a totally nondescript woman who is pregnant, and last night we had to suffer through them discussing the pros and cons of decorating the baby’s room. Help!

Then, suddenly and equally out of nowhere, Christopher was, in his words, “banging that realestate agent” (the great and gorgeous Julianna Margulies) whom he seems to have fallen in love with.

Then, again without benefit of transition, Christopher and “that realestate agent” went from drinking Valerian tea from the health-food store to becoming crack ‘ho’s in a car. Huh?

Don’t get me wrong – both actors were on fire. It was the plot that was colder than the Jersey shore in December. Too much, too fast.

And how many more episodes do we have to spend at the hospital?

Last night was Frank Vincent’s turn to act his heart out. Literally.

His character, Phil Leotardo, who had a heart attack after a stressful meeting with Tony and the idiotic mob boss/movie producer Little Carmine Lupertazzi (Ray Abruzzo), can only mean one thing:

Vincent hadn’t finished negotiating his contract for the final eight episodes – and I’m not talking that kind of contract. I’m talking the SAG kind.

He doesn’t sign, he dies.

Very Sopranos, actually.

And while last night’s episode was in many ways more interesting than most of the other ones this season, we ultimately wanted more from this season of Carlo, played by my friend Arthur Nascarella, the real-life former NYPD cop who seamlessly morphed into Carlo the killer – and less of Artie Bucco and his “Big Night” whining; more Uncle Junior and less Carmela goes to Paris; and more (much more) of Paulie Walnuts tough guy and less Paulie Walnuts depressed orphan/cancer survivor.

The closing scene was the final finale straw.

I mean, really, what happened to cliffhangers?

Are the writers and producers too above that now?

Why do we need to tune in for the final eight? To see if the baccala was good?

Was this season enough for the die-hards among us (and they’ve lost something like a million viewers per Sunday night) to tune back in for the final eight?

Sure. Why not?

You never know, right?

BACKGROUND BOX

* The final eight episodes are set to air starting in January 2007. No specific date yet.

* Shooting won’t begin until mid-summer.

* A “Sopranos” movie is not going to happen, says creator David Chase.