The cast from the HBO series "Six Feet Under" pose clockwise from top left: Richard Jenkins Lauren Ambrose Peter Krause Michael C. Hall and Frances Conroy . (AP Photo/HBO Art Streiber)

The headline echoes the words of Alan Ball, the creator of "Six Feet Under," the wildly popular HBO series that ended two years ago, but which I just finished watching last night after three months of viewing at a furious pace -- often staying up until 1 a.m. to pack three consecutive hour-long episodes in on a school night.

At least three people in my social circle had previously suggested to me that "SFU" might be the best TV drama ever. And while my knowledge of the history of TV dramas is too limited to make that call, I think it must certainly reside in the top 10.

Like the meticulously made films of Wes Anderson, the episodes that comprise "Six Feet Under" are so artfully designed and so tonally unique that the show endears itself to viewers who crave more than just straight drama or comedy from their TV sets. Also like the films of Wes Anderson, Ball's series suffered a critical backlash because its artsy qualities seemed to some like pretentious showboating rather than something of substance. And that may be partly true.

Whether life itself is "something of substance" was a question central to "Six Feet Under." Though the show never answered that question outright, the suggestion was that life may well be a brief and meaningless tap dance over the abyss. And for the characters in "SFU," the fear of falling into the abyss sent them into ironically self-destructive behavior.

Even art couldn't save them. Look at Claire, the youngest daughter of the Fisher family, who began temping at a soul-sucking, flourescent-lit office after she lost her passion for photography.

Like Ball said, nothing, not art or even love, can save any of us from death. Nor can they save us from the inevitable byproduct of that fact -- reflexive, humiliating fear of dying. That "SFU" addressed this with such astonishing visual beauty and dramatic style makes it a deeply impressive artistic achievement; it pulled off the unlikely trick of being pretentious and acknowledging its pointlessness all at once.