An Ode to All Things "Lost"

A moment in the show "Lost" that prompted my undying allegiance, fittingly enough, came very early in its history.

The "gotcha" moment in for me, of course, came in the middle of the pilot episode. Two moments, actually. There's, first, this strange disturbance emanating from deep in the jungle, making this echoing "whoooosh" sound.

This thing, later, plucks the pilot from the cockpit of crashed Oceanic Flight 815 (briefly following his awakening from the crash impact the previous day) and makes mincemeat pie of the poor dude. But we don't know what this thing is. A dinosaur? A ridiculous bird of prey?

And yes. The polar bear. In a jungle. I'm sure he just wanted to greet the new arrivals, offer a friendly hello and see what was going on. But noooo. One wise-cracking, shifty-eyed passenger named James "Sawyer" Ford (having a classic bad day) pulls a gun from literally out of nowhere and shoots at the charging creature. The doped up rock star passenger Charlie Pace, at episode's end, verbally sums up our feelings: "Guys, where are we?"

"Lost" introduces itself to the world: "Hello, television fans. We're here to change the rules of serial dramas, break those rules and screw with your heads for the next six years. Please enjoy! Namaste!"

The recent finales of "24" and "Lost" weren't just the end to two once groundbreaking classic TV shows. They marked the end of an American era. When some writers and actors dared to push the envelope and fully engage the viewing public in a long-lasting (and not always nice) game of "are you with us so far?" Especially in a time when, ratings-wise, procedural police and medical dramas dominate TV with plots wrapped up nice and neat within an hour every week.

Think of memorable characters, plot developments, astonishing scenes, classic lines -- all part of the current popular lexicon. For their ratings success and spin-offs, I don't see "CSI" or " NCIS" or "Law and Order" (or never did see "ER") get "trended" each week on Twitter.

But "Lost" and "24"? Oh yes, very much so. Water-cooler shows like you wouldn't believe (and admittedly, shows that other people hated or could never learn to appreciate).

Ah, "Lost." Six years later and I hardly knew ye. You may love J.J. Abrams. You may hate him. There's no in between. But there's no dispute he created a masterpiece to last ages. It was a soaring sci-fi, fantastical, philosophical, spiritual, adventurous (and sometimes humorous) soap opera of epic scale, yet profoundly, down-to-earth human.

Sure, initially, I had doubts -- how could there be a long-lasting series about castaways on a mysterious island? Then there was fear that "Lost" could've spun wildly out of control with cheesy mayhem. It never did. It was a serious matter to be discussed around the water cooler, on Twitter or at the bar over several rounds of drinks.

Very few shows inspire not just idle chatter, but theorizing, arguments and agony. The finale, which will be debated for months if not years (like last spring's equally confounded "Battlestar Galactica" ender), may have not answered the infinite number of questions that the show sparked during its broadcast history: The pregnancy on the island issues simply died, the significance of Walt, why a psychic freaked out trying to see further into Claire's pregnancy, Egyptian mythology, among others). But THIS finale didn't have to settle everything.

Like "24" and "Galactica," ending an epic show like "Lost" was more about the journey than a final destination. It was more about closure and resolution for characters we had come to know and love (or despise) that plot loopholes.

Think of the characters, actions and lines that are now indelibly burned into our memory banks.

Hugo "Hurley" Reyes struck a chord with us because he was, in a sense, our subconscious reacting subtly not only to events on the island, but life in general. Sure, he was a slacker. But he was a good-hearted, sweet slacker who did want to find purpose in life, but wasn't sure to go about it. I'd be willing to bet quite a few of us would react with a "whoa" or "dude" to startling developments like Hurley did. Or better still, "So the hatch, like, blew off your underwear?” or the timeless "Dude, you’ve got some Arzt on you.”

In spite of his laid-back demeanor or superstitious notions, Hurley could be trusted and responsible. He may not have been the clear choice to become the next "Jacob" - guardian of the island, but it wasn't a surprise when he willingly accepted to become Jack's replacement/successor. And you thought, "Hurley would kick ass caring for the island."

Benjamin Linus is such a memorable character for all the wrong reasons. Here's a mostly intelligent, adept man who grew up on the island under unusual circumstances, under the belief of a higher power that he had to take extreme measures to protect the island. Unfortunately, extreme measures took the form of genocide of a people that tried to make sense of (and perhaps control) the island's metaphysical properties.

But Ben was more than a calculating villain. He was sniveling, misunderstood malcontent who thought he was destined for greater things. He had a penchant for sarcasm, making tragic mistakes or bluntly stating the obvious ("So, I guess this means I'm out of the book club"; "What, you mean my secreter room?"; "We have two giant hamsters running on a massive wheel in our secret underground cave...";

"If you mean time traveling bunnies, then yes"; “Destiny, John, is a fickle bitch.”

He was responsible for two "holy @&*$!" moments: When he told the crazed mercenary Keamy that his daughter Alex didn't mean anything. He called Keamy's bluff threat to kill her. And just when you thought it would be okay -- BLAM! Keamy shoots and kills Alex right in front of Ben. Damn!!

The other moment is one of the billions of times Ben "killed" John Locke/Jeremy Bentham/Flocke nee Man in Black/Smokey, specifically strangling him and leaving his body dangling from the ceiling light fixture of a motel room. Ben, in his cold, icy detachment from raw emotion, calmly says, “Goodbye, John. Sorry I made your life so miserable" and simply walks out the door. Wow. Even when Locke yells, "You just killed everyone on that boat," Ben shrugs, " …so?" It's those moments that made Ben Linus a mesmerizing figure.

Desmond Hume was the everyman that also connected with many people. Honest, good-hearted, hard-working, optimistic, brutha! He also happened to be, for some reason, extra special. As in able to withstand sudden tears in the fabric of space and time, and electromagnetic discharges. But what made us love him was this destined love between him and Penny Widmore. And when he finally reunited with her aboard her freighter, we pumped our fists into the air collectively.

John Locke, the paraplegic who came to believe in miracles and destiny, who came from a non-exciting life stateside, who inexplicably through death (and death and death) found "life," strength and purpose on the island. Albeit in the form of evil via the soul of an embittered sibling who had lived and died centuries prior following a Cane-Abel/Jacob-Esau conflict.

Even the ageless wonder Richard Alpert, and the "perfect married couple" that was Rose and Bernard, a sort of Greek chorus with an objective view and blunt assessments, perked up our ears. Was it any coincidence that so many of these characters possessed the traits, names or beliefs of real-life philosophers, spiritual leaders and notable figures in contemporary history and mythology? All part of the plan.

There are favorite whole episodes: The pilot; The Man from Tallahassee; The Incident, The Constant (perhaps THE BEST and MOST IMPORTANT); Man of Science, Man of Faith; Happily Ever After; Ab Aeterno; The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham; and yes, dare I say, Across the Sea, only because it did provide plenty of crucial information albeit late in the game.

And all those little momentous images -- Goth Claire, Emo Charlie, Hurley first working, then owning Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack, Jacob throwing his brother into the well of souls, Jacob/MIB's mom being rather psychotic, Smokey "judging" Mr. Eko by pounding him against a tree repeatedly; Kate and Juliet wrestling in the rain and mud; that first glimpse down into "the hatch."

Anthony Cooper tossing his son John Locke out of a window, John getting creamed what seemed like multiple times by a passing car, Ben getting his ass kicked by Desmond, Ben getting his ass kicked by Jack, a dying Juliet trying to detonate the nuke by bashing it against a rock, the time-traveling bunnies, the exploding freighter;

Ben turning the frozen donkey wheel to move the island, Charlie drowning yet showing Desmond the disturbing note written on his hand "not penny's boat, Sawyer and Kate getting it on in a cage, Michael killing Libby, Walt on the computer communicating with his dad Michael, Sayid slamming a guy backwards onto an open dishwasher door that happened to have a butcher knife POSITIONED BLADE UPWARDS (who does that anyway?);

Jin and Sun reuniting one last time only to die a short time later in a destroyed submarine, THE NUMBERS, the Dharma orientation video, the countless times we've seen Flight 815 break up in the air, when Ben proves Jack wrong when Jack says "the Red Sox will never win the World Series," when Hurley comes to the rescue his friends in an attack on The Others, Jack and Locke's final battle, Jack dying with Vincent lying by his side (an image that just killed me inside), inside "the church" in the final moments.

Should I go on? You see, "Lost" is never going to be "just another show." It was, as described by experts and fans alike, about faith and science, evil vs. good, fate vs. free will, redemption, about what you've done in the past and what you could do in the future to possibly bring about "progress."

It was about average, flawed people (with big-time daddy/mommy issues) who -- by fate -- were chosen by an extraordinary power to help hash out (in this current plane of existence) the latest battle between light and dark.

That made the finale even more explosive. Sure, it was flawed in some places. And it was bound to disappoint many people because, with such an epic, popular saga like "Lost" ending, legions of fans had their own theories of not only how it WOULD end, but how it SHOULD end. If even the slightest scene failed to meet someone's expectations in the finale, it was tantamount to failure.

The "Lost" finale was a risk one way or another, not unlike last spring's "Galactica" finale where the "it has happened before, it'll happen again" mantra was taken to extremes. But I agree with the consensus opinion, based upon Christian's final chat with Jack: Thank God, it wasn't all a dream. It wasn't a "Dallas" season finale or a "Newhart" finale. It didn't abruptly close out like "The Sopranos." It didn't wimp out absurdly like "Seinfeld."

"Lost" came full circle -- beginning with Jack's eye opening after the crash of Flight 815, and concluding with this eye closing in death (in the same spot in which had landed following the crash, no less). It had brought closure to our beloved characters who had indeed endured triumph, tragedy, rebirth, condemnation, division, reunion, betrayal, destruction and romance since the crash. There were time-travel, deadly battles, hatch buttons being pushed every 108 minutes, it all mattered toward the conclusion.

So as it seems, Jack was a reluctant Christ-figure, a non-believer at first, who practically had to be dragged into believing there was something bigger at work.

Like it or not (and Jack was kind of a jerk), he realized he had to be the savior, to find a way to slay the supposed Satan incarnate, prevent evil from escaping to engulf the world, protect the island and ensure that the "light" ("good") was not extinguish. But prior to that, he had to figure out what he kept doing wrong in his life -- the constant regret, the missed opportunities at self-improvement.

Jack realized he had put so much stock into trying, as a doctor stateside, to fix other people's lives that he first had to fix himself up. And so did everyone else. As the saying goes, "before you can love someone else, you must learn to love yourself." Or as Jack put it, "If we can’t live together, we’re going to die alone.”

Or as Jacob more or less put it, people kept coming to the island to try and make things right, over and over and over. Like the spinning record that was bound to hit a groove. Someone finally hit it right. So there was Jack, the Christ-figure ("Shepherd" was a dead giveaway from the beginning), lying de-energized after he had reactivated the light in the island's heart, with arms wide open and a spear ... oh wait...knife wound (foreshadowing in a previous episode) in his side.

Then, blood draining from his body, Jack goes to lie and die in the same spot where he first awoke from the trauma of the crash. He smiles faintly seeing another plane pass overhead, this time ferrying those who could willingly leave the island, knowing he had finally achieved his objectives.

He could let go of his regrets, his past life of inner suffering and pain...and there he was in the sideways flash/purgatory/afterlife that was mentally created by the memories of those souls who awaited him, their hero, their leader, to join them in eternity.

That's "Lost" in a nutshell: relationships. What's important in life is not so much how you live it as it is how you interact with your fellow human beings. These characters had gotten to know each other in such a close way that subconscious connections developed into the spiritual realm.

Those who died before Jack, those who died after him, they were all there in "the church" in such an emotional reunion/farewell that I won't forget for a long time. (Funny to see that Ben refused to enter the church, acknowledging his previous misdeeds awaited ultimate judgment.)

And the absolute final image of the wreckage on the beach only served as a reminder of what was truly left behind on Earth: material things that eventually will rust away and disappear. By comparison, those "Losties" memories and spirits will live on. (Except for perhaps poor Michael, who failed to see what was truly important in life. Apparently he was willing to do too much for his kidnapped son...a "too much" that turned him into a sort of Judas.)

Apologies for putting WAY too much thought into this. I blame "Lost." I didn't even blog nearly as much about "Galactica" or "24" upon their ends. But as you see, "Lost" was more than just your average TV show. It made me think, hope, fear and believe. I'm sure it did the same for you. See ya on the other side (or in another life), brudda!