It's a heavy time people. An in heavy times, one needs a little comfort away from the 24 hour news cycles and the crushing burden of awareness and action. In heavy times, you need to get a little Lost.
Do I need to explain Lost? Do we not all know what it is? Fine...
Oceanic Flight 815 from Syndey to Los Angeles flies off course and ruptures mid-flight, breaking apart, crash landing on a beach on a seemingly deserted, tropical island. The island though, is rife with mysteries and threats and surprises which will pose problems for the continued survival of the survivors. Each episode spotlights a character intercutting between "present day" on the island, rife with adventure or conflict, and flashbacks to that character's life before the crash.
Lost wrapped up its sixth and final season in 2010, maybe half a year before Toasty and I started this blog. I've probably mentioned Lost in dozens of reviews but I've never written directly about it here. (I would have to search my offline personal blog archives to see what I said about it while it was actually on). I can't say for certain whether I've rewatched the series since its finale but my faded recollection is of doing a complete rewatch prior to debut of season 6.
Lost was a massive cultural phenomenon in its time, rapidly becoming the ultimate water-cooler TV show and the perfect series to foster episode-by-episode TV reviewing online, even spurring on the nascent form of podcasting at the time. It was Lost's "puzzle box" storytelling that encouraged such attention and devotion. Producer JJ Abrams is often given the credit for the format, mostly because he would employ the technique of asking more questions than providing answers to in his cinematic career (especially in Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens). But much of the credit to the show's structure and success is the result of the paring of showrunners Damon Lindleof and Carlton Cuse (just as much of the behind-the-scenes issues and criticisms raised in the intervening years fall heavily upon their shoulders).
It was a show that thrived on piquing curiosity and constantly posing questions to its audience. Its genius was that every time they would answer a question, they seemingly raised two more so that the audience was never truly satisfied and there was a continual appetite to know more. In rewatching Lost, it's this structure that makes it just as consumable as it was in its original airing.Likewise the show features a very large cast of main characters, and it would continually introduce secondary and tertiary characters, (some who would go on to become main characters) whose stories -past, present and future- would connect, sometimes directly, sometimes tangentially -- with each other. It's one of the great pleasures of binge-watching, picking up on the more tangential connections, like with the Sayed flashback set late during the Iraq war where he is coerced into torturing his Iraqi superior officer by Kate's dad (who himself works under Clancey Brown, who we next meet in Desmond's flashback as a member of the Dharma initiative).
A delightful result of its constant barrage of question posing and character intertwining is it's really damn hard to remember everything that happens and all the connective threads within the narrative, so the rewatch is so rife with surprises, many of the "ohhhh yeaaaah" variety but some that feel brand new. I'd imagine one would have to rewatch regularly or be intimately devoted to decoding the puzzle box to remember all the twists, turns and ties within the show.
The pilot episode remains one of the all-time best pilot episodes ever. Directed by Abrams, it opens with the plane crash, but mostly shot from the interior POV, giving a really gnarly, sick-to-one's-stomach visceral experience that is just relentless as the arrival upon the beach is just a chaotic display of death and destruction that nods to the opening salvo of storming Omaha Beach in Saving Private Ryan. From there Abrams, Lindleof and Cuse introduce our main cast through the eyes of Dr. Jack Shephard (Matthew Fox). It's all intercut with flashback details on Jack that are there just as much to establish the show's storytelling format as it is to provide us with insight into Jack's character.
I would say it's impossible to watch the first episode of Lost without wanting to continue watching... it's like Pringles, once you pop, you can't stop. Lady Kent and I have been on a steady binge diet of Lost for four weeks now and there's been almost nothing else that we would rather put our attention towards in the evening than gorging three or four more episodes.
We're not watching with rose-coloured glasses though. Collectively we remember enough that we notice where the show falters, operating without a concrete plan in mind (the oft-cited lack of planning in having a pre-teen character who will grow up much faster than the pace of the show...by the end of season 3, it's only been about 3 months since the crash in the show).
The first three seasons are each 24 to 26 episodes in length which butts up against how we consume modern television, especially highly serialized modern television. It's felt the most direly in the flashbacks, where it hammers home quite regularly how flawed its main cast are, primarily Jack and Kate (Evangeline Lily). The flashbacks, at least in the first season, also play the puzzle box game, withholding information from the audience and teasing out questions about its characters, but in a fashion that quickly becomes unsustainable. Kate and Jack have at least double, sometimes triple the amount of flashbacks compared to the other characters, and their stories -- even by the end of the first -- season become somewhat repetitive. The later-series flashbacks regularly wind up impeding the propulsiveness of the events on the island, rather than enhancing them as it does early on. That said, during our rewatch the only scenes of the show we fast forwarded through were some of the Kate and Jack-centric flashbacks. By season 3, the flashbacks as a device wore out their welcome so whenever the show would toy with the device, sometimes flashing back to sequences that happened between scenes to fill in the blanks from, say, another character's perspective, or to fill us in on what a character that we haven't seen in a while has been up to, it's fairly refreshing.A much-derided season 3 episode at the time of airing found the show focusing two characters, Nikki and Paolo, who were seeded in as tertiary Oceanic 815 survivors earlier in season 3. Their flashback sequences inserts them into many of the major events of the preceding two seasons while also giving them their own tumultuous arc together. At the time it was seen as a unnecessary distraction from the ongoing story, but the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead of it all, seeing events from a different perspective, makes it an absolute delight in the rewatch, especially when you know it's coming. (It also didn't help that it followed shortly behind the worst flashback of the show's entire run, a story whose sole purpose was to explain the origin of Jack's stupid shoulder tattoo. It's the worst episode of the show by far and remains only watchable in fast forwarding through to the island-set parts).
It's hard not to note that Lost had a real issue with their BIPOC characters. Spoilers for those that haven't seen, or didn't remember, but Michael (Harold Perrineau) and his son Walt (Malcolm David Kelly), the two main Black characters of the show were basically missing for most of season 2 and then only sporadically used throughout the remainder of the show. Tailies Ana Lucia (Michelle Rodriguez) and Mr. Eko (Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje) are also short-lived cast members, mainly present in Season 2. When "the Others" are introduced, one of the most prominent, played by April Grace is unceremoniously killed without ever really developing her as a character in any way. Jin (Daniel Dae Kim), Sun (Yunjin Kim) and Sayed (Naveen Andrews) do fare much better (Jin and Sun's story is largely presented in subtitles, a landmark for network TV), but each faces their fair share of discrimination in the show. Hurley (Jorge Garcia) comes out relatively unscathed as a Latinx character, but the amount of body shaming and fat-phobic rhetoric in the show is pretty inexcusable. There's also a plethora of behind the scenes criticisms that have been levied against its showrunners and their enablers, which are worth paying attention to. It is crucial context to why certain characters are underserved, and highlights that for as good as the show was, it definitely could have been even better. And I'm not talking about Sawyer (Josh Holloway) whose dishing out of offensive nicknames is his primary character trait for the first season.
The behind-the-scenes issues don't affect my enjoyment of what's on screen too much although I get bummed when I notice plot threads that I know are left unresolved or underexplored (we never got a Libby flashback, and both Walt and Eko seemed like they were supposed to have a much more integral role in exploring the show's mythology). It's hard not to get caught up in Lost's unparalled sense of discovery. Smoke monsters, polar bears, numbers stations, mysterious islanders, ghosts, hatches, other planes, and on and on. The more the layers are peeled back the bigger it all gets.
The mysteries wouldn't be so potent if not for the production values behind them. Sure, some of the effects (smoke monster and polar bears) may not hold up to today's standards, but the mostly practical effects, the sets, the set designs, the wardrobes and makeup (credit to the show for seemingly casting women and men who seem to look more attractive the more unkempt they get), the iconography...it's not a cheap show, and it's Hawaiian locale is an absolutely gorgeous place to spend time looking at. Everything to do with the Dharma Initiative and it's chonky 80's futurism is my favourite thing. Every time they find a new station on the island and a new video tape or film strip to watch, I get little shivers of delight. As much as there should never be a revisiting of the Lost mythos (just let it exist as is)...I would still take a series exploring the early days of the Dharma Initiative.
While the "present day" story on the island is the show's driving force and the unfurling of its mysteries the show's raison d'etre, the flashbacks have their own connective tissue, each of the main cast's relationship with their parents, and in particular, daddy issues. The relationship these characters have with their parents is formative to who they are, and informative to why they behave as they do. Jack's dad was unable to express his emotions healthily (same with Jack). Kate killed her abusive stepfather and her mom turned her in which furthered her inability to trust. Hurley's dad left him when he was little, while Shannon's doting father died leaving her at the whims of a hostile stepmother. Sun's father was an automotive magnate with very shady black market dealings which Jin winds up being a part of, and Jin is ashamed of his background as a fisherman's son that he tells everyone his father is dead. And then there's Locke's father, probably the most vile character on the show. He's absent from Locke's entire life (having been raised in the foster system) only to return to provide Locke the father figure he's always wanted, all as a ploy to steal Locke's kidney. He then returns, in the guise of making amends, but it's another scam, and in a third go-around he tosses Locke out a window when Locke gets in the way of one of his grifts. He's just a vile human being but Locke can't seem to let go of the desire to have him in his life. These urgings of connection with our parents, especting ones that withhold their affection or abuse their children emotionally...they're exceptionally damaging and hard to let go of. The threads start to come loose from these themes in the second season and get pretty deatched in the third... I'm sure it's partly creative turnover in the writer's room, but also as the characters change on the island, their past lives don't necessarily directly reflect upon them. Except Jack, who seems incapable of changing.
If Locke's dad is the worst, Jack is kind of the second worst. Jack always needs to be in charge, he always needs to know everything no matter how irrelevant, and he is direly unapologetic for his actions. He's much like his father in that way, and kind of refuses to see it. The more the show explores Jack, in present and past tense, the more frustrating a character he becomes. He's "Jack of all trades", always wanting to fix everything himself even when that's not his particular skill-set. As a doctor, he's perhaps the most valuable person to the survivors yet constantly puts himself in life-threatening situations because he can't stand letting anyone else be the hero. Quite quickly, his oath as a doctor to "do no harm" goes out the window as he repeatedly threatens to kill people and has next to no compunction about handing people over to Sayed to torture them. Jack never grows, and by then end of season 3, where it ends in flash forward and Jack is an opiate-addicted arrogant asshole, it kind of forgets to parallel his story with his father, and he just becomes insufferable. I used to dislike Kate more, but I've softened a bit on this rewatch...a bit. She's still utterly self-centered to a maddening degree (a little like her mom), but it is her character, and we see how that self-centric nature bites her on the ass time and time again. The difference between Kate and Jack is Kate seems to realize she's getting bit in the ass and that maybe she's doing harm, but Jack seems oblivious to the fact that he could ever be wrong.
In my memory, season 3 was a slog and season 2 was near-perfect. Truth is all three seasons have their highs and lows, it's just that season 3 had the lowest of the lows. Season 3 is mostly great, delving into the Dharma Initiative, the Others, and the strange phenomena of the island even further (plus so much more Desmond). And despite Jack's maddening descent into substance abuse and ego tripping, season 3's finale, with a doped-up Jack screaming "we gotta go back" is one of the most incredible season finales in TV history. It shakes up the show, it upsets the flashback format, and it reinvigorates the formulae that started to outlive its welcome. Season 2 had an epic finale of its own, but one that felt like appropriate closure from where it started and didn't quite hint at where things could go from there.
I love the first three seasons of Lost. Could they have been shorter and tighter? Of course, but every episode delivers something fresh for the show, something worth watching, something that advances the plot and entertains. I am fully invested, and it's providing such a necessary distraction from thinking about our hypernormalized world. The island of Lost is, both in-world and in a meta sense, an escape from reality. The conversation at the time was the island was purgatory, that the survivors of Oceanic 815 didn't survive afterall, but we know that's false now. A much as the original desire was to get off the island, at a certain point, one has to think "why would they want to leave? What's worth going back for?" It's part of what makes the fantasy of Lost work. For all the dangers it presents, the island still seems like an ideal place to leave all one's demons behind.
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Lost Lists:
Favourite characters (seasons 1-3):
1) Desmond (what a journey)
2) Hurley (the only character you would actually want to be friends with)
3) Mr. Eko (just a great character)
4) Sawyer (the glowering and those dimples)
5) Sayed (badass)
Least favourite characters (seasons 1-3)
1) Shannon (mostly insufferable)
2) Boone (for his constant negging of Shannon)
3) Jack (for not growing as a character)
4) Kate (for her selfishness)
5) Michael (for all his single-mindedness, and what he does at the end of season 2)
Favourite arcs/stories (S1-3):
1) The Hatch
2) Inside the hatch
3) Sun and Jin's flashbacks - romantic, heartbreaking, and they keep recontextualizing with each flashback.
4) Ben's illness
5) the many deaths of Charlie
Favourite running jokes:
1) Randomly yelling at the TV "Where'd you get your tattoo Jack?"
2) Always asking "What do you mean 'you people'?" whenever anyone says "you people".
3) Overreacting to the awfulness of Drive Shaft's "hit" single, "You All Everybody" (*shudder*)
4) Overreacting to Charlie being "the guy who brings his guitar"
5) Trying to keep count of the Oceanic survivors.