Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Lost and Found
ANYWAY, a six year period of my life just ended, yes, that. LOST is over. I watched the pilot episode of LOST when it first aired on network television. I truly have been with it from the very beginning. I'm sure you know plenty about this show, even if you haven't seen it. I don't want to waste your time with what I like or dislike about it, but I thought it might be important to share my thoughts on the finale.
Spoilers! Stop reading now if you're planning on watching!
So a plane crashes, everyone on board goes through all sorts of hoopla, finding underground hatches, evil people, an odd French lady, a psycho Russian, polar bears, a smoke monster, numbers, magnetic things, exploding things, whispering voices, and an all important and mysterious "light." The inital draw of this show was its mysterious nature. We as an audience were truly lost and the intrigue was like crack.
After three seasons, I came to ask myself why on earth I was still watching this show. We had virtually no answers. We didn't find out what anything meant, things just got more messed up. Just when we would think we'd receive an answer, they'd open another Pandora's freakin' Box on us. It was frustrating to say the least. It was Charlie's death at the end of season three were I came to my realization. This is a character drama. It always has been. We spend half of the time in "flashbacks" learning about how messed up these people are, and as much as I hated to say it, I was falling in love with them.
I was hurt when Charlie died and we had to watch Claire be a wreck over it. Hurley and Sawyer could make me laugh with one word. Kate was a murderer I felt for; I wanted her with Jack so badly, not Sawyer. I was grateful for Sun's logic. I was overjoyed by Jin's redemption. I hated Benjamin. I was intrigued by John Locke, then loved him, then was terrified of him, then had no idea who or what he was. I wanted to slap Boone and Shannon (there's a reason they died in season 1). I respected Sayid. I loved Rose's "friendly black optimistic advice." I wanted Desmond to be my best friend. And no matter how obnoxious he could be, I always, always believed in Jack.
So what if I liked the finale? Sue me. Don't get me wrong, I had plenty of cursing and nearly-punching-the -TV moments throughout all six seasons. I like to think I'm a heartless, cynical demon. I can smash bugs (or tell certain Archuleta fans to jump in a lake. Yeah, I just went there). I can loathe sentimental (A Walk to Remember, anyone?) stories. But, I cheered when Kate gave Jack a face-smashing goodbye kiss. I really felt for Hurley. I forgave Benjamin. (Jumping Jack punch FTW!) I teared up with every single repetetive moment when the islanders remembered their deaths and their time on the island. I spent six years with them! Is it wrong that I'm emotionally attached to them? Or am I just weak? Or maybe I'm just able to actually recognize that art is meant to be interpreted and doesn't have to be black or white. Did somebody leave their intellect at home?
I've known since season three that we weren't going to get the answers. They threw the mysteries at us to keep us coming back for more. You better believe that they made them up and altered them as they went too, but that doesn't undermine the depth of these characters and the brilliant performances from the actors portraying them.
Lost's biggest reveal of them all came as Jack remembered his death and was about to enter the church. He asked his father what the purpose of it all was. His father replied:
"To remember. And to let go."
Yeah, super cheesy, but I fell for it. I love the characters. I can't help but believe that I will have my own church scene at the end of my life. I will be with those that changed me. I will be grateful for my memories, and I will have made it there because I was able to let go. I can't wait to hug them all.
Thanks Lost. Man, it took you long enough though.