Deus Ex Machina (S1, ep. 19)
Locke’s Mother: “I want to tell you that you’re special. Very special. You’re part of a design….you do realize that, don’t you?”
Random thoughts:
-- Locke has a brother he used to play Mousetrap with. This was a foster brother presumably, but we never hear about him again.
-- This is the now-infamous Mousetrap episode: “One by one, you build a trap…piece by piece…you wait til your opponent lands here on the ol’ cheese wheel and then, if you set it up just right, you spring the trap.”
The first time through it was obvious that the Mousetrap explanation was meant to stand for something on the show (because good television never details something like the workings of a board game unless there’s a thematic or narrative reason for it), but it wasn’t at all clear what that might be. Now we know – The Mousetrap snapped shut on Jacob at the end of this past season. Will we discover that there's more to the analogy, though? Has Jacob been building the trap all along?
-- Locke and Boone build a Trebuchet to smash the glass of the Hatch. Boone asks Locke what the word means, and Locke responds: “Trebuchet means Trebuchet,” as if that explains anything. From Locke’s response we might assume that the word has no independent meaning but in fact it does. It’s derived from the old French word “Trebucher,” meaning ‘to throw over,’ an apt phrase that links directly to the MiB’s apparent plot.
Boone: “What if it doesn’t work?”
Locke: “Then the Island will tell us what to do.”
Beware, Locke. Just because something mysterious is seemingly ‘speaking’ to you doesn’t necessarily mean that you should listen.
-- This is the first of Locke’s ‘crisis of faith’ episodes, and it’s more-or-less as enigmatic as ever in some respects, but the hindsight afforded by what we now know will follow helps to illuminate some of it for us. Locke’s faith crisis is brought about by two seemingly-simultaneous factors: the Hatch’s refusal to bow to his will and just open already, and the sudden, swift deadening of his legs – illustrated graphically and awesomely via a close-up shot of Locke searing the bottom of his foot with a burning stick without flinching or apparently feeling anything.
Locke: “Everything breaks if you apply the right force.” Even you, John. Even you.
-- I’d forgotten how the show enjoyed faking the audience out regarding how Locke loses the use of his legs. In this episode he’s nailed by a car backing out of a parking space. Locke’s mother tells him that he has no father – that he was immaculately conceived. While that’s not true in the literal sense (the DNA test Locke is provided in this episode confirms that Cooper is his father with ‘99% certainty’) it is true in the figurative sense. Locke’s ‘destined’ role as leader on the Island was, in fact, an immaculate conception. His legend was created by a ‘god,’ namely, the MiB (See: Set).
Locke: “All that’s happening now is our faith’s being tested.”
Given how Locke’s faith leads him to an ignominious death and sets in motion the death of the Island’s God/Ra figure, that faith seems misplaced, if not outright dangerous. At the same time, that faith gives Locke the fuel to persevere through the kinds of traumatic experiences that might have killed a lesser man. Locke’s been viewed in a fairly positive light by most Lost viewers, myself included, but (at the risk of continuing to flog a dead horse) I think it’s much more accurate to view him as he appears in Claire’s spooky dream from earlier in the season – a man torn between conflicting forces. If, as Locke will claim later in this season, the “Island” demands sacrifice, then the ultimate irony is that Locke ends up being just that.
-- And speaking of spooky dreams, there’s a humdinger in this episode. Locke sees the Nigerian plane falling from the sky overhead, just as he does – from a much different POV – in season 5. This ‘vision’ can be interpreted in a number of ways: (1) it’s a sign sent by Jacob, (2) it’s a sign sent by the MiB, (3) it’s a sign sent by ‘the Island’ or another, unknown party, or (4) it’s early proof of what we’ll later learn – that past present and future are all existing together. We just can’t perceive them that way.
As the plane vanishes in the treeline we see Locke’s mother in a full-length fur coat moving like a ghost in a J-horror flick as she points, over and over, to where the plane has landed. Boone is shown, covered in blood, creepily repeating “Teresa falls up the stairs, Teresa falls down the stairs.” This is a legitimate feat of telepathy/mind reading on the part of Locke or whoever is broadcasting this dream into Locke’s mind. Is the ‘Island’/the MiB/Jacob telling John that Boone will die? Must die? Warning him? Is John ‘seeing’ the future?
This opens up a troubling question about the character of John Locke: Does he willingly send Boone to his death? I’d argue, based on the rest of this episode, that he does. More on that further down the recap.The story of how Locke’s father deceives him is tragic stuff, and O’Quinn plays the emotions of his off-Island flashback beautifully.
Cooper: “Do you hunt?”
Locke: “No…No.”
-- Locke’s dad is played by Kevin Tighe, the owner of the Double Deuce bar in the movie Roadhouse. Somewhere in the Lost universe, Dalton is kicking ass and Wade Garrett is dying for the sins of a small town filled with loose, impossibly coiffed women and violent, horny rednecks.
Boone: “Have you been using that wacky paste stuff that made me see my sister get eaten?”
-- Sawyer is reading a Wrinkle In Time during this episode – a story about fighting great evil with human love. It involves Tesseracts, wrinkles in time and space that can transport you great distances. Nice job on the continued hints via books, Lost.
Speaking of Sawyer – notice that his eyes get worse on the Island. I think it’s this plot point that reinforces the notion of needing to heal yourself, both in our real world and on the Island. This is the ‘Sawyer gets his glasses’ episode, and that subplot lightens what would otherwise be a pretty unbearably depressing episode. There is some terrific, light comedy between Kate, Jack and Sawyer. Sawyer sniffing the air to see if he’s got a tumor, Jack implying that Sawyer has a sexually transmitted disease in a moment that reminded me of Malcolm Reynolds telling Simon Tam that Kaylie is dead…I miss this side of Jack.
Great Sawyer Line/Delivery: “Do I get a lollipop?”
-- As Locke continues to bull-headedly pursue his Hatch quest, his legs get worse and worse. Is this Locke’s way of warning himself? I think it is. I think his body is telling him that this quest is not going to end well for him or for his padawan. Alternatively, it could also be Jacob’s way of warning him/attempting to turn him away without actually intervening. We know that Richard believes Jacob granted him long life – could the Island’s resident Ra have granted Locke his legs? It’s possible, but I’m sticking with the theory that people heal themselves on this Island, without the benefit/detriment of any divine intervention other than the Solaris-esque power of the Island’s energy.
Generally speaking, I’d like to make the observation that John never lets go of his pain, fear, doubt, or past on the Island. He simply pushes it down and replaces the loathing with worship – worship of something he, and we, don’t understand at all. This is a pretty fascinating and arguably realistic way to look at some forms of religious conversion, and it’s something the show explores metaphorically in much greater detail as the show goes on.
Locke (to Boone): “Just help me up, son.”
Boone essentially carries Locke to the sight of the downed Beechcraft plane after helping him up, and I do not think that the choice to use the word ‘son’ in the above sentence is an accident. Locke’s relationship with Boone is quasi-paternal generally, but in this episode their relationship eerily mirrors the relationship that Locke had with his father, Cooper. Locke is using Boone to get what he needs (or thinks he needs) without any true care for what the consequences to Boone might be. Sure, he expresses vocal concern for Boone as he watches the kid clamber around the plane’s precariously-perched bulk, but notice: John abandons Boone to Jack, the Doctor, just as Cooper abandons John to the doctors after their kidney transplantation operation.
I believe that John’s dream was in essence a ‘false sign,’ something given to him by the MiB to influence him, in much the same way that the MiB has appeared to others in order to influence them. It’s false in the same way that the Virgin Mary statues found in the plane are false – a holy façade containing something poisonous and addictive within.
-- Before Boone takes his soon-to-be-fatal spill, he gets on the plane’s radio and we hear the voice of Bernard: “We’re the survivors of 815!” At the time this episode aired I remember being sure that what the voice on the other end had said was “There were no survivors of 815.”
Also notable: The spot where the plane crashes, where Locke ‘sacrifices’ Boone to his own obsession, is the spot where the ‘legend of John Locke’ will originate from.
-- After abandoning Boone to Jack’s care, Locke retreats back to the Hatch, as broken as we’ve seen him, where we see this man’s truest colors:
Locke: “I’ve done everything you wanted me to do. So why did you do this to me?”
To me, Locke says. Not to Boone. Not to the castaways. Why did ‘you’ do this to ME.
And with that, the Hatch’s light suddenly switches on. Somewhere, on another hill, the John Locke of Season 5 is watching as that light splits the sky in a bright beam. That John Locke is smiling – the polar opposite of the Locke at the Hatch. But they’re both in thrall to a dangerous self-centered need, and it will destroy them.
Thursday, August 6
Wednesday, August 5
Numbers (S1, ep. 18)
Numbers (S1, ep. 18)
Rousseau: “The Numbers are what brought me here – as it appears they brought you.”
Our first Hurley episode. Not surprisingly, it's one of my favorite rewatched eps so far. I love Hurley - not just because he's a generally cuddly, fun guy, but because he's so often the voice of legitimate reason on the Island and off of it. He's grounded in ways that the other castaways aren't, even if his troubles are just as serious as many of theirs.
Long story short: Hurley goes looking for Rousseau in order to get an explanation for the Numbers. Much danger, potential death, and hilarity ensues.
Random notes:
The Dark Territory gets a shout-out via Rousseau's notes.
The sheet that Rousseau used to repeatedly write the numbers on has a hand-drawn arrow that appears to point to another sheet, or to its own opposite side. We’re never shown what this arrow alludes to.
One way to look at The Numbers: Do they function in a metaphorical way to question, both directly and indirectly, the difference between fate and coincidence? Between meaning and meaninglessness? The Numbers, which have become one mystery among many on this show, have always appeared to be malevolent to me. Like Hurley, I’ve focused on how they appear to bring bad luck to everyone around him. But on rewatch I’m finding myself thinking specifically of Christian, and how he’s always appeared malevolent to me as well. Folks here have made an intriguing case for Christian being Jacob/Jacob’s messenger/Jacob’s avatar, and although I’m not sold on the idea I am open to it.
I began feeling the same way about the Numbers as I rewatched this ep., remembering Jacob’s words to Hurley in the cab. Like Richard Malkin the psychic, there’s no information given here that would indicate that the Numbers are definitively ‘unlucky’ or ‘lucky.’ It’s left up to each individual’s interpretation. Is the ‘curse’ in Hurley’s mind? Is it connected to the Island? Keep in mind: I’m staying completely in-show for this rewatch. I’m not factoring in Valenzetti equations and internet puzzle hunts. If they don’t say or show it in the episodes themselves, it doesn’t count (at least as far as I’m concerned). With those parameters, it’s difficult to get a fix on what the numbers are, if they have any real meaning, and whether their mystery will be resolved by the show’s end.
If memory serves, Cuse and Lindelof have indicated that they won’t really be dealing with this element as the show wraps and I suspect I’ll be just fine with that. It’s more interesting to have a well-crafted, open-ended mystery rather than a definitive, disappointing answer.
This episode is littered with moments that might be coincidence, or that might be influenced by an unseen ‘hand.’ Case in point:
Hurley wins the lottery, gives an interview, shows off his grandfather and tells the cameras that ‘The first thing I’m going to do with the money is give him the rest he’s always deserved.’ Coincidence that this comment comes just before his grandpa’s heart attack? Bad luck? Or a Walt-like unknowing summons of death? It’s not clear.
Hurley’s hip-hop beach walk = hilarious.
Shannon and Sayid continue to convince as a couple.
One way to look at The Numbers: Lost has always been , among other things, a show about opposites and balance. We saw this literally rendered with the MiB/Jacob opening scene in the Season 5 finale. We’ve seen it in the way characters mirror each other and act as reflections. We’ve seen it in the various ‘sides’ and conflicts presented on the show. The Numbers can symbolize the concept of opposition and of balance. If one believes that the universe is calibrated in such a way that ‘every action has an equal, and opposite, reaction,’ and every ‘good’ must come with a corresponding amount of ‘bad,’ then the personal good fortune which Hurley receives as a consequence of playing the Numbers can be seen to be counter-balanced by an equal amount of ill fortune in a kind of ‘course correction.’
The Numbers, in this context, would seem to function in such a way as to make the pendulum of life swing in increasingly broad strokes between the polar opposites of ‘positive’ and ‘negative,’ without means to ‘stop’ the progression. As Hurley’s personal good fortune increases, so does the ill fortune of those around him. And these two factors contribute and feed off of one another, creating a kind of feedback loop.
Great Random Accountant Line: “You are now the majority shareholder for a box company…”
This is presumably the box company that Locke worked for. I can’t help but think of the Magic Box Ben references in later seasons when these references pop up.
One way to look at The Numbers: They illustrate our need to use the mysterious in order to explain the mysterious. Absent a ‘good, rational’ reason for the misfortune all around him, why wouldn’t Hurley blame The Numbers? It’s a human thing to do. They also show how we’re willing, even eager, to adjust our theories on the unexplained in order to comfort ourselves. Hurley’s sudden realization that it’s not the money that’s the problem, but The Numbers, as example.
Great Hurley Line: “I can get out of the way. I’m spry!”
It’s in this episode that we learn Hurley was in an institution. The way this is teased out and revealed is really great.
We see Leonard, the man Hurley heard the Numbers from, playing Connect Four – another game with bright and dark sides.
Interesting Leonard Line: “You opened the box. It doesn’t stop! You gotta get away from those Numbers!”
There’s that box imagery again. And there’s the notion that ‘using’ the Numbers creates something that can’t be stopped. Something that sounds, simultaneously, like the course correction we’re now so familiar with, and significantly, like its opposite – ‘course destruction,’ so to speak. Which is it? Is it either?
Thanks to Jack, Sayid and Charlie following Hurley into the jungle we discover that the wire from the beach runs straight into the ground. Does this imply something about the power source?
Jack, Sayid, Hurley and Charlie come across an old rope bridge in their search for Rousseau. Other than the Hatch, the wire and Rousseau’s camp, this is the first man-made thing the castaways have found. It’s suggested that Ethan and his crew could have built it, and I’m inclined to agree, though I also like the image of the Black Rock crew building it.
One way to look at The Numbers: They’re meaningless.
Hurley is arguably consistently ‘lucky’ throughout the episode – if compared to others around him. But the question should be asked: is this really luck, as we typically define it? Or is it simply that Hurley knows himself, knows what he’s capable of, and ‘makes his own luck’ (with the obvious exception of the Lottery win, which could just as ‘easily’ be explained by Ben/Widmore/Jacob/MiB manipulation as by a ‘Numbers force’)? Is Hurley ‘blessed,’ with good fortune/good reason in general and, as a result, it makes it appear that everyone else has bad luck?
Great Charlie delivery: “I’m okay! WHOOO!”
When Hurley goes to Australia to seek out the other man who’d been exposed to the Numbers, we get a little bit more mystery, a hint of mythology connection, and a whole lot of opportunities to spin our philosophical wheels when he meets the man’s widowed wife. We learn that Leonard and Sam (the man in Australia) both served in the US Navy and were stationed in the Pacific at a radio station ’16 years ago’ (1985?). Was it the US Navy that was also surveying the Island back in the 50’s?
Like Hurley, Sam used the Numbers in a contest and they appear to have ‘boosted’ his luck. Like Hurley, Sam became convinced that the Numbers were making everyone around him suffer. He and his wife were struck by a truck on their way home and while his wife lost her leg, Sam didn’t have a scratch on him.
One way to look at the Numbers: Sam’s wife asks Hurley, “you think I wouldn’tve lost my leg, that homes wouldn’t have burned down, that people wouldn’tve died? You make your own luck.” She may be right about this, but the listing of personalized tragedies she runs through (one assumes that it wasn’t ‘some people we didn’t know’ whose homes burned, but people that Sam and his wife knew) makes me question it. Like the Numbers themselves seem to do, I find myself swinging back and forth between ascribing everything and nothing to them.
While Hurley’s off Rousseau-hunting, there’s a nice little sub-plot between Locke and Claire – two characters that coincidentally or not (and with this show who can really tell?) end up as seeming avatars on the Island. Locke as the MiB’s false form, and Claire as creepy-smirking-girl-in-spooky-cabin. Unbeknownst to Claire, Locke is crafting a cradle for Claire’s unborn baby. This is sweet of him, but that sweetness is undercut by the fact that we the audience remember this cradle as the same one from Claire’s Lynch-dream.
It’s never been clear to me whether some/most of Locke’s incredibly useful store of knowledge (he makes glue! Out of rendered animal fat! Look out Man vs. Wild!) was absorbed by him in preparation for his Walkabout, or in his life generally before the crash, or whether some/most of it was granted to him by his weird Island connection. I wouldn’t bring this up at all, and would chalk it up strictly to his off-Island zeal to prove himself, except that we know Locke is somehow privy to what appears to be an on-Island Wi Fi connection. He knows with eerie certainty when it’ll rain, he seems to be receiving some form of urging/coaxing in his mind that relates to the Hatch…again, all of this could easily and more simply be explained by Locke’s own personality. But there’s an element of uncertainty to it that makes it worth pointing out.
Interesting Locke Line: “I’m good at putting bits and pieces together.”
Indeed he is. I can see why O’Quinn was disappointed by his character’s shift in season two. Judging from Season One alone, Locke is the Obi-Wan of the Island. But as we’ll soon see, he’s more Anakin at heart.
Charlie and Hurley’s reaction to being shot at: Priceless.
Great Hurley Line (it’s so hard to pick just one): “Maybe it’s a monster…maybe it’s a pissed-off giraffe!”
The castaways set off a boobytrap designed to destroy Rousseau’s camp, but Sayid finds Nadia’s photograph among the blast-wreckage. The edges of the photo are singed, but her face is untouched.
Hurley and Rousseau meet up, and his desperation with her is legitimately moving. When she confirms for him, in her roundabout way, that the Numbers brought bad luck to all those around her, the relief that Hurley expresses is both pathetic and deeply understandable. He wants someone, anyone, to understand his pain – to validate it – because even if he’s crazy, he’s still got to live with what he believes. The meet-up gives us a little more info regarding Rousseau. Almost verbatim:
“The ship picked up a transmission, a voice repeating the Numbers. After we shipwrecked, my team began to search for the transmission source (we see them enlist Jin to help with this in ‘This Place Is Death’). It was weeks before we found the radio tower, which is up by the Black Rock. Some of us continued to search for the meaning of these Numbers while we waited for rescue but then the Sickness came. When my team was gone I went up to the tower and changed the transmission.”
Still nothing directly contradicting what we’ve seen in Season Five. Beyond the mythology aspects of this meet-up, we see that, yet again, it’s Hurley that’s able to continually and willfully bridge the trust gap between the various people on this Island. Rousseau barely makes an effort at distrusting him, lowering her gun after a few moments and accepting a full embrace from him.
Great Hurley Line (again!): “She says ‘hey’.”
Claire: “You believe in that? Luck?”
Locke: “I believe in a lot of things.”
One way to look at the Numbers: “You think you’re the only one with baggage,” Charlie asks Hurley at the end of this episode? Charlie’s right. Bad luck happens to all of us – the rain falls on the rich and the poor alike. To focus on one’s own misfortunes and the misfortunes of those directly connected to us is to miss that others elsewhere suffer the same misfortunes. Focusing on the 'why' of pain is to miss the point.
Life is pain, as the Buddha and the Princess Bride remind us. To recognize that life is suffering is to travel on the path to Enlightenment. But there are, as Locke reminded us, two sides. One light, and one dark. And just as we settle back, comforted by Charlie’s reminder of universality, the final shot of the Hatch reveals something stamped onto it’s side: 4 8 15 16 23 42
Rousseau: “The Numbers are what brought me here – as it appears they brought you.”
Our first Hurley episode. Not surprisingly, it's one of my favorite rewatched eps so far. I love Hurley - not just because he's a generally cuddly, fun guy, but because he's so often the voice of legitimate reason on the Island and off of it. He's grounded in ways that the other castaways aren't, even if his troubles are just as serious as many of theirs.
Long story short: Hurley goes looking for Rousseau in order to get an explanation for the Numbers. Much danger, potential death, and hilarity ensues.
Random notes:
The Dark Territory gets a shout-out via Rousseau's notes.
The sheet that Rousseau used to repeatedly write the numbers on has a hand-drawn arrow that appears to point to another sheet, or to its own opposite side. We’re never shown what this arrow alludes to.
One way to look at The Numbers: Do they function in a metaphorical way to question, both directly and indirectly, the difference between fate and coincidence? Between meaning and meaninglessness? The Numbers, which have become one mystery among many on this show, have always appeared to be malevolent to me. Like Hurley, I’ve focused on how they appear to bring bad luck to everyone around him. But on rewatch I’m finding myself thinking specifically of Christian, and how he’s always appeared malevolent to me as well. Folks here have made an intriguing case for Christian being Jacob/Jacob’s messenger/Jacob’s avatar, and although I’m not sold on the idea I am open to it.
I began feeling the same way about the Numbers as I rewatched this ep., remembering Jacob’s words to Hurley in the cab. Like Richard Malkin the psychic, there’s no information given here that would indicate that the Numbers are definitively ‘unlucky’ or ‘lucky.’ It’s left up to each individual’s interpretation. Is the ‘curse’ in Hurley’s mind? Is it connected to the Island? Keep in mind: I’m staying completely in-show for this rewatch. I’m not factoring in Valenzetti equations and internet puzzle hunts. If they don’t say or show it in the episodes themselves, it doesn’t count (at least as far as I’m concerned). With those parameters, it’s difficult to get a fix on what the numbers are, if they have any real meaning, and whether their mystery will be resolved by the show’s end.
If memory serves, Cuse and Lindelof have indicated that they won’t really be dealing with this element as the show wraps and I suspect I’ll be just fine with that. It’s more interesting to have a well-crafted, open-ended mystery rather than a definitive, disappointing answer.
This episode is littered with moments that might be coincidence, or that might be influenced by an unseen ‘hand.’ Case in point:
Hurley wins the lottery, gives an interview, shows off his grandfather and tells the cameras that ‘The first thing I’m going to do with the money is give him the rest he’s always deserved.’ Coincidence that this comment comes just before his grandpa’s heart attack? Bad luck? Or a Walt-like unknowing summons of death? It’s not clear.
Hurley’s hip-hop beach walk = hilarious.
Shannon and Sayid continue to convince as a couple.
One way to look at The Numbers: Lost has always been , among other things, a show about opposites and balance. We saw this literally rendered with the MiB/Jacob opening scene in the Season 5 finale. We’ve seen it in the way characters mirror each other and act as reflections. We’ve seen it in the various ‘sides’ and conflicts presented on the show. The Numbers can symbolize the concept of opposition and of balance. If one believes that the universe is calibrated in such a way that ‘every action has an equal, and opposite, reaction,’ and every ‘good’ must come with a corresponding amount of ‘bad,’ then the personal good fortune which Hurley receives as a consequence of playing the Numbers can be seen to be counter-balanced by an equal amount of ill fortune in a kind of ‘course correction.’
The Numbers, in this context, would seem to function in such a way as to make the pendulum of life swing in increasingly broad strokes between the polar opposites of ‘positive’ and ‘negative,’ without means to ‘stop’ the progression. As Hurley’s personal good fortune increases, so does the ill fortune of those around him. And these two factors contribute and feed off of one another, creating a kind of feedback loop.
Great Random Accountant Line: “You are now the majority shareholder for a box company…”
This is presumably the box company that Locke worked for. I can’t help but think of the Magic Box Ben references in later seasons when these references pop up.
One way to look at The Numbers: They illustrate our need to use the mysterious in order to explain the mysterious. Absent a ‘good, rational’ reason for the misfortune all around him, why wouldn’t Hurley blame The Numbers? It’s a human thing to do. They also show how we’re willing, even eager, to adjust our theories on the unexplained in order to comfort ourselves. Hurley’s sudden realization that it’s not the money that’s the problem, but The Numbers, as example.
Great Hurley Line: “I can get out of the way. I’m spry!”
It’s in this episode that we learn Hurley was in an institution. The way this is teased out and revealed is really great.
We see Leonard, the man Hurley heard the Numbers from, playing Connect Four – another game with bright and dark sides.
Interesting Leonard Line: “You opened the box. It doesn’t stop! You gotta get away from those Numbers!”
There’s that box imagery again. And there’s the notion that ‘using’ the Numbers creates something that can’t be stopped. Something that sounds, simultaneously, like the course correction we’re now so familiar with, and significantly, like its opposite – ‘course destruction,’ so to speak. Which is it? Is it either?
Thanks to Jack, Sayid and Charlie following Hurley into the jungle we discover that the wire from the beach runs straight into the ground. Does this imply something about the power source?
Jack, Sayid, Hurley and Charlie come across an old rope bridge in their search for Rousseau. Other than the Hatch, the wire and Rousseau’s camp, this is the first man-made thing the castaways have found. It’s suggested that Ethan and his crew could have built it, and I’m inclined to agree, though I also like the image of the Black Rock crew building it.
One way to look at The Numbers: They’re meaningless.
Hurley is arguably consistently ‘lucky’ throughout the episode – if compared to others around him. But the question should be asked: is this really luck, as we typically define it? Or is it simply that Hurley knows himself, knows what he’s capable of, and ‘makes his own luck’ (with the obvious exception of the Lottery win, which could just as ‘easily’ be explained by Ben/Widmore/Jacob/MiB manipulation as by a ‘Numbers force’)? Is Hurley ‘blessed,’ with good fortune/good reason in general and, as a result, it makes it appear that everyone else has bad luck?
Great Charlie delivery: “I’m okay! WHOOO!”
When Hurley goes to Australia to seek out the other man who’d been exposed to the Numbers, we get a little bit more mystery, a hint of mythology connection, and a whole lot of opportunities to spin our philosophical wheels when he meets the man’s widowed wife. We learn that Leonard and Sam (the man in Australia) both served in the US Navy and were stationed in the Pacific at a radio station ’16 years ago’ (1985?). Was it the US Navy that was also surveying the Island back in the 50’s?
Like Hurley, Sam used the Numbers in a contest and they appear to have ‘boosted’ his luck. Like Hurley, Sam became convinced that the Numbers were making everyone around him suffer. He and his wife were struck by a truck on their way home and while his wife lost her leg, Sam didn’t have a scratch on him.
One way to look at the Numbers: Sam’s wife asks Hurley, “you think I wouldn’tve lost my leg, that homes wouldn’t have burned down, that people wouldn’tve died? You make your own luck.” She may be right about this, but the listing of personalized tragedies she runs through (one assumes that it wasn’t ‘some people we didn’t know’ whose homes burned, but people that Sam and his wife knew) makes me question it. Like the Numbers themselves seem to do, I find myself swinging back and forth between ascribing everything and nothing to them.
While Hurley’s off Rousseau-hunting, there’s a nice little sub-plot between Locke and Claire – two characters that coincidentally or not (and with this show who can really tell?) end up as seeming avatars on the Island. Locke as the MiB’s false form, and Claire as creepy-smirking-girl-in-spooky-cabin. Unbeknownst to Claire, Locke is crafting a cradle for Claire’s unborn baby. This is sweet of him, but that sweetness is undercut by the fact that we the audience remember this cradle as the same one from Claire’s Lynch-dream.
It’s never been clear to me whether some/most of Locke’s incredibly useful store of knowledge (he makes glue! Out of rendered animal fat! Look out Man vs. Wild!) was absorbed by him in preparation for his Walkabout, or in his life generally before the crash, or whether some/most of it was granted to him by his weird Island connection. I wouldn’t bring this up at all, and would chalk it up strictly to his off-Island zeal to prove himself, except that we know Locke is somehow privy to what appears to be an on-Island Wi Fi connection. He knows with eerie certainty when it’ll rain, he seems to be receiving some form of urging/coaxing in his mind that relates to the Hatch…again, all of this could easily and more simply be explained by Locke’s own personality. But there’s an element of uncertainty to it that makes it worth pointing out.
Interesting Locke Line: “I’m good at putting bits and pieces together.”
Indeed he is. I can see why O’Quinn was disappointed by his character’s shift in season two. Judging from Season One alone, Locke is the Obi-Wan of the Island. But as we’ll soon see, he’s more Anakin at heart.
Charlie and Hurley’s reaction to being shot at: Priceless.
Great Hurley Line (it’s so hard to pick just one): “Maybe it’s a monster…maybe it’s a pissed-off giraffe!”
The castaways set off a boobytrap designed to destroy Rousseau’s camp, but Sayid finds Nadia’s photograph among the blast-wreckage. The edges of the photo are singed, but her face is untouched.
Hurley and Rousseau meet up, and his desperation with her is legitimately moving. When she confirms for him, in her roundabout way, that the Numbers brought bad luck to all those around her, the relief that Hurley expresses is both pathetic and deeply understandable. He wants someone, anyone, to understand his pain – to validate it – because even if he’s crazy, he’s still got to live with what he believes. The meet-up gives us a little more info regarding Rousseau. Almost verbatim:
“The ship picked up a transmission, a voice repeating the Numbers. After we shipwrecked, my team began to search for the transmission source (we see them enlist Jin to help with this in ‘This Place Is Death’). It was weeks before we found the radio tower, which is up by the Black Rock. Some of us continued to search for the meaning of these Numbers while we waited for rescue but then the Sickness came. When my team was gone I went up to the tower and changed the transmission.”
Still nothing directly contradicting what we’ve seen in Season Five. Beyond the mythology aspects of this meet-up, we see that, yet again, it’s Hurley that’s able to continually and willfully bridge the trust gap between the various people on this Island. Rousseau barely makes an effort at distrusting him, lowering her gun after a few moments and accepting a full embrace from him.
Great Hurley Line (again!): “She says ‘hey’.”
Claire: “You believe in that? Luck?”
Locke: “I believe in a lot of things.”
One way to look at the Numbers: “You think you’re the only one with baggage,” Charlie asks Hurley at the end of this episode? Charlie’s right. Bad luck happens to all of us – the rain falls on the rich and the poor alike. To focus on one’s own misfortunes and the misfortunes of those directly connected to us is to miss that others elsewhere suffer the same misfortunes. Focusing on the 'why' of pain is to miss the point.
Life is pain, as the Buddha and the Princess Bride remind us. To recognize that life is suffering is to travel on the path to Enlightenment. But there are, as Locke reminded us, two sides. One light, and one dark. And just as we settle back, comforted by Charlie’s reminder of universality, the final shot of the Hatch reveals something stamped onto it’s side: 4 8 15 16 23 42
...In Translation (S1, ep. 17)
...In Translation (ep. 17)
Jin and Sun have evolved into two of my favorite characters on this show and this episode deepens their flashbacks – giving us more information on just how Jin went from smiling, lowly waiter/suitor to scowling attack dog for Sun’s father, Mr. Paik.
Mr. Paik and his company/companies, Paik Industries, have been floating around the edges of this show throughout its run. Given both Christian’s ghost-presence on the Island and Widmore’s Island history (as well as his penchant for Island-inspired/derived knickknacks), it’s not unreasonable to theorize that Paik has some as-yet-unidentified connection to the Island. Speaking personally though, I tend to think Paik Industries is more indicative of the J.J. Abrams Big Spooky Company fetish – proudly on display in almost every property he’s been involved with (Star Trek currently excepted). It’d be interesting if Paik and his companies end up tied into the narrative more directly, but I’m fine if that turns out not to be the case.
It’s probably the romantic in me, but the exchange between Jin and Mr. Paik at the beginning of the episode moves me. Jin’s dream is to own a hotel and restaurant. Mr. Paik offers him the job in his car company and Jin jumps at it. When Paik asks Jin why he should let his daughter marry a man who abandons his dreams so easily, Jin responds that Sun is his dream. If you’re allergic to sentiment that probably seems cheesy to you. But it resonates with me.
What I enjoyed most about this episode’s flashback is the way in which a scene we’ve witnessed before – Jin washing blood off his hands and Sun slapping him – gains weight and context and perspective with a ‘Rashomon’-esque shifting of focus from Sun’s POV to Jin’s. We see what’s lead up to his hand-washing (Jin beats an employee of the Korean Environmental Agency savagely, but does so to keep an associate from murdering the man in front of his family – note that in these scenes, the man’s daughter is watching Hurley win the lottery on television) and we see what happens directly after Sun slaps her husband and leaves the room – Jin weeps at what he has done, and at what it has done to the bond between he and Sun. That’s pretty potent stuff in my book.
It’s in this episode that we also learn Jin’s paternal heritage (his father is a fisherman) and grow to understand more about Jin’s drive and his anger as a result. This character detail logically explains why Jin has been so proficient in his fishing and it provides a quieter subtextual current of rediscovering an appreciation for the gifts parents give their children. It’s often the case, as in Jin’s life, that what our parents teach us – or even what they ‘are’ in society – is perceived as useless or embarrassing when we’re young. It’s generally when we’re older, and life has presented us with moments where those gifts are required, that we come to a greater love and appreciation for the people who have raised us. The show never comments on this explicitly, of course. But I like that all of the ‘gifts’ Mr. Paik has given Jin – a ruthlessness, a doggedly frightening need to ‘protect’his/their honor, an unforgiving code, a materialism manifested in the watch from earlier in the season – are revealed as all-but useless on this Island. It’s the gifts Jin acquired from his father – the ability to provide sustenance, a kinder and less abrasive outlook, the desire/ability to forgive – that come to define Jin’s character on this show.
Jin’s father: “It is a good world.”
On-Island, we watch as the two Korean lovebirds hash out their differences on the road towards potential reconciliation (or at least the beginnings of it). The show continues to dangle a potential attraction between Sun and Michael, something that on the first go-round seemed potentially, totally, disruptive to any healing Jin and Sun might attempt. The second time through this subplot is less affecting – not because I know it’s coming, but because any attraction that’s there is underplayed and un-acted on to an extent that it seems less like a threat than the possibility of another road not taken.
As a mirror to this, we also see Sayid and Shannon’s relationship continuing to develop. While Boone is obviously not a disinterested party, he isn’t wrong to warn Sayid about Shannon’s tendency to use men and leave them. But Shannon isn’t just that, any more than Boone is just a concerned step-brother. She seems to be developing genuine feelings for Sayid, and this progression is something I’d forgotten. It’s sweeter than I’d remembered, and more believable – with one caveat: has Sayid forgotten Nadia? Does he believe her dead right now? Because otherwise, I don’t understand why he’d be so at ease with a new relationship.
Interesting Locke line: “"Everyone gets a new life on this island, Shannon. Maybe it's time you start yours."
Michael continues to build his raft (a few episodes ago, no one was interested in this – suddenly everyone’s very interested), and the question of who gets a seat rears its head. Sawyer’s used the cable he’s stored to barter a seat, and the ‘Sawyer steals everything’ theme of the season actually gives us a payoff with this. It’s nice to see.
Of course, the raft gets torched. The torching of Michael’s raft allows the writers to clear the deck of a good deal of baggage and set new stages for these characters. Jin is ultimately vindicated and can begin his journey forward and past the man he had become, free to reinvent himself. Sun is called out for her ability to speak English, and she’s laid bare (metaphorically) for both castaways and her husband. She is now able to move forward, albeit without having divested herself of her biggest secret.
At this point in the narrative, it appears as though Sun and Jin will separate entirely. Jin approaches Michael and utters his first word of English, “Boat,” beginning the Han and Chewie relationship that we’ll see continue to develop, and Sun strips to a bikini, no longer concerned with appearances for the sake of her husband. We know that they’ll reconcile, but this moment – a frightening, freeing place where the past can (mostly) fall away and leave you raw and vulnerable and with no end of paths to choose – speaks to a fulcrum of this series. Can we ever completely divest ourselves of the past? Should we want to? And when we try to leave that past behind like this, doesn’t it always come rumbling back, insistent and haunting and sometimes, miraculously, forgiving?
It was Walt that torched the raft, as he reveals to Locke, and Locke doesn’t seem all that surprised, much less displeased. He and Walt know something about this place – something the others only suspect, if they suspect at all. Backgammon might represent the MiB and Jacob in a larger, cosmic sense, but here it represents two sides – young and old, black and white – sharing a sense of the power of this place.
Locke’s willingness to place the blame for the raft arson on the mysterious ‘Others’ points again to this man’s curiously cold willingness to manipulate a situation for his benefit. Locke is a hell of a hunter, but as a spiritual leader I’d trust him as far as I could throw him.
One of the season’s best jokes/comments helps end this episode – yet again a soft song plays over montage, but this time the song cuts out – the battery in Hurley’s cd player has died. It’s a funny way for the writers to acknowledge that the whole song-montage schtick was getting old. But it’s also more than that. This sudden interruption mirrors Sun and Jin’s sudden disruption perfectly – a melody arrested in mid-air.
Jin and Sun have evolved into two of my favorite characters on this show and this episode deepens their flashbacks – giving us more information on just how Jin went from smiling, lowly waiter/suitor to scowling attack dog for Sun’s father, Mr. Paik.
Mr. Paik and his company/companies, Paik Industries, have been floating around the edges of this show throughout its run. Given both Christian’s ghost-presence on the Island and Widmore’s Island history (as well as his penchant for Island-inspired/derived knickknacks), it’s not unreasonable to theorize that Paik has some as-yet-unidentified connection to the Island. Speaking personally though, I tend to think Paik Industries is more indicative of the J.J. Abrams Big Spooky Company fetish – proudly on display in almost every property he’s been involved with (Star Trek currently excepted). It’d be interesting if Paik and his companies end up tied into the narrative more directly, but I’m fine if that turns out not to be the case.
It’s probably the romantic in me, but the exchange between Jin and Mr. Paik at the beginning of the episode moves me. Jin’s dream is to own a hotel and restaurant. Mr. Paik offers him the job in his car company and Jin jumps at it. When Paik asks Jin why he should let his daughter marry a man who abandons his dreams so easily, Jin responds that Sun is his dream. If you’re allergic to sentiment that probably seems cheesy to you. But it resonates with me.
What I enjoyed most about this episode’s flashback is the way in which a scene we’ve witnessed before – Jin washing blood off his hands and Sun slapping him – gains weight and context and perspective with a ‘Rashomon’-esque shifting of focus from Sun’s POV to Jin’s. We see what’s lead up to his hand-washing (Jin beats an employee of the Korean Environmental Agency savagely, but does so to keep an associate from murdering the man in front of his family – note that in these scenes, the man’s daughter is watching Hurley win the lottery on television) and we see what happens directly after Sun slaps her husband and leaves the room – Jin weeps at what he has done, and at what it has done to the bond between he and Sun. That’s pretty potent stuff in my book.
It’s in this episode that we also learn Jin’s paternal heritage (his father is a fisherman) and grow to understand more about Jin’s drive and his anger as a result. This character detail logically explains why Jin has been so proficient in his fishing and it provides a quieter subtextual current of rediscovering an appreciation for the gifts parents give their children. It’s often the case, as in Jin’s life, that what our parents teach us – or even what they ‘are’ in society – is perceived as useless or embarrassing when we’re young. It’s generally when we’re older, and life has presented us with moments where those gifts are required, that we come to a greater love and appreciation for the people who have raised us. The show never comments on this explicitly, of course. But I like that all of the ‘gifts’ Mr. Paik has given Jin – a ruthlessness, a doggedly frightening need to ‘protect’his/their honor, an unforgiving code, a materialism manifested in the watch from earlier in the season – are revealed as all-but useless on this Island. It’s the gifts Jin acquired from his father – the ability to provide sustenance, a kinder and less abrasive outlook, the desire/ability to forgive – that come to define Jin’s character on this show.
Jin’s father: “It is a good world.”
On-Island, we watch as the two Korean lovebirds hash out their differences on the road towards potential reconciliation (or at least the beginnings of it). The show continues to dangle a potential attraction between Sun and Michael, something that on the first go-round seemed potentially, totally, disruptive to any healing Jin and Sun might attempt. The second time through this subplot is less affecting – not because I know it’s coming, but because any attraction that’s there is underplayed and un-acted on to an extent that it seems less like a threat than the possibility of another road not taken.
As a mirror to this, we also see Sayid and Shannon’s relationship continuing to develop. While Boone is obviously not a disinterested party, he isn’t wrong to warn Sayid about Shannon’s tendency to use men and leave them. But Shannon isn’t just that, any more than Boone is just a concerned step-brother. She seems to be developing genuine feelings for Sayid, and this progression is something I’d forgotten. It’s sweeter than I’d remembered, and more believable – with one caveat: has Sayid forgotten Nadia? Does he believe her dead right now? Because otherwise, I don’t understand why he’d be so at ease with a new relationship.
Interesting Locke line: “"Everyone gets a new life on this island, Shannon. Maybe it's time you start yours."
Michael continues to build his raft (a few episodes ago, no one was interested in this – suddenly everyone’s very interested), and the question of who gets a seat rears its head. Sawyer’s used the cable he’s stored to barter a seat, and the ‘Sawyer steals everything’ theme of the season actually gives us a payoff with this. It’s nice to see.
Of course, the raft gets torched. The torching of Michael’s raft allows the writers to clear the deck of a good deal of baggage and set new stages for these characters. Jin is ultimately vindicated and can begin his journey forward and past the man he had become, free to reinvent himself. Sun is called out for her ability to speak English, and she’s laid bare (metaphorically) for both castaways and her husband. She is now able to move forward, albeit without having divested herself of her biggest secret.
At this point in the narrative, it appears as though Sun and Jin will separate entirely. Jin approaches Michael and utters his first word of English, “Boat,” beginning the Han and Chewie relationship that we’ll see continue to develop, and Sun strips to a bikini, no longer concerned with appearances for the sake of her husband. We know that they’ll reconcile, but this moment – a frightening, freeing place where the past can (mostly) fall away and leave you raw and vulnerable and with no end of paths to choose – speaks to a fulcrum of this series. Can we ever completely divest ourselves of the past? Should we want to? And when we try to leave that past behind like this, doesn’t it always come rumbling back, insistent and haunting and sometimes, miraculously, forgiving?
It was Walt that torched the raft, as he reveals to Locke, and Locke doesn’t seem all that surprised, much less displeased. He and Walt know something about this place – something the others only suspect, if they suspect at all. Backgammon might represent the MiB and Jacob in a larger, cosmic sense, but here it represents two sides – young and old, black and white – sharing a sense of the power of this place.
Locke’s willingness to place the blame for the raft arson on the mysterious ‘Others’ points again to this man’s curiously cold willingness to manipulate a situation for his benefit. Locke is a hell of a hunter, but as a spiritual leader I’d trust him as far as I could throw him.
One of the season’s best jokes/comments helps end this episode – yet again a soft song plays over montage, but this time the song cuts out – the battery in Hurley’s cd player has died. It’s a funny way for the writers to acknowledge that the whole song-montage schtick was getting old. But it’s also more than that. This sudden interruption mirrors Sun and Jin’s sudden disruption perfectly – a melody arrested in mid-air.
More Spitballin'
Many of us, when confronted with the mysterious and/or the unexplained, are drawn to explanations that defy or seem to defy rationalism - typically as a result of something that appears to be more 'magical' or 'miraculous' than it appears.
This impulse, which I'd argue is not so much 'religious' as it is 'mythological' (though the latter definately feeds the former) has always been with us and serves to explain, at least in part, the myths and legends of past cultures (see: Gilgamesh) as wellas our own present culture (see: The myth of GW Bush as Warrior King/the myth of Obama as Anti-Christ).
As Lost is exploring what 'faith' and 'reason' mean, within the context of a network tv show, they are littering their fictional landscape with clues, references and allusions to works of myth, legend and storytelling in which this sort of myth-building plays a central part (see: Watership Down). They are further creating myths and mysterious signs of their own, which when followed by the characters on the show tend to lead to unwanted/disastrous conclusions. The best, most recent example of this: Locke's resurrection, which was not a resurrection or a miracle as we understand it, but which was embraced by characters like Richard as if it was one.
As we're watching the show we the audience are actively participating in that very act of mythologizing, postulating about the mysteries of the Island with a wide range of imaginative theories. I'll suggest that we are drawn to explain the unexplained this way not because those answers makes the most 'sense,' or because they are the simplest explanations, but because, in part, it's exciting and stimulating to do so. Lost is commenting, both directly and indirectly, on the impulse to make legends and myths where no obvious answer exists, and it's doing so both on-screen and in the relationship between show and audience.
You can, and maybe should, roll your eyes at me. But I really enjoy the notion that this was planned by the show's creators.
This impulse, which I'd argue is not so much 'religious' as it is 'mythological' (though the latter definately feeds the former) has always been with us and serves to explain, at least in part, the myths and legends of past cultures (see: Gilgamesh) as wellas our own present culture (see: The myth of GW Bush as Warrior King/the myth of Obama as Anti-Christ).
As Lost is exploring what 'faith' and 'reason' mean, within the context of a network tv show, they are littering their fictional landscape with clues, references and allusions to works of myth, legend and storytelling in which this sort of myth-building plays a central part (see: Watership Down). They are further creating myths and mysterious signs of their own, which when followed by the characters on the show tend to lead to unwanted/disastrous conclusions. The best, most recent example of this: Locke's resurrection, which was not a resurrection or a miracle as we understand it, but which was embraced by characters like Richard as if it was one.
As we're watching the show we the audience are actively participating in that very act of mythologizing, postulating about the mysteries of the Island with a wide range of imaginative theories. I'll suggest that we are drawn to explain the unexplained this way not because those answers makes the most 'sense,' or because they are the simplest explanations, but because, in part, it's exciting and stimulating to do so. Lost is commenting, both directly and indirectly, on the impulse to make legends and myths where no obvious answer exists, and it's doing so both on-screen and in the relationship between show and audience.
You can, and maybe should, roll your eyes at me. But I really enjoy the notion that this was planned by the show's creators.
Just Spitballin'
One of the major ideas of this show involves the power of faith - faith that influences the faithful for good and for ill.
At this point, the show appears to be addressing/utilizing Manichæism and more generally Gnosticism - a philosophy/theology (or theosophy, if that term can apply broadly) that essentially embraces dualism in all things, and purports to wrap most, if not all, religions into one all-encompassing suprafaith. Manichæism emphasizes that all things have the potential for good and for evil, and I believe that this includes the Island itself.
The Island isn't 'good' or 'evil,' its human perception that colors it that way. One isn't automatically 'helped' by the Island as if it's innately a force for good. Rather, more like Solaris (to use a random but apt point of comparison), the Island is an incomprehensible force - a force like the Desert God of the Israelites - and that force is both 'good' and 'evil,' in that, like the cave on Dagobah, what's on the Island depends on what you bring with you and how you choose (there's free will) to interpret the raw natural force that appears to exist within the Island.
This explains, in part, how Locke can appear both admirable and frightening, exaltant and unhinged, how his faith can curdle from worshipful abandon into a needful and ultimately petty desire for power. Healing can be helped along by the Island, but I'd theorize that in order for that to happen you need to want to heal. This may be true of physical injuries as well.
This is where the whole 'magic box' thing comes in, and it helps to explain why the Island is (a) so important and (b) so protected:
If you have faith, the Island will heal you (see: Locke, and more specifically the moments where his legs give out, and Rose). If you do not, it won't (see: Ben). This is obviously very similar to the notion of praying to/having faith in God, except that I think the larger point being made here is that 'God/the Island' isn't picking and choosing who to heal. The people themselves are, based upon what it is that they truly believe/desire. The magic box enables the manifestation of what these characters desire - it gives Locke his legs, and it heals Ben (as a child, which we're taught is when faith is most potent) and then fails to do so when Ben's become cynical about Jacob and his own purpose.
Theoretically, having a time/space jumping Island to call your own would give you unlimited power. And because it functions on its own set of assumedly scientific principles, and has no independent morality, the purpose/use of the Island is dictated by those who reside on it. Which is why Widmore, who becomes more concerned with his off-Island secrets than his supposed duty, is jettisoned. It's why Richard tells Locke that Ben has forgotten their true purpose, and it's why Richard wants to find a leader in Locke to begin with - because the Island literally needs 'good' (unattached, unselfish) people to watch over it, or it will be exploited like any other useful resource.
In a lot of ways, it seems as though the Island itself is a giant battery - a mysterious power source - and that power essentially 'becomes' good or evil or muddied through how its used by the human beings that visit/inhabit it. And I think a larger narrative point being explored by the show revolves around the fact that all of us are on that figurative Island already. Take away the mystic visions and the Polar Bears and the talk of special destiny and what we're left with are the hard choices human beings make, or don't, on the road to becoming better people - 'good' people - in the larger world.
Most religious traditions teach us to divest ourselves of the 'corrupt' world around us and to strive for a spiritually-deeper, non-materialist life of service. That's ultimately what the Island offers its visitors - the chance to attempt this without the trappings of the modern world, to connect and to evolve, to build community. But, dualistic as it is, the Island also offers each individual the chance to stop making choices, to wander Lost in the jungle of solipsism, to refuse change and embrace both literal and figurative isolation.
At this point, the show appears to be addressing/utilizing Manichæism and more generally Gnosticism - a philosophy/theology (or theosophy, if that term can apply broadly) that essentially embraces dualism in all things, and purports to wrap most, if not all, religions into one all-encompassing suprafaith. Manichæism emphasizes that all things have the potential for good and for evil, and I believe that this includes the Island itself.
The Island isn't 'good' or 'evil,' its human perception that colors it that way. One isn't automatically 'helped' by the Island as if it's innately a force for good. Rather, more like Solaris (to use a random but apt point of comparison), the Island is an incomprehensible force - a force like the Desert God of the Israelites - and that force is both 'good' and 'evil,' in that, like the cave on Dagobah, what's on the Island depends on what you bring with you and how you choose (there's free will) to interpret the raw natural force that appears to exist within the Island.
This explains, in part, how Locke can appear both admirable and frightening, exaltant and unhinged, how his faith can curdle from worshipful abandon into a needful and ultimately petty desire for power. Healing can be helped along by the Island, but I'd theorize that in order for that to happen you need to want to heal. This may be true of physical injuries as well.
This is where the whole 'magic box' thing comes in, and it helps to explain why the Island is (a) so important and (b) so protected:
If you have faith, the Island will heal you (see: Locke, and more specifically the moments where his legs give out, and Rose). If you do not, it won't (see: Ben). This is obviously very similar to the notion of praying to/having faith in God, except that I think the larger point being made here is that 'God/the Island' isn't picking and choosing who to heal. The people themselves are, based upon what it is that they truly believe/desire. The magic box enables the manifestation of what these characters desire - it gives Locke his legs, and it heals Ben (as a child, which we're taught is when faith is most potent) and then fails to do so when Ben's become cynical about Jacob and his own purpose.
Theoretically, having a time/space jumping Island to call your own would give you unlimited power. And because it functions on its own set of assumedly scientific principles, and has no independent morality, the purpose/use of the Island is dictated by those who reside on it. Which is why Widmore, who becomes more concerned with his off-Island secrets than his supposed duty, is jettisoned. It's why Richard tells Locke that Ben has forgotten their true purpose, and it's why Richard wants to find a leader in Locke to begin with - because the Island literally needs 'good' (unattached, unselfish) people to watch over it, or it will be exploited like any other useful resource.
In a lot of ways, it seems as though the Island itself is a giant battery - a mysterious power source - and that power essentially 'becomes' good or evil or muddied through how its used by the human beings that visit/inhabit it. And I think a larger narrative point being explored by the show revolves around the fact that all of us are on that figurative Island already. Take away the mystic visions and the Polar Bears and the talk of special destiny and what we're left with are the hard choices human beings make, or don't, on the road to becoming better people - 'good' people - in the larger world.
Most religious traditions teach us to divest ourselves of the 'corrupt' world around us and to strive for a spiritually-deeper, non-materialist life of service. That's ultimately what the Island offers its visitors - the chance to attempt this without the trappings of the modern world, to connect and to evolve, to build community. But, dualistic as it is, the Island also offers each individual the chance to stop making choices, to wander Lost in the jungle of solipsism, to refuse change and embrace both literal and figurative isolation.
Outlaws (S1, ep. 16)
Outlaws (S1, ep. 16)
Things get Sawyer-centric again in Outlaws, which surely features televisions only spiritually-redemptive Boar-stalking.
-In flashbacks, we see the night Sawyer’s family destroyed itself, and we watch as the con man he became gets sucked into Robert Patrick’s headgame. It’s always good to see the T-1000 pop up, and he gives good sleaze here with his limited screen time. The “Frank Duckett” scam makes it clear that while Sawyer may be pretty good at charming the ladies, he’s no Super-con.
-After last episode’s spiritually-redemptive(?) Ethan-stalking, Jack and Kate gather the guns back together, but Sawyer’s still got one. Of course he does. And Kate thinks she can get it back, because she ‘knows how to speak his language.’ Of course she does.
-The miniature patterns here, in the first season, are a lot clearer on second viewing and the ‘Sawyer’s got our stuff’ motif pops up practically every episode. Watching them in relatively quick succession this gets a little old. But in perspective this repetition was arguably necessary as the show first aired. Since this was the show’s first season, they could not count on folks tuning in every week and being caught up in the narrative, and so we get repeat character beats like these – differently shaded each time – to keep illustrating on a basic level who these people are and how they relate to one another.
-Sawyer, out in the jungle, hears the Whispers for what is, I think, the second time in the series thus far. This time, one phrase stands out as audible, and it lends further credence to the idea that Lost’s creators knew more-or-less where they were headed in a ‘big picture’ sense as well as in this episode: “It’ll come back around.”
-We get to see Hurley’s gift of mending in this episode, as he attempts to help Charlie get over PTSD by enlisting Sayid. Hurley’s a facilitator, always working between people but rarely getting personally involved beyond nagging those that need nagging. Again, this is all consistent with the idea that Hurley, on some level, embodies the notion of PU, the uncarved block.
-I can’t remember who’d told me to look out for the game of “I Never” that Sawyer and Kate play, but they were right. Lily does a great job with this – they both do. We see that the writers have had their ducks in a row on a number of levels, as its revealed that Kate was briefly married (to Malcolm Reynolds, who should have been cast in a recurring role, not a one-off), something we won’t see for another two seasons. We also learn that they’ve both killed a man, and that Sawyer has worn pink. The actors sell this back and forth well.
-Locke gets involved in the hunt for Sawyer’s Boar-nemesis, and again offers a story like the wise sage he is this season. Given what we will learn about Kate’s horse and Nadia’s cat in upcoming episodes, it seems reasonable to me to wonder whether the Boar in this episode is ‘real,’ or is a construct/shape taken by the Monster/the MiB.
-The highlight of this episode for me is the meeting between Sawyer and Christian Shepard. Shepard’s in Australia on his bender and he’s attempting to see Claire while he’s there, which we’ll learn courtesy of Ana Lucia next season. This scene involved solid work from both Holloway and John Terry, and Christian’s comments throughout provide some juicy subtext for what’s to come:
Christian: “"We're all suffering, but don't beat yourself up about it. It's fate. That's why the Red Sox will never win the damn series."
Of course, as Jack finds out in Season 3, the Sox DO win the series. This comment, and the ‘real world’ result, function as a nifty illustration of the whole fate/free will thing. ‘Fate’ is the commandment ‘thou shalt not win the series, Sox.’ The variables were that season’s team, shattering ‘fate’ as individuals collectively working together. Yeah, it’s a stretch. But still.
Christian: “He thinks I feel betrayed by him, but what I really feel is gratitude and pride because of what he did to me."
What’s interesting about the encounter between Christian and Sawyer, other than everything I just mentioned, is the way in which Christian functions to essentially push Sawyer toward his ‘fate’ – killing Frank Duckett. It’s nothing so overt as Jacob giving young Sawyer a pen, but Christian’s comment propels our favorite con man back to murder the wrong man. You could call this simply a comment on the perils/responsibilities of interconnectivity, or the hand of Jacob/MiB/fate guiding Sawyer to where we needed to be, or you could call it coincidence. As it stands, I sort of hope that there’s no eventual answer to ‘why’ the characters on this show intersect and crisscross. The possibilities left open to discuss by not answering that are more interesting to me than doing so definitively by saying ‘Jacob made sure you all kept crossing paths.’
-The moment between Sayid and Charlie was good stuff. It really grounds and explains Charlie’s actions. I like Naveen Andrews’ work on this show quite a lot.
-Sawyer, in flashback, shoots the wrong man. And just before the man dies he speaks his last words: “It’ll come back around.” Eerie stuff, and further implied support for the notion that the MiB/the Island was/is testing these people, or that they are in fact testing/judging themselves – confronting who they are and what they’ve done. On this Island, past and present and future coexist in more than one way, the echoes of Sawyer’s past becoming literal echoes in the jungle. And as the episode comes to a close, Sawyer does the ‘right’ thing, giving his gun to Jack. With another echo (‘that’s why the Sox will never win the series’) Sawyer realizes that he’s met Jack’s father.
Homecoming (S1, ep. 15)
Homecoming (S1, ep. 15)
I hate this episode.
That’s not entirely true. There are great portions of this episode that are entertaining, suspenseful, everything we expect from Lost.
And it isn’t as though the episode is lacking in drama, either. Dominic Monaghan gives another out-of-the-park performance, to boot.
But oh, how I loathe the flashbacks. More specifically: Oh, how I loathe Charlie here. This is a credit to the show, ultimately. When my television set is capable of making me feel sincerely revolted by the shenanigans of a fictional Brit and his yawning addiction I have to give serious credit to everyone involved. But that doesn’t mean I’ve got to enjoy it.
With “Homecoming,” we get to see Charlie at the bottom of the junkie barrel, and it’s not a pretty picture. I’m lucky enough never to have dealt seriously with an addict among friends or family, and this episode reinforces that feeling of luck. Charlie vomiting into a copier is something that, to use the modern parlance, I wish I could un-see.
To make a long flashback short: Charlie partners with a ‘friend’ who sets him up to steal from a rich girl (Lucy) so’s they can get their smack on. Driveshaft has gone up in smoke, and Charlie’s hard-up for money. So he charms his way into her heart with the intent to rob her blind, then changes his tune and attempts to get straight only to succumb to temptation/addiction and swipe Winston Churchill’s cigarette case (hey, if you’re going to steal, you might as well steal big I suppose) from her house, shattering her trust and sending him back out into the cold world alone. Also, he vomits into a photocopier and passes out. Had I mentioned that?
Deeeeeeepressing.
That said, also illuminating. Lost continues it’s sterling tradition of shedding new moral light on our characters, and Charlie’s past serves as both counterpoint to, and comment upon, his present concern for/fear for/protectiveness of Claire who’s reappeared as suddenly as she vanished. Who is Claire, you ask? I don’t blame you for forgetting since most of the 815ers did. And in what could be ultra-charitably considered clever meta-commentary on that fact, but is much more likely just a convenient plot-extending device, Claire’s forgotten all about them as well. In fact, she’s got no memory of anything about the Island or about these people she’s crashed with. It’s as though Ethan reset Claire’s personal System Restore Point for just before the crash. And maybe he did – I can’t remember.
Charlie’s insistent struggle to be remembered by Claire is touching. His need to do so illustrated (though not necessarily explained by – a distinction that’s important, if thin, in my opinion) by Lucy telling him that he’ll never care for anyone.
The bulk of this episode revolves around Ethan’s threat to Charlie – bring him the girl, or he’ll kill one castaway every day, leaving Charlie for last. I’m beginning to see the full arc of Ethan’s character now as I’m rewatching, and it’s pretty shocking to see the man who will later smile and enjoin Juliet to travel to the Island - who will later be shown as having attempted to save Claire during this missing week of time - act like such a frightening sociopath. He’s a spooky muthafunka, essentially, made all the moreso by his ‘special skills.’
Ethan is crazy strong, first of all. It was hinted at in his initial fight with Jack, and it’s reinforced by his reappearance to Charlie, where he one-handedly lifts our favorite smackhead by the throat like a ragdoll. Then there’s the matter of his skill with a rock-and-sling. Seeing these sorts of things makes me hopeful for some serious time (an hour at least! C’mon!) spent next season on the culturing/indoctrination/training of the Others. If I’m right about what purpose they serve (see my “Monastic Knights” hypothesis for a firm dose of the crazies) then all of this stuff falls right in line with it – learning to use the natural world to defend and attack.
That asthetic would also perhaps explain Ethan's apparent contempt for the castaways, and his oddly sunny-seemign demeanor around the Others. This episode continues to widen the chasm of opinion that will divide Locke and Jack. Jack wants to immediately dash off to catch and kill Ethan. Locke wants to fortify their camps defenses instead and wait for Ethan to come to them. This difference in strategy is also a clear illustration of deeper differences – Jack is the strongheaded, proactive, (typically) unthinking one, getting set off at a moment’s notice and focusing laser-like intensity on whatever is directly in front of him. Locke is the intuitive, reactive, (typically) cooly-rational one, slower to anger and more of a chessman when it comes to his planning.
Everything wraps up nicely (if not neatly) when Jack, Kate, Sawyer and Locke go a-hunting for Ethan with the guns from the Marshall’s case and manage to trap Mr. Rom for questioning. Only, again conveniently, Charlie shows up and blows him away – because no haunting ghost of the past is going to tell Charlie who can or can’t rely on him! Ever again!
And this psychosis is rewarded by Claire, who against the odds remembers the old CharliePorn Peanut Butter moment from earlier in the season and, instead of screaming and running, tells Charlie that she wants to trust him.
All is right with the world – except that Charlie’s a barely-hinged murderer that just busted a cap in their only potential means of obtaining information.
Random facts/thoughts:
Lucy’s father is played by the great Jim Piddock, a character actor who’s appeared in Best In Show and A Mighty Wind, and, like many of Lost’s chosen guest stars (thanks, David Fury!), appears to be an occasional Whedon player as well. He’ll forever be the Immortal Valet from Angel to me.
Boone continues his near-unbroken string of complete failures. Way to fall asleep on Watch, Boone. I’m beginning to think that the Monster kills the dim-witted first. Clearly they’re of no use to him.
The logic of (1) forgetting about Claire until it's narratively convenient to remember and (2) killing your only hostage when it's clearly not in your best present interests escapes me. Entirely. I remember being frustrated by these developments when I first watched these eps, and I'm no less frustrated now. Anyone who champions this season and claims they 'lost' it in Season Five is operating with intensely selective memory.
I hate this episode.
That’s not entirely true. There are great portions of this episode that are entertaining, suspenseful, everything we expect from Lost.
And it isn’t as though the episode is lacking in drama, either. Dominic Monaghan gives another out-of-the-park performance, to boot.
But oh, how I loathe the flashbacks. More specifically: Oh, how I loathe Charlie here. This is a credit to the show, ultimately. When my television set is capable of making me feel sincerely revolted by the shenanigans of a fictional Brit and his yawning addiction I have to give serious credit to everyone involved. But that doesn’t mean I’ve got to enjoy it.
With “Homecoming,” we get to see Charlie at the bottom of the junkie barrel, and it’s not a pretty picture. I’m lucky enough never to have dealt seriously with an addict among friends or family, and this episode reinforces that feeling of luck. Charlie vomiting into a copier is something that, to use the modern parlance, I wish I could un-see.
To make a long flashback short: Charlie partners with a ‘friend’ who sets him up to steal from a rich girl (Lucy) so’s they can get their smack on. Driveshaft has gone up in smoke, and Charlie’s hard-up for money. So he charms his way into her heart with the intent to rob her blind, then changes his tune and attempts to get straight only to succumb to temptation/addiction and swipe Winston Churchill’s cigarette case (hey, if you’re going to steal, you might as well steal big I suppose) from her house, shattering her trust and sending him back out into the cold world alone. Also, he vomits into a photocopier and passes out. Had I mentioned that?
Deeeeeeepressing.
That said, also illuminating. Lost continues it’s sterling tradition of shedding new moral light on our characters, and Charlie’s past serves as both counterpoint to, and comment upon, his present concern for/fear for/protectiveness of Claire who’s reappeared as suddenly as she vanished. Who is Claire, you ask? I don’t blame you for forgetting since most of the 815ers did. And in what could be ultra-charitably considered clever meta-commentary on that fact, but is much more likely just a convenient plot-extending device, Claire’s forgotten all about them as well. In fact, she’s got no memory of anything about the Island or about these people she’s crashed with. It’s as though Ethan reset Claire’s personal System Restore Point for just before the crash. And maybe he did – I can’t remember.
Charlie’s insistent struggle to be remembered by Claire is touching. His need to do so illustrated (though not necessarily explained by – a distinction that’s important, if thin, in my opinion) by Lucy telling him that he’ll never care for anyone.
The bulk of this episode revolves around Ethan’s threat to Charlie – bring him the girl, or he’ll kill one castaway every day, leaving Charlie for last. I’m beginning to see the full arc of Ethan’s character now as I’m rewatching, and it’s pretty shocking to see the man who will later smile and enjoin Juliet to travel to the Island - who will later be shown as having attempted to save Claire during this missing week of time - act like such a frightening sociopath. He’s a spooky muthafunka, essentially, made all the moreso by his ‘special skills.’
Ethan is crazy strong, first of all. It was hinted at in his initial fight with Jack, and it’s reinforced by his reappearance to Charlie, where he one-handedly lifts our favorite smackhead by the throat like a ragdoll. Then there’s the matter of his skill with a rock-and-sling. Seeing these sorts of things makes me hopeful for some serious time (an hour at least! C’mon!) spent next season on the culturing/indoctrination/training of the Others. If I’m right about what purpose they serve (see my “Monastic Knights” hypothesis for a firm dose of the crazies) then all of this stuff falls right in line with it – learning to use the natural world to defend and attack.
That asthetic would also perhaps explain Ethan's apparent contempt for the castaways, and his oddly sunny-seemign demeanor around the Others. This episode continues to widen the chasm of opinion that will divide Locke and Jack. Jack wants to immediately dash off to catch and kill Ethan. Locke wants to fortify their camps defenses instead and wait for Ethan to come to them. This difference in strategy is also a clear illustration of deeper differences – Jack is the strongheaded, proactive, (typically) unthinking one, getting set off at a moment’s notice and focusing laser-like intensity on whatever is directly in front of him. Locke is the intuitive, reactive, (typically) cooly-rational one, slower to anger and more of a chessman when it comes to his planning.
Everything wraps up nicely (if not neatly) when Jack, Kate, Sawyer and Locke go a-hunting for Ethan with the guns from the Marshall’s case and manage to trap Mr. Rom for questioning. Only, again conveniently, Charlie shows up and blows him away – because no haunting ghost of the past is going to tell Charlie who can or can’t rely on him! Ever again!
And this psychosis is rewarded by Claire, who against the odds remembers the old CharliePorn Peanut Butter moment from earlier in the season and, instead of screaming and running, tells Charlie that she wants to trust him.
All is right with the world – except that Charlie’s a barely-hinged murderer that just busted a cap in their only potential means of obtaining information.
Random facts/thoughts:
Lucy’s father is played by the great Jim Piddock, a character actor who’s appeared in Best In Show and A Mighty Wind, and, like many of Lost’s chosen guest stars (thanks, David Fury!), appears to be an occasional Whedon player as well. He’ll forever be the Immortal Valet from Angel to me.
Boone continues his near-unbroken string of complete failures. Way to fall asleep on Watch, Boone. I’m beginning to think that the Monster kills the dim-witted first. Clearly they’re of no use to him.
The logic of (1) forgetting about Claire until it's narratively convenient to remember and (2) killing your only hostage when it's clearly not in your best present interests escapes me. Entirely. I remember being frustrated by these developments when I first watched these eps, and I'm no less frustrated now. Anyone who champions this season and claims they 'lost' it in Season Five is operating with intensely selective memory.
Special, Part II: Off-Island Edition
Special (ep. 14) - Part II: Off-Island Edition
I’m not sure why this recap has run so long, but I’ll try to keep things tidy here in the back-half, where we’ll exclusively look at the flashbacks. First: Michael’s flashback is sadness incarnate. We don’t learn what drove a wedge between Michael and Susan, the woman who is carrying his baby (and who will go on to teach River Tam about the savage outer planets) but we can pretty safely assume one of two things: (1) Michael was an emotionally and/or physically abusive boyfriend, or (2) Susan is a terrible human being.
Michael wants to name their son Walt, explaining that it was his father’s name, and this is to my knowledge the only ‘father issue’ that comes up tangentially in Michael’s story. Of course, Michael is the father issue for much of “Special,” and one of the interesting things about the episode is how it serves as what may be the only example (other than Hurley and Cheech, much later) of a father and son healing their wounds together – not separated by death or space or time, but present and united and visibly working toward intimacy.
Lost’s first season flashbacks are wonderfully good at showing us the reasons for why people are the way they are. These moments of stolen time show us that there is rarely ‘good’ or ‘evil,’ just selfish and selfless, and that selfishness can be ‘good’ and selflessness can be ‘evil,’ just as much as they can be the opposite. Michael missed most of Walt’s childhood completely. I cannot imagine what that would feel like – to have your son regard you as a stranger while you have been figuratively beating on the door to see him. It’s no wonder, then, that he would automatically treat Walt like a child – Mike doesn’t have the literal background with Walt that would developmentally help him to understand that Walt needs more than strict discipline. He doesn’t have a parenting background to allow him any knowledge of how to deal with a child, period. And he’s dealing with the remorse and guilt and relief and the need to experience what he missed over all those years – no wonder he doesn’t treat Walt like an adult. On a number of levels, Mike can’t/won’t/doesn’t want to do so.
I’m confused, frankly, by Susan’s seeming utter unwillingness to let Walt have any contact whatsoever with his biological father. I’m not sure what the laws in Amsterdam have to say about paternity, but here in the US, even an unmarried father has rights. But presumably she knows this, being a lawyer herself, and presumably she knows just how hard it would be for an unmarried, unemployed artist like Michael to successfully sue for paternal rights. Either way, I’m at a loss over her attitude towards him in general and that attitude, combined with Michael’s obvious short fuse, makes me wonder if Michael was ever abusive toward her. The only other explanation for her behavior would simply be that she is an utterly selfish human being.
Michael is hit by a car after having a furious phone conversation with Susan over wanting to visit his son (and who is driving that car? A random stranger? The same figure that impregnates Locke’s mother? The driver of the bus that kills Juliet’s ex? The man who murdered Sayid’s Nadia? So many mystery drivers…) and, seemingly humanely, Susan visits him in the hospital and arranges to pay all of his hospital bills. Of course, there’s a catch – Susan has remarried, and she wants Michael to agree to let her new husband Bryan adopt Walt. In arguing with Michael, she asks whether Mike is ‘holding on’ for Walt’s sake, or for his own. This is a ridiculous question. It’s both, obviously, and only a heartless person/lawyer would dare to ask it. Add to this the fact that Susan has been carefully collecting and hiding every letter and birthday card that Michael has ever sent to his son, and you have the portrait of a terrible, terrible person.
This struggle, between a moneyed, powerful woman and her poorer, impotent ex, is powerful stuff. It moved me to watch it. And the scene where Michael gives Walt all the letters he's ever written him actually might have made my eyes mist up a little, though I'd never outright admit to it. But of course, that’s only most of the flashback story. The rest is really Walt’s tale and while some might have found it annoying, I found it clever, like placing a tale within a tale – an unexpected extra Russian doll. We get a brief scene of Walt, Bryan and Susan at home (and learn that, since leaving Mike in the US, Susan and Bryan have moved Walt from Amsterdam to Italy to Australia, advancing up the corporate law ladder as they go, illustrating what an attentive set of parents the both of them must have been), and this scene is eerie stuff.
As Susan complains of feeling suddenly weak (an obvious television telegraphing for “I’m going to die soon!”), Walt demands that Bryan look at the bird he’s chosen from a book. As Walt repeats himself (‘You’re not looking!’) that same bird smacks into the glass door at the back of the house. It appears as though Walt has called the bird to him with his mind-powers.It’s creepy stuff, and Bryan seems to believe that the boy has the Shinning, because the day after Susan dies (!) he comes to Michael and tries to unload Walt:
“There’s something about him! Sometimes, when he’s around – things happen. He’s different somehow.”And what that difference is, we still don’t know.
What we do know:When Mike goes to pick Walt up at Bryan’s house, we get our first Dharma symbol of the show – looming over Michael’s head like an omen.
Monday, August 3
Special, Part I (S1, ep. 14)
Special (S1, ep. 14)
I'm of two distinct minds about Michael and Walt. One the one hand, I think the portrayal of a badly damaged father and his 'special' son is generally well-written, well-acted, and well-done by all involved parties. On the other hand, I don't know if there's a relationship that grates on me as completely as the Michael/Walt relationship does, and this episode pretty much confirmed that for me. So, kudos to David Fury for a compelling 40-some-odd minutes of television that still manages to annoy me.
Michael Line We'll All Come To Resent: "Wallt! WAAAALT! ......WAAAALLLLT!"
That's the first dialogue of the episode, and it could not be a more fitting 'introduction' to this father/son story, especially since those lines will, for all intents and purposes, end up becoming Michael's sole means of communication in Season Two. Much like some species of birds, Michael will learn to modulate his WAAAAALLLTT calls to express a range of emotions: angst (because they took his boy), sadness (because they have his boy), rage (because he let them take his boy)....the list goes on and on.
But that's Season Two. And it's only with the benefit of hind/foresight that I'm able to be as sarcastic about Michael as I am. Let's face it - Harold Perrineau is a pretty fine actor, and he does a great job with his material - especially this episode. We get to see all sides of Michael - his over-protectiveness, his cluelessness, his pride, his humility, his humor, his anger, his sadness, and more than David Fury's script (which is good in places, but could have been very average in another actor's hands), Perrineau makes this one resonate.
There are two basic story strands to "Special": (1) Michael and Walt's pre-Island history and (2) a danger-fraught opportunity for Walt and Michael to bond and for Michael to stop baring his teeth at Locke on the Island. As a rule, and contrary to most, I've often found the on-Island stuff on this show more compelling than the flashbacks. This is true even in Season One, where the flashbacks are (again, as a general rule) freakin' great. So it surprised me that the opposite was true for me as regards this episode. "Special" soars when it's off the Island, and becomes more mundane when it returns to the Land of the Lost.
I'd chalk most of the reasoning for this up to the benefits and detriments of compression. On the one hand, compressing a story down to its fundamentals gives us Michael's enormously heartbreaking back-story, and the amount of time we spend in each period of Michael's life feels like just enough. It's a marvelous example of storytelling economy. On the other hand, compression can result in all of Michael and Walt's issues being dealt with due to sudden Polar Bear Attack.
On the Island Walt is continually drawn to Locke, and Locke thinks Walt is ‘special’ (yet again, our favorite Col. Kurtz displays a remarkable gift for seeing what’s useful and not useful in a person). When we first see them both Locke is teaching Walt to throw a knife while Boone, Locke’s Lackey, looks on. Locke instructs Walt to ‘see’ the knife striking the target in his mind, and, lo and behold, Walt nails that sucker dead-center on the next throw. It’s evident right away that there is in fact something special about Walt, and this line stands out:
Walt: “It was weird. I actually saw it, like in my mind or something.”
Michael is ticked because Locke is usurping his authority as a father, even if that usurpation isn’t conscious or intentional, and pretty much originates from Walt’s obvious need for a strong father figure, not Locke’s need for a kid. Locke even goes so far as to give Walt a mini-lecture on respecting his father, which, given Locke’s daddy-issues, is sad and poignant and hilarious all at once.
Interesting Michael Line (to Walt): “When I was your age I used to trace comic books. Taught myself about perspective. You know what perspective is?”
Prior to his Polar Bear Redemption Moment, it’s clear that Michael doesn’t have perspective – at least as the word relates to his relationship with his son. Well done, Fury.
Because of this mixture of protectiveness, jealousy and loss of perspective, Michael threatens Locke and orders him to stay away from ‘his boy’ - first with a knife, then with just the promise of death. Neither instance does much to prove Michael’s basic sanity, though it does help illustrate the mental toll that living on the Island is causing some of these people. It also nicely foreshadows the lengths to which Michael will prove capable of going in order to get his son back in Season Two.
Because Michael is ridiculously controlling (so controlling that he won’t even explain to Walt that they’re going to try building a raft – which is just ABSURD) and Locke is a Quiet Man Of The Jungle, Walt naturally gravitates toward Locke. And when Michael throws a tantrum about this for what seems like the 3rd or 4th time in this episode, Walt naturally lights out for the jungle. Because, let’s face it, without the benefit of hindsight, Michael seems like a total dick.
Naturally, once separated from the others, Walt is attacked by Polar Bear #2 (PB#1 having been shot and killed by Sawyer). Much like the Smoke Monster, Polar Bears appear to be pretty stymied by Banyan trees, although at least the bears try to claw at their prey from outside.
Michael and Locke learn to work together to save Walt’s life, and they all learn a little something about themselves. Awwww.
Some notable details:
Michael gives Locke’s knife – the one he’s been denying Walt all episode –to his son by dropping it from above during the Polar Bear attack. This is nice symbolism, and not too crudely telegraphed for my taste. Michael stabs the bear, and seemingly leaves Locke’s knife inside it, but the bear runs away very much not-dead…..presumably living to maul Eko another day.
Michael comes up with the idea for the raft in this episode, and no one is impressed.
The Spanish comic book that Walt finds is certainly evocative, lingering on illustrations of a captured, vicious-looking creature (hints toward the imprisonment of the MiB?), an object that is either a snowbound dome or a crashed space ship (hints about the end of Season Two and/or the nature of the Island?) and a Polar Bear (look out, Walt!).
The entire time I was watching this episode, one thought kept flashing through my mind: “Yeah, but what about Claire?!” It’s officially stated that as of the events of “Special,” Claire has been missing for over a week, and yet no one has done a damned thing about it. We can, I think, excuse Charlie’s inaction because he very nearly died at the hands of her kidnapper and, as brave or concerned as he might be, he might also be very understandably worried about being brutally murdered again. But Jack, Locke, Kate and the others on 815 have no such excuse, really. This is officially Lost’s first major WTF patch. I suppose “Live together or die alone” really only applies when Jack’s part of the equation?
This frustration was compounded by Jack’s comment to Charlie that “we all want to find Claire, but there’s no sense going into the jungle in the middle of the night.” Well, that’s fine. How about going in during the middle of the day? Or, like, ever?
According to Sayid, Rousseau’s maps contain a secretive ‘hidden’ map that illustrates the location of something mysterious, presumably the Black Rock. Was I the only one who initially took this name literally?
Speaking of Claire, Charlie is looking for her diary – thus marking the beginning of his evolution into CreepyCharlie. And of course, Sawyer has Claire’s diary. Because Sawyer has everything – except the common sense to know that this plot-device is rapidly running dry. Despite this, Mr. Ford remains the go-to man for sarcastic, spot-on character commentary.
Great Sawyer Line: “Dear diary: I’m getting’ real freaked out by that has-been pop star. I think he’s stalking me.”
Great Charlie Line (because it’s obviously not just bravado): “You hit like a ponce.”
The business with Charlie attempting to fight his urge to read the diary is really cute. Nice work, Monaghan.
Once Charlie breaks down and reads it, we get a truly eerie piece of exposition that may tie heavily into the later mythology that the show established, or it may not tie in at all:Charlie, reading from Claire’s diary:
“I had that weird dream again – the one with the Black Rock in it. I tried to leave it, but it wouldn’t let me.”
Four immediate thoughts on this intriguing bit: (1) I’d completely forgotten about it, (2) might this dream relate in some way to the fact that we’ve now seen Claire in ‘Jacob’s’ cabin, and possibly a prisoner of the MiB/Smokey?, (3) was the Black Rock initially supposed to be a larger portion of the show’s mythology, but downgraded once the Dharma Initiative came into play?, (4) will we see more about any of this dangling strand, since it’s obvious that neither the ship’s story, nor Claire’s story, are finished?
The episode closes with Boone and Locke out looking for Walt's dog (not Claire!). Only, who should stumble out of the jungle?...Claire! Thank god that they were out looking for a dog! And with that, I’ll end Part One of the Special Recap: “On-Island Edition.” Part Two: "Off-Island Edition," which will ask whether Michael was an abusive spouse, or if his ex-wife is simply a stand-in for satan, will be up shortly.
I'm of two distinct minds about Michael and Walt. One the one hand, I think the portrayal of a badly damaged father and his 'special' son is generally well-written, well-acted, and well-done by all involved parties. On the other hand, I don't know if there's a relationship that grates on me as completely as the Michael/Walt relationship does, and this episode pretty much confirmed that for me. So, kudos to David Fury for a compelling 40-some-odd minutes of television that still manages to annoy me.
Michael Line We'll All Come To Resent: "Wallt! WAAAALT! ......WAAAALLLLT!"
That's the first dialogue of the episode, and it could not be a more fitting 'introduction' to this father/son story, especially since those lines will, for all intents and purposes, end up becoming Michael's sole means of communication in Season Two. Much like some species of birds, Michael will learn to modulate his WAAAAALLLTT calls to express a range of emotions: angst (because they took his boy), sadness (because they have his boy), rage (because he let them take his boy)....the list goes on and on.
But that's Season Two. And it's only with the benefit of hind/foresight that I'm able to be as sarcastic about Michael as I am. Let's face it - Harold Perrineau is a pretty fine actor, and he does a great job with his material - especially this episode. We get to see all sides of Michael - his over-protectiveness, his cluelessness, his pride, his humility, his humor, his anger, his sadness, and more than David Fury's script (which is good in places, but could have been very average in another actor's hands), Perrineau makes this one resonate.
There are two basic story strands to "Special": (1) Michael and Walt's pre-Island history and (2) a danger-fraught opportunity for Walt and Michael to bond and for Michael to stop baring his teeth at Locke on the Island. As a rule, and contrary to most, I've often found the on-Island stuff on this show more compelling than the flashbacks. This is true even in Season One, where the flashbacks are (again, as a general rule) freakin' great. So it surprised me that the opposite was true for me as regards this episode. "Special" soars when it's off the Island, and becomes more mundane when it returns to the Land of the Lost.
I'd chalk most of the reasoning for this up to the benefits and detriments of compression. On the one hand, compressing a story down to its fundamentals gives us Michael's enormously heartbreaking back-story, and the amount of time we spend in each period of Michael's life feels like just enough. It's a marvelous example of storytelling economy. On the other hand, compression can result in all of Michael and Walt's issues being dealt with due to sudden Polar Bear Attack.
On the Island Walt is continually drawn to Locke, and Locke thinks Walt is ‘special’ (yet again, our favorite Col. Kurtz displays a remarkable gift for seeing what’s useful and not useful in a person). When we first see them both Locke is teaching Walt to throw a knife while Boone, Locke’s Lackey, looks on. Locke instructs Walt to ‘see’ the knife striking the target in his mind, and, lo and behold, Walt nails that sucker dead-center on the next throw. It’s evident right away that there is in fact something special about Walt, and this line stands out:
Walt: “It was weird. I actually saw it, like in my mind or something.”
Michael is ticked because Locke is usurping his authority as a father, even if that usurpation isn’t conscious or intentional, and pretty much originates from Walt’s obvious need for a strong father figure, not Locke’s need for a kid. Locke even goes so far as to give Walt a mini-lecture on respecting his father, which, given Locke’s daddy-issues, is sad and poignant and hilarious all at once.
Interesting Michael Line (to Walt): “When I was your age I used to trace comic books. Taught myself about perspective. You know what perspective is?”
Prior to his Polar Bear Redemption Moment, it’s clear that Michael doesn’t have perspective – at least as the word relates to his relationship with his son. Well done, Fury.
Because of this mixture of protectiveness, jealousy and loss of perspective, Michael threatens Locke and orders him to stay away from ‘his boy’ - first with a knife, then with just the promise of death. Neither instance does much to prove Michael’s basic sanity, though it does help illustrate the mental toll that living on the Island is causing some of these people. It also nicely foreshadows the lengths to which Michael will prove capable of going in order to get his son back in Season Two.
Because Michael is ridiculously controlling (so controlling that he won’t even explain to Walt that they’re going to try building a raft – which is just ABSURD) and Locke is a Quiet Man Of The Jungle, Walt naturally gravitates toward Locke. And when Michael throws a tantrum about this for what seems like the 3rd or 4th time in this episode, Walt naturally lights out for the jungle. Because, let’s face it, without the benefit of hindsight, Michael seems like a total dick.
Naturally, once separated from the others, Walt is attacked by Polar Bear #2 (PB#1 having been shot and killed by Sawyer). Much like the Smoke Monster, Polar Bears appear to be pretty stymied by Banyan trees, although at least the bears try to claw at their prey from outside.
Michael and Locke learn to work together to save Walt’s life, and they all learn a little something about themselves. Awwww.
Some notable details:
Michael gives Locke’s knife – the one he’s been denying Walt all episode –to his son by dropping it from above during the Polar Bear attack. This is nice symbolism, and not too crudely telegraphed for my taste. Michael stabs the bear, and seemingly leaves Locke’s knife inside it, but the bear runs away very much not-dead…..presumably living to maul Eko another day.
Michael comes up with the idea for the raft in this episode, and no one is impressed.
The Spanish comic book that Walt finds is certainly evocative, lingering on illustrations of a captured, vicious-looking creature (hints toward the imprisonment of the MiB?), an object that is either a snowbound dome or a crashed space ship (hints about the end of Season Two and/or the nature of the Island?) and a Polar Bear (look out, Walt!).
The entire time I was watching this episode, one thought kept flashing through my mind: “Yeah, but what about Claire?!” It’s officially stated that as of the events of “Special,” Claire has been missing for over a week, and yet no one has done a damned thing about it. We can, I think, excuse Charlie’s inaction because he very nearly died at the hands of her kidnapper and, as brave or concerned as he might be, he might also be very understandably worried about being brutally murdered again. But Jack, Locke, Kate and the others on 815 have no such excuse, really. This is officially Lost’s first major WTF patch. I suppose “Live together or die alone” really only applies when Jack’s part of the equation?
This frustration was compounded by Jack’s comment to Charlie that “we all want to find Claire, but there’s no sense going into the jungle in the middle of the night.” Well, that’s fine. How about going in during the middle of the day? Or, like, ever?
According to Sayid, Rousseau’s maps contain a secretive ‘hidden’ map that illustrates the location of something mysterious, presumably the Black Rock. Was I the only one who initially took this name literally?
Speaking of Claire, Charlie is looking for her diary – thus marking the beginning of his evolution into CreepyCharlie. And of course, Sawyer has Claire’s diary. Because Sawyer has everything – except the common sense to know that this plot-device is rapidly running dry. Despite this, Mr. Ford remains the go-to man for sarcastic, spot-on character commentary.
Great Sawyer Line: “Dear diary: I’m getting’ real freaked out by that has-been pop star. I think he’s stalking me.”
Great Charlie Line (because it’s obviously not just bravado): “You hit like a ponce.”
The business with Charlie attempting to fight his urge to read the diary is really cute. Nice work, Monaghan.
Once Charlie breaks down and reads it, we get a truly eerie piece of exposition that may tie heavily into the later mythology that the show established, or it may not tie in at all:Charlie, reading from Claire’s diary:
“I had that weird dream again – the one with the Black Rock in it. I tried to leave it, but it wouldn’t let me.”
Four immediate thoughts on this intriguing bit: (1) I’d completely forgotten about it, (2) might this dream relate in some way to the fact that we’ve now seen Claire in ‘Jacob’s’ cabin, and possibly a prisoner of the MiB/Smokey?, (3) was the Black Rock initially supposed to be a larger portion of the show’s mythology, but downgraded once the Dharma Initiative came into play?, (4) will we see more about any of this dangling strand, since it’s obvious that neither the ship’s story, nor Claire’s story, are finished?
The episode closes with Boone and Locke out looking for Walt's dog (not Claire!). Only, who should stumble out of the jungle?...Claire! Thank god that they were out looking for a dog! And with that, I’ll end Part One of the Special Recap: “On-Island Edition.” Part Two: "Off-Island Edition," which will ask whether Michael was an abusive spouse, or if his ex-wife is simply a stand-in for satan, will be up shortly.
Hearts and Minds (S1, ep. 13)
Hearts and Minds (S1, ep. 13)
Boone and Shannon get a turn in the flashbackinator, and it results in some solid drama for the both of them. They were never the most fascinating characters, but their stories are well-told and of a piece with the themes of no communication, familial betrayal and protective instinct that run through all of the back stories.
Sayid and Shannon are ramping up for (brief) romance, and Boone doesn't like it. His 'threat' to Sayid comes across as over-protective, and we'll see that in part it is, but it's also a warning to Sayid that Shannon is, essentially, no good. The first time through, I remember classifying Shannon as a 'bitch.' This time, I'd say she's a scared little girl doing stupid stuff because she has no power in the world and has never been taught to fend for herself. And Shannon's noticeably softer with Sayid than she has been - you can see why he'd appeal to her. What I can't quite see is why she appeals to him. Ah, love.
And speaking of Shannon and romance, it's creepy that she and Boone knock boots in this episode. They're step-siblings, so it's not nearly as creepy as it could be, but it's still icky. Yes, icky.
Interesting Locke Line (referring to Sayid): "He's very competent. We don't want to make an enemy out of him. We're gonna want him on our side."
Locke and Boone have been pretending to hunt for boar as they clear debris from the Hatch. For a week's worth of work, they haven't gotten very far. Locke tells a terrific story about Michelangelo that illuminates the scene and gives us viewers a lovely metaphor to throw around whenever we're feeling contemplative. 27 years earlier on that spot, Juliet is just about to attempt setting off Jughead's core.
I know that some people are bothered by Hurley, but I love him. He's such a wise innocent.
Locke: "How do you open a Hatch that has no handle or latch - no discernable way of opening it?"
I love this line. Locke speaks it as they're at the Hatch, referring directly and literally to it. However, he's also preparing to 'open Boone's mind' - another puzzle without handle or latch or 'discernable' way of opening it.
Great Hurley Line (to Jin): "You just said something mean, didn't you."
Locke forcibly ties and drugs good ol' Boone with a homemade LSDGourd. We know that Locke is a survivalist and a damn good hunter, but how in the hell does he know how to mix up hallucinogens in the jungle? And this question helps me segue into my larger Locke questions:
Sure, the man's an obvious badass, but he's also an obvious manipulator and a shockingly callous pragmatist. I don't know that he's a 'good' man (in the moral sense of the word), at least, not as the Judeo-Christian religions that help inspire this show have defined 'good' in a moral sense. Locke becomes more and more primal as the season goes on, less an embodiment of any ethical code (as his name heavily suggests he might be) than an embodiment of nature - the Island itself. Locke is a capital-I Individual. I'd trust him to help me survive, but I wouldn't trust him to run a society - nor to lead a group.
Charlie seems to disagree with me, and I can't blame him. Locke did save his life (from drugs). But as we'll see, Locke and Charlie's relationship is knotty and complicated, and as effective as Locke's hard-line approach was with Charlie's heroin addiction, its a lot more difficult to put up with his attitude in other settings. That relationship, come to think of it, will mirror the young-Jack and Christian relationship we've already seen and heard about. And this in turn mirrors the relationship between some conceptions of the Judeo-Christian God and mankind - a strict, unyielding force that demands without pity, but loves all the same. This relationship is also arguably largely similar to the relationship between Jacob and his people.
We get our first character-crossover, as Sawyer is seen being lead into an Australian jail as Boone attempts to get the police's assistance with his sister. A big 'screw you' to the fictional Australia's utterly retarded Domestic Violence policies, by the way. Officer, you are a dick.
I like how Kate discovers that Sun speaks English - you would notice if someone began to react to your jokes and asides.
Jin and Hurley are a terrific pairing. Watching Jin attempt to help Hurley out of the water: priceless.
Greatest Hurley Dialogue Ever?: "You need to pee on my foot, man! Just pee! Pee on it! PEEEE ON IT!"
Locke and Sayid have a bonding moment in the jungle and what does Locke give Sayid? A compass. It's not the same 'magic' compass Richard will later give Locke, but I still thought it was worth pointing out.
Courtesy of Locke's LSDfruit, Boone has his vision quest, is chased by the Monster, and watches Shannon die, to his shocked relief. Two things about this subplot:
1) The morality/point of it completely eludes me on the one hand, but makes total sense on the other. It's Boone's concern for Shannon that frees him from the ropes Locke has trussed him up with. Traditionally speaking, this sort of concern is encouraged between family members. While Shannon was acting out in mind-bogglingly wild ways to get the money her mother will later (earlier?) deny her, she's also, as previously mentioned, a pretty good hearted, typical teenage type. She's not Anthony Cooper/the Original Sawyer, for instance. So I'm not truly clear on why it's a 'good' thing for Boone to have felt relief at her death, necessarily. It's natural, yes. But it's also curiously self-absorbed and shallow as far as reactions go. As I see it, the basic point of this whole subplot was to introduce the necessity of killing (literally or figuratively) the demons of the past. This is, after all, what Ben requires Locke to do in order to assume leadership of the Others - literally kill the man who was emotionally stunting him. And this in turn ties into my theory regarding how Jacob chooses who is 'good.' But the fact that Ben tries to have Locke kill Cooper, and the obviousness of the fact that Ben does not want Locke to become the leader, makes me question the subjective morality of slaughtering another person on this Island, much less the figurative slaying of one. Just food for thought.
2) Even in visions, the Monster doesn't appear willing/able to penetrate those banyan trees on the Island. What's up with that?
Sayid's compass doesn't point toward where he and Jack believe North should be. He comments that a minor magnetic anomaly would throw the compass off by one or two degrees, but that his compass is off by much more than that. Is this the first direct hint regarding the Island's electromagnetism?
Charlie finally brings Claire up. Thank you, Charlie. It still doesn't make much sense to me that they aren't raking the jungle looking for her.
Ironically Prescient Charlie line: "No offense, man, but if there was one person on this island I'd put absolute faith in to save us all, it'd be John Locke."
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