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LOST’s Terry O’Quinn Is The Star Of The Internet’s Latest Viral Campaign

SL-LOST — Sun, 26 Jun 2011 13:01:56 +0000

At this year’s Bonnaroo Music Festival, one of the things that I heard was very cool was right before Arcade Fire performed, people said it was raining blue light from the sky. When I heard about it, I figured most of my friends were wasted and it was a plane overheard that was blinking a blue light. However, the other day I received a package and it had a flash drive and a few other things. The items had a link to testsubjectsneeded.com and one of them had “Mission Icefly” written on the side of it.
When I put the flash drive in my computer, I noticed it had a video. It starts with a sign for Bonnaroo and then it shows people reacting to what I’d heard about. As the video ends, it has a link to missionicefly.com. However, shortly after the link, the video goes black and then after a few seconds, a very short message appears. While I can’t make out what is said, I did notice the person talking is Terry O’Quinn (Lost).

Links: Testsubjectsneeded.com | Missionicefly.com

Terry O’Quinn Plays Guitar on WGN9 News & Teases Future Projects with JJ Abrams on 97.9 ‘The Loop’

SL-LOST — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 17:43:29 +0000

Terry O’Quinn had a busy morning. He and his brother, Thomas Quinn, were interviewed on the radio show ‘The Loop’ where they talked about LOST and Thomas’ new film, Using. At the end of the conversation Terry hinted that he and JJ Abrams “have plans” for future projects. You can listen to the interview below, courtesy of @IslandConNews.

[audio:http://www.sl-lost.com/audiointerviews/900545.mp3]

Terry also appeared live on WGN Morning News to talk about LOST, promote his brother’s film, answer fans’ questions and even play some guitar!

Ex Fragilitate Fortis: The Culture and Faith of John Locke by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 18:28:48 +0000

“Psyche profiles said you would be amenable for coercion.”

Deputy Sheriff Eddie Colburn was matter-of-fact in his delivery, and his words were in accord with everything we understood of the man. He trusted Anthony Cooper and lost a kidney, then his self-respect, and finally his ability to walk. He trusted Benjamin Linus, and received in payment for his good faith a brutal strangulation by electric power cable. “Amenable to coercion” was a polite way of stating the obvious: John Locke was gullible.

He cried tears of frustration and disappointment, shouted and railed against Jack, against Ben, against the Island. He had faith and courage, but at critical moments doubt and fear overwhelmed him. When the world was against him, he planned and nearly executed his own demise. He gave up.

Weakness.

In the ordinary world, John Locke was a nobody. Not a single person, other than his most vociferous enemy, grieved his passing. He was a noisy, ignorant, gullible fool. But that was the reality of the ordinary world, the fragmented, incomplete reality of a world consumed with buying and selling, wealth and power, human creations over divine beings.

The attributes we consider weaknesses were John Locke’s strengths. The world’s measure of John Locke was flawed, warped, inhuman and insane. The Island’s measure of the man was true: Gullibility meant trust; tears meant unwillingness to accept setbacks. And his greatest failure, his inability to convince even one of the Six to return, proved instead to be his greatest strength.

LOST was about our humanity, and the story’s natural narrator was its strongest and most faithful voice: Prince of the Island, Man of Faith, John Locke.

Things Known and Possessed

Richard Alpert had a deeper understanding of the Island than any single person before him, perhaps including even his boss, Jacob. The Island’s leadership saw Richard as the person most suited for recruiting tasks: locating and coercing Juliet Burke, and three times over a period of eighteen years gathering intelligence on a most remarkable boy: John Locke of Tustin, California.

Richard placed six items in front of five-year-old Locke. “Which of these things belong to you already?” Richard asked. Locke claimed the bottle of sand, the compass, and the knife. Richard didn’t like the choices. He gathered the items into his bag, stood up suddenly, and left with few words.

Eleven years later, Richard attempted to entice Locke to a summer science camp. The teenage Locke’s response was inevitable: “I’m not a scientist.” Richard was again disappointed in the young man he thought might one day become their leader. Six years later, in 1977, Richard confided his doubts to Jack.

RICHARD: … John Locke… never seemed particularly special to me.
JACK: You said you had a question.
RICHARD: You know him? Locke?
JACK: [chuckles] Yeah. Yeah, I know him. And if I were you, I wouldn’t give up on him.

Richard took Jack’s words to heart. Seeing John Locke again on the Island in late 2004, the ageless one confided to Locke his doubts about Ben Linus’ leadership, while at the same time giving his future leader a nudge toward realising his destiny.

RICHARD: … when word got back here that there was a man with a broken spine on the plane who could suddenly walk again, well, people here began to get very excited because that, that could only happen to someone who was extremely special. But Ben doesn’t want anyone to think you’re special, John.
LOCKE: And why are you telling me this?
RICHARD: Ben has been wasting our time with novelties, like fertility problems. We’re looking for someone to remind us that we’re here for more important reasons.
LOCKE: What do you want from me?
RICHARD: I want for you to find your purpose.

Richard had the first glimmers of an understanding that science “novelties” had nothing to do with the Island’s purpose, and work along those lines was pointless. Good soldier that he was, he nevertheless spent long months preparing for Juliet Burke’s recruitment, creating out of nothing the shell company “Mittelos Bioscience” for that very purpose, and learning the languages of microbiology and biochemistry so his pitch would appear authentic.

He had his doubts. He finally accepted Locke as leader, but never embraced his leadership. Had the Island ever delivered a leader worthy of the title? Charles Widmore and Benjamin Linus were dire enemies, but cut from the same self-centred cloth, neither of them truly suited for leadership. Locke didn’t seem to be any more capable than the two miscreants before him who had accepted (or stolen?) the mantle of Leader.

We cannot blame Richard for his lack of vision. No man of faith, Richard seemed to accept whole, without thought, Jacob’s warped view of the Island (for a broader discussion of this issue, please see http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/03/27/siempre-juntos-part-ii-cultural-inversions-in-lost-609-by-pearson-moore/). This blind acceptance is not faith, for faith is never truly blind, but always grounded in critical judgment. Richard did not exercise judgment, and he was therefore perfect in the role of consigliere. With such an intellectual disposition Richard could never be leader, but his lack of vision also meant he was not adequate judge of the qualities that might be presented by a true leader.

Disorientation

The compass young John Locke picked up from among Richard’s objects is usually a symbol of orientation, of finding one’s way. As with many common cultural artifacts, however, the significance of this symbol was shaken, inverted, and twisted into something entirely new for the purposes of our more complete understanding of LOST.

The history of the compass began in 1954, when Locke gave the compass to Richard as proof that he was from the future. Seven years later, Richard showed the compass to five-year-old Locke. Richard carried the compass until 2007, when he presented it to Locke, who conveyed it back to 1954 so it could be handed off to Richard. Thus, the compass became the visible symbol of disorientation, of an endless time loop between 1954 and 2007. Further magnifying the disorientation around this new symbol of etiological disorder, as Lostpedia notes, “It is also something of a self-contained paradox, since the compass was never created.”

Plotting a meaningful timeline for LOST is virtually impossible. As Rose said, “God only know when the hell we are now.” Time paradoxes, inversions of cause and effect, and inversions of chronology were only the most obvious of LOST’s assault on social, cultural, and storytelling convention. From the very beginning, LOST attacked our pre-conditioned views of reality. The person we assumed the natural leader, Jack, instead proved to be reckless, destructive, and self-absorbed. Peaches-and-cream Kate turned out to be a thief, a liar, and a murderer. And Locke, the dangerous, possibly unhinged man with a suitcase full of knives, turned out to be the person most committed to the survivors’ safety and the continuity of life on the Island.

Locke’s name was in itself a part of the disorientation effort. John Locke of the Island was named after the eighteenth-century English philosopher John Locke. Locke, the philosopher, is best known as the major enlightenment proponent of empirical science as the pinnacle of human understanding. LOST’s position, as articulated through the foundational speeches of the Ka-bar-wielding Prince of the Island, was that empirical science is the most baseless source of human knowledge, far surpassed by faith, which imparts true wisdom.

Faith Versus Science

Faith, properly executed, is collaborative, and must serve collaborative ends. Science may be carried out by a single investigator or in collaborative teams, but it almost always serves the ends of those in power, those who would place their selfish interests above the basic needs of others, those who would gain control of the world and the people who inhabit it (for a more complete examination of this idea, please see “What the Island Is Not” and following sections in “Magnificence: The Cultural Mythology of Lost” here: http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/07/magnificence-the-cultural-mythology-of-lost-101-to-618/, and also “The Limits of Logic” and “Deception” here: http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/14/impartial-risk-cultural-musings-on-the-resurrection-of-john-locke/).

Most of the world’s practicing scientists, myself included, work long hours to advance the agendas of corporate entities driven not by compassion, but by greed and thirst for power. Even those who believe themselves exploring science as an end in itself, or as a means of human advancement, or as a tool of the Common Good, are the unwitting participants in the warped agendas of those in power. My colleagues and I regularly speak of exploiting an idea or phenomenon, or working around patents. Dr. Pierre Chang may have been a concerned and loving father, he may have believed he was pursuing science for the good of humankind. But he was a corporate tool, a means to the Dharma Initiative’s final goal of controlling energy, time, and all of humanity.

Science is devoid of context and compassion. It is passionless, and is all too easily corrupted. In fact, as I pointed out in “Impartial Risk”, science and logic are more naturally the tools of deception and perversion than they are the “impartial” tools of altruism and empathy. Humanity, at its core, is not based on science. Humanity is based on trust, on faith, on collaboration and compassion. As I noted in “Risk: A Cultural Thesis for Lost”, “LOST tells us if we do not form bonds like those of Jack and Sayid, if we do not respect, if we do not have compassion, we will likely end up in Widmore’s camp, wearing the black uniform of Stuart Radzinsky, ready at a moment’s notice to enforce our desires over the needs, even over the lives of others.”

Things Believed and Shared

If one is to pursue of life in science, one must, with Father Roger Bacon (see last week’s essay, “Apologia Pro Vita Fidei”), assert that things believed through faith are more relevant and enduring than things known through science. Richard’s compass is relevant and endures–even outside the constraints of time and place and chronology–because it is the symbol of Richard’s faith in Locke, and Locke’s faith in Richard, because it is something without beginning or end, because it is something shared. One must assert, even on pain of death, the absolute value of Roger Bacon’s embrace of poverty, for it is through Franciscan poverty that true sharing, true compassion, true participation in the fullness of our humanity, becomes possible.

Such were the teachings of John Locke, even as a kindergartener. Richard asked the wrong question. He asked, “Which of these things belong to you already?” He ought have asked instead, “Which of these items do you and I share, and which do you share with the Island?” Locke, in his three choices, answered the question Richard should have known to ask. The sand–for it was from the Island Locke loved and therefore shared; the compass–for it was from Richard from Locke from Richard and therefore shared; and the knife, for it was through the Ka-bar and the Master Bowie that Locke hunted, protected the Candidates, and enforced Island law, and therefore shared. None of the items “belonged” to Locke, any more than they belonged to Mr. Friendly or Dr. Halliwax. The three items were not objects of knowledge, but articles of faith. They were not possessions–not the accoutrements of acquisition–but rather symbols of shared ideals and actions.

Richard should have known. The five-year-old Locke’s drawing of a man attacked by the Smoke Monster should have been sufficient evidence of direct connection with the Island. Locke’s demeanour and the way he spoke of the Island should have signaled his true standing as Leader. But we can forgive Richard. He wasn’t on the beach with the survivors of Flight 815. He didn’t get to hear the speeches that planted the seeds of Jack’s and Hurley’s ascension to leadership–the speeches of the Island’s best and truest teacher and prophet.

Teacher and Prophet

The words of John Locke resonated through LOST like those of no other character. There is no better proof of this than the most heavily quoted fan-made Season Six trailers. The creative directors at SL-Lost knew Locke was dead, but they believed his words most faithfully conveyed the full message of LOST, and they used them as narrative backdrop to a most amazing soundtrack and beautifully sequenced series of images:

Even at the end of the season, when it was clear to everyone (but not at all clear, for some reason, to Pearson Moore) that Locke would not return, at least not in physical form, TheBlackBox created this masterpiece of sound and imagery, choosing to make Locke Rising the final image of the trailer:

The interested LOST aficionado can revisit any of the excellent, earlier fan-made LOST trailers and again find Locke’s voice giving substance to our Island dreams. This one was created by SL-Lost in the months before Season Five, and remains my favourite fan-made trailer:

But this one, also for Season Five from SL-Lost, is excellent, too:

The most famous speech is probably his first one, in the Pilot episode.

LOCKE: Backgammon is the oldest game in the world. Archeologists found sets when they excavated the ruins of ancient Mesopotamia. Five thousand years old. That’s older than Jesus Christ.
WALT: Did they have dice and stuff?
LOCKE: [nods] Mhhm. But theirs weren’t made of plastic. Their dice were made of bones. WALT: Cool.
LOCKE: Two players. Two sides. One is light … one is dark.

Locke was privy to the essentials of the Island’s 2000-year power struggle–even to the details of the board game that was the allegory of their life-and-death battle over the millennia.

Not long after that, in Episode Five, “White Rabbit”, Locke gave perhaps the central defining speech of the entire series:

I’m an ordinary man, Jack, meat and potatoes, I live in the real world. I’m not a big believer in magic. But this place is different. It’s special. The others don’t want to talk about it because it scares them. But we all know it. We all feel it…. what if everything that happened here, happened for a reason?

He goes on to say “I’ve looked into the eye of this island, and what I saw… was beautiful.” We did not learn until Season Three, in “The Cost of Living”, that Locke “saw a very bright light. It was beautiful.” This was the revelation that occurred when Locke first confronted the Smoke Monster, and may be why he tried, over Jack and Kate’s objections, to be carried away by Smokey. Even in this instance, Locke’s intuition was entirely correct, for as we now know, the Smoke Monster was prohibited from directly harming any of Jacob’s Candidates. Locke, while he still lived, was Candidate #4, the first of Jacob’s Candidates at the time of the crash. It is tempting now to believe that Locke was the first to be given a glimpse of the Light emanating from the Source. In fact, such a vision of the Centre of the Island may be the only means of explaining Locke’s experience.

The second important speech was delivered at the end of Season One, during “Exodus”:

LOCKE: … Jack… you’re a man of science.
JACK: Yeah, and what does that make you?
LOCKE: Me, well, I’m a man of faith. Do you really think all this is an accident — that we, a group of strangers survived, many of us with just superficial injuries? Do you think we crashed on this place by coincidence — especially this place? We were brought here for a purpose, for a reason, all of us. Each one of us was brought here for a reason.
JACK: Brought here? And who brought us here, John?
LOCKE: The Island. The Island brought us here. This is no ordinary place, you’ve seen that, I know you have. But the Island chose you, too, Jack. It’s destiny.

Locke gave important instructions to Jack at the end of Season Four, minutes before he left on the helicopter that would take him off the Island and eventually to rescue by Penny’s team:

LOCKE: You’re gonna have to lie.
JACK: Excuse me?
LOCKE: If you have to go, then you have to lie about everything…everything that happened since we got to the island. It’s the only way to protect it.
JACK: (Sighs) It’s an island, John. No one needs to “protect” it.
LOCKE: It’s not an island. It’s a place where miracles happen. And–and–if you–if you don’t believe that, Jack, if you can’t believe that, just wait till you see what I’m about to do.
JACK: There’s no such thing as miracles.
LOCKE: Well…we’ll just have to see which one of us is right.

Even then, at the end of Season Four, Jack should have been able to distill from Locke’s words the powerful wisdom of protecting the Island. He had witnessed first-hand the attempt by Widmore’s goons to take control of the Island and to kill everyone there. He must have been able to surmise that Widmore’s intentions were anything but altruistic, and that he intended to subsume to his desires and quest for power the full force of the Island’s unearthly abilities. But Jack was nearing the bottom of his journey to spiritual freedom, and not nearly in a position to take to heart any pearls of wisdom from Locke. Was the disappearance of the Island enough of a shock to logic-bound Jack? Whatever the reason, Jack did follow Locke’s instructions, informing the Six that they would have to lie. Not yet a true believer, though, Jack replaced Locke’s reasoning with his own rationale: they would have to lie, not to protect the Island, but to protect those who remained on the Island.

Doubts, Fears, Frustrations

Locke was consumed by the need to uncover the full meaning of the Island, to discover his true destiny in this place of miracles. He communed with the Island as no one ever had. No one–not Ben, not Richard, not even Jacob himself–was connected to the Island with the same titanic spiritual and emotional forces connecting Locke to this place. The forces connected him to a raw power, to that “beautiful, bright light” that we now know was the Source. But the Source was the origin of all life, all death, all rebirth. It was unimaginable and untamed power, of the variety that cannot be harnessed or tapped for any purpose.

Until Desmond and Jack’s descent to the Light, Locke was the person in closest spiritual proximity to the awful forces of the Heart of the Island. He enjoyed the full force of insight and intuition emanating from the Source, but he also suffered the full force of its awful and uncontrollable power.

He cried. He cried often. It was not unusual for Charlie or Jack or Boone to run into Locke in the jungle, crying bitterly into his arm or into the branch of a tree. These were not the tears of some petty disappointment. They were the tears of a man pulled to the painful raw edges of emotional existence, the laments of a man feeling not his own pain, but the pain of thousands, the pain of the Island itself.

His faith was deep, and therefore his doubts nearly consumed him. The importance of doubt in a life of faith may not make sense to the lukewarm, to those who have not experienced the highs and lows of the spiritual journey. The Dark Night of the Soul is a horrible, angst-ridden but entirely necessary component of the spiritual life, integral to any honest attempt to commune with the Creator. Mother Teresa, soon to be Saint Teresa of Calcutta, was brutally honest in letters to her spiritual advisor, Fr. Michael Van Der Peet. Daily, day after day, weeks and months turning into years and then into long, unrelieved decades of spiritual pain, Mother Teresa confided to Fr. Van Der Peet and to her journal that she doubted. She doubted that Jesus listened and heard, doubted He was with her, doubted even the very existence of God. David Van Biema of Time magazine wrote an excellent article on the subject (http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1655415,00.html), and I encourage everyone to read this most enlightening essay.

Locke’s tears were not the tears of weakness, but the tears of one whose great strength was nevertheless no match for the awesome and terrible forces of creation, the forces of life and death and rebirth that made the Island the very centre of the earth.

But Locke’s pain always received a response of hope from the Island. Sawyer and Locke, time traveling in Season Five, saw the brilliant column of white light pierce the darkness. They both understood what it was. It was the night Boone died. The night Aaron was born. The night of Locke’s deepest pain.

SAWYER: That light in the sky – it was from the Hatch, wasn’t it?
LOCKE: The night that Boone died … I went out there and started pounding on it as hard as I could. I was … confused … scared. Babbling like an idiot, asking, why was all this happening to me?
SAWYER: Did you get an answer?
LOCKE: Light came on, shot up into the sky. At the time, I thought it meant something. SAWYER: Did it?
LOCKE: No. It was just a light.
SAWYER: So why’d you turn us around then? Don’t you wanna go back there?
LOCKE: Why would I wanna do that?
SAWYER: So you could tell yourself to do things different, save yourself a world of pain. LOCKE: No, I needed that pain – to get to where I am now.

Locke recognised the necessity of that Dark Night to his journey. The path to enlightenment is not easy. We do not seek enlightenment because it is fun. We seek it because it is difficult, because those things in life that are attained only through danger, adversity, and sacrifice, are the things of greatest value to our truest selves.

Even when Locke had reached the very end of his emotional capacities and in hopeless resignation sought his own death, the Island sent an angel to save him. The suicide would not have worked, anyway. Would Locke have become even more deeply depressed at his inability to take his own life? Would he have recognised the futility of it all, and devoted himself instead to the Island’s well-being? We cannot know the answer, since the angel who believed himself to be preventing Locke’s suicide (the suicide would never have succeeded, since Locke was still a Candidate), only minutes after talking Locke down wrapped a power cord around his neck and choked the life out of him.

O Happy Fault

Locke’s was the sacrifice truly demanded by the Island. He was the spirit closest to the Island. In many religious traditions, foremost among them Christianity, those closest to the Creator are the ones required to make the greatest sacrifice. Jesus died a criminal’s death. All of His apostles were executed by the most painful means available at the time. Locke was attached to the Island unlike anyone else in history. He would suffer the most emotionally and spiritually gut-wrenching journey of any of the Island’s servants.

Locke was the sacrifice demanded by the Island. His death was the final push that Jack required, finally ending the good doctor’s drug-induced stupor and self-pity and redirecting him toward the final great service to the Island.

In the end, Locke’s doubts, fears, and frustrations, as much as his wisdom, strength, and intuition, proved to be the necessary elements in the redemption of Katherine Anne Austen, the salvation of Dr. Jack Shephard, and the preservation of Locke’s Constant, the Island.

Canton-Rainier

In Season Five Jack Shephard was portrayed as the Doubting Thomas, the disciple who required proof before he would believe the resurrection. But resurrection was not the event we were asked to dwell on. In Season Four and Season Five, a van labeled “Canton-Rainier Carpet Cleaning” became the focus of our attention. Even before any of the episodes had aired, enterprising internet analysts found the surreptitiously obtained photographs of the van and tore apart the name. Within hours we knew what “Canton-Rainier” meant: It was an anagram for “Reincarnation”. I expected resurrection, but the plan was much grander than anything I could imagine prior to the last episodes of Season Six. Reincarnation means returning in a different physical form but containing the same essential spiritual substance. Resurrection means spiritual continuity into a fully reanimated formerly dead body. How could I have known that LOST would attempt a fusion of the two forms of rebirth?

SMOKEY: This remind you of anything, Jack?
JACK: What?
SMOKEY: Desmond…going down into a hole in the ground. If there was a button down there to push, we could fight about whether or not to push it. It’d be just like old times.
JACK: You’re not John Locke. You disrespect his memory by wearing his face, but you’re nothing like him. Turns out he was right about most everything. I just wish I could’ve told him that while he was still alive.

With these words Jack paid tribute to the man who, with his own blood, had paved the way for Jack’s redemptive salvation of the Island. But Jack’s words were a sign of something much more significant taking place.

By the end of LOST, Jack’s thoughts were one with those of his master, John Locke. The prophesy of Canton-Rainier came into full reality with the breathtaking illumination of Jack Shephard. Jack, falling to the very nadir of his spiritual journey at precisely the moment of Locke’s murder, became the happy recipient of all of Locke’s teachings, all his prophesies, all his intuitions. Just as Boone died at precisely the moment of Aaron’s entry into the world, so too Locke’s death ushered into the world a new Jack Shephard.

John Locke died, but he was reincarnated into the soul of his former nemesis, now his closest disciple. The dead soul of Jack Shephard was reanimated, resurrected by the spiritual force of will of the Island’s most beloved son.

Regardless of the way in which we choose to contemplate The End, there is one truth upon which all of us I think might find common ground. Locke’s spirit did not die at the conclusion of “The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham”. Locke’s spirit guided Jack to the Source, just as Locke guided all of us, along every one of the 121 steps to The End. “You were special, John,” Ben told the man he had murdered. Long after all of them had died, Locke continued to affect Jack, Hurley, and Ben–everyone whose lives had been touched by this trusting soul, this man of faith. Locke is the soul of LOST, and just as his spirit will never die, the Island will forever remain a place to contemplate, wonder at, a place of highest joys and deepest sorrows, where human weakness and doubt become unopposable strength and unwavering faith. A place of things believed, things shared, things of our common culture and deepest humanity.

Terry O’Quinn, Michael Emerson & Elizabeth Mitchell React To Emmy Nominations

SL-LOST — Fri, 09 Jul 2010 18:00:23 +0000

Terry O’Quinn:

It’s always great to be recognized for one’s work, and when friends are included in the recognition, it’s even better. With all the ‘LOST’ nominations, it’s almost as though the winning (or not winning) will be anti-climactic. I’m happy as can be for Matthew, and the only thing I can imagine that would be better than being nominated in the same category as Michael Emerson would be if the Emmy voters would be so kind as to let us win together, thank you very much……..but in truth, I feel as though they already have.

Elizabeth Mitchell:

I’m shocked. And so happy. I loved Juliet so much. The nomination is a wonderful way to say goodbye.

Michael Emerson:

I’m delighted at the broad recognition that “Lost” has received this year and am thrilled to be able to share the excitement with my cast mates. I’m also ecstatic that my wife Carrie’s show, “True Blood,” received a nomination–we’re both looking forward to the party in August.

[Via Yahoo News & E!Online]

Born on the First of July: Canada, Culture, and Cunning in LOST by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Tue, 06 Jul 2010 18:49:29 +0000

Her politicians are unknown outside her borders. Her history is subdued; even the most jarring social movement of the last two hundred years is called the “Quiet” Revolution. But her culture?

Hockey. Mounties. Maple Syrup. Molson Dry. We know her culture.

If we know her culture, we must know her citizens. Constable Benton Fraser, Dudley Do-Right, Sergeant Bruce, and Sam Steele taught us. Canadians are decent, polite, trustworthy. When Australian farmer Ray Mullen found a vagabond woman sleeping in his sheep barn he was understandably suspicious. “You’re an American.” Not a question, but a statement. Only Americans could be so disrespectful. The woman shook her head. “Canadian,” she said, correcting him. “I graduated from college and figured I’d see the world.” Her declaration of Canadian citizenship changed everything. Now she was a good neighbour, fellow citizen of a Commonwealth country. She was Canadian. She was decent, polite, trustworthy. He believed her immediately. How could he not? Annie was a fine young woman from a fine country. Ray knew he could trust her with his money, with his farm, with his very life. What could possibly go wrong?

Ethan Rom – from Ontario

Hurley called him “Lance,” until the soft-spoken man corrected him. “I’m Ethan–Ethan Rom. From Ontario.” Hurley’s response was in line with our own thoughts, and in keeping with Ethan’s hope: “Right on, love Canada, great.” Who could not love Canada? Therefore, who could not love Ethan Rom?

Anthony Cooper also said he was from Ontario. Ben traveled with a Canadian passport identifying him as Dean Moriarty. When some of the Others asked about Greta and Bonnie, Ben told them they were “on assignment in Canada”. Charles Widmore gave John Locke a new identity as Jeremy Bentham and new citizenship–in Canada. Sawyer told the woman he was trying to con that he had a business partner “in Toronto”. Kate, just before she stole Ray Mullen’s money and nearly killed him, said she was Annie, from Canada.

Canada was referenced ten times in the span of 121 episodes. Not a single character–even a minor character among the otherwise international dramatis personae–was actually Canadian. So notorious were Ethan and Kate’s fabricated citizenship that by the time Nathan claimed in “The Other 48 Days” to be from Canada, we were immediately suspicious. Even in Season Two we knew a claim of Canadian citizenship meant the character was almost certainly lying. When Ben told everyone that Greta and Bonnie were “on assignment in Canada”, we knew this meant they were anywhere but Canada, and they would be found in a location Ben wished to keep secret. This turned out to be precisely the case: Greta and Bonnie were in the semi-secret Looking Glass Station, awaiting Ben’s confidential command.

The deception was effective. But why?

I blame Sam Steele, and with him, the entire tradition of the NWMP and the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP

His name is Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, played by Alberta-born actor Paul Gross. Fraser was a Mountie very much in the tradition of Sam Steele and a sympathetic but over-the-top caricature of the polite, trustworthy, and self-sacrificing Canadian. The dog’s name is Diefenbaker, though I don’t know why. I imagine some residents of Saskatoon may attribute the name to the dog’s faithfulness. I think maybe the dog got the name because he’s deaf. But Friday, February 20, 1959 (“Black Friday”) was a long time ago. If Fraser could forgive and forget, we can, too (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avro_Canada_CF-105_Arrow and also http://www.amazon.ca/Arrow-Dan-Aykroyd/dp/B000065ILG/).

Fraser came into our living rooms every Thursday evening from 1994 to 1998 on CBS in the series Due South. Stationed at the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, Fraser and sidekick Chicago cop Ray Vecchio solved the most difficult of the Windy City’s crimes. In four years on U.S. television, Constable Fraser fired a weapon only once–when the Great Lakes freighter he boarded sailed into Canadian waters, meaning his sidearm was (finally!) legal and he could disable the bad guy’s equipment with a perfectly-aimed shot.

Always-polite Constable Fraser is not the only reason for the success of the LOST deception. If a confidence man has his way with us, it is not because of some independently verifiable fact of life in Canada, but due rather to something internal, something askew in our understanding of the world. The confidence artist plays to that incorrect understanding, exploits it, and achieves her nefarious ends.

Appearances and Underlying Truth

The mysterious man at Jin and Sun’s wedding should not have been able to speak Korean, but here he was, not only wishing them well in their marriage, but doing it in flawless, perfectly fluent Korean. Jin and Sun were amazed. They thought they understood the world and the way it worked. A man of European ancestry–a man who should have had no understanding of Korean–broke through the bonds of appearance and gave them a glimpse into the underlying truth of his mission.

We need to break through to that underlying truth if we are to understand the con artist’s game. It is not enough to laugh and say, “I know Constable Fraser is a caricature; Canadians are not always polite.” True enough. But as I said above, the problem does not derive of some independently verifiable fact of Canadian culture–it derives of a deficit in our understanding of the world. It’s internal, not external.

I served in the Peace Corps in Togo, West Africa, for two years. The culture of West Africa, the way people speak, understand, and carry themselves is very different from what I experienced growing up in the Midwestern United States. One day toward the end of my service I was in a crowd of people in Lomé. Everyone was walking with me in the same direction, and I saw only the backs of people’s heads. One man stood out from the crowd. He was wearing African clothes, wore his hair close to the scalp as the other black men around him. He was of average height and build. I could not see his face. But something in the way he carried himself, in the way he held his head high, shoulders back, moved arms and legs with purpose–gave me confidence, inner knowledge, that he was not Togolese. He was American, maybe European. When he and his friends stopped to purchase some Ghanaian chocolate from a little girl, my curiosity forced me to quicken my stride. “Cent francs,” the girl informed him. Twenty-five cents. I looked at the man. “It’s the going rate for Ghanaian chocolate,” I told him. “You live here?” he asked with a heavy British accent. I tried not to smile. He was from Charlie’s city, Manchester. Two years in West Africa had given me the ability to understand mannerisms, even to the point of pulling a black man from the UK out of a sea of black men from Togo.

I knew the man was from England, but did I know anything else? His motivations? His ideals?

I visited Munich in the summer of 2006. It was a time when Americans were becoming less welcome around the world and some travel experts were advocating a bit of deception: try to make people believe you’re Canadian. As I returned from my one-week stay I gave up my seat on the subway to a woman just boarding. The man in the seat in front of me asked where I was from. “North America,” I said. It was not deception–it was the way I was thinking. But my response could mean only one thing to the German fellow: I was Canadian. Americans simply don’t identify themselves as being from “North America”. He turned to his girlfriend and said something to the effect that he didn’t like Canadians, but liked Americans even less.

What were my motivations for saying “North America”? I was born and raised in Minnesota, I carry an American passport. But I speak and write using Canadian rhythms and norms. I did this for many years before my visit to Germany, and I will be doing it for the remainder of my life. Can anyone say they understand the rationale for my adoption of Canadian sensibilities? Does it even matter that I have U.S. citizenship? Does it matter that I might be able to write my name as Pearson Moore, U.E. (United Empire Loyalist; my great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, Daniel Smith (Smith #1 in the New Brunswick Provincial Archives), was a resident of Connecticut, fighting for King and Country in 1775 when hostilities broke out.)? We need to look deeper if we are to understand the Canada deception invented by Damon and Carlton.

I’m Henry Gale, from Minnesota

He said the words with a wondrous combination of conviction and fear: “I’m Henry Gale, from Minnesota.” Henry Gale, probably much better known as uncle and legal guardian to Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. But we’re not in Kansas anymore, Vincent. This Henry Gale was from Wayzata, western suburb of Minneapolis. Wayzata’s only claim to fame, as far as I know, is that it is the city in which Greg Lemond, three-time winner of the Tour de France, decided to raise his family.

If Sayid hadn’t found that Minnesota driver’s licence, the deception might have worked longer than it did. The discovery of this first of many lies was the beginning of what must have been five dozen or more beatings of the Dharmaville master of manipulation.

Why Minnesota? The original Henry Gale was doing just fine from his home in Kansas. Why did Darlton make the conscious decision to change his domicile to a location in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes?

The state sport in Minnesota is hockey. The state bird is the loon. The first Europeans to visit its shores were French fur traders in the 17th century. If you replace the word “Minnesota” with “Canada” and “state” with “national”, the truth of the first three sentences of this paragraph remains unaffected. Canada and Minnesota share history, languages, culture, and social institutions.

The ties between Minnesota and Canada are commonly recognised. Rick Mercer, maybe the best-known comedian in Canada, a few years ago gave his humorous take on the placement of professional hockey teams in southern U.S. cities. “Now teams from cold places, like Québec, Winnipeg, and Minnesota, are moving to warm places, like Carolina, Tampa Bay, and Nashville. These are places where hockey is about as popular as bull riding, or women’s bowling. People who live in the desert don’t like hockey. They’d rather shoot rats at the dump.” The video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jcj7dH2rSHA) is hilarious.

Darlton recognised, with Rick Mercer, that Minnesota and the provinces north of its border share more than five-month-long winters. There are deep cultural connections affecting the way people in these places think, behave, and interact with one another. Kansas wasn’t going to cut it on the Island of Mittelos. The Island’s most notorious deception artist would have to hail from a location indicating decency, politeness, and trustworthiness, but it would have to be a location not as blatantly obvious as Ethan Rom’s Ontario. It had to be Minnesota. And the way Michael Emerson said it–I could almost smell the air.

Knowledge, Truth, and Understanding

The Smoke Monster knew even the master manipulator could be made to act on incomplete knowledge, that he could plant in Ben’s mind the idea that Jacob was not sympathetic friend but ruthless and uncaring enemy. Cerberus’ plan worked perfectly, and Ben ended Jacob’s life with very little prodding in their first and only confrontation.

The Canada deceptions share much in common with the MIB’s fabrications about Jacob. Smokey told Ben the truth, but only those truths that would support his goal of building Ben into the willing and eager assassin of the MIB’s arch enemy. The last two sentence pose a juxtaposition of thought you may not have anticipated. After less than a few seconds of reflection the careful reader will take exception with the first statement in this paragraph. Kate was from Iowa, not from Canada. John Locke was not “Jeremy Bentham”, and he was from California, not from Vancouver. So how could the Canada deceptions in LOST be anything other than the most blatant of lies? How can I say any truth is contained in these deceptions?

If we consider only the obvious aspects of the deception, we will see only the lie. But every good deception contains solid truth, or the deception would not hold its own weight.

We must endeavour to think about the deception in new terms to grasp the reason for its success.

Is Pearson Moore citizen of the U.S. or is he Canadian? I submit we need not make a choice. He is U.S. citizen, but he thinks, moves, and breathes as Canadian. What is Canada, anyway? What is the essential stuff of the country where you make your home? In high school I was told repeatedly that the United States is an idea. So too, I think, Canada is an idea. It is an idea much different from ideas I have come to know in my life, and certainly quite different from the idea that claims its birth 234 years ago this day. The truth of any person’s allegiance is not found in cursory knowledge but in deepest understanding.

Sir Sam Steele, Superintendant, Northwest Mounted Police

What is the truth of any single person’s allegiance?

I wrote at the beginning of this essay that I blamed Sam Steele for the effectiveness of Darlton’s Canada deception. Unlike the other Mounties I have invoked, however, Sam Steele–Superintendant Sir Samuel Steele–is not a fictional creation. He was, for fifty years, the flesh-and-blood leader of the Canadian Mounties. In order to understand why the Canada deception worked, you need to understand Sam Steele, his attitude about police work, and the tradition that flowed from his example. The most striking truth–possibly outside of the realm of belief, even for Canadians, was this simple fact: In his fifty years of police work, Sam Steele did not draw his service revolver. Not once. I trust historian Pierre Berton (Canada’s most widely-read authority on Canadian history, frequent television personality, and author of roughly three dozen tomes in my personal library) to have researched the facts surrounding this most famous of Mounties. Steele believed police work was accomplished by force of character. Modern-day RCMP officers who go about tazering people–literally to death sometimes–could learn deep truths from this man. He faced greater challenges (e.g., the Klondike gold rush) to peace, order, and good government than any of his successors.

Sir Sam Steele is real. His life is stranger than fiction, beyond even the over-the-top perfection of Constable Benton Fraser.

We have to move beyond caricatures to truth. Sam Steele is real, stands for something real, something that has endured even longer than the 143 years and three days that have passed since Sir John A. MacDonald became the first Prime Minister of the Dominion of Canada. Benjamin Linus and Ethan Rom and “Jeremy Bentham” stood for something, too. They did not make deception their goal. It was a means to an end. Occasionally even Ben would speak the truth. “Everything I did, I did for the Island,” Ben said into his walkie-talkie. Ben and Ethan and Locke served something greater than themselves, something real, something that has endured even longer than the 143 years of Richard Alpert’s immortality (that one’s for Nikki). They served the Island.

Service to King and Country

Even those we considered for many years to be human refuse, the putrid vessels of all that is and can be corrupted, turned out instead to be fighting for the existence of the one thing above all others on this planet that must be protected. The fought for the idea inscribed on the cork stone, that human civilisation, the work of human hands and joy of human hearts, labouring for the good of all humankind, shall not perish from the earth. Peace, order, and good Island government. It’s a new idea, born in the land of hockey, Mounties, Molson Dry, and Bombardier. But it’s as old as Samuel de Champlain’s handshake with Grand Sagamo Anadabijou in 1603, as old as the hieroglyphs at the time wheel, as old as Jacob and the Man in Black.

The illustration opening this essay has no artistic merit (Dammit, Jim, I’m a scientist, not an artist. Or was it “bricklayer”?), but it does express the thoughts I had after a particular July First on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. We heard them before we saw them, the Canadian Forces 431 Air Demonstration Squadron, better known as the Snowbirds, roaring over the Peace Tower and then instantly veering into the signature “Maple Split” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBsl0g7qXck&feature=related). The never-ending contrails of the precision jets, reaching out toward infinity, signify something unbreakable. The Maple Leaf Forever, as it were. It was the best way I could imagine to begin an article on the Canada Deception, an article that would end with the thought that just as all of us carry a bit of the Source’s Light in our hearts, so too, all of us carry a bit of the Maple Leaf in our hearts–even Benjamin Linus and Ethan Rom. And I knew it would make a fitting and heart-felt tribute to the land I love on the weekend of her birth.

PM
Canada Day Weekend, 2010

The Measure of an Island: Unifying the Cultural, Mythical, and Emotional Aspects of LOST by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 21:28:22 +0000

Did Jack Shephard’s death have meaning?

I believe we might answer this question with any of four different responses. First, some may agree with the Man in Black: Jack’s death had no meaning because the Island has no value. It’s “just a damn island”. Second, a few might say Jack’s death meant something to him, but not to anyone else. Maybe the Island was more than “just a damn island” or maybe not, but in the end, it was not worth sacrificing a life. On the other hand, some may contend Jack’s death was meaningful precisely because he achieved his life’s goal, regardless of any value that may attach to the Island.

I believe the fourth possible response is the one most of us would offer: Jack’s death had meaning because the Island has intrinsic value.

An analysis of the question will reveal that Jack’s death was the dénouement for the cultural and mythical facets of LOST, and was the only conceivable segue to the emotional catharsis inside the church. In Jack’s death LOST brings the plot to its natural conclusion, unifying every aspect of culture, mythos, and character, and ensures LOST’s value as enduring literary masterpiece.

Proof of an Island’s Worth

What is the Island’s value?

We know what Jack did. In killing the Smoke Monster and in reigniting the Light, we consider that Jack accomplished deeds worthy of a man’s life. This is what we believe. Is any proof necessary?

If the Island has no intrinsic value, Jack’s final mission was irrelevant. At the very most, we could grant that Jack had a good heart and he achieved a goal having great personal meaning, but his sacrifice achieved nothing of tangible value for anyone else. The only intangible we might be obliged to surrender is Jack’s effect on Kate. Perhaps she was taken by the good doctor and his quixotic quest, meaningless as it was.

Is any proof necessary?

I believe LOST provided a proof of the Island’s value, and I believe this was achieved in the only way a real proof can be offered. We need to consider observational data before we can delve into a formal proof, but we shall indeed develop a rigorously logical proof, and in doing this we shall come to understand the value of the Island.

Observations of Island Behaviour

He found joy in the rain.

While everyone else scrambled for shelter, John Locke reveled in the rain, embraced it with arms outstretched, soaked it in as if it were wet manna from heaven. It was the first rain on the Island. We didn’t know the significance then, but we quickly learned. Rain was the harbinger of darkness, of death, of things frightful and terrible beyond human understanding. Yet Locke found his greatest peace in these moments of communion with his Constant, the Island.

It was during that first rain that the Monster appeared. It tore the pilot out of the cockpit of the plane, crushed him, whipped him around until his neck snapped, and dropped him into the trees. Unable to kill Jack or Kate, it terrorised them, bellowed out from the forest with blasting screech and crash of thunder.

Locke was the second man to confront the Monster.

I remember the strong emotions I felt the first time I saw Walkabout. There was Locke, knife drawn, looking up at the Monster that had surely come to kill him, just as it had killed the pilot. I felt dread at the coming revelation of the poor man’s mangled body when the story resumed after commercial break. Jack and Kate and the others on the beach were trying to figure out how to survive, and Locke was not with them. When would they discover his bloodied corpse?

Locke was blooded when he returned, but it was the blood of a victorious hunt. He grabbed the dead boar from around his shoulders and dropped it to the ground. The survivors would eat.

The revelation at the end of Walkabout is considered the first miracle. Locke, paralysed, consigned to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, lay on the beach immediately after the crash. He looked down at his toes and saw them move at his unspoken command. He lifted himself up, first on one knee, then on both feet, feeling the weight of his body in his legs for the first time in four years. Of course he would stretch out his arms in the rain. Of course. This was the Island that had cured him.

But the healing of John Locke’s paralysis was not the first miracle. The first miracle occurred when a man looked into the black smoke, looked into the eye of the Island. He looked up not in fear, but in awe. For what he saw was not a terrible Monster, but something no one else on the Island would understand without undergoing the ordeals of a lifetime.

The first miracle was John’s communion with the Island.

This is the most-quoted conversation anywhere in the last six years:

LOCKE: I’m an ordinary man, Jack, meat and potatoes, I live in the real world. I’m not a big believer in magic. But this place is different. It’s special. The others don’t want to talk about it because it scares them. But we all know it. We all feel it. Is your white rabbit a hallucination? Probably. But what if everything that happened here, happened for a reason? What if this person that you’re chasing is really here?
JACK: That’s impossible.
LOCKE: Even if it is, let’s say it’s not.
JACK: Then what happens when I catch him?
LOCKE: I don’t know. But I’ve looked into the eye of this island. And what I saw was beautiful.

Locke walked, watched with a smile as his wheelchair burned in purifying flame. He was a man reborn, a tabula rasa free to make himself anew, free to plot his own walkabouts, free to chase white rabbits with Jack and hatches with Boone.

Before Oceanic 815, Rose Nadler was dying of cancer. The Island cured her, of course. We were not surprised by this knowledge, for we knew already that the Island cures. Thus is the Island. The miracle for Rose was the return of her husband, the man who meant more to her than life or death. Theirs was the only relationship always intact over six years, even in the midst of deadly attacks and jungle treks and time shifts across the centuries. Their relationship was the sign of yet another of the Island’s strange capabilities: Communion.

The Island moved people around the globe and across time.

The entire Island moved from place to place across the oceans, back and forth through time, even to the point that occasionally an event in the future could only be referenced in a time traveler’s past. Ben jumped months into the future, Locke was displaced three years. Those on the Island moved from past to future and back again, stopping in the 1950s, back to the 2000s, and making a brief visit to a time prior to the 1860s before finally stopping in 1974. The relentless time travel took its toll on everyone. Charlotte Lewis, her consciousness no longer able to keep up with her body, finally died of time-shift-induced stress.

The air they breathed, the light through the trees, the sunlight in the sky was affected. “The light… it’s strange out here, isn’t it? It’s kind of like, it doesn’t… it doesn’t scatter quite right.” The very fabric of spacetime around the Island was bent. A fifty-kilometre-per-minute rocket launched from a ship ten kilometres away might take an hour to reach the Island when it should have completed its journey in seconds. A twenty-minute trip to a freighter might take a day and a half. A surgeon, dead from a knife wound to the neck, might wash up in the waves a day before he dies.

The Island heals and it destroys. It transports people and things through space and time, and it can move itself, to places far, to times long ago. It unleashes electromagnetic energy of such force as to pull airplanes from the sky. It contains within its bowels forces of such magnitude that not even the detonation of a nuclear bomb can surpass its strength.

Such abilities are not localised wonders to be exploited and directed. Such powers are not controlled. They control. They exercise their own need to integrate into things even greater than themselves.

The Island is not an entity subject to containment or detached study or exploitation for personal gain. It is the world’s umbilical cord, attaching the entire planet to the richness of forces beyond description. It is the time merchant’s scale in which good and evil, freedom and responsibility, past and future, will and humility are balanced, guarded, nurtured, and rendered into forms suitable to the human spirit and to the greater good.

The crash of Flight 815 was no accident or random effect of magnetic energy. The crash had a greater purpose than the death of innocents and the suffering of survivors.

LOCKE: Do you really think all this is an accident — that we, a group of strangers survived, many of us with just superficial injuries? Do you think we crashed on this place by coincidence — especially, this place? We were brought here for a purpose, for a reason, all of us. Each one of us was brought here for a reason.
JACK: Brought here? And who brought us here, John?
LOCKE: The Island. The Island brought us here. This is no ordinary place, you’ve seen that, I know you have. But the Island chose you, too, Jack. It’s destiny.

Observations of Human Behaviour

The Temple Master, Dogen, told Jack he must give Sayid the green pill. Jack demanded to know the contents of the capsule. When Dogen replied only that he had to give Sayid the medicine, “for the sake of his life”, Jack countered, “He already died.” This seemed a rare and strange place for a healer to place himself. Jack appeared to be hoisting a list of ingredients to a higher plane than Sayid’s life. Dogen expressed concern about Sayid’s “infection”, while Jack insisted on broadening his knowledge of herbal medicines, and all the while, a man who miraculously regained consciousness and complete healing of wounds was dismissed as one who “already died.” The strange discussion seemed askew, the priorities grossly misplaced.

But this was not the only instance of Sayid’s life being accorded less value than abstract concepts. When Jack presented Sayid with the green pill, Sayid’s response was Biblical: “I only care about who I trust. So if you want me to take that pill, Jack, I will.”

This was breathtaking in its audacity. Neither Sayid nor Jack knew the contents of the pill. Sayid placed unrestrained faith in Jack, and now a crushing burden fell on the healer. This was no longer abstract. Sayid might have died if he took the pill–no one except Dogen knew. The only useful question at that point in the episode: What was Jack Shephard made of? What value did he place on life, on trust, on knowledge?

As I watched Jack throw the pill in his mouth and swallow, my jaw dropped open and I could not process the event through my shock. The sequence of events remained askew. The problem was not that Jack was placing higher value on Sayid’s life than his own. The problem for me, as I struggled to make sense of this most intense scene, was that Jack was not placing greater value on Sayid’s life. Something else, apparently something carrying an importance more profound even than life or death, was at play.

Jack couldn’t give Sayid the pill. He was planning to do so. He had every intention of doing so. He resolved to tell Sayid the complete truth, and that was what he did. But then Sayid said those words: “I care only about who I trust. So if you want me to take that pill, Jack, I will.”

The Book of Ruth in the Hebrew Bible relates a story about a pagan woman named Ruth who shows kindness to a Hebrew woman named Naomi. When it is time for them to go their separate ways, Naomi encourages Ruth to return to her pagan village.

“Look,” said Naomi, “your sister-in-law is going back to her people and her gods. Go back with her.”

But Ruth replied, “Don’t urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if anything but death separates you and me.”

Ruth just gave up everything: family, village, her former gods, everything she ever knew-turned her back on all of it, and gave herself over to Naomi and her God. Ruth discovered something of greater value than even her own life.

Jack couldn’t give Sayid the pill. Not because he valued Sayid’s life. He certainly did value the man’s life, and his own. But life did not carry greatest value in this scene. Jack was able to risk his own life by swallowing that pill because he placed greater importance on something other than his own life. Jack placed highest value on the trust Sayid had placed in him.

Sayid and Jack placed greater value on their trust of each other than on their own lives.

This was audacious. Rare. This was story that burned deep into the soul, engaged every faculty of spirit and sense and wonder.

With the intensity of this scene we began to get a glimpse into the innermost core of LOST. This was not a show about good versus evil. It was not about free will versus determinism. It was not about time travel or electromagnetic anomalies or spacetime displacement. It was about our very humanity. It was about who we are at the very centre of our conscious selves.

The Island changes people.

This place establishes relationships with people, the most spectacular example being John Locke. Locke knew instinctively where to find wild boar, the Nigerian plane, and countless other people, places, and events. Far exceeding young Widmore’s expectations or understanding, he tracked the boy through the jungle to Richard’s camp in the early 1950s. He found the Swan Hatch, the Pearl, and the Flame. Locke could predict the weather and events past and future. The Island changed Jack and Sayid. We have seen numerous examples of individuals and groups with a sixth sense about the Island: Rose, Hurley, and Walter, and to lesser extents Ben, Richard, Boone, and Sayid. The Others, through the leadership of Jacob and his liaison, Richard, were somewhat tuned into the Island. Even certain members of the Dharma Initiative seem to have enjoyed some extra-dimensional understanding. Paul and his wife, Amy (later to become Amy Goodspeed), owned an ankh necklace, for example, which may have connected them with some of the earliest cultures on the Island or the Island itself.

The Ontological Proof

This entire section may seem a bit dry to those without strong interest in the rigours of formal logic. However, the exposition provided here is necessary to a complete understanding of the Island’s critical importance, as will be revealed later in the article.

Nine hundred years ago a professor of natural philosophy, Anselm of Canterbury, proposed a simple but radical idea. The gist of his argument was that logic contained within its very structure the ability to establish a firm link with reality. Here is what St. Anselm wrote:

1. If I am thinking of the Greatest Being Thinkable, then I can think of no being greater.

1a. If it is false that I can think of no being greater, it is false I am thinking of the Greatest

Being Thinkable.

2. Being is greater than not being.

3. If the being I am thinking of does not exist, then it is false that I can think of no being

greater.

4. If the being I am thinking of does not exist, then it is false that I am thinking of the

Greatest Being Thinkable.

Conclusion: If I am thinking of the Greatest Being Thinkable, then I am thinking of a being that exists.

According to this argument, the Greatest Being exists. Anselm is speaking here of the Creator, the Deity worshipped by Muslims, Jews, and Christians. A full discussion of St. Anselm’s Proof is given here: http://www.princeton.edu/~grosen/puc/phi203/ontological.html

To those not schooled in logical argument, the conclusion seems groundless, even childish. If you reject St. Anselm’s argument, you are in good company: A doctor of the Roman Catholic Church, in fact the Church’s recognised expert in all matters theological, St. Thomas Aquinas, rejected the ontological proof. Unfortunately, Thomas Aquinas lacked the philosophical understanding to prove that Anselm’s Proof was groundless. The proof was eventually knocked down, but not until the work of Immanuel Kant in the late eighteenth century, almost seven hundred years after Anselm. It would be another two hundred years, but one man, a philosopher at the University of Notre Dame, fitted St. Anselm’s argument with a bulletproof jacket.

Alvin Plantinga, Professor of Philosophy at Notre Dame, appealed to modal logic to establish an essentially irrefutable proof of the existence of the Creator. The proof relies on Modal Axiom S5, which states that when confronted by multiple (stacked) modal operators, only the final operator is definitive as qualifier. In layman’s terms, any qualifier other than the definitive qualifier is more or less unnecessary fluff that can be removed from the argument. In mathematical terms the axiom is stated this way:

Or in verbal argument: Possibly Necessarily P implies Necessarily P.

Here is Professor Plantinga’s proof:

It is proposed that a being has maximal excellence in a given possible world W if and only if it is omnipotent, omniscient and wholly good in W; and
It is proposed that a being has maximal greatness if it has maximal excellence in every possible world.
Maximal greatness is possibly exemplified. That is, it is possible that there be a being that has maximal greatness. (Premise)
Therefore, possibly it is necessarily true that an omniscient, omnipotent and perfectly good being exists.
By Axiom S5, possibly is it necessarily true is replaced by necessarily true.
Therefore, it is necessarily true that an omniscient, omnipotent and perfectly good being exists.
Therefore, an omniscient, omnipotent and perfectly good being exists.

A formal discussion of Plantinga’s Proof, in his own words, is provided here: http://mind.ucsd.edu/syllabi/02-03/01w/readings/plantinga.html

The Inadequacy of Logical Proof

St. Anselm and Professor Plantinga are great thinkers, but I doubt even they would insist that their proofs represent actionable bases for life decisions. Does even a single person exist who has said, “I was an atheist until I read Plantinga, but he opened my eyes to the Truth, and now I believe.”? I very much doubt that any such person exists. If she does exist, there is probably something a bit strange about her, something most of us would consider not necessarily attractive.

Those the Island called felt an attraction greater than the pull of any magnet. Even years later, try as he might, Jack Shephard could not deny the Island’s persuasive voice. Neither could Jack find comfort in the science and logic that had been his strength since earliest youth. A full examination of the capabilities and limitations of science is essential to understanding LOST.

The argument in this article is contingent on a sound understanding of the true limits of science. Those who have not read my previous articles should familiarise themselves with my understanding of logic and science as recorded in my article on Locke (Read the sections headed “The Limits of Logic”, “Deception”, and “Man of Science” at http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/14/impartial-risk-cultural-musings-on-the-resurrection-of-john-locke/), and also the more recent article on the culture of LOST (Read the sections headed “A Place Beyond Science” and “Time-traveling Bunnies” at http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/06/01/humanitas-insulae-the-culture-of-lost-by-pearson-moore/).

The inadequacy of science to discovery of reality was examined at length during Season Two of LOST.

There are no coincidences on the Island. Perhaps Jack understood this, but when he went searching for reasons, he used the tools of science to guide him. To his surprise and his torment, science was unable to reveal any of the recurring, non-coincidental truths of the Island.

JACK: No. It’s not real. Look, you want to push the button, you do it yourself.
LOCKE: If it’s not real, then what are you doing here, Jack? Why did you come back? Why do you find it so hard to believe?
JACK: Why do you find it so easy?
LOCKE: It’s never been easy!

Faith is more difficult than science, because faith is the only means by which we can make sense of our connection with reality. Science can deliver only models–human fabrications–of reality, which can never account for the infinite variability of that which is real.

The Essential Argument

I intend to boil this argument down, render it in terms immediately accessible to anyone reading, in a way I hope will force every reader to make a choice.

Not a single person reading this article bases her life on logic. I offer a simple proof. If anyone reading this article is willing to die for the truths contained in “Advanced Euclidean Geometry” by Dr. Alfred S. Posamentier, published by Key College, 2002, please leave a detailed comment at the end of this article. I imagine I’ll receive a few prank comments along these lines, but I sincerely doubt anyone so responding will be able to do so without at least a smirk on her face.

Why is no one willing to die for these truths? “Advanced Euclidean Geometry” contains solid mathematical logic, good science that has stood well the test of two and a half millennia. If science is truly necessary to our understanding of the world, if we literally cannot live without it, shouldn’t it be something worth dying for?

Is anything worth dying for?

All of the men in this photograph believe the soldier whose body lies inside the coffin died for a reason. Not one of these men wished his death, but every one of them would say his was a worthy death. He will be honoured now and forever as a man who gave his life for his country, for the world, and for the greater good of humankind. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori, but even more fitting to die for the good of everyone living.

Many of us would not hesitate to give our lives to protect our spouse, our children, or friends. “There is no greater love than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.” Many might consider it axiomatic that a human life has greater value than any idea, such as the logical truths contained in Dr. Posamentier’s mathematics textbook. Is human life always accorded greatest value, or can we identify instances in which an idea is found to have greater worth?

This is the oath taken by officers in the United States military:

“I, [NAME], do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me…”

The soldier making fealty to the above oath is not swearing to protect human beings, national boundaries or other territory, the wealth of her country, or trade routes. She is not swearing to protect the President of the United States or even the Vice President or the Postmaster General. She is swearing to protect–to give her life if necessary–for an idea. She is swearing to protect the Constitution of the United States.

I want to believe that if I were forced to make a choice, I would choose to give up my life rather than surrender the tenets of my faith tradition. I would die for my faith. With Mohandas Gandhi, though, I hope that I would never kill in the name of my religion.

It seems to me likely that many reading this article would be willing to sacrifice their lives for the tenets of Judaism, Buddhism, Islam, or Christianity. To those of us who believe, the articles of faith are of course more than just ideas, more than facts–they are Truths. But from the point of view of an objective outside observer, our beliefs are nothing more than dusty old words in a book–ideas from long ago. Yet millions of us–perhaps billions of us–would give up our lives rather than profess something less than the full truth of our faith.

Proof in Faith

Jack Shephard made a conscious decision to surrender everything–to sever all ties with friends and loved ones, to give up health and happiness–even give up his life, if necessary–to protect the Island. We cannot doubt that he placed great value on the Island, but what is the Island’s true worth?

I contend that we have all the proof we need of the Island’s value. No mathematical or logical proofs exist. But we know that any such proof would be meaningless. No one in this world worships at the altar of St. Anselm’s Ontological Proof. We worship at altars based on the deeper proofs of faith, those arguments that defy categorisation according to the laws of logic, mathematics, or physics. LOST demolished the idea that science could adequately respond to the phenomena present on the Island. The programme positioned John Locke’s faith, trust, and communion with the Island as the ideals upon which any effective Island society would have to be based.

Can anyone prove, with rigorous scientific logic, that the Island cured John Locke’s paralysis? Can anyone, using the laws of physics, prove the direct causal connection between the Island’s properties and the fact that no one, other than Benjamin Linus, was ever found to have succumbed to cancer? Can anyone prove, with full adherence to the laws of mathematics, that the Source is in fact the umbilical, the connection between the world we understand through our senses and the world known only to the Creator?

I contend we have more than sufficient proof, but it is proof of the type that cannot be squeezed into the artificial constraints of human logic. For those who believe, no proof is necessary. For those who do not believe, no proof is possible. Logical proof requires an almost endless chain of custody going back to an absolute authority. But since we are speaking of absolutes upon which there can be no definitive agreement, there is no authority to whom we might appeal in order that all become satisfied.

Symbolism of the Cork

The cuneiform symbols on the cork stone have been traced to earliest Mesopotamia, to the Sumerians of 5000 to 10,000 years ago, according to Lostpedia and other sources on the Internet. The intention is to indicate the cork stone is as old as civilisation itself. The cork stone, then, represents all of human civilisation. It is through civilisation–through this cork stone–that the unbridled, terrible power of the Divine is modulated. Without civilisation, the power of the Creator is unchanneled. We might think of the sun, giver of heat and life. Without the modulating effect of Earth’s atmosphere, there could be no life, because the full effect of high-energy solar radiation would destroy every nucleic acid, every amino acid, and all living things would die in very short order. But the atmosphere is there to modulate, to transform destructive cosmic and solar rays into life-giving heat and light. In the same way, the cork stone transforms the angry red energy of the Source into life-giving warmth and Light.

Civilisation–the systematic embodiment of trust, love, faith, and self-sacrifice in entire populations–is the only mechanism by which raw power can be transformed into a basis for human existence anywhere on the planet. The Island is the place where civilisation and the Divine meet. It is the final guarantor and full statement of our humanity.

LOST is about the essence of who we are as civilised human beings. The show centres on our humanity, on the essentials of culture. It is not about good versus evil, for we are both good and evil. It is not about free will versus destiny, for we are all free and we all share a final destiny. LOST is neither adventure story nor study in psychology. LOST is about the mature integration of body, mind, and soul. LOST describes the adventure of being fully engaged–immersed-in our humanity, yet having abundant faculties of temperance, judgment, and prudence to execute responsibilities with mature bearing, confidence, and valor.

What is the Island’s value?

We know what Jack did. In killing the Smoke Monster and in reigniting the Light, we consider that Jack accomplished deeds worthy of a man’s life. This is what we believe. Is any proof necessary?

Pearson Moore
June 6, 2010

Humanitas Insulae: The Culture of LOST by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Tue, 01 Jun 2010 13:05:41 +0000

A single question fascinated us for six years.

One question, posed over six seasons, in each of 121 episodes, in thousands of scenes, the query was always the same. Thirty-five characters tried to answer the question; twenty-one of them died in the attempt.

The scope was measured not in years but in millennia, not in lives lost but in the hundreds of souls sacrificed. Time itself had no meaning, for those asking the question and seeking the answer could move about unrestrained by the forward march of the clock. Each character formed the question into unique words. For Pierre Chang, the question centred around the origin of exotic matter. Charles Widmore wondered how the place might be exploited. The question in its most essential form was simple:

What is this Island?

Paradise

Life is what we make of it. One couple witnessed the anger and fights and bloodshed and decided none of it made any sense. Rose and Bernard found a quiet corner of the Island and built a hut. Occasionally one of the zealots would happen upon their camp, trying to talk sense into these contented people. The visitor would prattle on about this or that imminent catastrophe. Rose and Bernard listened patiently, even if the visitor really had nothing to say.

JULIET: Rose, we just need to know which way the Dharma Barracks are from here so we can stop Jack, or you’re gonna be dead. We all will.

BERNARD: So we die. We just care about being together. That’s all that matters in the end.

The wise old couple knew more about the Island than Juliet and all of the Others combined. Not one of the almost daily fights on the Island required their presence. No one anywhere suffered injustice because these two gentle souls refused to raise a hand in violence. And when their time came, they found out they had held the secret of life all along. What would have happened if everyone else, or even a small handful of them, had adopted the Nadler attitude toward life and the Island? Could Ben, living in such a blissful state as theirs, ever have plunged a knife into Jacob’s chest? Would the Island ever have known discord or death?

Rose was never a candidate for any position of authority, and yet the Island cured her of cancer. Jacob had the power to bestow eternal life. Could it be that Richard Alpert was not the only resident of this Pacific paradise who had been granted immortality?

Hell

“This place is death.”

Rose and Bernard knew the secret of life, but this was not the only facet of their character that allowed them to enjoy paradise on earth. Others, not as fortunate, paid with their emotions and their psychological well-being. Some ended up paying for the Island’s unique powers with their very lives.

The Island had the ability to heal, but it could also induce suffering and death. Charlotte Lewis was among the unfortunates who could not physically endure the Island. Hers was not an unusual case. Only a small percentage of those brought to the Island survived more than a few weeks. Danielle Rousseau and Claire Littleton outlasted their contemporaries, but gave up their sanity to do so. Of those who arrived on the freighter, onl y Miles Straum and Frank Lapidus survived. Everyone from the tail section of Flight 815 ended up dying, with the notable exception of Bernard Nadler.

The Island was a living hell for almost everyone. By the time Daniel Faraday returned from Ann Arbor with a plan for re-setting all of their lives to a time before the Island, most of them were immediately receptive to the idea. After the leaders of the Dharma Initiative revealed their true allegiances to power and exploitation, every one of the survivors joined the plan to drop the nuclear bomb on top of the electromagnetic anomaly.

A Game

“Two players. Two sides. One is light … one is dark.”

Life is what we make of it. Some players in the game of life have the power to make decisions about life and death not only for themselves, but for anyone in the vicinity. Jacob didn’t wait for people to accidentally make their way to the Island. Sometimes they just needed a little push, and no matter where they were on the globe, Jacob appeared and gave the little push that would send them to the Island.

The Game was more important than life. Hundreds of people died in the game, but Jacob continued to look into the lives of thousands around the world, seeking individuals he deemed strong enough, with depth of character sufficient to endure the travails of the Game. He valued human life, but he valued the well-lived life even more.

SAWYER: Tell me something, Jacob. Why do I gotta be punished for your mistake? What made you think you could mess with my life? I was doin’ just fine ’til you dragged my ass to this damn rock.

JACOB: No, you weren’t. None of you were. I didn’t pluck any of you out of a happy existence. You were all flawed. I chose you because you were like me. You were all alone. You were all looking for something that you couldn’t find out there. I chose you because you needed this place as much as it needed you.

Sawyer didn’t protest enough in his only conversation with the backgammon master. It was his last chance to get answers, but for some reason he chose not to ask. The important question was finally asked and answered, but this event had to wait until a conversation between the new Protector and his freshly-appointed “Number Two”. The question is simple:

How is anyone on earth different from the Candidates?

Very few people on earth would ever claim they are not flawed, that they are not “looking for something”. An unbiased scrutiny of any life would find the person lacking in the way she had decided to respond to the crises and unjust events and ordinary turns of life. All of us at one time or another–and most of us on a daily basis–make judgments and take actions we consider favourable to ourselves, regardless of the way our personal biases and actions affect those around us. We hurt others so as to come out ahead. We are all selfish. We are all flawed. We are all “looking for something”.

The Rules of the Game

I believe it is essential to point out that the Man In Black had no name, and he was given no name by design. At the very least, even if he had a name, this knowledge was intentionally withheld from us. A year and a half ago, in audition scripts for the character that eventually came to be called the Man In Black, the character was referred to as Samuel. We might reasonably ask why such an important character was never given a name.

This is no small matter, and I believe this conscious decision on the part of the writers goes a long way toward understanding the way in which we are meant to look at the series as a whole.

The creators of the series elevated the importance of the character by plucking the show’s first Emmy winner from the role he had given award-winning depth and substance. I intend no offence to any of the other actors, but polls over the years have shown Terry O’Quinn the favourite actor on the show. The role of the nameless man was assigned to the series’ most capable actor, but even then the character was never given a name.

I cannot tell you why Benjamin Linus was dispatched to kill the suicidal John Locke in a Los Angeles hotel room. I cannot tell you why Aaron and Walt were deemed critical to the story, but by the end of the story were almost-forgotten details. I can make a few guesses here, but the fact is we were not told, and we do have to guess. I can tell you that some of these unresolved details have contributed to a certain level of dissatisfaction, even disappointment, in the way the series ended. But I realise now some of that dissatisfaction was intentional. The writers intended a certain level of dissatisfaction. They wanted us to seek answers.

Answers

What are the true Rules of the Game? Many answers apply, most of them are similar or identical, but the only answers that have any enduring value are those provided by faith, or by grace through faith, or by trusting in the Tanakh, or by surrendering to the Creator and His Prophet, Mohammed, may peace and blessings be upon him. The terminology and rubrics of dialogue and faith vary from one religious tradition to another, but they are all surprisingly similar.

Darlton are not telling us that we must launch into immediate studies of any of the world’s great religions, or that we must experience spiritual epiphany and conversion of the heart in order to understand LOST. But they have imbedded into the very fabric of the series critical markers that guide us in our understanding. A hierarchy of values has been created in these six years. The systemic placement of values gives us a route to questions and responses otherwise obscure. This hierarchy can be applied to ferret important answers out of critical scenes. I intend to illuminate some of these markers on the road to understanding. The questions remain, but our responses do not constitute guesses. Rather, they constitute the hopes of our heart, the desires of our soul. Our response is not the stuff of guesswork or theories. Our answers are the response to John Locke, stretching out his arms and lifting his face to the rain come down from heaven. Our answers are the response to Jack Shephard, standing ankle-deep in sacred waters, hands clasped in humility, lips chanting words of invocation. Our answers are the response to faith.

A Place Beyond Science

Perhaps no one among us can speak with authority on a subject as broad as “science”. The only exception might be “Dr. Science”:

“Ask Dr. Science. He knows more than you do.”

Dan Coffey of Duck’s Breath Mystery Theatre took the ludicrous notion that any one person could speak on behalf of “science” and turned this impossible conceit into one of the most amusing series on radio. No one can speak for the diverse set of logic-based disciplines to which we apply the broad term “science”.

I make no claim to be able to speak for other scientists. However, I am a scientist, and I have been working professionally in laboratories across the North American continent, Canada and the United States, for the past thirty-four years. My deepest expertise is in a sub-discipline of purification process design, but I have led teams in analytical development, pharmaceutical discovery, late-stage formulation development, early-stage research in various fields, interfacial and surfactant behaviour, and protein purification. While I may not understand the nuances of much of science, I have been entrusted over the decades with ferreting out various types of natural behaviour that might be exploited for the development of life-saving drugs and low-cost natural supplements beneficial to happiness and health. Thanks to my efforts and the good efforts of colleagues, the cost of taxol was reduced from over a hundred dollars per gram to less than ten dollars per gram. You can walk into any supermarket in North America and purchase, at very low cost, a bilberry or blueberry extract that will greatly improve your body’s ability to ward off colds and other ailments. I hold over a dozen patents on the technology related to berry extraction and purification. I am no expert on “science”, but I have been a practitioner, and I speak from that perspective.

Science is confined by logic. If I expand the limits of research to any inquiry that might be included within the scope of logic, science, and mathematics, I must necessarily accept that certain limits nevertheless exist. Most importantly, I may not ever claim to investigate or to have discovered any facet of reality. The best I might hope to accomplish, even after a lifetime in the laboratory, is to establish the adherence of certain observed phenomena to models of reality that I create through inference, induction, and deduction. These models are most often referred to as theories, but they can never explain the real world. We rely on assumptions that negate any possible connection with reality.

One of the most important assumptions underlying science is Ockham’s Razor (http://www.galilean-library.org/manuscript.php?postid=43832). In plain language, Ockham’s Razor insists the scientist must accept the simplest solution to a problem as being the correct solution. If I can imagine a chemical reaction as being the result of the collision of five molecule, but I can equally imagine that the reaction is the result of the collision of just two molecules, and if every observation I have made supports either of the fruits of my imagination, I must accept as valid and correct the imagined event that includes just two molecules. The reality may be that only one molecule is required, or seven molecules are required, or the event occurs only when there are sunspots on our solar system’s star, but I can never know this. Even if the model I develop happens to support a theory that is close to reality, I may not ever claim to have elucidated even the slightest aspect of reality. I am allowed to conclude only that certain behaviours seem reproducible and that they also seem to adhere to a model consistent with Ockham’s Razor and the other underlying assumptions of the scientific method.

For a more complete discussion of the limitations of science and their application to understanding LOST, please see my article on John Locke (http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/14/impartial-risk-cultural-musings-on-the-resurrection-of-john-locke/) under the headings “The Limits of Logic”, “Deception”, “Man of Science”, and “The Nature of Evil”.

Time-traveling Bunnies

PIERRE CHANG: In our first demonstration, we will attempt to shift the test subject 100 milliseconds ahead in four-dimensional space. For the briefest… of moments, the animal will seem to disappear…
LOCKE: Hey. Uh… was he talking about what I think he was talking about?
BEN: If you mean time-travelling bunnies, then yes.
LOCKE: You do know that he said specifically not to put anything metal in here.
[Ben stares at Locke for a second, then gives an exasperated nod and turns back to the task of filling the chamber with metal objects].

Benjamin Linus is no man of science, but he does understand quite well the limitations inherent to science. He ignores the prohibitions regarding the placement of metallic objects inside the time chamber because he knows the injunction is based on nothing more than a feeble understanding of the nature of the phenomenon the Dharma scientists studied. Pierre Chang dared approach no closer than his time chamber. He had seen x-ray images of what lay beneath the Orchid Station. He knew civilisations from ancient times had manipulated space and time to extents he would never be able to duplicate.

FOREMAN: There’s something in there. And the only way to get to it is to lay charges here and here and blast through it and take a look–
CHANG: Under no circumstances! This station is being built here because of its proximity to what we believe to be an almost limitless energy. And that energy, once we can harness it correctly, it’s going to allow us to manipulate time.

FOREMAN: [Chuckles] Right. Okay, so, what? We’re gonna go back and kill Hitler?
CHANG: Don’t be absurd. There are rules, rules that can’t be broken.
FOREMAN: So what do you want me to do?
CHANG: You’re gonna do nothing. If you drill even 1 centimeter further, you risk releasing that energy. If that were to happen… [Chang looks at the fallen workman and the blood all over his face.] …God help us all.

For twenty years the Dharma Initiative controlled most of the Island. But never during that time did even the most adventurous among the scientists attempt to unravel the full mystery of the Island’s underworld. Stuart Radzinsky, using the full force of the science at his disposal, came closest to unlocking the Island’s mysteries, but his experiment failed in a most spectacular manner, illustrating again the limitations of science.

Science is limited in the behaviour it is allowed to posit and explore. Since logic is a small, man-made, artificial construct, it follows that science is unable to study and develop models for most of the reality we interact with on a daily basis. Pierre Chang would not go within fifty metres of the Light, could not go within fifty metres of the Light, because not a single observation in the history of science could explain for him the true nature of the Light. Benjamin Linus could approach the Light, not fearlessly, but with a proper attitude of humility. He knew of the Light’s power, and he knew that power was not anything that would ever be catalogued or studied or rendered as model by any discipline within science.

Ben Linus knew the experiments at the Orchid Station could only scratch the surface of the Island’s capabilities. The Dharma Initiative made bunnies travel hundreds of a second through time. With the ancient wheel far underneath the Orchid, Ben could travel across the globe and across months, years, or even centuries, far exceeding the feeble capabilities of Alvar Hanso’s scientific corps. But time travel, too, barely scratched the surface of the Island’s capabilities. Ben knew Jacob’s Number Two, Richard, was ageless, made that way by Jacob, whose powers were in turn granted by the Island.

Most of reality is unknowable to science. The person most fitted for life on the Island was the one who understood this intuitively. John Locke was a man of faith, and because of his deep trust in the Island, he understood her better than anyone, better even than Jacob or the Man in Black.

A Cork

The Island knew no greater authority than Jacob, son of a Roman shipwreck survivor named Claudia. Jacob was given Protector status by the Island’s former Protector, the woman who raised Jacob and his brother. Jacob knew the Smoke Monster obtained its power from the mixture of water and light in the illuminated cave. As long as the Light shone in the cave, the Smoke Monster would be unable to leave the Island. Jacob understood the position of Protector as more than anything the Guardian of the Cork. He explained this to Richard and to Jack and impressed upon them the absolute necessity of preventing the Monster from ever leaving the Island. He was, in Temple Master Dogen’s words, “evil incarnate”. Allowing him free reign in the outside world would lead to more than an exponential increase in suffering. The consequences were nothing less than the complete destruction of all human life. This was because the only way for the Monster to leave the Island was by snuffing out the Light. But the Light was the very stuff of life and death and rebirth; its destruction would lead to the end of life, the end of death, the end of rebirth, the end of all events and conditions making up the cycles of existence.

A Sanctuary

Life is what we make of it. Jack inherited the Island from Jacob, but he was no disciple of Smokey’s brother. From his epiphany off-Island to the detonation of Jughead and the sharing of Communion with Jacob to his final breath in this life, Jack Shephard was the unapologetic disciple of John Locke. For Jack, the Island was not a “cork”, not the Monster’s leash, not an abode of evil. The Island was, in the words of his master, “a place where miracles happen”. Jack understood something Jacob never did. The Island had a multi-dimensional character that went far beyond acting along the narrow constraints of anything that might be understood through logic and science. There was no logic to the Island, for nothing so joyous could be crammed into the narrow etiologies of human understanding. There was no science capable of modeling her abilities and powers, for nothing so terrible could be forced into a syllogistic stream.

It was Jack’s more mature understanding of the Island that allowed him to plot and execute the Smoke Monster’s destruction. Jacob knew the Smoke Monster originated in the terrible power of the Light, but he seemed not to understand, as Jack did, that the Monster was a child fed by the Light. If the Light went out, the Smoke Monster’s powers would go out with it. Jack, man of faith, trusted his understanding of the true nature of the Island, trusted in something Jacob never imagined.

The Source of Life and Death

The Light has the power to create and destroy, heal and wound. It is the source of life and death and rebirth. Jacob’s adoptive guardian expressed her limited understanding of the Light in these terms because they were the only words suitable, because the full reality of the Light is ineffable. Here there can be no logic, no science, no words to compare, contrast, or describe. The Light is at once terrible and glorious, life-giving and deadly.

It is the Source, which means it is not of this world. That which is the Source of life and death and all things cannot possibly have physical residence in the created world. We experience the Source as Light, but it is of course entirely beyond our understanding. It is the only visible sign of the Alpha, the Omega, that which was and is and will be.

The Source is the umbilical, the connection between the natural world and whatever lies beyond the realm of the senses. It is through the Source that we live and move and have our being. Each of us carries a bit of the Light inside our hearts, as Jacob’s guardian told us. When the Light goes out, we lose our identity, our connection to reality, we lose any possibility of life, death, or rebirth.

A Theory of Immortality, Cancer, and Childbirth

The Source is the guarantor of the cycles of life. The severe cyclic regulation imposed by the close proximity of the Source means that any bodily process–and especially cellular processes–will be subject to more than the normal level of control. Any cellular process that would normally proceed unchecked is kept in complete balance so close to the Source. Thus, disease cells, which normally spread quickly, are forced to spread slowly. Because they multiply slowly, the body’s defence mechanisms are able to kill the disease much more easily on the Island. So it is that wounds heal quickly in Mittelos, and disease is uncommon.

In general, any type of cellular activity that occurs rapidly is slowed or even arrested on the Island, due to the regulation of life cycles through the Source. In this special place, women and men may live forever. In scientific terms, we can understand immortality as an inhibition of the normal processes of aging and apoptosis–cellular death. Apoptosis, like the spread of disease, is a rapid process of cellular death. The Source, with its ability to regulate life processes, slows apoptosis and leads to a kind of reinvigorating of the cell. Thanks to this dampening of cellular processes, people can and do live forever in this place.

Cancer cells multiply much faster than the surrounding tissue. The Source again forces the cancer to slow and eventually the body kills the foreign cells. Cancer is virtually unknown on the Island.

When a human egg is fertilised it undergoes rapid mitosis into a zygote and then into the differentiated tissues of a fetus. Like cancer cells, the cells of the fetus multiply quickly. The Source seeks to slow this process, but the mother’s body, primed for new life, fights the unnatural dampening effect of the Source. After several months of fighting the Source–an essentially unopposable force–mother and baby are overwhelmed. The mother, her hormonal system entirely out of whack, goes into shock, and within minutes, both mother and baby are dead.

Taweret

The earliest inhabitants of Mittelos were grateful to the gods that none of their loved ones ever had to suffer disease or cancer. Human nature being what it is, though, there were no statues of thanksgiving on the Island. No days set aside to celebrate another cancer-free year. One quite prominent statue greeted every visitor to the Island. This statue was the islanders’ grand attempt at appeasing the very angry goddess of fertility, Taweret. This ancient Egyptian goddess was so angry, in fact, that every woman who ever became pregnant died several weeks before the baby was due. The unusual state of the Island that prevented disease and cured cancer was the same state that interfered with pregnancy and eventually caused the death of mother and child.

I must point out that the preceding explanations are all based in science. The observations of lack of disease, lack of cancer, and death of women during pregnancy are consistent with the hyper-regulation of cellular function by some entity on the Island. Since we know the Source to be a regulator of life, death, and rebirth, a hypothesis stating that the Source is the entity responsible for all these observed phenomena is entirely valid, and draws support from a wide variety of repeating events on the Island.

I don’t know that this is the type of explanation of Darlton had in mind. This is a nitty-gritty science-based theory, and in the end, science is going to prove inadequate to the elucidation of most phenomena on the Island. The fact that the Man in Black was not given a name, the fact that faith was demonstrated to be far superior to logic, and the fact that the Source and the Light and the Island itself were shown to be multi-dimensional entities I believe points us toward an inevitable conclusion: Some of the remaining mysteries will forever remain veiled to human logic.

I believe this was Darlton’s intention. If they had wanted us to believe all the mysteries were subject to rational understanding, that A causes B causes C therefore A causes C, they would have shown us the superiority of Dharma science, rather than belittling the hippie-scientists. If they wanted us to treat this story as a linear unfolding of black and white, good versus evil, they would not have made Jacob a flawed man, and they would have made sure every character addressed the Man in Black as “Samuel”, rather than flagrantly leaving him without appellation of any kind.

I believe many of the remaining mysteries might be unraveled with application of the type of analysis I provided for the death of women in pregnancy.

Four Theories of Life

Life is what we make of it.

During the last 150 minutes of LOST we witnessed four distinct theories of life. The proponents were the Man in Black, Rose and Bernard Nadler, Desmond Hume, and Jack Shephard. I’m going to begin the discussion with the Man in Black.

Carpe Diem

Life is tough, and no one has suffered more in this life than the Man in Black. Even before he lost his body and his soul, he was trying to find ways to rectify the injustices of life. He knew the Light to be sacred, but he knew his objective–leaving the Island–to be more important than something as simple as a light shining from underground. When did the Light ever suffer anything? The Man in Black had to live every day with the knowledge that his people were far away, somewhere across the sea. [Oh! Accident pop culture reference! And I don't even like Bobby Darin! Taking "La Mer" and turning it into "Somewhere Across the Sea" must be one of the worst musical perversions of the twentieth century]

After he came thundering out of the Cave of Light he knew he was even more tightly tethered to the Island than ever before. Extreme measures were called for. Jacob was preventing his escape and guarding the Source. Anyone aiding and abetting Jacob would be dealt with in a most severe manner. Those he killed were just ordinary, mortal human beings. And hadn’t Mother told him people were selfish and untrustworthy? They come, they fight, they destroy, they corrupt. It always ends the same. People are vermin. The only suitable way to lead one’s life is to take what one can get. If a few people–or even hundreds of people die so one’s life goals might be attained, well, so be it. Take what you can get. Fulfill your dreams, and to hell with everyone else.

Crawl Under a Rock

“We don’t get involved,” Rose said. It’s a common enough sentiment. Who among us would not want to settle down in a little cabin by the sea, catch enough fish to live, steal enough Dharma tea to enjoy breakfast. They have their dog… and their walking stick to protect them. Entire songs have been written about this way of life.

I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

….

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Rose and Bernard are not exactly the hermit of Simon and Garfunkel’s classic song. They certainly had much greater things to worry about than the pain of broken friendships. Of course I’m assuming here that neither Paul Simon nor Art Garfunkel was ever ruthlessly hunted through a Pacific island jungle by an unstoppable, unkillable cloud of smoke that travelled faster than an F16 fighter jet, or stalked by a band of evil mercenaries carrying grenades, bazookas, and 300-round-per-minute machine guns. And as for the final verse of the song, I’m not so sure. Every time something bad happened on the Island, it rained. Sure seems to me like the raindrops might constitute tears.

Rose and Bernard made a good choice. It is not merely a matter of having adopted the philosophy of “live and let live”. The plane crash threw them into an unhealthy environment. The people of Mittelos were much more likely to draw guns on each other than engage one another in pleasant conversation. The Island was reeling and swaying and moving about the ocean and zooming first back in time then forward in time, all of this incomprehensible movement hither and yon accompanied by calamities and catastrophes that literally took six years to catalogue. Rose and Bernard made a sane choice in the face of their fellow survivors’ uncontrolled, irrational, and patently insane lifestyles. Given a choice between peaceful days and nights in a hut, and being hunted by Stuart Radzinsky and his henchmen, who among us would choose to be on the receiving end of rifle fire?

Get Ye to a Nunnery

Desmond Hume had a well-defined mission. Both in Mittelos and off the Island he took upon himself the difficult task of enlightening everyone. It was a holy task, a mission aimed at bringing people together at a spiritual level. The ultimate goal was to get everyone into a church–Eloise Hawking’s Church of the Holy Lamp Post (or was it more properly called Our Lady of the Perpetual Pendulum?), but getting them there would be a complicated endeavour. Desmond would have to choose an appropriate way for all of them to recognise their spiritual connections, their Constants. He would have to provide enough enlightenment that each one could discern her connection to her Constant in both life and death.

In “The Seven Storey Mountain”, Trappist monk Thomas Merton’s autobiography, he referred to the Abbey of Gethsemane in Kentucky as the centre of the world. It was monasteries like his that held the world together, he thought. Desmond was not only helping to hold the world together, he was bringing people together spiritually, helping them see the Light.

Just outside the Cave of Light, Desmond gave Jack the good news.

DESMOND: This doesn’t matter, you know.
JACK: Excuse me?
DESMOND: Him destroying the island, you destroying him. It doesn’t matter. You know, you’re gonna lower me into that light, and I’m gonna go somewhere else. A place where we can be with the ones we love, and not have to ever think about this damn island again. And you know the best part, Jack?
JACK: What?
DESMOND: You’re in this place. You know, we sat next to each other on Oceanic 815. It never crashed. We spoke to each other. You seemed happy. You know, maybe I can find a way to bring you there, too.

For the Common Good

Desmond believed Jack could just leave the Island, forget about what may or may not happen, and settle down to a happy life with Kate. It was not to be. Jack had a calling, a responsibility he could not forsake.

“Desmond, I tried that once. There are no shortcuts, no do-overs. What happened, happened. Trust me, I know. All of this matters.”

Jack had to kill the Smoke Monster. He had to protect the Light. He knew these things from the certainty of faith and no talk of happiness and being with the ones he loved was going to sway him. If he left the Island only bad things could result. If he faced his responsibilities he at least had a chance of making things right again, and preserving the Source for the sake of the entire world.

Living life the Jack Shephard way is difficult, challenging, and at times dangerous. LOST would have us believe that this is the best life one might choose. Life is not just about enjoying good times in a hut by the sea, or spending time with those we love in a church pew. Life is about our responsibility to each other, the human need to work with others toward the Common Good.

Living and Working Together

I loved this scene. Kate was back where she belonged, a full and equal participant in the struggle to free the Island from the Man in Black. Jack would never have been able to kill him on his own. As Christian said, “Nobody does it alone, Jack. You needed all of them, and they needed you.”

I enjoyed this series more than any other I’ve seen on television. The story gave us much to consider over the past six years, and I have come nowhere near exhausting the stores of ideas the characters and situations generated. The series gave us more to ponder than any other television programme I can think of, and created some of the most detailed and complicated and human characters ever to appear on the small or large screen. Jack Shephard, in particular, was a masterful artistic creation, a kind of hero we can all believe in–have faith in.

My favourites remain Locke and Kate. Who would have thought Kate Austen would redeem herself by taking a rifle in her arms and putting a bullet in a man’s back? Both the character and the actress were under-utilised in the series, but when Kate did what she had to do, the series was better for it. John Locke ended in a way I never would have guessed. But the other characters, and especially Jack, honoured his memory and revered his wisdom. In this way John Locke’s story ended in the proper place, not hanging by a cord in a third-rate hotel, but living as mentor and example in the minds of those who protected the Island, and those who saw in Jack the fulfillment of Locke’s faith.

A Place Where Miracles Happen

I imagine a considerable length of time will pass before we see anything on television as compelling as LOST. Come September 22, the sixth anniversary of the crash, Wednesday evenings are going to be LOST evenings at the Moore household. Everyone is welcome–except Stuart Radzinsky and Charles Widmore. Remember, though, it’s BYODB (bring your own Dharma beer). We’ll supply the wild boar, coconut, and sea urchins.

So You Could Find One Another: Cultural Perfections in LOST 6.17-6.18 “The End” by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Tue, 25 May 2010 12:33:25 +0000

This analysis is for Ree Hines.

I write this for everyone disappointed, angered, or confused.

You invested six years. Give it one more shot. Watch the finale again; you’ll thank yourself for the effort. Enlightenment may not require a punch in the face or renewed sense in legs once dead, but it does require careful thought. Enlightenment was not intended for the already-dead inhabitants of the sideways purgatory. It was intended for us. For the thirty millions around the world, most of whom sacrificed a Monday morning to experience the end.

Give it one more shot. If anyone should be disappointed in the ending, it’s Pearson Moore. Not one of my grand predictions proved correct. But I can tell you this, after a third viewing:

LOST is the greatest piece of fiction ever presented on television.

You Can Let Go Now

“You can let go now.”

Rose’s words of comfort, her enlightened wisdom on the sideways voyage of Oceanic Flight 815, make perfect sense in the brilliant white light of the Church of the Holy Lamp Post. So, too, John Locke’s Season-One statement about his vision of the Island’s perfection. He described his first confrontation with the Smoke Monster, telling Jack, “I looked into the eye of this island, and what I saw… was beautiful.” A couple months later, talking with Eko, he described his experience as having seen a “brilliant light”.

The tomb was always empty. The tomb had to be empty. We knew, from the moment six years ago when Jack first raised the lid on that coffin in the jungle, near the cave of Adam and Eve, just south of the Light–we knew even then that Jack would never, ever find his father’s dead body. His body could not be separated from the full reality of the Island. I thought this fact was due to the mystical nature of the Island, that Christian Shephard somehow represented or was connected to the essential core of the Island. The reality of Christian Shephard was greater than the Island, though. He was connected to something more important that the lush green real estate moving hither and yon around the Pacific.

He Has Work To Do

When did Lindelof and Cuse know the ending?

I suggest the creators knew precisely the way in which the voyage would end at least in the weeks before January 28, 2008, when Mobisode #13, “So It Begins”, first aired on Verizon. If you are a casual viewer of LOST–maybe even if you consider yourself a devoted fan–you may not know what I refer to here. The “Mobisodes” were intended as non-broadcast episodes of LOST fully integrated into the canon of the show. Darlton said as much in several interviews, beginning in December, 2007.

Christian, acting on behalf of the Island and not as the representative of the Man in Black, summoned Vincent. Putting on his Doctor-Doolittle veterinary hat, the former chief of surgery gave these instructions to the white labrador retriever:

“Listen. I need you to go find my son. He’s over there–in that bamboo forest. Unconscious. I need you go wake him up. Okay? Good boy. He has work to do.”

Jack’s work, we know now, was his redemption, his reconciliation with his father, his unrestrained embrace of his Constant, Kate, his communion with the Island, his voyage from scepticism to faith, and his decision to hear Rose’s words and let go. Most of the other major characters had equally full slates. This realisation is critical to a deeper understanding of the series.

Twenty-First Century Odyssey

Did Darlton really intend that we view all the mobisodes, read Doc Jensen’s mammoth dissertations on every single episode, try to see, with Vozzek69, “Things I Noticed”, read the novels of Stephen King, the plays of Shakespeare, the philosophy of John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau, scrutinise and investigate the endless instances of symbolism and mirror imagery and references to literature, music, pop culture, ancient culture, religion, mythology, and history? After such a simple revelation? They’re all dead, the sideways is just purgatory. Hell, it might as well be St. Elsewhere’s snow globe, right? Wasn’t all this just a waste of the last six years of our lives?

No.

Darlton really did intend that we do a fair amount of homework. They really did intend that we spend not dozens, but hundreds, perhaps thousands of hours in trying to understand their creation.

We must understand the Iliad.

Anyone who has tried to read Homer’s masterpiece at one time or another, perhaps after the seventeenth instance of labouring through interminable lists of names of kings and sons of kings and sons of gods and sons of kings who are sons of gods–at one time or another we all have the same feeling. Why the hell am I reading this? I should just shell out five bucks for the Cliff Notes, read it, and get on with my life.

The point of Homer’s lists is not the memorisation of names. The point is that the names are connected to places and deeds, crucial locations and critical events: Kings, countries, and conflicts. They’re all related, they’re all necessary, they all inform Homer’s work. Take away those lists and there is no Iliad. The battles of the Trojan War have no significance without their relation to the men who fought, the lands they died for, the sons and fathers and flesh and blood they mourned for, their example of endurance and strength and fortitude and bearing, and all of this, every name, every relation, a connection to us, a reminder to us, an example to us of our own capacities for endurance, strength, and fortitude, proof of our shared humanity.

The fact that the coffin was empty back in Season One, that it was empty in Season Six, that in fact, it was always empty, is not the point.

The fact that all the characters in the church are dead is not the point.

The fact that we had to experience the repeated instances of misery and pain and death, again and again, on the Island, off the Island, and on the Island again–and understand the inter-relationships of leadership, life, and location before we could truly say we understand–is entirely the point. The complicated aspects of the tangled relationships provide the key to the essential message of the last six years. With Jacob, Jack, and Hurley, we must willingly imbibe the rich water-into-wine from Island streams, dine on mango and coconut, join Locke in hunting and feasting on wild boar, before we can claim to have seen, understood, and appreciated this human epic.

And What Is Good, Phaedrus?

Odysseus slaying Penelope’s suitors

We must study the Iliad and the Odyssey.

We must understand LOST.

The intention of the two statements is the same. Plato, in the dialogue named after Phaedrus, provided the rationale: “And what is well [written] and what is badly [written]-need we ask Lysias, or any other poet or orator, who ever wrote… to teach us this?”

Odysseus fought in a war, took a long, difficult voyage home, killed some men who were pestering his wife, and lived happily ever after. The End.

Jack Shephard fought to leave an island, took a long, difficult voyage back to the island, killed some evil men, and died happily in the jungle. The End.

The point of the Iliad and the Odyssey is not that Menelaus and Achilles and Ajax and Odysseus carried out great deeds in battle. The point is not that they properly mourned those who lay mangled by the bronze spear. The point is that they completed noble deeds of valour, ever aware of their station as kings of Sparta and Ithaca, as men of Greece, as examples of good and complete men. These were men who mourned those felled by the bronze spear, yes, but saw goodness and even excellence in the fact of their comrades’ pain-filled deaths. ”It is entirely seemly,” Homer told us, “for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. In his death all things appear fair.” The Iliad is not an adventure story. It is a primer on the necessary qualities of manhood, fatherhood, and leadership. It is not a lesson learned over the course of a 150-minute television movie. It is something acquired through study and toil.

The intention of the Iliad and the Odyssey, shared with LOST, is to enrich our understanding of who we are, who we ought to be, who we can be if we take the time to understand the fullness–the length and breadth and depth and richness–of our humanity.

Darlton’s great work, like Homer’s, is a fictional portrayal of the complete person. As with a recitation of the entire poem, several sessions over a number of evenings are required to absorb the full work. Homer expected his listeners to converse about what they had heard during their daily labours between sittings, draw examples from history, from their own lives, from the teachings of parent and prince. Twenty-seven centuries later, Darlton expected no less of their listeners.

Jack Shephard slaying the Smoke Monster

LOST is about the essence of who we are as complete human beings. The show centres on our humanity, on the essentials of culture. It is not about good versus evil, for we are both good and evil. It is not about free will versus destiny, for we are all free and we all share a final destiny. LOST is neither adventure story nor study in psychology. LOST is about the mature integration of body, mind, and soul. LOST describes the adventure of being fully engaged, immersed–even overwhelmed–in our humanity, yet having abundant faculties of temperance, judgment, and prudence to execute responsibilities with mature bearing, confidence, and valor.

Jack’s Odyssey

Jack’s odyssey had to follow the hero’s journey to unknown lands, the suffering and agony and near-death of self-discovery, and the enlightened and aware return to plan and execute and successfully complete the hero’s task. His mission was nothing less than the complete re-building of every aspect of his broken self. He was obliged to seek redemption, reconciliation with his father, spiritual completion in his Constant, Kate, active communion with the Island, movement of mind and soul from scepticism to trust, and knowledge of when to act with resolve and when to surrender in faith.

This is not a journey summarised in two and a half hours on a Sunday evening (or, for most of you, a Monday morning). The most hilariously funny scene in the six years of LOST occurred in Season Five at the dinner table in Hurley’s mansion. There Hurley relayed to his mother, in less than fifty-eight seconds, everything that had occurred on the Island. Here’s what he told his mother:

Okay. See, we did crash, but it was on this crazy island. And we waited for rescue, and there wasn’t any rescue. And there was a smoke monster, and then there were other people on the island. We called them the Others, and they started attacking us. And we found some hatches, and there was a button you had to push every 108 minutes or…

well, I was never really clear on that. But… the Others didn’t have anything to do with the hatches. That was the DHARMA Initiative. The Others killed them, and now they’re trying to kill us. And then we teamed up with the Others because some worse people were coming on a freighter. Desmond’s girlfriend’s father sent them to kill us. So we stole their helicopter and we flew it to their freighter, but it blew up. And we couldn’t go back to the island because it disappeared, so then we crashed into the ocean, and we floated there for a while until a boat came and picked us up. And by then, there were six of us. That part was true. [Whispers] But the re… But the rest of the people… who were on the plane? They’re still on that island.

The passage is humorous, but Jorge Garcia’s perfectly-timed delivery of this speech in The Lie (Lost 5.02) was hilarious. Mary O’Brien’s “Everything you need to know about Lost in 8 minutes, 15 seconds” was equally amusing. Even as I sit at this keyboard, doctoral students around the world are busy crafting five-hundred-page dissertations on LOST. This will be going on for decades to come. Though I carry the not uncommon conceit of being able to distill into words the ideas presented by Darlton, I recognise my wordsmithing is almost entirely inadequate to the unusual demands of the task. I can only begin to scratch the surface of Jack’s epic journey. And I do all of this very much aware of my former confidence in Locke’s resurrection on the Island, and humbled by the much grander and entirely unique story the writers fashioned out of material I considered within the realm of my understanding.

A Clarification

Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, circa 1990

In introducing this essay I said I was writing for the benefit of Ree Hines. I imagine she or at least some of her co-workers at NBC’s The Today Show will read all or part of my words and wonder why I singled out a most excellent television critic. I will clarify. I am not singling out Ree Hines so much as I am appealing to her readers, and to all who believe themselves disappointed or confused by the last episode of LOST. I will point out here that the critic’s mission is necessarily different from the analyst’s. My intention, as analyst, is to illuminate. A critic’s objective, the reason she is paid much more than someone like me, is that she is able to evaluate. The criteria for any valid criticism of artistic presentations must include some determination of the accessibility of the artistic creation, intrinsic merit of the piece, and many other factors that have no bearing on the more subjective type of analysis I have been engaged to perform. Ree Hines’ critique of LOST is entirely on point because she has taken into consideration all of these factors and has provided excellent criticism of the work. If you wish to read a valid, thoughtful, and well-written critique of LOST, you could do no better than by beginning with her essay, currently posted at MSNBC (http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/37308154/ns/today-entertainment/), among other locations on the web.

The Big Picture

LOST is not the story of a single hero working alone against all odds, conquering vast armies, vanquishing forces of nature, escaping the very snares of death to achieve godlike ends. It is the story of ordinary people working in concert with each other and in communion with nature and forces beyond nature to propagate very human goals. Our best and most noble virtues are those that require the happy collaboration of those committed to the common objectives of humanity and civilisation.

I predicted last summer that there would be Seven at the end. I was envisioning some close variant of the Oceanic Six, or the Six Candidates (I once included Kate but exclude her now, since Jacob confirmed she was not formally a Candidate). The writers chose not to echo Akira Kurosawa, instead creating their own significant numbers. In decades to come much will be made of Jack Shephard’s status as Prime Candidate (he bore the number twenty-three, the only prime number among the six Candidates), but the six coefficients of the Valenzetti Equation proved to have no significance at the deepest level of Island mythology. I concede the very obvious fact that no intrinsic significance attached to the number seven, and that no importance was given to any of the numbers existing at the end of the series. However, I do wish to acknowledge, as very minor footnote, that seven sentient intelligences existed on the Island with the last light of the final scene:

1. Hugo Reyes (“Number One”, Protector of the Island)
2. Benjamin Linus (“Number Two”, Advisor to Hurley–the “Richard” function)
3. Desmond Hume (angel of enlightenment)
4. Rose Nadler (enlightened guide)
5. Bernard Nadler (enlightened guide)
6. Vincent (intelligent; he understood and obeyed Christian)
7. Jack Shephard (Prime Candidate, Slayer of the MIB, Defender of the Light)

Progress

LOST reveled in disunity and conflict. These are of course the elements of good drama, but LOST took conflict to new extremes. The intent, I believe, was to demonstrate through contrast the good that might derive of collaborative unity. The building of the raft, the distribution of Dharma food, the sharing of button-pushing shifts, the united effort against the Others, the integration into the Dharma Initiative, and the final battle against the Smoke Monster were examples of the salutary effects of people surrendering individual objectives to work toward common goals. Collaboration is not only a benefit, it is essential to our humanity.

“The most important part of your life was the time that you spent with these people,” Christian said. “That’s why all of you are here. Nobody does it alone, Jack. You needed all of them, and they needed you.”

The characters of this series were lost. They were lost because they had not found a way to truly share with each other. Last season, with Penny and Desmond’s phone call, we began to understand some of the elements that would provide the foundation for united purpose. Love was shown to be the way indivisible spirits could achieve unification even across dimensions of time and space. Trust was a constant motif throughout Season Six, and was the foundation of social unity in the sideways realm. These are elementary components of civilisation, but they were almost entirely absent for much of Jacob’s two-thousand-year reign. With the ascension of Jack, who loved and was loved, who knew at the deepest core of his person that Kate was with him, was always with him, the Island was finally guided by a person of trust, faith, and love. After two thousand years, the Island truly became, in the words of Jack’s mentor, “a place where miracles happen”.

“This is a place that you all made together so you could find one another,” Christian said, referring to the sideways world, the antechamber to what lies beyond. It was here they found their Constants, understood who they were, felt in the depths of their souls their dependence on each other, their need to cultivate and enjoy every good facet of civilised life.

The Game

Two players. Two sides. One dark, one light.

No one sat beside John Locke inside the Church of the Holy Lamp Post. Almost everyone else was paired into a Constants-couple. But John Locke was not alone. His Constant was with him, the Constant that had always been with him. From the day Flight 815 crashed, he became the guide, the man who understood the game, felt the presence of the players, heard them in Jacob’s cabin. Most importantly, Locke knew the rules of the game. He struggled in his faith, because he trusted, even when others took advantage. But in the end it was Locke whose spirit prevailed. Man of faith, he knew belief provided a sure foundation for the trials of life. Knowledge, science, logic were corrupt illusions.

Locke enjoyed a place of honour in the first pew of the church, even without the physical presence of his Constant. As it was for the others, so also it was for him: he found his Constant, came into perfect communion with that place where miracles happen. John Locke’s Constant was the Island. It is fitting that his body found its final rest on the Island, fitting that his wisdom guided Jack and Hurley, and was source of inspiration and enduring respect for Benjamin Linus as “Number Two”. John Locke played by the rules. Thanks to him, all things on the Island are fair and just. In his death, all things appear fair.

With Jack and Hurley, Locke immersed himself in our common humanity, cultivating abundant faculties of temperance, judgment, and prudence to execute responsibilities with mature bearing, confidence, and valor. Of these three men, we can truly say they embodied the best qualities of men, showed us who we are, and who we might become. As long as we remember their example, we will find one another, delight in our Constants, no longer alone, no longer LOST.

The Day the Music Died: LOST 6.14 “The Candidate” Recap and Analysis by Chris Kirkman

SL-LOST — Thu, 06 May 2010 19:27:09 +0000

Previously, on Lost: I have no idea, because Christian Shephard didn’t say those magical words and fill me in. It’s okay, though, I’ve been paying attention. Mostly.

This week, on Lost: Everybody dies. Well, not everybody. I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. Oh, and did I give something away? Well, if you haven’t seen the episode yet, why are you reading? You can’t blame me for that.

Anyway, before we can get on with the death and dismemberment, we have to start with an eye – Locke’s to be exact. AlternaLocke, to be even more exact. We’re in LA X, and AlternaJack is there, waking Locke up and making sure he’s okay. Jack tells Locke that he got mangled by a rented sedan and that his dural sac was all shot to shit, but Jack rooted around in there and now Locke is all better. Jack says that while he was taking a peek under the hood, he saw the damage that had been done to Locke before and wants to know how it all happened. Locke asks why, and Jack explains that Locke is a candidate – a candidate for a new experimental surgery that could restore feeling to Locke’s lower extremities. Hell, Locke might even be able to walk again, all without the aid of the Island.

Locke says thanks, but no thanks, and ends the subject as Helen comes in and gives Jack a kiss of thanks. Despite the kiss from Peg Bundy, when someone tells Jack no, he’s not liable to take that as an answer, and so he begins his episode-long descent into Mr. Fixit mode – all while Jack on Island Prime decides to take the alternate route and actually become patient, confident and likable. We’ll get to all that. First, let’s finish what we started talking about in LA X.

Meanwhile, in LA X … I’ll bet you didn’t see this shot in the episode. That’s because it’s from this week’s Modern Family, which even has a Lost reference. Not watching this show? Shame on you, because it is to comedy what Lost is to time-traveling, mythic melodrama.

AlternaJack is seeking answers and, like any classic detective, his first stop is … the dentist? Well, Jackie boy has found some medical records that state that Locke had some emergency dental work done after his crippling accident. So, he tracks down the dentist. Turns out, it’s Bernard. After some brief chit-chat, Jack finds out that Bernard was on Oceanic 815, and Jack was seated right next to him. Bernard even says that Jack was flirting with his wife, Rose. Jack is flabbergasted. Bernard, however, does not seem surprised at the connection.

This is Bernard not being surprised at the connection.

Jack presses Bernard for the 411 on Locke’s malady, but Bernard can only reveal so much. Dentist-client confidentiality, don’t you know. Bernard does tell Jack that another man was treated with Locke after the accident, and he gives Jack a name – Anthony Cooper. “You remember all that?” asks Jack. “Of course I do,” says Bernard, impishly.

Jack follows the name Anthony Cooper to a nursing home, where he’s stymied by an admitting orderly who asks if Jack is family. No, he’s not, but luckily Helen – who just happens to walk in with a lovely potted plant (anthuriums, maybe?) – is, by proxy. It doesn’t take long for sharp-witted Helen to realize what Jack is up to, and she is reticent to allow him to see Anthony Cooper. Helen tells Jack that he saved John’s life, and wonders why that can’t be enough. Our ever-stubborn Jack tells Helen that it simply isn’t enough. Save your breath, Helen, the guy is like a dog with a bone.

Helen reluctantly agrees to let Jack see Anthony, who is now wizened, gray-haired, catatonic and confined to a wheelchair. Helen wipes Anthony’s mouth and introduces Jack to him, explaining that old man Cooper is Locke’s daddy.

Turns out some old bastards get a fickle fate no matter what timeline they inhabit.

Back at the hospital, Jack is visiting Locke, still confined to bed. Jack asks if John is awake, but Locke simply mutters in his sleep, apparently dreaming. “Push the button. I wish you had believed me.” I believe we all know what he’s dreaming about. Jack gets a very puzzled look on his face, just as he notices Claire out in the hallway, looking for the good doctor. Claire has a box tucked under her arm and asks if they can talk.

Jack buys an Apollo bar from the vending machine – the same one from which Jack gets the Apollo bar when Jacob first enters his life over in the Island Prime timeline – and the two settle in to talk. Claire opens her special package and pulls out an ornate box, asking Jack if he knows why their father wanted her to have it. Jack is clueless, admitting that he didn’t even know about Claire.

You can get those at the mall. They’re from Italy. I wonder if Claire has looked on the bottom for an inscription.

Claire asks Jack to share how their father died, and Jack tells her that he drank himself to death and was found in a gutter outside a bar in Sydney. Jack brought Christian’s body back, but the airline lost it. Lo and behold, Claire had just flown in from Sydney recently, too. Oceanic 815? asks Jack. Claire affirms and they both have a little Matrix-y, deja vu moment.

Jack sidles in next to Claire and the two take a look at the box together, flipping open the lid and staring at each others’ reversed images, through the looking glass.

It’s a music box. The tune inside? “Catch a Falling Star,” of course. Definitely creepy cool.

Jack makes an offer for Claire to stay with him at his house. Claire declines, saying that they’re strangers. No, says Jack, they’re not strangers. They’re family. They have a little brother-sis moment. Awww.

Later, Locke is being released from the hospital. The orderly wheels him down the hall, past Jin, who has a hand full of yellow flowers, apparently on his way to see his beloved Sun, recuperating from her gunshot wound. Locke takes over the wheeling duties and runs into Jack on his way out. Jack wanted to say goodbye, and Locke thanks the doc for fixing him up. Jack quickly admits that he went to see Locke’s poppa, and Locke isn’t too pleased with that. Jack just wanted to understand … and Locke sets the record straight real quick.

You see, Locke was in a plane crash. Not a big ol’ jetliner, but a small plane, that John was piloting. He begged his dad to be his wingman for the day – that, despite his father’s fears, he could trust John – but the two barely got off the ground before ditching into the tarmac. John doesn’t remember what went wrong, and the consequences where his crushed spine and his father’s catatonic state. It was all Locke’s fault.

Jack recounts his moments at the airport baggage claim when he had lost his father, and John had told him that Jack’s father was gone. That hurt Jack, but he needed to hear it. “Your father’s gone, too, Mr. Locke,” says Jack. Locke refuses to admit the truth, but Jack explains that Anthony Cooper is gone and that Locke can continue to punish himself for as long as he wants, but it won’t bring his father back. “What happened, happened,” says Jack. “And you can let it go.”

Locke wants to know what makes Jack think that letting go is so easy. Jack responds that it’s not, and that he was hoping that maybe Locke could go first. The thought makes Locke laugh a bit, and then he bids Jack farewell, rolling himself down the hospital hallway.

As John wheels away, Jack calls out after him. “I can help you, John. I wish you believed me.” Locke pauses, a strange look crossing his face, as if he suddenly remembered this phrase from before. After a long moment of contemplation, Locke grabs the wheels of his chair once more and rolls off in silence.

Back on Island Prime, Jack wakes up in an outrigger. Sayid is there, and welcomes him to Hydra Island.

A little ways away, at the Hydra station, Sawyer, Hurley, Sun, Jin, Kate, Claire and Lapidus are led to the old polar bear cages by gun-wielding members of Widmore’s Geek Squad. The sonic fence pylons have been moved and are now scattered about the compound. Sawyer balks at the thought of spending another moment inside the bear cages and strips Seamus of his rifle, threatening the Geek he christens “doughboy.” A shot soon rings out, and Widmore is there, telling Sawyer to drop the gun. His leverage? You’ll never guess.

This would be hostage/kidnapping situation #28 for Freckles. Seriously, just rename her the freaking Human Shield.

Sawyer thinks that Chuck is bluffing, but Widmore tells James that he has a list of names, and Kate is not on that list, making her expendable. Sawyer can’t argue with that logic, and gives up his gun. The group is soon ushered into the bear cages. Chuck tells Sawyer that he may not believe it, but he’s doing this for their own good. Sawyer tells Chuck that he’s right – he doesn’t believe it.

Widmore asks if the fence is live, but he doesn’t get good news – it won’t be live for another hour. Chuck makes it clear that is unacceptable because “he’s coming.” This could get ugly.

Back on the beach, Jack is rubbing his aching head and Sayid informs him that Locke saved his ass. He also explains that everyone else following Locke has hightailed it into the Jungle of Mystery and it’s just them three. Jack is confused and wants to know why he was brought to Hydra Island, and, as if on cue, Locke/MIB comes out of the brush to inform Jack of his comrades’ recent capture. Ol’ Smokey is going to help Jack get them out. Jack says okie doke, but he wants to get one thing straight: those people are not his people, and he’s not leaving the Island. MIB is kinda hoping Jack might have a change of heart about that.

At the bear cages, Sawyer is pacing, commenting to Kate that it seems like they’re going in circles. Nice reference, grifter. Kate thinks that Widmore was bluffing about the whole killing thing, but Sawyer sets the record straight. He says that back at the cave that Ol’ Smokey took him to, there was a slew of names up on the walls. Her name was there, but it was scratched out, signifying that Freckles could be toast whenever it’s convenient and the Island won’t have her back. This also confirms two things: one, that Kate’s name really was on the cave wall even though we didn’t see it, and two, the producers probably got tired of everyone speculating why her name was only in the Lighthouse. The answer, of course, was bad editing. Mystery solved.

Over in a secluded corner of the caves, Sun and Jin are catching up on three years of being apart. Jin says he’s seen the pictures of their beautiful little girl, and Sun reveals that she still has Jin’s ring after all this time. She places it on his hand, and they smile, full of love.

It’s a beautiful moment, really. Maybe too beautiful, since the Island has a cruel fate in store.

Speaking of cruel, all the power suddenly goes out. “Uh oh,” says Lapidus. And how, says I. The Geek Squad start freaking out, and the battle horn of Ol’ Smokey echoes through the jungle. “And, we’re dead,” mutters Hurley. Oh, it’s about to get interesting.

The crackling crickets of doom and that delightfully horrific rattling sound starts up, and soon Ol’ Smokey is headed out in full force. Seamus pops a few rounds into it, as if that’ll do any good, but he’s soon scooped up in a smokey tentacle and bashed against the side of the bear cages. Cerberus goes off to wreak havoc elsewhere in the compound, and Kate looks down to see Seamus’s keys. She reaches for them. Lapidus isn’t waiting around, and starts trying to kick the iron gate down. It won’t budge, but that’s okay because Jack is soon there, grabs the keys and sets them free. Kate wonders what he’s doing there, and Jack motions over into the chaotic bush, telling her that he’s with him. They get the heck out of Dodge.

Dawn has broken on the Island and the remaining survivors are marching their way toward the Ajira plane. Kate thinks that Jack has had a change of heart about coming with them, but he sets her straight, saying that he’s not meant to leave the Island. Someone rustles in the brush, and they all draw guns on Sayid. Jack tells them that it’s okay, the Iraqi is cool. They head out, once again.

Meanwhile, over at the Ajira plane, MIB has gotten a headstart on the group. There are a couple of men with rifles guarding the tiny landing strip, but MIB quickly dispatches both of them, snapping a neck and blowing the other away with a rifle. MIB pauses over one of the newly-dead bodies and spies a particularly fetching digital watch on a wrist. He likes what he sees, and pries it loose, then heads up the amazingly well-built bamboo boarding ramp and into the plane.

Does this strike anyone as being an overly-elaborate bamboo construct, or is it just me?

Once inside, MIB spies a particularly suspicious patch of cable coming out from one of the overhead compartments. He pops the top and pulls out something no doubt nefarious, wrapped in a black cloth.

Lapidus leads the gang out into the clearing where the Ajira plane rests, and heads toward it, wondering what it’ll take to get that baby to fly. Upon closer inspection, Sawyer spies an ex-Geek laying dead on the ground. He declares this an official “son of a bitch”-level situation. Sayid inspects another body, confirming that his neck’s been broken. MIB emerges from the fuselage and confirms that he was the neck-snapper, but if it makes everybody feel better, it was only a foregone conclusion that those dudes would die. MIB explains that Widmore only posted two guys by the plane for show, because he wanted them all to get on the plane, so they’d all be together so that Chuck could kill them.

“With what?” demands Sawyer. MIB takes off his pack and produces a big ol’ block of C4. He proceeds to explain how he found it, wired to the electrical system of the plane. Had they turned on the big bird, then, well, boom. The suckers, I mean survivors, just eat it up without a shred of evidence, which leaves me scratching my head.

Jin wants to know the new plan, and MIB says that they can’t be sure the plane’s not still loaded for bear. So … if they want to leave the Island, they’re gonna have to do it on the sub. Sawyer’s down with this plan, stating that’s been his main plan all along. Hurley objects, saying that MIB isn’t supposed to leave the Island because Richard said so. Sawyer says to forget Alpert, and tells MIB that he was wrong about the old smoke monster because he had saved their asses twice. Somewhere underneath that little fib lies a plan, methinks.

They saddle up and move out. Claire sheepishly trots up to MIB and says that she’s sorry. He smiles and pats her crazy, matted blonde head, telling her it’s okay, he understands.

“So you went a little crazy, so what? It happens to the best of us.”

Back at the end of the line, Sawyer once again calls on Jack to help him carry out a sneaky plan. When they get to the sub dock, he needs Jack to keep MIB from getting on the sub, and since Jack is staying behind, he might as well pitch in. Jack wants to know how in the hell he’s supposed to keep a murderous smoke monster at bay, and Sawyer tells him that he just needs to get it in the water, and that James will take care of the rest. Oh, cool, knock it in the water. Solid. Wait, what???

At the sub dock, the group crouch behind some low-lying shrubbery. Sawyer starts barking marching orders, like he’s ordering up a tactical strike in Halo. It’s kind of a new thing for James, and it seems as if he’s suddenly had some sort of combat or urban assault training; as if, somehow, he may have had police training. I mean, other than that three-year stint as LaFleur, guarding hippies. Anyway, he organizes his makeshift squad into teams, leaving Jack and MIB to take up the rear, and then heads out of the brush to storm the docks hard with the A-Team.

Do you see what I see? Yep, Jack’s got plumber butt.

Sawyer leads the first charge to the sub, with Sun, Jin, Lapidus and Hurley. That’s one hell of an A-Team. They make it past the empty docks no problem, and pop the hatch, disappearing inside, one by one. Sawyer and Lapidus storm the bridge and make short work of the navigator and captain. Lapidus takes over guarding the captain, and Sawyer heads back to see how the B-Team are doing.

In the brush, Kate gives the others the signal to head toward the sub. Oh, lord, I would not want to be on that team, let me tell you. MIB grabs his and Jack’s pack, and hands it to the good doctor. Jack, watching Kate and the surroundings, slings his pack and then sets out, taking up the rear. Kate, Sayid and Claire have a clear line to the sub and take it, while Jack and MIB hang back and have a little talk as they stroll leisurely along the docks. MIB tells Jack that he really, really needs to reconsider going with them and that whomever told Jack that he needed to stay was sorely mistaken.

Jack pauses and tells MIB that John Locke told him he needed to stay. And then, he proceeds to enact Sawyer’s master plan and pushes MIB into the water. Claire is flabbergasted. So am I.

I half expected him to come up, screaming “I’m melting! I’m melting!”

So is Kate, who soon asks Jack what happened. She’s rudely interrupted by a pesky bullet to the chest. Down goes Freckles.

I hate it for you, darlin’, but if you find yourself at the business end of a gun 28 times, sooner or later your luck is going to run out.

This is about the time when all hell breaks loose. There are guys all over the treeline, and Jack, Sayid and Claire open fire. Jack empties a gun and a pistol, never once taking cover like he’s in some damn western – or as if he somehow knew he wouldn’t be shot – and then scoops up Kate, heading toward the sub. Sayid heads that way himself, urging Claire to follow suit. They lower Kate down the hatch.

Meanwhile, MIB has slowly extricated himself from the devilish water trap and is royally pissed. He takes out his pistol and marches up the dock, taking out Widmore’s men methodically, and with gusto. Down below, Jack carries Kate further into the sub and orders Hurley to find a first aid kit. Sayid tells Sawyer that Claire is still above, so he heads up and out the hatch to see what’s going on. Claire is busy returning fire, and Sawyer calls to her. MIB hears the commotion and turns around, shouting for James and turning around to run back down the dock for the sub. Sawyer takes advantage of the opportunity and slams the hatch shut, climbing down below and ordering Lapidus to get the captain to dive, dive dive!

Out on the dock, Claire sees the sub leaving and runs after it. MIB catches her and holds her back, comforting her. Claire is very, very upset that they’re leaving them behind, but MIB tells her to trust him – she does not want to be on that sub. And, with a very mischievous grin, we all get just a wee bit scared for our new submariners.

On the sub, Kate’s in bad shape, and Hurley can’t find a first aid kit. Kate yells for Claire, but sorry Freckles – Aaron’s momma has been left behind. Jack asks for his pack to get a shirt to apply pressure, and Jin hands it over. The doc reaches in and pulls out an ominous, beeping package. It’s not a first aid kit.

Can someone please explain to me how an ancient smoke monster suddenly knows how to wire up a block of C4 to a ten dollar Casio from Walgreen’s?

Jack suggests that they, you know, get to the surface real quick-like and Jin sends the order to the comm. Everybody is a bit confused as to how a bomb got on board – everyone except Jack, who informs them all that Locke had no intention of ever getting on board the sub and that he pretty much just wanted to get everyone into some sort of tin can so he could blow them all to smithereens. Jack wants to know if anyone can tell how that thing works. Three guesses who chimes in. If you said the Iraqi Professor, you win. Sayid deducts that there are two wires that, if pulled out simultaneously, would theoretically render the bomb inert. Sawyer tells him to step aside and gets ready to channel MacGruber.

Jack stops him, though, and tells them all that it’s going to be okay, that Locke can’t kill them. Hurley is understandably confused. Just hold on, big fella, maybe Jack is onto something. Jack speculates that this is what Locke has been trying to do all along – get them all together to die, because Locke can’t leave the Island unless they’re all dead. However, he told Jack that he could kill any of them whenever he wanted but – dig this – maybe he hasn’t because he isn’t allowed to. Whoa, Jack, slow down there. You might actually be thinking for a change. What if, Jack posits, Locke is trying to get them all to kill each other.

Sawyer’s not hearing any of this, and gets ready to pull the wires. He and Jack go back and forth, a near repeat of the classic battle of wills down in the Hatch when Locke wanted to push the button, but Jack thought it was a worthless endeavor. Jack grabs Sawyer’s collar and tells him that they are all going to be okay, but that he’s just going to have to trust Jack. Sawyer thinks for a split second, apologizes, and pulls the wires.

The clock stops. Everyone holds their breath. The sub creaks.

And then, the timer starts again – only this time, it’s very, very fast.

Sayid breaks the silence, telling Jack to listen carefully, and explaining that Desmond is in a well back on the main Island and that MIB wants the Scot dead, which means that he must be extremely important. Jack wonders why Sayid is telling him all this. “Because it’s going to be you, Jack,” says Sayid hurriedly, as he grabs the bomb and runs to the front of the sub, diving through a bulkhead just before going kaboom.

The sub is rocked by the shockwave of the blast, and there’s stuff flying everywhere. Up on the bridge, Lapidus has been knocked to floor, and he slowly gets up, making his way down to the main decks. As he climbs off the ladder, he pauses at a sound to his right, just behind a partially opened hatch. “Oh, hell,” cracks Chesty, just before a pressure explosion sends a bulkhead door upside his head.

Sayonara, Frank. It was swell knowing you.

Back in the aft compartments, water is flooding in by the bucketfuls. Jack gets to his feet and finds Freckles floating face down. He pulls her into his arms and checks on the others. Hurley and Sawyer are okay, and Hurley asks about Sayid. He’s cut off by a scream from the corner. It’s Sun. She’s trapped behind what looks like a very heavy metal chest. Oh crap. I’ve seen enough underwater thrillers to know that this is not good.

This does not make me happy. This is almost as painful as watching Juliet wake up, bloodied, next to Jughead.

Jack puts Kate into Hurley’s arms, hands him an emergency oxygen tank, and tells him he has to get Kate out of there. Hurley says he has to go after Sayid. “There is no Sayid!” screams Jack, in what may be one of the best lines of the season. Jack tells Hurley that he can do this, and Hugo takes Kate and heads toward the blast hole.

Sawyer calls for Jack’s help and he, Jack and Jin manage to pry the heavy chest away from Sun. Oh, thank God. Short-lived elation, however, as we now see that Sun is pinned by even more metal debris. CRAP. A mini-pressure explosion rocks the sub, knocking an overhead fixture loose, which subsequently falls on Sawyer’s hard head. CRAP. Can it get worse?

The answer, of course, is yes. The sub is quickly filling with water, and Sawyer is unconscious. Jin can’t budge the metal pinning Sun, so she urges him to leave her behind and save himself. He refuses. Jack wants to help, but Jin says that he will stay behind to help Sun, and to save Sawyer. Jack reluctantly agrees, but heads over to a wall mount, grabbing the last emergency oxygen tank, offering it to Jin, telling him that he can rescue Sawyer without it. Jin knows that’s not true, and refuses the tank. Jack is torn, knowing that he is leaving them both to certain death if he leaves. Jin finally tells Jack to go, and the good doctor has no other choice. He turns and swims out, through the blast hole, leaving the lovers behind.

The water is up to Sun’s chin now, but still Jin is convinced he can save his wife. Sun begs Jin to save himself, but he refuses, telling her that he won’t leave her. He dives down again, desperately tugging at the metal beams trapping Sun. It’s no use. They won’t budge. Once again Sun begs him to leave, and he pauses, looking around, desperately. He speaks to her in Korean, telling her that he won’t leave … that he will never leave her again.

“I love you, Sun.”

“I love you,” answers Sun, crying and kissing her beloved husband over and over as the water quickly rises to overtake them both.

The sub slowly descends into the darkening depths, the last of the air bubbles trickling from its shattered hull. Inside, the heavy water has filled every recess, and all is still. In the aft compartment we see the two hands of the submerged lovers clasped tightly, holding onto forever as the end nears.

And then … release, hands drifting apart; the Kwons are gone, claimed by the inky blackness of the sea.

We cry.

The beach. Jack climbs from the surf, carrying Sawyer’s limp body. He collapses to the sand, and Sawyer sputters and takes in labored breaths. Hurley trudges over, helping Kate; she keeps telling Jack that she couldn’t find him, and they embrace. Hugo asks about Sawyer and Jack says that he got hit in the head pretty hard, but at least he’s breathing.

“What about Jin and Sun?” asks a concerned Kate. Jack shakes his head. Kate breaks down. Hurley reels from shock, a tear streaming down his face. He’s soon overtaken with sobs.

Jack gets to his feet and walks into the surf, looking up, as if pleading with an unseen force. Soon, Jack lets go and anguish fills his features. He’s soon in tears, as well, and suddenly we’re hit full force with the sadness he must feel, watching all these people he’s known and cared about for so long – these people who have always been considered “his” people – die, one by one, following a path that they have never fully understood.

It’s right about now that I get the sense of something else beneath that surface of anguish – a quiet rage building in Jack. Not the petulant anger that we saw in the Hatch, or in the smashing of the Lighthouse mirrors, but a righteous smoldering, determined and building in intensity. It’s in this moment that I almost feel sorry for the Man in Black, because now that Jack has finally found his way – his destiny with this Island – there will be no more selfish fits where Jack Smash. No, it’s quite clear that right now, when it comes to Jack taking on Locke – it’s clobbering time.

Speaking of the Man in Black, he still stands at the edge of the sub dock, staring into the dark ocean. Claire is still there with him. It sunk, he remarks. Claire is upset; everyone was on that submarine. She wants to know if they’re all dead. Not all of them, says Locke, turning and grabbing his pack and gun. Claire turns to follow, wanting to know where he’s heading.

“To finish what I started,” says the Man in Black, trudging off determinedly into the night, with frustration and a bit of trepidation showing in his furrowed brow.

Bring it on, big man. Bring it on.

Cue the THONK!

Ugh, what a heart-wrenching episode. I knew that there was going to be a lot more death coming as the finale approached, but I didn’t expect it to hit me as hard as in this episode. We lose four this week, and none more heart-breaking than Sun and Jin. I think one of the toughest pills to swallow was the fact that Sun had fought so hard to get back to the Island, and had gone through so much crap once she got there just to get back to the man she loves – including losing her ability to speak properly – and then as soon as she’s reunited, they barely have time to hug and catch up before they end up drowning on a sinking submarine. And, as my girlfriend – who happens to be Asian – so hilariously put it: “Why they gotta be hating on the Asians?”

I really hate to make this comparison, but how many of you out there have seen Serenity? Anyone who knows me knows my utter disdain for what I consider one of the biggest disrespecting of fans that Joss Whedon has ever perpetrated. Of course, I mean when Wash dies. It’s quick, it’s senseless. It hurts. Granted, I did not think that the Kwon’s deaths were that unexpected or nearly that heart-numbingly visceral as Wash’s impaling and the treachery of the Whedon, but I was suddenly taken back and thought I’d mention the comparison.

I will also say this – I loathed watching Juliet die, but I knew it was coming for weeks. I just knew. And, thus, I had the chance to steel myself against the loss. As a fan, it hurt, but I had already resolved the loss. This week, however, even though I had a good idea that the Kwons – at least one of them – might die before the finale, I hadn’t made the same resolution against it as I had for Juliet, and so it struck home much stronger. The emotion of the episode truly affected me. Yes, I’m man enough to admit that I shed a tear – once when Sun and Jin finally let go in that watery tomb, and again when Jack lost it on the beach. It was a testament to the quality of the acting and production of the episode that, despite the sheer insanity and all the chaos going on, it took the time to give pause and provide poignancy and respect to the characters we lost along the crooked path.

Well, almost all the characters.

We also lost Frank Lapidus. Of course, you wouldn’t know that by the actions and reactions of the remaining four who washed up on shore. Not once did any of them think to ask where Lapidus was while they were counting heads on the sub, nor did they think to ask when they had washed up on shore. Hell, Hurley asked if Sayid was okay before he left the sub, and Sayid was in about a billion pieces. Granted, in defense of the production team, the structure of the episode didn’t warrant a whole lot of hand-wringing over Lapidus. We were all supposed to feel the sudden, abrupt loss of Sayid, and mourn the loss of the loving Kwons. Lapidus was, at best, a third-stringer. But the guy has been a fifth wheel for three seasons, now, and has saved the asses of more than a few of the castaways. You’d think they would care what happened to the guy.

Ah, Chesty. As my twitter pal @powlsy commented – it’s like he just wasn’t the same since he lost his beard and mustache from season 4. I agree – it’s almost as if that soup catcher were his source of power. Like Sampson.

But you know what? None of it really matters, in the end. They’re all still alive over in LA X. No matter what happens in the finale, they will all live on in some way or another. Whether the timelines merge and the memories and consciousness of the disparate lives come together, or whether the timeline of Island Prime ceases to exist all-together, the fact that their hearts and souls still exist out there means that all the loss, as painful as it has been, has not been in vain.

So this week’s episode was pretty straightforward – the production team got to blow some crap up again (I swear they must have just had a ton of explosives sitting around and had to write it all into the remaining episodes), and there was lots of shootings and Kate hostage situations and Ol’ Smokey action. As a result, there’s not really a whole of analysis to throw at all of you. I’m no closer to resolving, in my mind, how the two realities will eventually collide or skew further off in the finale. Still, there are a few talking points to bring up. It wouldn’t be an episode of Lost if there wasn’t!

FREAKY FRIDAY
Has anybody noticed how our favorite characters over in LA X are seeming to slowly turn into their counterparts on Island Prime? Jack seems to be the prime example of this. For instance, AlternaJack, who used to be patient and humble, has now started taking on the stubborn Mr. Fixit attitude of Jack from Island Prime. He has become obsessed with helping to heal John Locke, both emotionally and physically. AlternaLocke has become the proxy in LA X for Jack’s wife Sarah back on Island Prime – a person that Jack cares about and is drawn to that he feels the compulsive need to tinker with. Sarah, by the way, was played by Julie Bowen, who is now the hilariously neurotic Claire Dunphy on Modern Family. Did I mention how great that show is?

Anyway, over on Island Prime, Jack has now taken his self-reflective time out and has come out the other side with patience and humility, and has started to see past his own rage and self-destructive tendencies. These are all traits which we saw, albeit in limited form, in AlternaJack when we were first introduced to him. Yes, he is estranged from his wife and child in the beginning, but he takes the time to turn things around with young David, and he’s even come to terms, somewhat, with his daddy issues. All of these traits have now been seemingly passed along to Jack on the Island.

Speaking of AlternaJack’s obsession with Locke – and jumping a little off-topic for a bit – it almost seems to me like Jack can sense that Locke is missing something. Yes, there is hurt there deep within for what he was done to his father in this timeline, but despite Locke’s other great fortunes here – his deep love from Helen and the chance to reconnect and actually have a father – there is, and always will be a part of Locke that just isn’t there. His destiny remains unfulfilled. This Locke still went to Australia for walkabout, still searching for that final piece of the puzzle. Jack can sense that, and wants to help. He thinks that healing John’s spine and returning feeling to his lower extremities will help. But it’s almost as if it will take more than that – much more. It’s almost as if the only thing that will truly heal Locke, both inside and out … is getting him back to the Island.

THE RANDOM BITS
Yeah, yeah, I know it’s early, but at least there’s a lot of them.

You may have noticed by my tone that I’m actually pulling for Jack. No, I’m not feverish. He has completely redeemed himself in my eyes in the past few episodes, which means that the Island has really taken hold of him and slapped him upside the head. I’m not going to delve into all the character development that has taken place over this season, but if you want to know pretty much how I feel, you can’t get much closer than Joel Murphy’s column from yesterday. And, yes, Kate still sucks rocks.

So … what’s with the music box? Do any of you believe we’ll actually find out? It’s such a small little detail to introduce at such a late date. Perhaps its significance is simply a reminder of the entanglement between the two timelines. The music box plays “Catch a Falling Star,” which is pretty much Claire’s theme song. Claire has taken over the Rousseau role on Island prime, and Rousseau’s broken music box was a pretty significant Island artifact back in the day. It could also be simply a MacGuffin for getting Jack and Claire together once more, to reconnect the survivors and family. Regardless, it’s likely just a literary device to tie some things together in a very subtle, but intimate way.

The philosophical question of the week: Would the C4 have exploded if they hadn’t pulled the wires? Possibly not, because, as Sayid said, Jack is the one, which means the Island isn’t done with him yet and thus, he can’t die. However, Sawyer and the Kwons were still possibilities for candidates, so the loophole may exist that if a candidate hasn’t been officially selected, then they all could die, and the process would have to begin anew – or it would end with the balance being shifted toward the side of evil. There is also the possibility that, even if Jack were the official candidate, that they were outside the radius of the Island and possibly outside its sphere of protection. The only evidence against that is Michael – he was off the Island and tried to kill himself several times, but it didn’t work. The Island wasn’t done with him yet. The Island probably wasn’t done with Jack and Co. yet, either, and thus the bomb would have failed. Just my opinion, though. Too bad they didn’t have Richard on board.

Speaking of Richard, where the hell is he? And Ben? And Miles? Weren’t they going to get explosives over at the Dharma barracks a few episodes back? How long does that take, really?

Hurley is so freaking priceless. He’s even awesome when he’s out of focus.

Perhaps someone more astute in diving knowledge can fill me in on something that’s bothering me. The sub was deep enough that it would take five minutes to reach the surface at the time they discovered the bomb, and three minutes counted down on the timer until the hull was breached by the explosion. Now, let’s say the time between that of the explosion and the time that Jack and Sawyer finally escaped out of the hull was about a minute and a half, two minutes, tops. That would put the sub back down almost to where it was when they were diving before. You all with me so far? So, my question is thus: If Jack carried an unconscious Sawyer out of the sub and swam up to the surface using an emergency air tank, why don’t they have the bends? I’m just curious. And, yes, for all you crazy Island nuts out there, it could be the healing properties of the Island.

Just a random thought about MIB/Locke that may have occurred to others: It struck me odd how MIB always seems to want Claire around and is so forgiving of her, but then I got to thinking about his behavior. It seems as though he begins to take on some of the personality traits of the people whose bodies he inhabits for a long period of time. The more he’s been in Locke’s body, the more he becomes like Locke. He seems to have all of Locke’s memories, and I believe that affects his personality and, possibly, his motives and thinking. To this end, I believe that he continues to have such an affinity for Claire – and, by turn, both a paternal and conflicted relationship with Jack – because MIB still exhibits traits from his time spent as Christian Shephard. Now, as Locke, he is possibly even more conflicted about his relationship with Jack. This could also have something to do with why Jack is ultimately the candidate – he is the perfect foil for MIB, especially now that he has taken on Locke’s persona.

Variations of the phrase “I wish you had believed me” in this episode was in reference to the suicide note left by Locke, as Jeremy Bentham. The full extent of the note was revealed in “316.” It’s in relation to Locke’s urgings that they all remain on the Island – an idea that Jack, of course, opposed. Until now, that is.

The fact that Kate is still standing astounds me. I wish I had that many lives. Do you think the writers have a sort of in-joke about her kidnappings/hostage situations? Seriously, Widmore just walked up and immediately pointed a gun at her. They even wrote her expendability into the mythos of the Island. I also loved how she was in such bad shape on the sub, but after a jaunty swim in the ocean, she was feeling much better. Yeah, yeah, healing powers of the Island, whatever. At any rate, will Kate be one of the last one’s standing? Perhaps she and Jack will be the last ones. They ultimately end up together on the Island – Maybe they’re Adam and Eve, as some have speculated for so long? Maybe the remaining four will all return to the cave and see that one of the skeletons has a mark on their collarbone – from a gunshot! And then they all ride out to the beach and find the remains of the Statue of Liberty, buried in the sand. SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!!! Ahem. Sorry.

Another question: Why, if the sonic fences were down, did Ol’ Smokey just show up and take out some of the Geek Squad? Why not take the opportunity to do away with Widmore and just tear the holy hell out of the Hydra station while he’s unimpeded? Is he not allowed to kill Widmore, either? It seems to me like Smokey has a time or energy limit. Otherwise, he could just fly through the Island and kill whomever the hell he wants, whenever he wants. Of course, that doesn’t make for a very good story. This is the writer’s dilemma – what do you do with the downtime between visits of a very powerful, ancient creature? Ultimately, it’s the Superman problem. I have nightmares sometimes thinking about how I would go about writing a run on a Superman comic. The guy is all-powerful. Okay, so he’s not as powerful as he used to be, but he’s still moving mountains and beating freight trains. Other than some krypto-freak, or Lex Luthor or Batman coming around with a scrap of meteorite every other issue, how do you make somebody with powers like that interesting? Where’s the conflict? Whoo, look at me – nerd ramble.

Speaking of something nerdy, the lastest episode of Doctor Who had an excellent and intriguing storyline about the mutability of time, and a quote at the end of the show reminded me of something that seems to be happening in our two alternate timelines on Lost:

The Doctor: I kept saying, the angels all fell into the time field – the angel in your memory, never existed. It can’t harm you now.

Amy (his current companion): Then why do I remember at all? Those guys on the ship didn’t remember each other.

The Doctor: You’re a time traveler now, Amy. It changes the way you see the Universe … forever. Good, isn’t it?

Oh, and if you’re not currently watching Doctor Who, you’ll probably want to check it out. It’s only the best television show out there right now. I’m serious. I wouldn’t joke about such things. Oh, and check out Modern Family while you’re at it. It’s the second best television show out there right now.

That’s Amy. That’s the Doctor’s new companion. Ah, you wanna watch the show now, don’t you? I thought so.

Okay, that’s it for this week. We’re in the home stretch – there are only three more episodes left until it’s all over. My heart just sank when I wrote that. These characters and this show have been such a huge part of our lives for so long, it’s hard to imagine what life will be like after it’s all over. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m going to DisneyWorld. All of you keep thinking those good thoughts, and if you have an epiphany, tell me something good. Until next time, I remain faithful that the finale will kick ass. And that Jack will wake up in the middle of the jungle, in silence, until that ugly flashback crashy sounds starts up and he wanders onto the beach and the plane is there, all mangled and people are running back and forth …

Namaste.

[HoboTrashcan.com]

Isla Cognita, Part II: Cultural History of the Island by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Mon, 03 May 2010 15:29:04 +0000

The Island is a cork.

Oceanic Flight 815 crashed because of Desmond, Desmond came to the Island because of Widmore, Widmore came to the Island because of Jacob, Jacob is an angel who works selflessly and tirelessly for the Island, and the Island is a prison keeping the rest of the world safe from the Smoke Monster.

All the mysteries have been solved.

Or have they?

If the Island’s only function is to contain evil, how could it have healed Locke’s paralysis? Why did it cure Rose of her cancer and give her and Bernard happiness for the rest of their lives? If Jacob is a source of good, why did he intentionally cause the deaths of over three hundred people?

We know much about the Island. But with only five more hours of the Island’s story left to tell, there is much we do not yet understand. Let’s take a look at what we really know.

The Island

The Island is not a cork.

This place establishes relationships with people, the most spectacular example being John Locke. Locke knew instinctively where to find wild boar, the Nigerian plane, and countless other people, places, and events. Far exceeding young Widmore’s expectations or understanding, he tracked the boy through the jungle to Richard’s camp in the early 1950s. He found the Swan Hatch, the Pearl, and the Flame. Locke could predict the weather and events past and future. We have seen numerous examples of individuals and groups with a sixth sense about the Island: Rose, Hurley, and Walter, and to lesser extents Ben, Richard, Boone, and Sayid. The Others, through the leadership of Jacob and his liaison, Richard, were somewhat tuned into the Island. Even certain members of the Dharma Initiative seem to have enjoyed some extra-dimensional understanding. Paul and his wife, Amy (later to become Amy Goodspeed), owned an ankh necklace, for example, which may have connected them with some of the earliest cultures on the Island or the Island itself.

The Island has rare powers. Sites of intense electromagnetism are scattered about underground. One of the most active locations became the site of “The Incident,” which was the sudden release of enormous quantities of electromagnetic radiation, eventually contained within a concrete tomb and controlled with a programmed release of energy every 108 minutes from the geodesic dome of the Swan Station. Desmond Hume has an unusual physical immunity to the effects of electromagnetism, but he suffers an intensified super-physical effect of intense magnetic energy: his mind is able to inhabit several locations in spacetime, almost simultaneously.

Intense electromagnetism is not the only unique attribute of the Island. Dozens or even hundreds of metres underground a large pocket of exotic matter bypasses the normal forward movement of time, allowing matter to move chronologically back and forth. During the three-year period from 2004 to 2007 at least two individuals, Ben Linus and John Locke, took advantage of this property of the exotic matter under the Orchid Station to transport themselves forward in time by ten months and three years respectively. We know the pocket of matter was used by ancient cultures, going back at least to the ancient Egyptians.

The time-control wheel (“frozen donkey wheel”) under the Orchid must be properly placed on its axis or severe spacetime disturbances can results. When Ben Linus moved the wheel on December 30, 2004, he accidentally knocked the structure off its axis, sending the Island or some of the crash survivors–or both the Island and survivors–on a random, oscillating course through time, first into the past, then into the future.

The Island itself moves through space and time, in ways different from any other place on earth. The Island is found on no navigation chart, is invisible from space, and cannot be approached in the usual manner by sea or air. A spacetime discontinuity envelopes the Island and the sphere of ocean and air in the immediate spacetime vicinity. Objects traveling anything other than a rigourously precise trajectory may require hours or even days to traverse the discontinuity, despite speeds of several hundred kilometres per hour, and may encounter severe electromagnetic storms along the way. To avoid the dangerous or even life-threatening squalls that form as a result of an air or surface approach to the Island, the preferred means of travel is submarine.

The Island can choose to heal wounds, inflict bodily harm, or even demand human sacrifice. Immediately on his arrival, Locke’s paralysis was cured, and he walked for the first time in four years. Rose had terminal cancer, but the Island removed every trace of the disease from her body. Overall good health was the typical and expected result of living in communion with the Island. Cancer was apparently unknown among the Others, until their leader, Benjamin Linus, was found to have a tumor growing on his spine. He and others interpreted this occurrence of cancer as a sign of the Island’s displeasure with Ben’s leadership. Locke’s friend, Boone, was singled out as “a sacrifice that the island demanded,” according to Locke. Charlie Pace and John Locke himself may also have been sacrifices the Island demanded.

Contacts in Antiquity

The earliest civilisation to inhabit the Island is unknown, but Egyptian hieroglyphs are distributed widely: throughout the Temple, around the time control wheel, on the secret door in Ben’s house in Dharmaville, and other places. Even the countdown timer in the Swan Station resorted to hieroglyphs in the “System Failure” condition in which the Execute button was not pushed before the expiration of the 108-minute interval between energy discharges.

The presence of ancient Egyptian symbols presumes an intentional communication of ideas among literate people. This places individuals able to read and write the symbols earlier than at least 395 A.D., when the last remaining readers of the language died. More likely, the hieroglyphs indicate the presence on the Island of Egyptians or those fluent in ancient Egyptian communication sometime before 31 A.D. or earlier, since this date marks the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty and the beginning of Roman rule. Thus, the earliest known civilisation inhabited the Island not later than about two thousand years ago.

The enhanced version of Ab Aeterno told us Richard Alpert was the first of the Others, but it seems unlikely he was the first visitor to the Island after Jacob and the Man in Black. We know Latin was adopted by the Others as the “language of the enlightened” (Juliet Burke, Lost 5.03 “Jughead”); it seems likely the decision to institute Latin as the Island’s universal language occurred well before 1867, when Richard arrived on the Black Rock. The expansion of the Roman Empire began in earnest around 56 B.C. with the military exploits of Gaius Julius Caesar, reached its zenith around 117 A.D., and was well into decline by 251 A.D. This indicates the influence of Egyptian culture likely pre-dated or was contemporaneous with the first use of Latin on the Island, and also indicates at least contact with, but more likely co-habitation on the Island, of representatives of both the Egyptian and Roman cultures.

The Island has been home to native or fluent speakers of at least thirteen languages. Among these were Arabic, Chinese, English, French, Ancient Greek, Japanese, Korean, Latin, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, Turkish, and Yoruba (Mr. Eko’s native Nigerian language). One of the Island’s most noteworthy inhabitants, Jacob, was known to be fluent in at least five languages, but was likely fluent in several others as well, due to his “Candidacy” project. The lighthouse wheel lists 360 names, most of apparently European descent, all of them “Candidates” or former Candidates. It is likely that most or all of these individuals resided on the Island at one time or another.

The Rulers

We don’t know when Jacob and the Man in Black appeared on the Island. We don’t know with certainty what their relationship is to each other, though it seems likely from their few conversations and from the MIB’s disclosures to Kate and Richard that the two men are related by blood, and are possibly brothers.

Some indication of a timeline for the two immortals is provided by ancient Egyptian illustrations inside the Temple.

The hieroglyphs and the representation of the Jackal-god, Anubis, are obviously Egyptian. However, the representation of the Smoke Monster appears to have later influences. The horned head atop the coiled “smoke” appears to have more than passing similarity to popular modern representations of the Devil, or Satan. This may indicate quite simply that the Smoke Monster arrived on the Island at a time when influences other than the ancient Egyptian culture were current. Or it could be an indication that the Smoke Monster is a relatively “late” resident or perhaps immigrant to the Island, possibly toward the end of Egyptian control.

The Man in Black is a pessimist. He believes human beings are fundamentally flawed, that “They come, they fight, they destroy, they corrupt.” This is the sum total of human existence in the MIB’s mind; humanity amounts to nothing more than depravity and pure evil.

The Man in Black acts in a manner consistent with a reasonable observer’s understanding of evil. He mercilessly killed everyone in the Temple who chose not to follow him and obey his rules. He killed the Flight 815 pilot, Seth Norris, Mr. Eko, Nadine, Montand, Bram, all the officers aboard the Black Rock, and Jacob, the self-professed Protector of the Island. He essentially gave Claire permission to kill Kate once he was done with her. His only objective, as he himself has said repeatedly, is to leave the Island. He seems to care little about those who suffer or die in order that he might leave.

Jacob, Richard Alpert, and Charles Widmore, among others, have made it their task to prevent the MIB from leaving the Island. Isabella Alpert, through Hurley, warned her husband that he must do everything he can to keep the Smoke Monster on the Island, or “todos nos vamos al infierno.” It was Jacob’s contention that the Island was a cork in a bottle, keeping evil or the Devil from roaming free in the world. While it is likely he was making reference to the Smoke Monster, there are other possibilities.

Jacob

Jacob called himself “Protector of the Island”. Through his consigliere, Richard Alpert, he directed the activities of the Others over a period of at least one hundred and forty years. Usually projecting an image of compassion or sadness, Jacob professes a philosophy of freedom and personal autonomy. “You have a choice” seems to be the phrase most likely to cross his lips. He believes human beings are on a trajectory toward improvement and progress.

We have met many characters that project a wholesome image but adhere to nefarious ways. Benjamin Linus is an excellent example. When captured in Rousseau’s net and imprisoned in the Swan Station armory, he claimed for days or weeks to be Henry Gale, a balloonist who accidentally meandered over the Island. Ben lied, manipulated, embellished, and in any way he could devise, reordered situations to his advantage. Many other characters have behaved in similar manner.

Jacob “invited” over 360 Candidates to the Island; all but seven of them are dead. Most of them would have lived long, happy lives off the Island, but one way or another Jacob led them to the Island, tested each one, found them in some way deficient, and allowed them to die.

He brought Flight 815 to the Island. Of the 324 passengers and crew, only seventy survived the crash. Less than three dozen remained after the first three months. It is likely that Flight 815 carried not more than a handful of Candidates; if so, nearly seven hundred deaths can be directly attributed to Jacob. It seems likely that far more than this have died over the centuries to feed his desire to test Candidates in a most unforgiving laboratory.

Jacob appeared to James Ford at his parents’ funeral. The eight-year-old boy was composing a letter spelling out his vow of revenge against Tom Sawyer, the man who had cheated his mother, committed adultery with her, and led his father to kill her and take his own life.

James’ Uncle Doug read what he had written. The wise uncle had it right when he said the boy had to get on with his life. Vowing revenge would keep him from growing into a man. If only this had been the single piece of advice he’d received from an adult. Unfortunately, another man had come along only minutes before, just as James’ pen ran out of ink.

Jacob reinforced the connection between his parents’ deaths and James’ perceived need for vengeance. By giving James the pen to complete the letter, Jacob was feeding the boy’s warped sense of purpose, bending James to Jacob’s selfish ends, coercing him into an entire lifetime of pain and hatred, simply so that he might one day find himself in Australia, murder the wrong man, and board a one-way flight back to Los Angeles that would instead crash on an uncharted tropical island.

Jacob’s behaviour toward Dogen was even more coercive and despicable. “I can heal your son,” Jacob told Dogen, as the unfortunate man’s dying son lay unconscious in a hospital bed.

Did Jacob choose him because he had unique abilities, or because Dogen felt enormous guilt at having caused the accident that brought his son to the last minutes before death? Was Dogen essential to Jacob’s cause, or was he exceptionally malleable because of a father’s pain and anguish? “I can heal your son,” Jacob said, but the conditions were cruel: Dogen could never see his son again. Jacob would take him to a place inaccessible to anyone and entirely unknown to the world. And Dogen would serve Jacob until the day he died. Years later, relaying the story to Jack, Dogen was pained by the pain he had caused his son, but he seemed in even greater anguish over the bargain that had forever prevented him from even knowing anything of his son’s life.

We cannot know with certainty that Jacob is evil. He may prove the perfect Angel of Light many believe him to be. His coercion of James, Dogen, and hundreds of others may have been the unfortunate but necessary means of ensuring his replacement and preventing true evil from unleashing itself on the world.

The Candidates

On first glance the reason for these seven individuals’ placement on the list of Candidates seems obvious: They’re all exactly the same height. But if we look beyond the crude (and effective!) Photoshopping, we see other commonalities. All of the Seven have “daddy issues”. Sun’s father was distant and cruel, Sayid’s father was demanding and unemotional, Jack’s father treated him like dirt, Locke’s father was a con man, Kate’s father was a drunkard who abused his wife, and so on. Each of the Seven seeks redemption or spiritual completion that includes a major component directly related to her or his father.

Some will question the presence of Locke among the Candidates in this portrait. The basis for including Locke requires significantly more space than I wish to devote to this section. For those seeking to understand the rationale for considering Locke a Candidate, I recommend these articles:

http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/07/magnificence-the-cultural-mythology-of-lost-101-to-618/

http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/14/impartial-risk-cultural-musings-on-the-resurrection-of-john-locke/

http://www.sl-lost.com/2010/02/10/risk-a-cultural-thesis-for-lost-603-what-kate-does-by-pearson-moore/

Of the Seven, two individuals stand out. Jack has transformed himself from sceptical Man of Science to the fully integrated Man of Faith and firm disciple of John Locke. He is sufficiently in tune with the Island to realise that, like Richard Alpert, he can die, but not at his own hand. But every other belief he now professes is borrowed from the catalogue of John Locke’s articulated views. “We’re here for a reason” and “The Island is not done with us yet” and so on, were all expressed at one time or another by Jack’s former nemesis.

While Jack does not appear to have the strong connection to the Island possessed immediately by John Locke, he has overcome greater obstacles than anyone else, and his Island epiphany may be only hours or days away. It is possible–even likely, at this point–that Jack Shephard will assume the top leadership role in the post-Jacob world.

The other leading Candidate is John Locke. That he remains in contention is due to the successful efforts of one man: Daniel Faraday.

Faraday’s Boulder

The Incident, at least in its final permutation, consisted of the simultaneous detonation of an atomic bomb and the sudden release of almost unlimited electromagnetic energy. The result of the two simultaneous events was not a conversion of matter into energy or the irradiation of everyone in the vicinity, but a rerouting of matter and energy into the uni-directional stream of spacetime and the creation of two equal spacetime streams.

It was Daniel Faraday’s idea that the two events, occurring simultaneously, would have sufficient effect to negate the course of future events after the Incident. Since the future at that time (1977) was the Flight 815 survivors’ past, the detonation of the nuclear device would prevent all of the pain they had endured after the crash.

The plan was implemented by Jack and the plutonium core of the thermonuclear device was finally detonated by Juliet at precisely the moment that catastrophic amounts of electromagnetic energy escaped the confines of the subterranean space beneath the well shaft. The result was… unexpected. Rather than simply wiping out the future/past, two equal spacetime streams were created.

In the (very crude) illustration below, the flow of time is represented by the river. On the right bank of the river is a large boulder, representing the combined space-time-matter-energy warping potential of simultaneous nuclear and electromagnetic release.

The detonation of the bomb and the release of energy, coming together, opposing each other, and interfering in the normal flow of time, is depicted by throwing the boulder into the river.

The water backs up behind the boulder until it reaches the depth required to move around the rock. But now, rather than a single, calm, straight and forward movement, the stream has split into two turbulent, chaotic streams.

The streams are dramatically unstable and they will very quickly crash into each other on the upstream side of the boulder. Given enough time, the stream will again settle down into its normal uni-directional flow. But for a brief period in the history of the universe (or universes?), the streams will exist as distinct, equal, and yet different flows of spacetime. It is during this brief time window that some quite interesting phenomena can be observed and manipulated.

Indivisibility

The stream of time is torn into two equal streams. Each stream contains the same physical elements. In each stream a planet Earth is populated with seven billion human beings, physically identical but with unique histories. Each of the two realities contains a physical manifestation of James Ford, Claire Littleton, Sayid Jarrah, Hugo Reyes, and so on.

While their bodies have been duplicated in the two equal but different spacetimes, their spiritual selves remain intact, undivided, and equally present in both realities. There are two physical presences of James Ford, but there is only one true (spiritual aspect of) James Ford, equally present in both of the physical manifestations.

The point of Charlie’s intense discussions of The Truth was that he was attracted to the very same woman in both realities because the connection was spiritual, and therefore only one abiding connection was possible. Love at first sight was an indication to him of a reality that transcended any of the limitations of the world he inhabited. His connection with Claire was entirely spiritual, in both realities. He forcefully relayed this truth to Desmond, because he knew Desmond also had a Constant. So too in the case of Daniel Faraday. Regardless of the number of worlds his physical presences occupied, he has only one spirit, and therefore he can have only one spiritual love: Charlotte Lewis. Two bodies, two minds, but one spirit, and one love.

The indivisibility of the spirit explains the growing psychic instability between the two worlds. By now almost all the major players in this drama have experienced a “leaking” of knowledge or feelings or sense of presence or memories from one reality to the other. Desmond Hume is the only major player we know to have had complete and unambiguous visions of the other world from both of the spacetime realities. Sun probably has had glimpses into the other world from both spacetimes, but this depends on whether her loss of spoken English indicated a seeping of the sideways reality into her Island psyche. She certainly understood poor, crushed John Locke in the sideways reality as the Smoke Monster, when they were wheeled together into the hospital. Daniel Faraday, dead in the Island reality, nevertheless had glimpses into the Island from his sideways world.

The one crossover from the sideways reality to the Island that must occur is the one Desmond started in motion two episodes ago, at the end of “Everybody Loves Hugo”.

When Desmond rammed the wheelchair-bound Locke with his silver-coloured economy car, he was taking a terrible but necessary risk. Desmond knew that Locke belonged on the Island, that he had to be on the Island if there could be any chance of making things right again. Just as love allowed Daniel to see the Island from his sideways world, just as Desmond’s MRI in the hospital allowed him to recall Penny from his Island reality, so too the awful shock of physical pain and paralysis would shock John Locke into recalling his Island self, and create in him the realisation that he had to go back.

The End Game

Only a few moves remain in this two- or three-thousand-year-old game of backgammon. I have no idea in the world how Locke is going to make it back to the Island. I have not the slightest clue how Jack will win the Island over the considerable efforts and proven talents of both Charles Widmore and the Smoke Monster. Some will certainly die. I most fear for Jack and Kate in this regard, but many of the others look to be increasingly expendable or willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. The last few minutes of our beloved television programme look to be exhilarating but sad, too. This month will be altogether entirely too short, but the long seven days between each episode will be almost unbearably long. It is certainly a month we will never forget.

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat: Cultural Discoveries in LOST 6.12 by Pearson Moore

SL-LOST — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 14:16:19 +0000

There are no coincidences for those who risk all.

Libby will find Hurley. Even if others are sure her wild visions indicate dementia, stand as positive proof of a delusional mind, she will find Hurley. A timid woman would never summon the courage to face the man of her dreams, the constant of her memories. But Libby is not a timid woman. She will discover her destiny, and live it, regardless of what others may think.

Ilana risked all, and by force of character pushed aside the randomness of life. Her death was no coincidence, and has dire significance for everyone on the Island. Desmond risked all–for himself, for Penny, for the Island. Desmond risked all–for John Locke. Fortes fortuna adiuvat. He knew Locke was destined not for classroom and study hall, but for sandy shore and jungle trail.

Locke is going to the Island. Desmond Hume is going to get him there, even if he has to ram the man with his car to make it happen.

Caritas

The sixth season of LOST has launched a continuing series of human virtues: Love, Trust, Faith, Honesty, Hope, and now in this episode, Charity. The sideways reality has offered these virtues as potentialities, as credible, positive extensions of the personalities of the major characters.

We have seen in recent episodes that the sideways world is not always a fairy-tale, Brady-Bunch kind of place. Sayid lost his soul in the sideways spacetime just as surely as he did in the MIB’s camp on the Island. Sun, her abdomen torn apart by a ball of lead, may experience a more painful death in the sideways reality than any she might have experienced on the Island. The sideways zeitgeist is defined not by positive outcomes, but by potentials and tendencies. Regardless of the particulars of Jin’s situation, he seems always to live and work in the shadow of powerful and nefarious men. Off-Island, he is Mr. Paik’s chief thug. On-Island, he serves the Dark Lord himself, the MIB. No matter where Sayid finds himself, he cannot walk away or forget, even if he is free to do so; something in his character compels him to answer evil with evil.

But there are positive potentials and harmonious outcomes, too. Hurley’s capacity for good is greater than any of the other candidates’, and he was able to exercise the full range of his humanity in the sideways experience. To lesser degrees, Jack, Kate, Claire, Locke, and Richard have found sunshine in their worlds. This uplifting of the human spirit is something entirely foreign to the various factions on the Island. But just as these virtues are credible potentials in the sideways world, the message we can absorb and apply to our analysis of Island events is that every one of these virtues could be practised in the shadow of the statue. Nothing prevents those on the Island from trusting each other, from being honest, from extending themselves in acts of charity.

I take the exploration of virtue in Los Angeles to mean precisely this: The Island’s true destiny is to become a haven of harmony and humanity. Those who remain after the coming battles will exercise the complete repertoire of their virtues, and in doing this, they will bring to fulfillment the final and true destiny of the Island.

Destiny

Analysts here and at other websites make much of the essentiality of the characters. The characters are the essence of LOST, and their stories are the true foundation, the real story of LOST. The mythology, the conflicts of Mittelos, the entire plotline–all of it, some are now telling us–is secondary to the completion of character arcs. Some tell us–forcefully, sometimes in multiple articles in a single week–that character redemption is the final objective of these six years. LOST will end, not on the Island, but in Los Angeles. With or without the Ajira airplane, character consciousness and physical bodies will move away from the Island and into the sideways reality. The questions generated in the land of Mittelos may or may not be answered, but that has never been the point of LOST. The point is that everyone find her own destiny, and that destiny–at least according to these very well-known analysts–is to be found off-Island.

Imagine a man determined, from first light of dawn to the long red rays of setting sun, to hunt down and face a whale. Not just any whale, but Leviathan himself: the great white sperm whale, Moby Dick. Every paragraph, page after page, one long chapter following another, we learn of Ahab’s fascination, his obsession with the quest for this mighty adversary. His single-minded drive cannot be deterred by weather, material resources, mental fatigue, or human reason. One way or another, he is going to face that whale. Until, on page 674, he receives a letter from his ex-wife, Rachel. Come back to me, she says. Ahab thinks for a moment, over the course of a paragraph, and comes to realise defeating the beast of the seas would never bring completion to his life. “This whole quest thing has been a waste of my time. In fact, I’m going to have the pilot turn around right now. Why, we could be back home in less than two weeks. Back to my Rachel.” Ahab’s character arc is complete, and Melville finishes the novel. The End.

Or Romeo and Juliet. Romeo, facing the darkest agony of existence, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, walks to Juliet’s tomb. She’s dead, the messenger told him, poisoned by her own hand. He arrives at the tomb, wipes the tears away from bleary eyes, and sees–two friars. Why, it’s Friar Laurence and–Romeo frowns at the two boisterous friars playing cards. “Who is this with thee, good Father?” The two tonsured men look up from their game. “Ah, Romeo!” Friar Laurence says. “Tis my counterpart from days of yore, visiting here from Sherwood Forest: Friar Tuck.” The visiting friar lifts his frothy mug in greeting and takes a mighty gulp of ale. “Go on inside, young Romeo. Juliet sleeps. Tickle her toes; she’ll awake by and by.” Romeo wakes up Juliet, they escape their families and live happily ever after. The End.

Neither of these two scenarios could ever play out in novels of any merit. Ahab must confront Moby Dick. The character arcs of Romeo and Juliet cannot be separated from the House of Montague and the House of Capulet, nor even from the social constraints of Verona. Without the conflict of Montague and Capulet, without the level-headed prince to reveal the issue and set the terms, there is no tragedy for Romeo and Juliet, and there can be no Shakespearean play bearing their names.

LOST began on a mysterious Island. It will end on the Island. There is no redemption off-Island. If there is redemption, the harmonious fruition of incomplete souls will be achieved only in context. All stories have context, and the overwhelming context of this story has been the Island. If there is migration of consciousness, spirit, or body, it will be from sideways reality to the Island, and not in the reverse direction. Completion of character arcs is important, and in fact, essential. But these arcs are essential not in and of themselves, but rather, they find their necessity in service to the plot and completion of the story. The Island is the question, it is the source of conflict, and it will become the focus of final resolution. The Island is the story.

Ilana

She was Jacob’s hand-picked representative, Protector of Candidates. “You have to trust me. I’ve been training my whole life for this.” Indeed. She knew every square centimetre of the Temple. She knew every hill and dale, every stream, every secret of the Island. Was she over-confident? Did she not train in the proper handling of explosives?

The physical properties of kieselgur-embedded nitroglycerin are not at issue here. Ilana had more than adequate training, and the large measure of confidence she brought to every action was the product of her well-practiced familiarity with every nuance of the task. More importantly, her work for Jacob was far from having reached completion. With the Smoke Monster gaining a growing number of followers, with Widmore’s gang taking up residence on Hydra Island, with the destruction of the Temple, the Candidates had greater need of her protection than ever before.

There are no coincidences for those who risk all. Ilana took a risk in handling the dynamite, but the risk was no greater than that posed by invading the Temple at sunset or leading an expedition from Hydra Island to Jacob’s Island. More than anyone in Jack’s band, she had trained and knew exactly what she was doing. There could be no coincidences in her actions, because by force of will, practice, and experience, she was in command.

The explosion was not the result of over-confidence or lack of training or dearth of understanding. The explosion was entirely due to the rules of the Island and the expectations of relationship.

“The Island was done with her,” Ben said. Simple and to the point, Ben spoke a truth in which he had absolute certainty. “No sooner had she told you who you were, then she blew up.” It is not yet clear whether she broke any rules regarding disclosure of information to the Candidates. What is clear is that this was no accident and she was Jacob’s representative on the Island.

Many reasonable explanations might be offered in hopes of making sense of Ilana’s death. The one that most appeals to me is simple. “The Island was done with her.” Jacob was not done with Ilana, but the Island was. That is to say, the Island’s agenda is not Jacob’s agenda. Ilana’s death becomes yet another solid indication that Jacob does not have the Island’s best interests at heart.

Trust

I have to confess confusion over Hurley’s insistence that the group take a trip to the Smoke Monster’s camp. Hurley knows the MIB destroyed the Temple. He heard with his own ears Isabella’s warning that the Smoke Monster could never be allowed to leave the Island, and he took pains to relay this information to Richard, applying his own emphasis to the force of Isabella’s words. He may not be privy to the MIB’s implicit statement to Claire that she could kill Kate when the MIB was finished with her. He probably does not know that the Smoke Monster believes he has killed Desmond. He may not understand the great depths of the Smoke Monster’s evil intent. But he certainly must know the MIB is opposed to them in every way.

So why would he dream up a falsehood to lead Jack’s group to the Dark Lord’s camp? This is Hurley, the one who didn’t want to lie about those they left behind when they were the Oceanic Six. Hurley, man of truth and honesty. He is leading Jack’s team into what could be a death trap, and the only reason he provides is that he wants people to follow him.

The single, feeble rationale I can come up with centres on trust. Jack invoked the virtue when Hurley asked why Jack followed him, even after he realised Hurley was lying about Jacob’s instructions. “You asked me to trust you,” Jack told Hurley. “This is me, trusting you.” Trust has been a motif throughout Season Six. The strangest, most radical example of trust occurred this evening, when the MIB surrendered his sword (actually Locke’s hunting knife) to Hurley. Hurley certainly understood the handover carried nothing more than symbolic significance, for no one could prevent the Smoke Monster from taking on his eponymous form at any time. And yet Hurley extended his hand to accept the knife, symbolically accepting the MIB’s good intentions, and more importantly, placing some measure of trust in the Smoke Monster.

As soon as I saw the handover, I recalled a most powerful scene from one of my favourite movies, Excalibur.

Uryenes leads a majority faction opposed to “the boy-king” Arthur’s ascension to the throne. He has laid siege to the castle of one of Arthur’s supporters. Arthur, barely a squire, jumps from the castle wall and pulls Uryenes from his horse and into the water of the moat, where he commands Uryenes, at sword point, to swear allegiance to him. The magical sword, Excalibur, held firm to his neck, the knight refuses.

Uryenes: [scornfully] A noble knight swear faith to a squire?
Arthur: You’re right… I’m not yet a knight. [Hands Excalibur to Uyrenes and kneels] You, Uryenes, will make me a knight.
Merlin: [Alarmed] What’s this? What’s this?
Uryenes: [arms shaking, he hesitates and then touches Excalibur to Arthur's shoulder] In the name of God, St Michael and St George, I give you the right to bear arms and the power to mete justice.
Arthur: That duty I will solemnly obey, as knight and king.
Merlin: I never saw this.
Uryenes: Rise… King Arthur.
[Uryenes kneels before Arthur]

In both situations a younger man (Hurley or Arthur), apparently with nothing more than courage and a willingness to engage the enemy with respect and without violence, appeals to some common chord of humanity to open dialogue and establish a foundation of trust. The common chord between Arthur and Uryenes was their shared sense of decency, courage, and nobility of purpose.

If Hurley’s mission was intended as this season’s supreme example of trust, what is the foundation for this almost unthinkable act? Does Hurley believe his courage, his willingness to respect the Smoke Monster, will evoke from the MIB some measure of reciprocity sufficient to establish dialogue between equals? Does Hurley approach the Dark Lord from an attitude of submission, of inferiority? Does he approach from an attitude of virtuous plenty or moral superiority? Or does he bring only courage, hope, and trust? Most importantly, what was the common chord? What aspect of humanity could possibly have been shared in common between Saint Hugo and the Dark Lord?

I do not bear even the weakest speculation to account for Hurley’s strange but courageous act. I can only guess that this demonstration of his trusting nature may yet again be pointing to some higher purpose for Hurley, Jack, and any of the others who eventually release the Island from its long captivity.

Notes From Underground

The Book of the Week tonight was “Записки из подполья” (“Notes From Underground”), the only Dostoevsky novel I began but never finished. Thirty years ago it was one of the handful of novels I attempted in the original language. Only a few pages from the end, I could no longer continue reading. Well, to be honest, I threw the book across my dormitory room and never picked it up again. I was so completely disgusted with the behaviour of the Underground Man that I refused to read more.

Hurley focussed on two items from the now-deceased Ilana’s pile of belongings: Dostoevsky’s book, and the pouch containing Jacob’s ashes. We know of the power of the ashes. But anyone who has read “Записки из подполья” knows of the power of this book. Of the two items, which will become more useful to Hurley? By coming to understand the Underground Man, by knowing the completeness of his depravity, will Hurley find some way to overcome him? Perhaps the book will prove to be the most powerful weapon Jack and Hurley can harness in taking on the dark forces of the Island.

A Little Push

Desmond’s mission continued tonight. He knew well the ability of true love to transcend time and space. Last week he learned he was not alone in the ability to at least glimpse a reality and a truth that was unfettered by the normal constraints of physics and logic. Both Daniel and Charlie showed him that Truth was something even ordinary mortals could experience, and it allowed them, in their own limited way, to gain glimpses into their true destiny. The message last week was that the sideways reality does not contain the fullness of reality. Truth is to be found in the Island spacetime, and Desmond has taken upon himself the task of informing the major players from Flight 815 of their responsibilities on the Island. All Hurley needed was a little push. “Go with your gut,” Desmond told him, referring to Hurley’s hesitation over Libby. It was the only encouragement Hurley needed.

If we had any question about the extent of Desmond’s enlightenment, the good Dr. Linus showed up to prove that the Scottish Odysseus has become a most comfortable frequent flyer.

BEN: Do you have a child who goes here?
DESMOND: No, no, I was, um, uh, I just moved to the neighborhood and, um, and, uh, I’m looking for a school for my son.
BEN: What’s your son’s name?
DESMOND: Charlie.

The sideways Desmond, of course, has no children, no wife, and no way of knowing that in another life his son’s name is Charlie. But the Island consciousness has fully invaded sideways Desmond, and vice versa. I believe the intention of the brief dialogue between Ben and Desmond was precisely to demonstrate the fact that Desmond is fully enlightened–fully aware of all spacetimes–in both realities. I don’t believe the Island Desmond was unaware of the Smoke Monster’s true identity. Rather, I believe he was feigning ignorance so that the MIB would mistakenly believe he had power over Desmond. He even accepted the Smoke Monster’s proffered hand. It was not a sign of Desmond’s trust. It was a sign of his mastery of both timelines.

In the school parking lot Desmond had to put up with Ben’s insinuations of pedophilia. The cause was much greater than anything Ben could have imagined, and Desmond had no way of explaining the mission that brought him to the school. He could not even begin to explain that he had been carefully observing for many days the comings and goings of Ben’s wheelchair-bound colleague. How could he explain what he had to do, and why? Ben would have shouted for help, called the police.

For Hurley, emotion-guided Hurley, a woman’s lips touched gently to his own would suffice, for feeling her lips touch his would be the most intense emotional experience of his life. For Desmond, nothing less than several million Gauss of magnetic energy would be required to simulate the most intense experience of his life, when the Swan Station imploded, and he turned the failsafe key that sent him back in time.

The most gut-wrenching event in Locke’s life was the (nearly?) fatal fall from eight storeys.

Desmond knew of only one sure-fire way to stimulate Locke’s recollection of the Island reality. It would be painful. But perhaps one day Locke–or maybe even the Island–would thank him.

Extreme times call for extreme measures. The Island is days or even short hours from releasing to the world the most powerful evil it has ever known. The survival of everyone on the Island–possibly the survival of everyone on the planet–depends on the actions of a few individuals in these critical days. Humanity, the ability of human beings to trust each other, now has a chance. The most trusting man in the world now has a chance. Will he remember? Will he choose to accept the awful burden of responsibility? I trust we will find out very soon.

LOST Episode 6.13 – Sneak Peek #2

SL-LOST — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 02:01:09 +0000

Here’s a second clip from next week’s episode.

Terry O’Quinn Talks LOST, Golf and Acting

SL-LOST — Sun, 11 Apr 2010 17:51:55 +0000

Golf Digest‘s Matty G caught up with Terry O’Quinn a few weeks ago for a Q&A about LOST, golf (he’s a 10 handicap), travel habits and acting.

Here’s a short clip from the interview:

The full interview will be available at GolfDigest.com in a few weeks.

Emmys: Terry O’Quinn returns to the supporting-actor race

SL-LOST — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 11:22:18 +0000

Good news for Terry O’Quinn fans via the LA Times:

Among all of the “Lost” cliffhangers looming as the past Emmy champ as best drama series (2006) airs its final TV episodes, fans wonder: Will Terry O’Quinn (winner, supporting actor in a drama, 2007) return to the derby after bowing out last year? And, if so, will he go lead or supporting? His role as the demonic “Man in Black” during the show’s final season has been so prominent that he could certainly opt to jump up to the lead race.

But several months after Terry O’Quinn won in 2007, he told viewers of “The View” that he might not rejoin any Emmy race: “My view was that, when you win an Emmy for a role, you ought to be ineligible for it again – for a while – maybe for a year or two or maybe not at all – till you get another role.”

Apparently, O’Quinn now believes enough time has passed since his victory. He’s rejoining the derby – and going supporting. He told our forums moderator Chris “Boomer” Beachum that he’s going supporting because “all roles are supporting … whatever one calls them.”

Mirror, Mirror

SL-LOST — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 19:53:25 +0000

All the mirror scenes from Season 6 so far.

[Via Bamtan]

“LOST Parody: AVATAR” by the Fine Brothers

SL-LOST — Sun, 14 Mar 2010 22:34:47 +0000

John Locke returns to the Island, but is it Pandora?

[Via TheFineBros]

LOST Episode 6.06 “Sundown” Live Reaction/Recap Video

ajruck — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 16:28:14 +0000

This is my live reaction and recap video of episode 6 of season 6 of LOST, “Sundown,” which aired March 2, 2010 on ABC. This episode focused on Sayid’s life off the island in the flash sideways and gave us a deeper look into the life of the samurai guy at the temple. In the end, the man in black (Locke) convinces Sayid to join his side and insane dramatics ensue.

What did YOU think about this episode?

Leave your thoughts in the comments below and on my Twitter!

-Adam

First Look at John Locke Bobble Head

SL-LOST — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 00:06:27 +0000

Official description from Entertainment Earth:

Stoic, mystical Jonathan “John” Locke is presented in this fantastic bobble head. He stands 7-inches tall, is finely crafted of resin, and features superb detail that’s accurate to the hit Lost TV series and typical of the wobblers in this series!

Price: $12.99.

You can pre-order it here.

New Official LOST Video Podcast with Terry O’Quinn, Damon & Carlton

SL-LOST — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 11:20:03 +0000

[Via LylyFord]

Prime Candidate: Cultural Thoughts on LOST 6.04 “The Substitute”

SL-LOST — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 14:27:21 +0000

Prime Candidate:
Cultural Thoughts on LOST 6.04, “The Substitute”
by Pearson Moore

We know who he is. We know his history and we understand his motivations. The Prime Candidate was identified not only by name, but by number.

Carlton Cuse promised “illumination” in this episode, and he delivered: illuminated integers, a child glowing in the jungle, and brilliantly coloured themes of balance, strength, and humanity. “The Substitute” was a feast for the eyes and for the mind, and arguably the richest episode of the last six seasons.

Character Inversion

Episode Four continued the theme of instability, focusing on unexpected character inversions. Last week we saw Claire going through a very bad hair day, adopting many of the same jungle survival techniques innovated by her French predecessor sixteen years before. This week we experienced an inversion even more unexpected in the sudden emotional instability and physical frailty of the most consistently unmoved character of the series.

While the other Others wore dirty, dusty, grimy clothes and almost certainly had lice-infested hair and rotting teeth, Richard Alpert wore only immaculate, perfectly starched shirts and not a single hair was ever out of place. He could have modeled for GQ, Eddie Bauer, or Pepsodent. He was the Superman of the Banana Republic. Now he’s bloodied, unkempt, and disheveled. More than that: he’s lost his emotional and psychological bearings. Always cool to this point, even in the most dire circumstances, after coming face to face with Cerberus he seemed short steps away from complete derangement.

The change in Richard was more severe than anything we have so far seen in the other characters, and seemed to be qualitatively different as well. Jack was disoriented in sideways spacetime over the last three episodes, but he was not in a panic. Kate seemed distracted both on-Island and off, but for all her scurrying about and tracking wayward friends through the jungle, she appeared to be returning to the more confident footing of her first days on the Island.

Richard’s reaction to the Man in Black signaled a sense of immediate danger, consonant with Ilana’s feeling that they were confronting an enemy unlike any they have so far had to face. His warning to Sawyer was clear: Smokey intended to kill all of them.

The sideways versions of Hurley and Locke, on the other hand, seemed up to any challenge, virtually unphased by even the most stressful events. The extent of the change from the last five years was striking, but I found it within the bounds of acceptability for these characters. These changes again had the feel of something deeper, amounting to a shift not only in personality, but in the very character of the story. Hurley and Locke exhibited a kind of equilibrium in response to the slings and arrows coming their way, and that balance played out in one scene after another during the episode.

Balance

The predominant leitmotif tonight was balance.

The most important scenes were imbued with measured emotion and symbols of balance and equilibrium. The changes were not subtle. The writers confronted us from the very first scene with a different John Locke than any nuance of character we have seen in the past five years. When the chair lift became stuck, John made the impetuous decision to attempt a jump. That was an action we could have imagined the old John Locke taking, but what happened next was unforeseen: Locke, landing face first on the grass, pelted by lawn sprinklers, didn’t become upset. He laughed. Later, with his wife-to-be, he was at ease, confident of their strong relationship, appreciative of her attention yet not cloying as he had been in the past. This was a very new John Locke.

Just to be sure we understood the gravity of this change, Locke was faced with one of the most stressful of all life events, when his boss, Randy, fired him for lying about attending a conference in Australia. He did show some mild signs of being upset, but as in the earlier scene, he accepted his lot with emotional poise.

Hurley showed off a new emotional playbook, too. When Locke confronted him about parking his big yellow Hummer too close to his van, Hurley listened attentively and responded in a cool and reasonable manner. This was not the Hurley we’ve come to know over five years. Here was a man dans sa peau, sure of himself, and ready not only to listen, but to help. The altercation could have ended in a yelling match-and would have, in the mainline spacetime-but in sideways spacetime, the two parted as friends.

The balance between the two players, MIB and Jacob, provided the introduction to the scene in the cave. “Two players, two sides”; we’ve heard the phrase echo in our minds for six years. In any meaningful commentary on LOST, the invocation of the equal pairing of the Dark Player and the Light Player must be given centre position.

While the motif of Balance was central to this episode, I am going to argue that this is not a central motif of the series. Based on events over the last six episodes, I believe another theme carries stronger support, and I intend to demonstrate this support in the next several paragraphs.

I believe the intention in lifting Balance to the dominant theme of the episode was three-fold. First, it became a means of registering character change in a most memorable way. More importantly, it was the second in a series of virtues to which the characters are being held. Last week, trust was at issue. Four major characters-Jack, Sayid, Kate, and Claire-were thrown into situations in which trust became a vehicle for rapid cementing of relationships. The topic of the week tonight was balance.

The aspect of balance and trust that I believe will have greatest effect is in the preparation of certain characters for important work in coming episodes. As I noted in analyses of Episodes 6.01 to 6.03, I believe certain events could be interpreted as indicating instability or turbulence between the two spacetimes established by Faraday’s Boulder. The characters have been experiencing this as fleeting connections or overlaps between the two realities. The red mark on Jack’s neck, the sudden appearance and disappearance of Desmond to Jack on sideways Flight 815, Claire’s out-of-the-blue naming of Aaron in her womb, Kate’s feelings toward pregnant Claire, and so on, may be signs that the two streams will not long be separated, and will, probably at a time when no one is prepared, come crashing together again.

Some of the characters will herald the smashing of realities with activities banal. Juliet and Sawyer apparently will do nothing more than go Dutch on a coffee date, if we believe her last words to Sawyer indicate her crossover to the other reality. Other characters, I have to believe, are going to make full use of their new insights and strengths when they cross the spacetime barrier. Arming these characters now means they will be all the more formidable when they confront the final and most difficult challenges of the story.

Limitations on Cerberus

The Smoke Monster revealed himself to be hemmed in by more rules and limitations that I would have guessed in previous episodes. The twelve- or fourteen-year-old boy appearing in the jungle made a point of telling the MIB, “You can’t kill him,” probably referring to Sawyer. When Cerberus tripped and fell and shouted, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”, I had to wonder if he had begun to absorb some of Locke’s personality.

The spontaneous recitation of Locke’s catch phrase surprised me, but the dynamic of the scene was governed by this truth: Regardless of what happened to Jacob, the rules of the Island continued to apply in full force. Smokey, in ways he considered of utmost importance, had no more freedom now than he did before he kicked Jacob into the fire.

Ilana believed the Smoke Monster to be “stuck this way.” The MIB said he felt trapped, that he wanted to go home. In his response to the boy, and in tripping and falling, he seemed less mature than even the teenager he was chasing. Later, when he told Sawyer, “It’s just a damn island,” I thought of George Conway, the antagonist in James Hilton’s novel, Lost Horizon.

George saw the same miracles at Shangri-La that everyone else experienced, but he was ready at every turn to explain away even the most inexplicable of events. Thieves, prostitutes, and hardened criminals were changed for the better by Shangri-La, but not George. George refused to believe, and he came to despise everything about what he believed to be a false paradise. When, near the end of the story, he discovered the place really was heaven on earth, he charged off a cliff, killing himself rather than accepting a place in paradise.

I don’t know if the MIB shares George’s obstinance, but I am coming to think he suffers a kind of ignorance of the complete reality of the Island. It’s not just “a damn island.” The MIB is lying to Sawyer, or he has not the eyes to see what is clear to everyone else labouring to protect a unique and powerful place on Earth. Either way, the Smoke Monster is more like a boy than a man.

This strong reminder of the MIB’s limitations served to reinforce yet another aspect of his relationship to Jacob: For at least a couple of centuries, and probably for significantly longer than that, the two entities were in balance. This notion was confirmed by the symbol of the equally weighted scale at the entrance to the cave. The dark stone and the light stone had equal and opposite value. Since Smokey seemed to suffer many of the same restrictions now as he did when his opposite lived, I have to wonder just what he accomplished in killing Jacob. Was he kidding himself when he cast the light stone into the ocean? Did he really think he had any more freedom than before, when Jacob lived?

Illumination

The mysterious boy in the jungle glowed. The image of the boy flashed for only a split second, and it wasn’t really enough to make sense of the glow. The still image showed unusual details. The foliage around the boy was discoloured to a white or yellowish white. Bright light shone down on the boy from above, but this light didn’t account for the discoloured plant life in his immediate proximity. It’s as if the boy himself was radiating tremendous energy, wilting everything around him. Did power emanating from the boy cause others, like the MIB, to become weak, or trip them up so they could not stand in his presence?

Why was the boy running? Why were his hands and forearms covered in blood or red paint? Why was he free of the blood or paint when we saw him later? Who was the boy? Aaron? Jacob? A young Locke? Based on themes of the last several episodes, another possibility seems plausible, and I will discuss this shortly.

The numbers

Like the boy in the jungle, the numbers and names in the cave were also illuminated with bright light. This was the big mythological revelation of the evening, and I believe the numbers/names connection will have significance to the endgame as well. There have been several lists of names and several numbers, and I think a brief review will put the number/name connections into a more useful context.

The first list was the passenger manifest, and it allowed Hurley to determine that Ethan Rom was not on Flight 815. The next list was compiled at the beginning of Season Two by Ana Lucia’s group, and was comprised of those who were abducted by the Others.

The Tail Section Nine:

Eli

Jim

Emma

Zach

Nancy

four others, unnamed

We didn’t see a list again until near the end of Season Two, when one of Ben’s people wrote down four names.

Bea Klugh’s List:

Jack Shephard

Kate Austen

Hugo Reyes

James Ford

The list at the end of Season Four was significant.

The Oceanic Six:

Jack Shephardd

Kate Austen

Hugo Reyes

Sayid Jarrah

Sun-Hwa Kwon

Aaron Littleton

The fact that Jacob touched nine individuals carries great moment.

Jacob’s Nine:

Kate Austen

James Ford

Jack Shephard

Sayid Jarrah

Hugo Reyes

Sun-Hwa Kwon

Jin Kwon

John Locke

Benjamin Linus (just after Ben stabbed him)

And now we have the Cave Numbers and corresponding names.

Cave Numbers:

4 Locke

8 Reyes

15 Ford

16 Jarrah

23 Shephard

42 Kwon

In Season Three we learned “Shephard wasn’t even on Jacob’s list” (Episode 3.06), Kate wasn’t on the list because she was “flawed,” Sayid’s name was absent “because he is weak and frightened” and Locke’s name didn’t appear because “he is angry.” (3.12) Some of these statements didn’t make sense until Episode 5.16, when Ben indicated there was more than one list.

There are two nine-name lists and two six-name lists. It seems fair to assume that the list of abducted tailies has lesser significance than the other lists. Two of the people on that list, Emma and Zach, we now know to be safe in the Temple, and the other names have not been mentioned since the earliest days of the series. Since the two most vulnerable members of the list (the two children) were shown to be unharmed, I am going to assume their survival indicates the others on the list were likewise given places in the Temple.

The Nine

The Season Five finale began with Jacob twisting fibres into yarn, turning yarn into thread, and weaving thread into a tapestry. He was careful and deliberate, and his care was reflected in the meticulous preparations he made in weaving his way through time to touch nine individuals at precisely the correct instant to give them “a little push” toward the Island. His tapestry was a kind of record of his efforts, depicting the nine individuals he touched, connected by unbroken lines to the Eye of Horus at the top of the tapestry.

The Seven

Below the Nine in Jacob’s tapestry was a group of Seven human figures. While we have no list containing seven names, it seems possible that Jacob or some other name might be tacked onto a list of six to bring the number up to the required seven. I believe great meaning attaches to the number seven, and I have posted detailed analyses of its possible significance.

One possibility that bears some contemplation: The Cave Numbers prove seven players, not six. Number 42, Kwon, could represent the combined strength inherent in marriage. That is to say, perhaps number 42 represents both Sun and Jin. This would constitute a most intriguing culmination of the Seven.

Four names were shared among the Oceanic Six and the Cave Numbers. Kate and Aaron were absent from the Cave Numbers (though the name Littleton appeared, crossed out, on the cave ceiling), and Locke and Ford were not among the Oceanic Six. If the Oceanic Six have any mythological value, the “Substitute” of the episode title could be Kate or Aaron or both of them. Kate may be a replacement or substitute for Sawyer, if he dies or leaves the Island, and Aaron may be the replacement for the deceased John Locke.

The Candidate

I am not convinced that the MIB was telling the truth about the significance of the Cave Numbers, or that he understood their meaning. It seems clear the Island was not “just a damn island.” Also, the nature of the numbers and names, and the way they were recorded, seemed to contradict Cerberus’ statement that these were Jacob’s doing.

Jacob was careful, meticulous, and clean. He did not scrawl graffiti all over the inside of the statue. Except for his poorly supported idealism around the notion of “progress”, he seemed to have a mature outlook on life. I have more than a little difficulty accepting the idea that the haphazard scrawling of names on the ceiling of a cave is anything Jacob would have contemplated doing.

The names and numbers are of different sizes, sometimes different sized letters even within the same name. Some lines are dark, some are light and difficult to read. The lack of uniformity in size and darkness indicates an unpracticed and uncaring hand. Again, I don’t see Jacob being the agent behind this graffiti.

I don’t believe the Cave Numbers are the work of Jacob. I believe they are the work of an impatient, sometimes immature man, like the MIB. Or, they could be the result of an impatient youth-like the mysterious boy we saw twice in the jungle.

I believe the six Cave Numbers and names have greater significance than the MIB was willing to divulge. Or the Smoke Monster may not have known what the true significance of the Cave Numbers was. But I don’t think the Cave Numbers had anything to do with candidates for replacement of Jacob. We learned at the end of Season Five, several hours before Jacob’s death, that Frank Lapidus might have been a “candidate”. Ilana and Bram and their people were surprised to learn of Jacob’s death. Thus, it seems unlikely they would have considered Frank a valid candidate to replace a man they were certain was still alive. Frank may have been a candidate to replace Locke, or a candidate for joining their team, but not a substitute for Jacob. When the MIB talked with Sawyer in the cave, he said Sawyer was a candidate to replace Jacob. It seems likely the MIB was wrong, or he was lying.

The Prime Candidate

Only two names were shared among Bea’s List, the Oceanic Six, and the Cave Numbers: 8 Reyes and 23 Shephard. Of the six Cave Numbers, only one is a prime number: 23. Primes are significant if for no other reason than the fact that they cannot be evenly divided into smaller numbers. They stand on their own, as they are, indivisible. Jack Shephard is the indivisible, indispensable man. He is the Prime Candidate, destined for some as yet unknown but singular, monumental task on the Island which he alone will be able to execute. I believe his task may have been assigned not by Jacob, nor by the Man in Black, but rather by a force of destiny, by the Island itself or the Island’s rule maker, possibly as represented by the Boy On Fire.

Humanity

I don’t think six to ten key figures dropped ten thousand metres from the sky only to serve as police officers to enforce a centuries-old truce between equally opposed rival factions. I think their task carries much greater significance. I believe the essential message of the series is the ultimate goodness and practical efficacy of ideals, embodied in notions of culture or humanity, and expressed so far this season as two particular human virtues: Trust (6.03), and Balance (6.04). I think future episodes will highlight other important aspects of our common humanity, and that together these will be depicted as the true gifts of the Island, worthy of protection, even at the cost of certain of the characters’ lives.

A Strength sui generis

One man has so far been depicted as manifesting the full force of both Trust and Balance. Although Locke was not highlighted in last week’s episode, he is unquestionably the character who has been most trusting, even to the point of gullibility, and he is the one who has most suffered because of his repeated willingness to trust just about anyone.

In tonight’s episode, we saw a strength of character given over almost entirely to a single person. As I have stated in previous analyses, I believe John Locke’s infirmity has become a source of both physical and moral strength. There are historical precedents for men of character rising to overcome paralysis. In thousands of political cartoons in the 1930s, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was depicted as a man of great physical strength. Running faster than an airplane, boxing with Hitler and giving him a knock-out blow, shooting the rapids in a canoe, piloting the ship of state or the train of the economy, and so on. That the President of the United States could not move or even feel his legs and spent every day of his life in a wheelchair had no consequences for the country. That he rose above the most difficult challenges ever faced by a country made him arguably the most important leader of the twentieth century.

Locke wasn’t going to let a frozen chair lift stop him, and even when he landed face-first in the grass, he took the momentary setback in stride. By the time Rose gave her advice on accepting life as it was, Locke was ready to receive her wise counsel and apply it to the task of rising above. The task Rose gave Locke was one I would not have accepted. I taught high school for two years, but my assignment was in a French-speaking African country. When I came into a classroom the students rose to their feet in respect, as they did for any of the professors on the faculty. Teaching in an American high school is a whole different kettle of fish, and I have some experience in this role as well. It is not a challenge to be taken lightly. Yet Locke fulfilled his assigned task with poise and effectiveness.

The pivotal scene occurred in the bathroom, with his fiancée, Helen. Locke called Jack Shephard’s office, but decided not to talk with anyone, and hung up the phone. He told Helen, “I don’t want you to spend your life waiting for a miracle, because there’s no such thing.” Helen had the last word, because as she said, the miracle of her life was Locke. They had come to accept the limitations of their life together. They recognised these limitations as inconsequential to everything they would share, and everything Locke would achieve. They were not giving up hope in miracles. Rather, they were shifting their focus to tangible, achievable goals, like teaching girls to play basketball. In every one of their interactions during the course of the episode, Locke demonstrated unparalleled emotional balance. He exuded confidence, the willingness and ability to overcome. His disability was his source of strength.

The Substitute

Shangri-La, in Hilton’s masterpiece, Lost Horizon, is the place where miracles happen, but most of all, the place where the true nature of the world and the true nature of humanity can show through with full social and cultural ramifications. Shangri-La is heaven on earth. It is made possible by people of good will working together to make a society work for the good of all.

In Hilton’s novel, there was a Substitute, a replacement for the dying High Lama. That Substitute was the great Robert Conway. He was destined, years before fate and the High Lama pushed him across continents to arrive in Shangri-La, to become the leader of the perfect Tibetan community.

Robert Conway was the personification of the best aspects of our humanity. He was the leader tested in the outside world and then chosen to lead Shangri-La, becoming the Substitute.

Something like this may be occurring on the Island. But Lost is not a one-for-one recreation of Hilton’s Shangri-La, and I don’t think we can use the novel or Frank Capra’s cinematic masterpiece as an unerring guide in determining how the final chapters of the Island’s story will have to unfold.

The Candidate

For one thing, the structure of Lost Horizon did not impose a single antagonist as having a force equal to the High Lama in determining the fate of Shangri-La. George Conway was the antagonist to his brother’s ascension to the post of High Lama and he had no other major effect on the community. The structure of Lost is quite different, with Jacob and the MIB being portrayed as opposite and equal.

The Candidate could be Jacob’s Substitute, but this would achieve nothing more than continuity of the ongoing balanced struggle between the two immortals. It is possible that Jacob’s Substitute could rise above, asserting herself as unrivaled leader of the Island, but this would be a different role than the one formerly enjoyed by Jacob, and really seems beyond his position description. If the role changes, it would be open to a new player. The position could be occupied by anyone able to fill it, and it doesn’t seem to me inherent in anything we have learned so far that Jacob is the only possible candidate.

It seems if there is a Candidate, she will have to rise above the current stalemate, she’ll have to offer something more than simple reconciliation of opposing forces. If she is to become a Substitute, it is because she will substitute something greater than any force currently directing activities on the Island.

Infection, or On Being Clousseau

Erika (LongLiveLocke.com) claims not to have invented the term “Clousseau” to denote the Rousseau-like Claire of the Jungle, but I liked her use of the term. I like the name because it implies something a bit off kilter. I see the new mainline Claire as bringing up important questions about the nature of the Smoke Monster.

Dogen told Jack, “Your sister is infected.” Since Claire is behaving in a manner quite similar to Rousseau (setting traps, shooting at people she doesn’t like, and so on), the natural conclusion is that Rousseau herself was likewise infected. Since we have seen Claire with her dead father in Jacob’s cabin, and since the cabin was known to be under the control of someone other than Jacob, and since Christian has apparently been acting as the representative of the Smoke Monster (or Cerberus may have been taking Christian’s form), it seems possible that Rousseau’s infection was due to the Smoke Monster. Now I recognise the syllogism is tenuous, so I don’t claim Rousseau’s infection by the Smoke Monster is the only logical conclusion. But I think the possibility raises some level of valid concern that we may not know everything about the Smoke Monster necessary to understand his motivations or modes of action.

I write from a Tim Hortons in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. Seems more than appropriate to write about our Island from a place that in these parts of Canada is often called simply “The Island.”

Over the main counter in front of everyone is a 1.2 metre flat panel television monitor flashing advertisements. The most interesting one flashes the image of a steaming cup of coffee. A second or two later the cup is flanked on both sides by the word “true” on the left side and “love” on the right side. Coffee as true love. Well, it works. If you’ve ever had a cup of Tim Hortons, you’ll never go back to Starbucks. But then a second or two later the character of the advertisement changes in a radical way, completing shifting the meaning. Directly over the steaming cup the word “patriot” appears, and now the phrase crossing the monitor contains three words: True Patriot Love. It’s a quote from the Canadian National Anthem:

O Canada, Our home and native land,

True patriot love, in all thy sons command.

Suddenly, the command to drink Tim Hortons coffee is not an entreaty to express your true love, it is an invitation to express or enjoy the expression of patriotism, the love of country.

True Patriot Love is part of the Tim Hortons “A coffee all our own” campaign, possibly rolled out for the Vancouver Olympics. The campaign includes complex and subtly constructed television commercials that portray “true love” between husband and wife or parent and child, but have the underlying context of devotion to Canada.

I think something along these lines may be occurring in the Clousseau sequences. We understood Rousseau to have been saved from the clutches of Smokey. But her behaviour in the jungle, Claire’s emulation of that behaviour, and the strong possibility that Claire has fallen under the spell or complete control of Cerberus may call for a careful re-evaluation of any conclusions we believe we might reasonably be able to draw regarding the nature of the Smoke Monster.

In particular, I feel the possibility that the Smoke Monster is a force for good on the Island must be kept in mind. I have taken the position in some of my analyses that this is a useful conclusion that may help construct a more complete understanding of the final outcome of LOST. Regardless of any theorising we may wish to offer, though, I feel the events of this episode and those of 6.03 ought to be taken as indication of Smokey’s possible intentions for the common good.

Tonight’s episode was rich in revelation and meaning. I touched on only a few strands of the very complex proceedings, but I hope it was enough to stimulate thought and debate about the significance of events. I would write more, but my extra large double-double is empty, and I’ve finished all my Timbits, and even more important, the Island calls…

I’m going to get a cup of True Patriot Love for the road, and I’ll see you next week!

PM
Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island
February 17, 2010

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