As an initial reaction, I found the the final episode of Lost to be fantastic. In every sense of the word. The tearful reunions, the death of FLocke, the passage of the torch to Hurley. It was a satisfying conclusion that was well worth the wait. The final scene, with Jack’s eye closing and the plane flying away, was truly poetic.

However, the more I reflected on the episode, the more my enthusiasm began to wane. The part of the finale that focused on island events held up well enough (as long as I could get past the somewhat silly notion that turning off and on a magical light at the bottom of a cave was the key to humanity’s survival). It was exciting and rewarding to watch.

My real problem was with the flash-sideways universe. Superficially, it too was wonderful to watch. The reunions of all those characters, many of whom had died seasons ago, was touching and heartwarming — providing me with a sort of personal redemption for all the time and energy I had devoted to the show over the years. However, I eventually realized that I was being seduced by these mini-happy endings. As enjoyable, well-written and well-acted as they were, they were covering up serious flaws.

The entire flash-sideways universe turns out to be a microcosm of the main problem with Lost itself. It is not so much that there are so many mysteries that remain unanswered. It’s that what answers we have and what mysteries remain just don’t hold together well. There are internal contradictions, things that don’t make sense, and a lack of a basic framework to hold it all together.

Here are just a few of the questions that I find myself asking about what happened in the finale:

Why did this flash-sideways sort-of-purgatory exist at all? Is it a necessary passage for everyone who dies or just the people related to the island?

Why was the flash-sideways universe constructed to represent a better version of a world that sort-of might-have existed if Oceanic 815 had never crashed? Of all the possible sort of purgatories that one could imagine, why this one?

With almost all the characters in the flash-sideways universe having a much better time than they ever did in real life, why should they be in such a hurry to leave once they discover what is going on? [Okay, I know going to some sort of “heaven” must feel even better…but still.]

For that matter, the characters’ awakening seemed to depend on Desmond putting the wheels in motion. Desmond only did this after being awakened himself, apparently due to the “test” that Widmore gave him on the island. What if Widmore never gave that test? Would they all remain in the flash-sideways world forever? Or would they gradually awaken anyway?

[Speaking of Desmond’s test, why was it even necessary? If Desmond had failed the test, it’s not like there was a Plan B. Why wouldn’t Widmore trust Jacob’s advice and assume Desmond had the necessary power to survive the light?]

Further, why was it important that these flash-sideways characters be unaware of the true nature of their existence — until after Desmond begins his final quest? And why was the simple realization that they were dead all they needed to know to move on?

If Jack didn’t really have a son (as he was told in the episode), then what exactly was his imaginary son? All the other main characters were “real” now-dead people. What happens to the son and all the remaining people (including Ben) after our heroes leave? Does the flash-sideways world continue without them? Is Jack’s son suddenly an orphan? Does anyone remaining in purgatory wonder what happened to these people? Or is the purgatory world just rewritten as if they never existed?

[Speaking of Ben, I found his role in the finale to be disappointing. After having a grand performance the week before, where he kills Widmore and seems to become FLocke’s ally again, all of that is dropped in the finale as he largely fades into the background until he meekly emerges as Hurley’s #2.]

It also seemed a bit odd that the final gathering at the church was so focused on Jack. Everyone was waiting for Jack’s arrival — from people who died before Jack to people who died long after Jack. Why was Jack’s arrival the key event needed for everyone else? Why not Kate? Or Hurley? Or Sawyer? Was this Jack’s personal purgatory? Did the other characters have their own?

And what was Penny doing in the church? She was not one of the island people so important to Jack. In fact, Jack hardly knew her at all. Based on what Jack’s father explained, she didn’t seem to fit.

Worst of all, after all the build-up and promises, the sideways universe turns out to have nothing to do with the main story line. I had assumed that somehow the sideways universe was a consequence of the Jughead H-bomb blast at the end of season 5. But no. All that blast seemed to accomplish was to move the key characters from the 1970’s back to the present. The only real purpose of the whole flash-sideways universe appears to have been to offer a way for the producers to give us a quasi-happy ending.

Many of the answers to my questions are admittedly not critical to know. But, to me, if you’re going to build a fantasy world and ask us to invest in it for an entire season, you can at least put it in a context that is more than a set of arbitrary “rules” with no way to predict or understand why any rule is the way it is.

If pressed, I could come up with answers to some of the questions. But they would be ones that I made up, not necessarily the “true” ones. I know some will say that the answers don’t really matter — that there may in fact be no true answers. It’s all meant to remain a mystery and be open to different interpretations — that was the deliberate intent. It’s only the redemption of the characters that matters. I am willing to go with this idea up to a point — but the episode pushed too far beyond that point for me.

Finally, I confess to have trouble with the whole spiritual direction that Lost took this season. Had I known, back in seasons 1 and 2, that this was to be the ultimate answer to Lost’s mysteries, I might not have kept going. It did not seem to be where Lost was promising to go back then. I had expected a more science-fiction direction — and I am disappointed that this was not the case. But that’s just me.

Still, in then end, I’m glad I did stay around. Despite its flaws, Lost remains one of the most ambitious, intriguing, and thought-provoking series ever on television. I truly enjoyed the ride. We won’t see its likes again anytime soon — if ever. Aloha Lost — I’ll miss you.

The other day, on Twitter, I wrote: “I have officially given up hope that Lost’s final season will live up to my expectations.” I wrote this in reference to my reaction to the most recent episode: Ab Aeterno.

Some suggested that I should lower my expectations. Maybe I have set them too high. But this has been a special series and I believe high expectations are in order.

Several people wanted to know the basis of my negative reaction to an episode that they (and most other fans apparently) found to be one of the better ones of the season, if not of the whole series.

Okay. Here’s my answer.

First, a bit of clarification. I chose my words carefully in my tweet. I did not say that I thought it was a bad episode. In fact, I thought it was a good one overall and mostly enjoyed it (although I had a few quite specific objections, as I describe below in “The episode itself”). My overriding concern is what the episode appears to foretell about what is still to come. To me, if this is as good as it gets, I believe most large questions will never be answered. Perhaps it is unfair to burden this episode with so much weight. But that was my reaction when it was over.

Yes, this episode gave answers to a few lingering questions about the Lost mythology, especially as to the back story of Richard.

However, the answers too often seemed arbitrary and unsatisfying. In addition, too many related questions remain still unsolved. And, too often, what answers we got left new questions unanswered in their wake.

Perhaps the best example of this is the statue. We learn how the giant statue came to be broken (the Black Rock rammed into it). But we were also led to believe that the Black Rock was carried to the island by Jacob’s hand. If Jacob has the power to do this, shouldn’t he also have the power to make sure that the ship misses the statue (which is apparently his home)? Ultimately, I felt the producers/writers had no preconceived idea how the statue was destroyed. The Black Rock gave them an opportunity to invent an answer — even if it doesn’t make much sense and adds nothing to our overall understanding of the mythology.

Further, we still know almost nothing new about the statue itself. Why was it built in the first place? Who built it? Why have Jacob and MIB taken up residence there? What do all the hieroglyphics mean? Perhaps some of these answers will be forthcoming in future episodes. But I am increasingly doubtful.

Writers pulling a fast one?

I believe the writers have pulled a 3-card monte sleight of hand in this regard. While the current emphasis on Jacob and MIB is understandable (as it represents the end game of the story), this focus also affords the writers a chance cover up and ignore many significant mysteries — and hope you don’t notice.

To cite one huge example, I’d like to know more about the DHARMA Initiative. Was the arrival of the DHARMA group part of Jacob’s grand plan to bring people to the island? Or did they arrive independently? Why exactly did Ben and the Others find it necessary to kill virtually all the DHARMA people in the “purge”? What was the basis for the hostility between DHARMA and the “Others”? And who are the “Others” exactly? They must have all arrived on the island after the Black Rock incident. How did they continue as a group when all prior arrivals died (I am guessing Richard is the key here, but I’d like some confirming details). And what is the ultimate cause/purpose of the Other’s inability to have children?

For that matter, why is time travel (something discovered by the DHARMA people) a possibility on the island? How does that have anything to do what Jacob and MIB are up to? Who created the frozen donkey wheel in the first place? And why does it take you to Tunisia? Who exactly was continuing to drop DHARMA food on the island (long after the purge had taken place); how did these fliers appear to locate the island so easily as to come and go at will?

Why were the “Numbers” engraved on the Swan hatch? And most significantly: who ever thought that the whole idea of having to reset a counter every 108 minutes using an Apple II computer (or risk having the island, perhaps the entire world, destroyed) was anything but one of the stupidest ideas of all time? Why not invent a simpler more reliable method? Or just pull the fail-safe switch and be done with it? And the whole time that Desmond was entering the numbers on his own, Ben and the Others were roaming around on the island. Were they not aware of what might happen if Desmond happened to get sick and be unable to reset the counter? If not, why not? They seemed to have intimate knowledge of everything else DHARMA. If so, why did they not take any preventative action here?

Speaking of entering the numbers, we have learned that the reason that Flight 815 crashed is because Desmond experimented with not resetting the counter just as the plane was in the vicinity. We have also been led to believe that the people on the plane, especially the candidates, were brought to the island by Jacob. Are we to therefore assume that Jacob is somehow responsible for what Desmond did? If not, then was it just lucky for Jacob that Desmond did what he did? For that matter, how was it that all the latest candidates were on this same plane? Did Jacob manipulate this as well?

Speaking of the candidates, who is ultimately responsible for determining who they are? Jacob? Or some yet higher power? What are the criteria? Why is it necessary to have so many candidates to choose from? Can’t Jacob just figure out who the best choice will be? Was Jacob himself a former candidate and a replacement for someone else? Or is he the “first”?

Then there’s Charles Widmore. How did he know that a “war was coming” back in Season 4? For that matter, the entire season 4 was spent with the people on Widmore’s freighter trying to capture Ben. Ben no longer seems to be a goal for Widmore, as he now claims to want MIB/Locke. If so, what happened to shift Widmore’s attention? Also, given that the island disappeared at the end of Season 4, how has Widmore able to find it again? If it was this easy for him to refind, what was the point of moving the island in the first place?

Ben and Widmore in some ways appear to be mimicking Jacob and MIB. Both pairs are opposed to each other. Both pairs seem to be governed by “rules” that say they can’t kill each other. What exactly is this all about? And who set these rules in motion?

Similarly, what exactly determines the limits of Jacob’s and MIB’s powers? Why is it within Jacob’s power to grant immortality but not bring Isabella back to life? Why could MIB not kill Jacob, but Ben could?

Again, all of this seems so arbitrary. It reminds me of what I call the “Harry Potter cop-out.” As much as I liked the Harry Potter books, I more than once was irritated by plot twists that turned on the appearance of a new spell, one that could do exactly what was needed to save the day at that moment and yet had never before been mentioned in any of the books. How convenient to be able to invent a new spell whenever your heros are caught in a tight spot. As a literary device, I felt this was not playing fair with readers.

I feel the same way about the arbitrary solutions in Lost. How convenient that Jacob can grant immortality but not raise spirits from the dead. Convenient, but otherwise without any rhyme or reason.

Another part of my problem here is that the answers are drifting too much in a spiritual direction for my taste. I guess I am more a “man of science” than a “man of faith.” I am mostly okay with science fiction aspects of the show, such as time travel. But when it starts pointing towards concepts of heaven, hell and God as the ultimate answers, I get more than a bit queasy.

The episode itself

Beyond all that I have just written, I have some quite specific criticisms of the episode itself.

First up is Richard’s back story. It was too trite and corny. The whole business of a dying wife, Richard going to an insensitive doctor who rejects pleas of help, an “accidental” murder.” Been there, done that. I could see it all coming a mile away.

The worst of the story was the lovers’ reunion at the end. This is almost a direct rip-off of the movie Ghost, with Richard, Isabella and Hurley playing the roles of Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore and Whoopie Goldberg. Come on!

Actually, let’s pause at this business of Hurley talking to dead people. What is with this exactly? Does everyone in the afterlife have a direct line to Hurley? Are we really supposed to accept the idea that a woman who has been dead for about 150 years can somehow contact Hurley at just the appropriate critical moment? Are we, at a minimum, supposed to believe that such an afterlife is even a reality within the Lost universe? [Actually, I hold out some hope that this was not Isabella at all, but was in fact Jacob; we’ll see.]

Once again, answered questions too often raised even more new questions.

Jacob claims he keeps bringing new people to the island to prove to MIB that people are not bad by nature, that people are able to be redeemed. Why is it so important to Jacob that he prove this point to MIB, apparently at the cost of the lives of most of his “contestants”? Why should Jacob care what MIB believes on this matter? Will it change anything if he convinces MIB on this point?

If the Black Rock is an example of Jacob’s attempts to prove his point, why does Smokey almost immediately kill all but one of the survivors? How can people’s nature be established if they are dead? Was there some advance agreement between Jacob and MIB that Richard was to be the lone survivor in this latest move of their chess game?

Given how long Jacob and MIB have been at this game, why does Jacob appear surprised that MIB is attempting to kill him in this latest episode? Can this really be the first time MIB has tried this move?

Why does Jacob need to make Richard his “intermediary”? Couldn’t Jacob intervene directly if he chose? Or is this just another example of a hollow arbitrary explanation for how Richard came to have his role on the island?

This is hardly an exhaustive list, but enough to give you the idea.

Wrapping up

I have held on to hope that there is an overarching explanation for everything that has taken place on the island — a framework for the big puzzle that the individual pieces would eventually fit into. This hope is fading. I expect we will learn much more about Jacob and MIB in the weeks to come. And there will be some resolving perhaps even satisfying climax in the end. But that’s about it. This latest episode was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me in terms of hoping for much else. Perhaps I am wrong (I will happily admit my error if I am). But I doubt it.

The premiere of the final season of Lost finally arrives tomorrow. As a dedicated Lost fan, who has watched (often more than once) and analyzed every episode since Season 1, I can hardly wait. I am confident I will not be disappointed.

Still, thanks to Entertainment Weekly’s cover story on Lost this past week, I am compelled to revisit a long-standing complaint. In the article, the producers of Lost (Cuse and Lindelof) are asked “Just how many of our questions are going to get answered anyway?” The producers response is essentially one they have given before: “There are so many many questions that people probably have that we just can’t address.” They continue with their Star War’s “midichlorian” analogy, citing that some questions are impossible to answer anyway, without raising more questions, ultimately leaning to “overexplained lameness.”

Let me be clear. This is all just a copout.

Their excuse might pass muster for some minor mysteries. Given the wealth of questions that have come up over the five seasons of Lost (here is a fairly complete list of the questions), I know there are too many to expect all of them to be answered. But there are major ones that, in my view, demand an answer — at least if the series is to have a satisfying conclusion. One key question, for example, surrounds the meaning of the “numbers.”

I first commented on this in a Lostpedia blog entry last year, after the producers initially warned us of their intent. Sadly, it is just as applicable now as it was then. Here is what I wrote:

< < "I just finished reading Damon Lindef's statement regarding The Numbers (where they imply that there may never be a full, or even any, explanation as to the significance of the 4 8 15 16 23 42 numbers). I was more than disappointed. I believe his statement that 'We call it the midi-chlorian debate, because at a certain point, explaining something mystical demystifies it,' is mainly a cop-out. In Star Wars, there was never any mystery surrounding the origins of the Force. It was accepted as part of the Star Wars universe, in the same way that the possibility of time travel is accepted in the Lost universe, without need of a detailed explanation. The Force was never raised as a mystery to be solved in Star Wars. The Numbers are quite different. They were the focus of major plot mysteries in season 1 and into season 2. Why were those particular numbers selected to be entered every 108 minutes? Would it have mattered if different numbers were entered? Could it have worked with 107 minutes? Why was Hurley so involved with the Numbers and not any one else? There are secondary related questions as well: Why maintain such an important function (typing in the numbers) via a system that is so prone to possible human failure? Why weren't the Others checking in at the Swan? Did they really just assume that Desmond would never fail to reset the switch? Why not just press the fail safe button in the first place and avoid all the hassle of entering the numbers (I believe I know the answer that but I'd still like to see it answered officially)? Why was the system needed at all? Presumably there was no such system before the Dharma people arrived; how and when did the need for it arrive? And so on and so on. Even if we assume that the meaning of the Numbers has to do with the Valenzetti Equation (as suggested in Lost material that appeared online but never clearly in the canon of the show itself), it still doesn't answer any of these other questions. For me, to dismiss the answers to such questions as of 'no interest whatsoever' is simply saying: 'We screwed up. We didn't have a good explanation when we went down this road. And now, rather than coming up with one, we're going simply say it doesn't matter." >>

To some extent, what Cuse and Lindelof are suggesting is like a murder mystery where the victim is killed in some apparently impossible way. In the end, we learn who the murderer is, but we are never told how the murderer pulled it off. Instead, we are told that this ultimately doesn’t really matter. Bull! This is unfair to the reader. Just as Lost similarly appears intent on being unfair to the viewer.

The final season of Lost will be spectacular anyway. It’s just that I had hoped that the writers and producers really knew what they were doing when they introduced these mysteries over the years. And we would at last get the answers this season.

I know we will get answers to at least some of the major mysteries. I can only hope this will be sufficient.

Enough complaints. It’s time to get ready to sit back and enjoy the ride. Here we go…

So I’ve watched the season thus far of V. It’s been good enough to keep my interest — and keep me returning for the next episode. But I fear this will not last too much longer.

Why? Because the concept behind V is much better suited to a mini-series (as was the original show upon which the series is based; although it too was expanded into a one-season series the next year) than a multi-season series with an unknown end point.

Essentially, the plot boils down to answering two main questions: “What are the aliens really up to?” and “When will the majority of humans figure out what’s going on and fight back?” It’s hard to imagine how you can drag out these answers for more than one or (at most) two seasons. I see the writers trying here; in the last episode (until next March), the heroes argued why it wouldn’t be wise to simply expose the aliens just yet. I wasn’t convinced.

There are also some plot points that stretch my credulity (such as inter-species romantic love and a human pregnant from an alien). My knowledge of biology and evolution suggests that this has a zero probability. But that’s another story.

If the people behind V keep trying to stretch things out (as they apparently intend to do), they risk the dreaded “X-Files” disease. This is when the answers to the central conspiracy/mystery of a series are artificially delayed, so as to keep the series going for as long as it remains popular. After awhile, viewers get annoyed at how contrived everything becomes, how the plot never seems to advance (despite teasers suggesting that something will actually happen). Viewers ultimately abandon the series because they just don’t care anymore. Or at least don’t care to wait anymore.

That’s what happened to The X-Files in its later seasons. And this was exactly what was in danger of happening to Lost, until the third season, when the producers got ABC to agree to set the sixth season as the final one for the series. With a known end point, the producers/writers could now map out the plot without having to worry about “What if we need to make the series last a seventh season?; We can’t afford to reveal too much.” After this decision was made, Lost quickly evolved to become one of the greatest most compelling series in television history. I am counting the minutes until the final season begins on February 2, 2010.

Flash Forward, another new series this year, has so far done a much better job of handling this balancing act. I feel mostly satisfied that events are progressing, even though the fate of the series (in terms of how many seasons it may last) is still unknown. And, from what I have read, major questions will indeed be answered before Season 1 is over.

V, in contrast, has been unable to figure this out. Given the limits of the plot, it may be an impossible task. Still, unless it figures something out, I predict the series will burn out before the first season is over. I give it low odds of surviving to a second season and near-zero odds of a third.