So I just watched the final twelve minutes of LOST. As any true LOST aficionado will tell you, until you've watched any episode, or in this case scene, a dozen times it doesn't really count. I need to rewatch, obsess, dissect, make connections, rethink and otherwise waste a good chunk of my brain and my time to deal with what I just watched. Because that's what LOST meant to me for so long. It wasn't about the viewing, it was about everything that came after. Theories, ideas, angles, analyses, questions, some answers, but usually only leading to more questions.
I miss that about LOST! Now, if I watch any episodic TV it's just not the same experience. It's passive and transitory. But with LOST it was dynamic and thought-provoking and irritating and inspiring and enlightening and confusing. The epilogue was intended to do what LOST rarely did during its run -- give you answers, one right after another, so you can close the book on some lingering questions. Why were the Dharma drops continued, why were there polar bears on the island, what happened to Walt.
I didn't need any answers. I was so completely satisfied with the six years of unparalleled enjoyment that if the show left with some gaping holes, that was fine with me. I got out of the show what I wanted -- many (too many) hours of thinking about something that didn't have easy answers. A huge puzzle to put together. For this crossword puzzle/Sudoku fanatic, having a giant, interactive, multi-year, character-driven puzzle to mull over was heaven. That gathering in the church was all bitter, no sweet, for me. It was the end to a very long game I had enjoyed playing. The characters reached a resolution of their respective stories, and that may have offered a sense of completion or finality. But, as with finishing the NY Times puzzles, the feeling of satisfaction is immediately followed by a tinge of regret that the hunt is over.
Having said all that, the epilogue was redeemed for me in that split second when I heard that familiar voice from the backseat of the car say, "Dude." I felt a little like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, wanting to whisper to him, as she did to the Scarecrow, "I think I'll miss you most of all." Hurley was the heart and soul of LOST. Jack may have been the anchor, the key man in the story's arc, but Hurley was the audience surrogate in the show. He was as confused and yet as trusting of the ride as the rest of us throughout those six years. He was the ultimate good soldier and was rewarded with life beyond the last episode, his story to continue as most of the others concluded. It was good to hear him, good to see him, good to know that all his character went through was for a reason and that his faith (if not poor Locke's) was redeemed.
I've been a little preoccupied these last few months, and haven't written about much beyond a certain Texas singer and a certain reality TV show, but I hope to write about other singers and other shows while waiting for news and updates on the Casey James front.
Weezer has a new album out titled, not coincidentally, Hurley. I'll let you know what I think about that. And tomorrow Survivor comes back for Season 21! I've watched every episode of that show since Richard Hatch climbed into a tree and told the camera that they could write him the million dollar check right then. This year the theme is old versus young and while Survivor is a physical game, it will be interesting to see if wisdom carries more weight than brawn. According to some early reports, they will be tweaking the challenges to adjust for the physical differences, so the playing field should be level. The show is set this time in Nicaragua and starts with 20 contestants, including former football coach and current TV analyst Jimmy Johnson. But, as always, the true star of the show will be Jeff Probst's dimples.
Here's Jeff talking about some of the 20 contestants:
I'm leaning toward Tyrone or Chase so far, with Alina as the dark horse. Ten points to the first person who tells me why contestant Ben "Benry" Henry reminds me of LOST.