Since my husband and I watch LOST episodes a couple of days behind the rest of the world (you could say we’re untethered from time!) I always feel behind the curve posting my thoughts and reflections. By the time I can get anything up, much wiser and creative minds than mine have already weighed in. And yet… it’s so much fun. I’ve so enjoyed thinking and conversing about this show, I can’t quite resist the opportunity to put my thoughts down one last time before we reach tomorrow night’s finale.
And yes, we will miss it, not watching it until probably around Tuesday night. I am pretty sure I am putting myself on a media blackout until then, including not checking Facebook (I know too many of our friends will post status updates with their reactions). It’s not unlike what I did when Deathly Hallows was published. I basically went offline the day before the book came out, taking special care to avoid any HP related websites for even longer beforehand, and I didn’t go back on until I’d finished the book. Once again, I find myself not wanting to be spoiled in any way.
D. and I keep talking about what we think will happen, what we hope will happen, what might happen. We’ve actually compiled a list of things we think the show’s writers need to do. We split the page in two, making separate lists for what needs to happen in Sideways world and what needs to happen in Island world. When you put the lists together, it all comes to about three dozen items, which sounds like a lot. But they do have a couple of hours (feature film length!) and we’ve agreed that some of these things don’t need to be given a whole lot of time, but could be hinted at. In fact, we figure some of them will need to be given that sort of treatment, given what’s left to accomplish to bring this amazing and convoluted story to a satisfying conclusion.
D. keeps joking that the writers have a dream assignment – they get to kill lots of characters off in heroic battle, and yet they also get to write them their happy ending (in sideways reality). I think he’s on to something there. Although most of my energy at this point is moving toward mining this story for grace moments and character transformation (and has been tending that way for a long time…see my earlier LOST posts) I do find myself still really intrigued by the whole conceit that has made this last season so interesting, the two branches of reality.
And that’s what I’m seeing them as right now – two branches, one tree (or river, whatever metaphor works best for you). The Jughead moment at the end of last season was far more crucial than ever we realized. “It worked” said Juliet, from the grave, and that’s a pretty amazing thing for them to have told us right off the bat. Our castaways, those who heard that news, couldn’t comprehend it. How could it “have worked” and yet “not worked” at the same time? For obviously there they were, still on island, still struggling with the same old stuff. I still don’t understand it myself, but the way I look at it now, when Juliet (the true heroine of this epic in many ways) detonated the bomb, the explosion seemed to accomplish the splitting of reality. Remember that our castaways were actually fugitives in a time in which they did not belong. So the explosion, on the one hand, jarred them from one record groove to another (to use yet another Daniel Faraday expression) and at the same time, shut down the 1970s reality and changed that timeline from that time forward, so that their plane accident never happened. Reality, for these people, moved in two directions, and we’re going to see those directions meet back up and merge.
But first there’s the matter of unfinished island business. I think one reason that my hubby and I feel confident the writers can pull off most of what they need to in the short time left is that really only two big things need to be accomplished (though in bits and pieces) in the two realities. I looked back over our lists and realized what they each boiled down to. In Island reality, we need to see a victory over Smokey. In Sideways world, we need to see resolution – major resolution within characters (as they become Island enlightened, their current stories merging with the stories/relationships/wisdom gained in their Island reality) and between characters. In fact, almost our whole Sideways list had to do with characters resolving relationships, or at least us being given glimpses that such resolution was on the way.
The victory over Smokey will not come without great cost. Desmond the “fail-safe” is going to be key (pun intended) as I think we all agree. But I think what will turn the tide for the side of right is the willingness of the characters to do whatever they need to in this battle. Choice has always been a big LOST theme, and it’s been shining like a lighthouse beacon lately.
Can I tell you how proud I was of Jack when he stepped up and said “I’ll do it” when Jacob finally came square on what he was asking the candidates to consider? My friend Erin talked about what a wonderful Frodo moment that was, and I loved that comparison, since I’m pretty sure Frodo’s “I will take the ring” would figure into one of my top ten most loved story moments of all time. And I certainly see the comparison. (I also liked her idea that the cave of light is going to be our “Mt. Doom.” Who might be our Gollum, hmm?)
But for me, Jack is so Harry right now. I think it’s partly because both Rowling and LOST are working out of post-modern frameworks, though Rowling’s single-author epic vision seems a lot more cohesive and thankfully a lot less monistic. But consider if you will, with your spello-taped Harry glasses on:
--Jack’s willingness to step up and meet his destiny, even though he has no clue if he’ll survive (and probably doubts he will)
--Jack’s growth from loner guy with a “saving people thing” complex to a man who understands his need for community and family
--Jack’s struggle to have faith, especially when not given complete (or fully honest) information from a mentor figure who has, at times, infuriatingly kept his distance
--Jack’s anger at Jacob for not telling him what Jack thought he needed to know and when (remember the Lighthouse smashup? That immediately called to mind Harry in Dumbledore’s office)
--Jack’s mentor being a wise and powerful yet flawed and broken man who has spent years trying to make up for past mistakes, hoping and praying he’ll find someone who will be the “better man” and be able to do what he can’t
--Jack’s walking away from “ordinary” love and life (in the Oceanic Six storyline, when he sabotaged the good relationship he had going with Kate) and realizing he has a destiny
--Jack constantly being looked to as the leader, and yet powerless in some situations and having to watch the people he loves die
Like Harry, I think Jack is going to have to be willing to sacrifice himself. My husband thinks that the cut on his neck – the one we’ve seen getting worse in Sideways world all season, the one Sideways-Jack doesn’t seem to have a clue about? – is the mark of the fatal wound he’ll receive from the ceremonial knife. He’s the island protector now, and that seems to be the only way a guardian of the island can die.
I think Jack will die, but like Harry, there’s protection in place, a safeguard, something that “tethers him to life” (to use the Rowling phrase) and in this case, it’s the reboot, along with the willingness of the other castaways to do what they need to do, especially Desmond.
In case you can’t tell, I’m loving that there’s not just one hero in this piece. The more we unpack what’s been going on, the more we’re “enlightened” as to the overall story, the more we see how crucial so many people’s actions have been. Jack and Desmond are our key players now (not surprising we lingered so long over their meeting, is it?) but so many others have played crucial roles. Juliet and Daniel, yes, but others too. Sayid, who gave the castaways one more day with his heroism. Ben, broken as they come, and yet I still think deep-down on the side of right, and conning Smokey right up to the finish. Even Kate, whom I know has not gotten a lot of fan-love, has been there at crucial times. Let’s not forget she saved Ben’s life in one reality. I’m also thinking especially of the many times she has been there when Jack, needing reassurance that whatever crazy thing he was about to do was the right thing (or at least that he wasn’t alone in doing it, even if it wasn’t) turned to her. How many times did Kate say “I’m with you,” or “I’ve always been with you” right at the crucial moment, looking him right in the eyes? I can’t help but want them to be soul-mates in the end, mostly because of that.
Oh and John Locke. Beautiful, real John Locke, flawed and lovable. John who wasn’t right about everything, who got played by the Smoke Monster (who seems to thrive on holding people in his thrall – I do so hope that in defeating him, the tortured soul of MIB, used all these years, will finally be able to rest in peace) but John who was right about more than anyone might have guessed. While it’s true that John’s own destiny was not as he wished, and that he made a lot of mistakes based on listening to the wrong voices, John’s simple and unwavering trust that life must have meaning and purpose (despite all evidence in his own life to the contrary) was a huge witness to Jack. It’s what got Jack back to the island, when all was said and done. And if Jack hadn’t gone back – no reboot, no Sideways world, no final battle with Smokey. So John too had his role to play, and I’m so glad that in Sideways world he and Jack can finally like and respect each other, and Jack can do something beautiful to help John heal.
I think it will be fascinating, when this whole story is over (except for the conversations!) to look back over the epic and pull out central pieces. In other words, to look back over the story and ask ourselves, what would it have been like if ______ had not been part of the story. Fill in the blank with the character of your choice! I think we will discover just how important they each were in the unfolding of events.
Ah…so much more I could say. So many questions I still have about the theological ramifications of all this (particularly pertaining to fate and free will and providence) and so many questions about how all this might play out. I find myself curious to know (and a bit worried) about the protection extended to the candidates. Does it vanish when Jacob does? Of course, if Jack gets to make? inherit but bend? the rules now, then I think it’s likely all his friends are still safe, because he’ll do anything to protect them. Yes, I know…I love Jack and it shows. I always have, and I’ve always resonated most profoundly with his struggles and journey, so I’m glad this has turned out to be more his story than anyone else’s – perhaps not too surprising given that our opening moments were literally seen through his opening eyes. (Has this whole story been about Jack’s eyes opening? I think I read that somewhere, and I love the thought.)
I am hoping that Jack will be like Harry in one other profound way too – that he will get his chance at ordinary life and love.
I’ll stop for now. And like I said, I’ll be tuning out a bit until I’m able to tune back in (hopefully unspoiled) a couple of days after the finale.
See you in another life, brotha.
Showing posts with label LOST. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LOST. Show all posts
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
LOST and Letting Go
Well, folks, we're in the homestretch. Only three episodes of LOST to go, counting the two-hour finale. By the end of this month, it'll be all over...except for the countless hours of talking we'll get to do about how it all ended.
"The Candidate," last week's episode of LOST, would have been emotionally wrenching any time, but given what I've been going through with my family in the past couple of weeks, it hit me at an especially vulnerable time. I confess I cried, and I don't often cry over television shows (the final episode of MASH being one major exception). But good storytelling is good storytelling, and I found the tears cathartic.
If you've been following my on-again/off-again LOST musings this season, you'll know that I found Doc Jensen's quotations from Flannery O'Connor a great springboard for some reflections on the show's creative artistry. I ended my last LOST ramble by saying that, thanks to Flannery, in these final weeks of the story I would be on the lookout for:
"mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity."
It was hard to keep those glasses on as I was bawling my way through the deaths of Sayid, Sun, Jin (and possibly Frank) but as I reflected in the calmer hours and days afterward, it hit me again what a terrific narrative lens those things provide.
Let's talk about Sayid. First of all, I found myself so relieved that he was back (albeit so briefly) really and truly back. "Sayid is himself again!" I said to my husband, almost in tears of relief, and of course that should have been my warning.
But we really did have a brief, shining moment when we looked in Sayid's eyes and saw the man we'd come to know...the flawed, broken, but loving man, not the zombie-man he'd turned into when stuck in the service of darkness. And in that moment, we saw the choice Sayid was making as he made it, the choice to die for his friends, and we honored him for it. What better way could we have seen the essential and indispensable qualities that Sayid was carrying with him into eternity as we saw him grab the bomb and make a dash for it, a soldier on a final, merciful mission, giving his comrades one more day and one more chance to defeat the darkness? Even his final instructions to Jack, letting him know about Desmond's whereabouts, were part of a loving act on the side of right and hope.
It's harder with Sun and Jin. There's a part of me that felt like raging "not again! It's just like Charlie!" Their deaths felt so unnecessary. After all they've been through and survived (remember Sun's dash through the jungle with Smokey in pursuit?) to see them defeated by the crush of metal furniture dislodged in a bomb blast, and a roar of rushing water, felt painfully unfair and prosaic. It felt, in fact, like a stupid, senseless casualty of war, which is what it was. And when Jack swam away with the unconscious Sawyer, you saw he knew it for what it was and that it grieved him to the heart.
And what a hard moment that had to be for Jack, the man we know best as a "fixer," the hero who likes to make everything all right and save everyone. He's been slowly, painfully learning that he can't always make everything better. But how difficult this must have been: Sayid just blown apart, Sawyer's life hanging in the balance and dependent on Jack getting him safely to the surface, and then Sun tragically pinned down, helpless. For a surgeon, it must have felt like triage on the battlefield. I suspect swimming away was one of the hardest things Jack ever did.
And yet...left to themselves, with the water pouring in, there were those invisible lines of spiritual motion there, and the grace of Sun and Jin holding onto each other in the final moments, after all those years apart. I will be forever thankful that LOST gave us the earlier scene, when Sun slipped Jin's wedding ring back on his finger, a sort of renewal of their vows to one another. One of the vows in my own wedding service contained the line "until we are parted by death" and it was the line that floated to the surface of my memory as I watched their hands loosen and come unclasped. Jensen, in his recap/commentary, seemed oddly disturbed by that image, angry at the writers for emphasizing their "apartness" after all the time the show took to bring them together again, but I found the image beautifully right. It reminded me, poignantly, weepingly, that the *only* thing that had the power to part these two people now was death. "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the flood waters drown it."
It also served as a poignant reminder that death is real. (Let's lay aside, for the moment, the fact that Sun and Jin, Sayid too, continue to exist in sideways world, in another dimension where they are themselves but not quite themselves, living their stories but not quite their stories, on a different trajectory.) As we experienced the very real deaths of Sun and Jin, characters we've come to love, we realized anew that it's very hard to "let go" -- of one another, of loved ones, of this earth that isn't our home but is a beautiful, broken and blessed place in which to sojourn.
The whole "letting go" theme was perfectly played in this episode, first in the image of Sun and Jin's hands, and then in the scene between Sideways John and Jack, in which they tentatively explored the theme of letting go of the things in life which hold us back from living fully. Jack, newly wise in this particular reality, seems to get that completely, and is just looking for the courage (and camaraderie) to go forward and do it as he knows he needs to do. John isn't quite there yet, but then John's always had a hard time letting go -- of good things, and of things that hold him back. He tends to be a wallower and needs some help getting unstuck.
Of course, the letting go theme has another dimension for us viewers too -- pretty soon we've got to let go of this fascinating story. I'm not quite ready to do that yet, so I'm glad we've got a couple more weeks before we have to.
"The Candidate," last week's episode of LOST, would have been emotionally wrenching any time, but given what I've been going through with my family in the past couple of weeks, it hit me at an especially vulnerable time. I confess I cried, and I don't often cry over television shows (the final episode of MASH being one major exception). But good storytelling is good storytelling, and I found the tears cathartic.
If you've been following my on-again/off-again LOST musings this season, you'll know that I found Doc Jensen's quotations from Flannery O'Connor a great springboard for some reflections on the show's creative artistry. I ended my last LOST ramble by saying that, thanks to Flannery, in these final weeks of the story I would be on the lookout for:
"mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity."
It was hard to keep those glasses on as I was bawling my way through the deaths of Sayid, Sun, Jin (and possibly Frank) but as I reflected in the calmer hours and days afterward, it hit me again what a terrific narrative lens those things provide.
Let's talk about Sayid. First of all, I found myself so relieved that he was back (albeit so briefly) really and truly back. "Sayid is himself again!" I said to my husband, almost in tears of relief, and of course that should have been my warning.
But we really did have a brief, shining moment when we looked in Sayid's eyes and saw the man we'd come to know...the flawed, broken, but loving man, not the zombie-man he'd turned into when stuck in the service of darkness. And in that moment, we saw the choice Sayid was making as he made it, the choice to die for his friends, and we honored him for it. What better way could we have seen the essential and indispensable qualities that Sayid was carrying with him into eternity as we saw him grab the bomb and make a dash for it, a soldier on a final, merciful mission, giving his comrades one more day and one more chance to defeat the darkness? Even his final instructions to Jack, letting him know about Desmond's whereabouts, were part of a loving act on the side of right and hope.
It's harder with Sun and Jin. There's a part of me that felt like raging "not again! It's just like Charlie!" Their deaths felt so unnecessary. After all they've been through and survived (remember Sun's dash through the jungle with Smokey in pursuit?) to see them defeated by the crush of metal furniture dislodged in a bomb blast, and a roar of rushing water, felt painfully unfair and prosaic. It felt, in fact, like a stupid, senseless casualty of war, which is what it was. And when Jack swam away with the unconscious Sawyer, you saw he knew it for what it was and that it grieved him to the heart.
And what a hard moment that had to be for Jack, the man we know best as a "fixer," the hero who likes to make everything all right and save everyone. He's been slowly, painfully learning that he can't always make everything better. But how difficult this must have been: Sayid just blown apart, Sawyer's life hanging in the balance and dependent on Jack getting him safely to the surface, and then Sun tragically pinned down, helpless. For a surgeon, it must have felt like triage on the battlefield. I suspect swimming away was one of the hardest things Jack ever did.
And yet...left to themselves, with the water pouring in, there were those invisible lines of spiritual motion there, and the grace of Sun and Jin holding onto each other in the final moments, after all those years apart. I will be forever thankful that LOST gave us the earlier scene, when Sun slipped Jin's wedding ring back on his finger, a sort of renewal of their vows to one another. One of the vows in my own wedding service contained the line "until we are parted by death" and it was the line that floated to the surface of my memory as I watched their hands loosen and come unclasped. Jensen, in his recap/commentary, seemed oddly disturbed by that image, angry at the writers for emphasizing their "apartness" after all the time the show took to bring them together again, but I found the image beautifully right. It reminded me, poignantly, weepingly, that the *only* thing that had the power to part these two people now was death. "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the flood waters drown it."
It also served as a poignant reminder that death is real. (Let's lay aside, for the moment, the fact that Sun and Jin, Sayid too, continue to exist in sideways world, in another dimension where they are themselves but not quite themselves, living their stories but not quite their stories, on a different trajectory.) As we experienced the very real deaths of Sun and Jin, characters we've come to love, we realized anew that it's very hard to "let go" -- of one another, of loved ones, of this earth that isn't our home but is a beautiful, broken and blessed place in which to sojourn.
The whole "letting go" theme was perfectly played in this episode, first in the image of Sun and Jin's hands, and then in the scene between Sideways John and Jack, in which they tentatively explored the theme of letting go of the things in life which hold us back from living fully. Jack, newly wise in this particular reality, seems to get that completely, and is just looking for the courage (and camaraderie) to go forward and do it as he knows he needs to do. John isn't quite there yet, but then John's always had a hard time letting go -- of good things, and of things that hold him back. He tends to be a wallower and needs some help getting unstuck.
Of course, the letting go theme has another dimension for us viewers too -- pretty soon we've got to let go of this fascinating story. I'm not quite ready to do that yet, so I'm glad we've got a couple more weeks before we have to.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
LOST in Thought
With LOST on a week-long hiatus this week, I find myself musing on the weeks just past and wondering (again!) just how they will manage to wrap up the sprawling epic of this show in just a mere five more hours. It's been a while since I've posted any LOST musings, but I thought I'd throw a few out there again for fun. But be warned, I'll be all over the map with these thoughts ~ perhaps because the non-linear nature of the storytelling has my popcorn-brain reeling. In a good way. I think.
I find myself caring again about the whole romantic triangle between Kate-Jack-Sawyer. I know that most people have been sick of this since...well, pretty much since it started. And I know it's gotten old at times, especially with Kate seeming to yo-yo back and forth in her heart's affections, not able to make up her mind. My husband and I are in agreement that LOST has not done nearly as well by its female characters as it has by its male, with the possible exception of Juliet's character arc, which impressed us. It looks like Juliet's role is mostly over, though I certainly wouldn't rule out seeing her again in the next five hours, at least in sideways world. (Does anyone else think it's still possible she could be Jack's ex? The writers have certainly been holding that secret close to their chests, and there aren't too many female characters left that it could be...and have the reveal make any sort of a dramatic splash.)
I also feel, like most people I suspect, that Sawyer and Juliet are right for each other. Deep down, they seem to be soul-mates in a show suddenly run amok with the idea of soul-mates. I don't know if sideways Sawyer and Kate, currently flirting at the police station, will have any cause to wind up at the hospital where so many of our castaways are currently congregating, but what if they do? And what if Juliet is Jack's ex and ends up there as well, maybe to pick up their son David, who is currently hanging out in the waiting room while his doctor Dad performs surgery on sideways John Locke? I'm just trying to imagine a scenario in which Sawyer and Juliet could run into either other. If she is his soul-mate/constant, then I'm guessing that Sawyer is in for a revelatory epiphany, the likes of which some of our other castaways have had when they've run into their other halves in sideways world. Note that, although sideways Sawyer and Kate clearly find one another attractive, they don't seem to be having major revelations yet -- though that could be because neither of them has suffered a major trauma (or kissed the other).
So that's one reason I'm intrigued by the whole Kate-Jack-Sawyer triangle again, because of what "true love" connections have come to mean in sideways world. And meanwhile, back in Island reality, the triangle has again become interesting, not so much because of its romantic overtones, but because at the moment Jack and Sawyer are pursuing such entirely different paths. Despite her inherent leadership qualities (and she's got em' in spades) Kate is still quite young, and still tends to follow the lead of others (or chase after them to tag along). So I think her ultimate heart allegiance may matter in the end, especially if it comes to her needing to decide whether to go with Sawyer or Jack. Will she fight or flee? Will she play a part in rescuing Jack from the clutches of Smokey? And will Sawyer and Jack, perhaps because of their mutual love for Kate, finally end up working together to accomplish...well, whatever it is they're supposed to accomplish, assuming they can agree on what that is?
Of course, some of my musings about Kate have been sparked by the fact that I've been listening to Patsy Cline a lot this week. I love her music and recently stumbled onto a nice tribute album done by several popular female vocalists. As I've been warbling my way through songs like "Why Can't He Be You" I find myself remembering that Patsy was the soundtrack for Kate's pre-island life. And I find myself wondering, if Kate was singing this song, would Jack be the he or the you?
********
Do Claire and Sayid still live?
Yes, I know they're still alive, in both realities, at the moment. But at least in island world, neither has been doing so well since coming under the throes of Smokey. Claire has clearly been mentally unstable for the better part of three years (small wonder, since she's been traipsing around the island in Smokey's wake that whole time, at least part of the time with him apparently masquerading as her long-lost father); Sayid has been acting like a zombie for most of season 6, and has seemingly been completely under Smokey's control that whole time, at least since his dip in the pool (if we can trust Sayid's crediting Smokey for that). Seriously folks, if we need any other evidence that Smokey is not a good guy, should Claire and Sayid leave us in any doubt? This is what happens to you when you become Smokey's friend, or when you owe him any sort of debt.
But last week, something happened with both Claire and Sayid that gave me at least momentary hope. Both of them showed signs of life. Small signs, yes, but signs that there are at least tiny flickers of the old Claire and Sayid left there somewhere, buried under all the darkness. Claire crumbled enough to listen to Kate and defy Smokey's will. Sayid, though we don't know for sure, seemed to defy Smokey's direct orders to kill Desmond. I don't know what this might mean for either character ultimately, but I was relieved to see even tiny morsels of possible redemption for either. I've missed the real Sayid this season particularly. I think Claire is as much a victim of bad writing as she is of Smokey, and I suspect the first may be harder to overcome, but we shall see.
*******
Doc Jensen's eleven-page recap last week had me reeling, as usual. I don't agree with all of his theories at this point, and I'm not sure even he knows which ones might turn out to be correct, but he's always fascinating. I especially love his literary insights into the show, and last week he tapped a great one when he talked about the resonance of Flannery O'Connor's work for this final season.
I was stunned when sideways Desmond, the only character who seems to be fully and consciously aware of both timelines/realities at the moment, mowed down wheelchair-bound John Locke in sideways world. Poor John. How many times have we mourned this man and the terrible things that have happened to him? Wherever your speculations might lead you as to why lovable Desmond, of all people, would do such a thing, it seems obvious that a big part of the reason was to try to bring Locke back to awareness of the island. Why it had to be such a major trauma, I don't know, unless Des knows more than we realize he knows. (Could he have posited that it might land Locke in the hospital, to be operated on by Jack? Did he want Ben to see it happen? Does he somehow think/hope/know that at least some of the sideways castaways can't be killed...maybe the ones who are already dead in island world? Remember Charlie's casual walk against the traffic a couple of weeks back...)
Anyway, Jensen didn't spend much time positing why Desmond did such a thing, at least from the point of view of "inside" the story. But from the point of view of why the writers might have made this move, he raised this fascinating insight from Flannery O'Connor's writing about her fiction, a point that strangely resonates with what Desmond seems to be trying to do in sideways reality:
"I suppose the reasons for the use of so much violence in modern fiction will differ with each writer who uses it, but in my own stories I have found that violence is strangely capable of returning my characters to reality and preparing them to accept their moment of grace. Their heads are so hard that almost nothing else will do the work. This idea, that reality is something to which we must be returned at considerable cost, is one which is seldom understood by the casual reader, but it is one which is implicit in the Christian view of the world." (Mystery and Manners, p. 112)
Wow. Now that's worth chewing on. It's also worth noting that, when you apply this quote to the artistry and story of LOST (no big stretch, is it? it really does seem to fit!) Desmond here seems to stand in for "the writer." He is essentially trying to alter people's stories, much as a writer alters a character's story by what she chooses to have that character go through. It dawns on me that Des has the knowledge of a sort of omniscient narrator right now. And he is acting as -- an ambassador? a wake-up call? -- to the people of sideways world with whom he has shared some life-altering experiences. He wants them to "return to reality" even if there is "considerable cost" involved. So part of the question for us, in LOST, becomes: what is reality for these castaways? And how much do we trust Desmond and what he's willing to do to return them to it?
The whole notion of non-gratuitous violence being utilized as a call to grace is a very O'Connor'ish theme. I keep her book Mystery and Manners on my writing desk at all times, so it was easy to look up the quote Jensen used. I was fascinated to see that it came within the larger context of her discussion of her much-read and oft-misunderstood short story "The Misfit." If you ever had to read one O'Connor story in Lit. 101, that was probably it, and more than likely it left you baffled, as it leaves most of us the first few times through. What she goes on to say about the story is very revealing, and also has some resonance (I think/hope) for LOST. I'm going to quote parts of it at length, from pgs. 112-114 (emphases mine)...
"I don't want to equate the Misfit with the devil. I prefer to think that, however unlikely this may seem, the old lady's gesture, like the mustard-seed, will grow to be a great crow-filled tree in the Misfit's heart, and will be enough of a pain to him there to turn him into the prophet he was meant to become. But that's another story.
This story has been called grotesque, but I prefer to call it literal. A good story is literal in the same sense that a child's drawing is literal. When a child draws, he doesn't intend to distort but to set down exactly what he sees, and as his gaze is direct, he sees the lines that create motion. Now the lines of motion that interest the writer are usually invisible. They are lines of spiritual motion. And in this story you should be on the lookout for such things as the action of grace in the Grandmother's soul, and not for the dead bodies.
We hear many complaints about the prevalence of violence in modern fiction, and it is always assumed that this violence is a bad thing and meant to be an end in itself. With the serious writer, violence is never an end to itself. It is the extreme situation that best reveals what we are essentially, and I believe these are times when writers are more interested in what we are essentially than in the tenor of our daily lives. Violence is a force which can be used for good or evil, and among other things taken by it is the kingdom of heaven. But regardless of what can be taken by it, the man in the violent situation reveals those qualities least dispensable in his personality, those qualities which are all he will have to take into eternity with him; and since the characters in this story are all on the verge of eternity, it is appropriate to think of what they take with them..." (Mystery and Manners, pp. 112-114)
I know that it's easier to see this in the literary work of one "serious" and Christian author than it is in a weekly television show written by multiple writers, some of whom may or may not be Christian. But I still think the overall quality of story-telling in LOST hints at this kind of artistry, and I'm thankful to Jensen for making the connection. It's given me a whole new way to approach these last five hours of the story, on the lookout, as it were, for mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity. Not a bad way to watch television.
I find myself caring again about the whole romantic triangle between Kate-Jack-Sawyer. I know that most people have been sick of this since...well, pretty much since it started. And I know it's gotten old at times, especially with Kate seeming to yo-yo back and forth in her heart's affections, not able to make up her mind. My husband and I are in agreement that LOST has not done nearly as well by its female characters as it has by its male, with the possible exception of Juliet's character arc, which impressed us. It looks like Juliet's role is mostly over, though I certainly wouldn't rule out seeing her again in the next five hours, at least in sideways world. (Does anyone else think it's still possible she could be Jack's ex? The writers have certainly been holding that secret close to their chests, and there aren't too many female characters left that it could be...and have the reveal make any sort of a dramatic splash.)
I also feel, like most people I suspect, that Sawyer and Juliet are right for each other. Deep down, they seem to be soul-mates in a show suddenly run amok with the idea of soul-mates. I don't know if sideways Sawyer and Kate, currently flirting at the police station, will have any cause to wind up at the hospital where so many of our castaways are currently congregating, but what if they do? And what if Juliet is Jack's ex and ends up there as well, maybe to pick up their son David, who is currently hanging out in the waiting room while his doctor Dad performs surgery on sideways John Locke? I'm just trying to imagine a scenario in which Sawyer and Juliet could run into either other. If she is his soul-mate/constant, then I'm guessing that Sawyer is in for a revelatory epiphany, the likes of which some of our other castaways have had when they've run into their other halves in sideways world. Note that, although sideways Sawyer and Kate clearly find one another attractive, they don't seem to be having major revelations yet -- though that could be because neither of them has suffered a major trauma (or kissed the other).
So that's one reason I'm intrigued by the whole Kate-Jack-Sawyer triangle again, because of what "true love" connections have come to mean in sideways world. And meanwhile, back in Island reality, the triangle has again become interesting, not so much because of its romantic overtones, but because at the moment Jack and Sawyer are pursuing such entirely different paths. Despite her inherent leadership qualities (and she's got em' in spades) Kate is still quite young, and still tends to follow the lead of others (or chase after them to tag along). So I think her ultimate heart allegiance may matter in the end, especially if it comes to her needing to decide whether to go with Sawyer or Jack. Will she fight or flee? Will she play a part in rescuing Jack from the clutches of Smokey? And will Sawyer and Jack, perhaps because of their mutual love for Kate, finally end up working together to accomplish...well, whatever it is they're supposed to accomplish, assuming they can agree on what that is?
Of course, some of my musings about Kate have been sparked by the fact that I've been listening to Patsy Cline a lot this week. I love her music and recently stumbled onto a nice tribute album done by several popular female vocalists. As I've been warbling my way through songs like "Why Can't He Be You" I find myself remembering that Patsy was the soundtrack for Kate's pre-island life. And I find myself wondering, if Kate was singing this song, would Jack be the he or the you?
********
Do Claire and Sayid still live?
Yes, I know they're still alive, in both realities, at the moment. But at least in island world, neither has been doing so well since coming under the throes of Smokey. Claire has clearly been mentally unstable for the better part of three years (small wonder, since she's been traipsing around the island in Smokey's wake that whole time, at least part of the time with him apparently masquerading as her long-lost father); Sayid has been acting like a zombie for most of season 6, and has seemingly been completely under Smokey's control that whole time, at least since his dip in the pool (if we can trust Sayid's crediting Smokey for that). Seriously folks, if we need any other evidence that Smokey is not a good guy, should Claire and Sayid leave us in any doubt? This is what happens to you when you become Smokey's friend, or when you owe him any sort of debt.
But last week, something happened with both Claire and Sayid that gave me at least momentary hope. Both of them showed signs of life. Small signs, yes, but signs that there are at least tiny flickers of the old Claire and Sayid left there somewhere, buried under all the darkness. Claire crumbled enough to listen to Kate and defy Smokey's will. Sayid, though we don't know for sure, seemed to defy Smokey's direct orders to kill Desmond. I don't know what this might mean for either character ultimately, but I was relieved to see even tiny morsels of possible redemption for either. I've missed the real Sayid this season particularly. I think Claire is as much a victim of bad writing as she is of Smokey, and I suspect the first may be harder to overcome, but we shall see.
*******
Doc Jensen's eleven-page recap last week had me reeling, as usual. I don't agree with all of his theories at this point, and I'm not sure even he knows which ones might turn out to be correct, but he's always fascinating. I especially love his literary insights into the show, and last week he tapped a great one when he talked about the resonance of Flannery O'Connor's work for this final season.
I was stunned when sideways Desmond, the only character who seems to be fully and consciously aware of both timelines/realities at the moment, mowed down wheelchair-bound John Locke in sideways world. Poor John. How many times have we mourned this man and the terrible things that have happened to him? Wherever your speculations might lead you as to why lovable Desmond, of all people, would do such a thing, it seems obvious that a big part of the reason was to try to bring Locke back to awareness of the island. Why it had to be such a major trauma, I don't know, unless Des knows more than we realize he knows. (Could he have posited that it might land Locke in the hospital, to be operated on by Jack? Did he want Ben to see it happen? Does he somehow think/hope/know that at least some of the sideways castaways can't be killed...maybe the ones who are already dead in island world? Remember Charlie's casual walk against the traffic a couple of weeks back...)
Anyway, Jensen didn't spend much time positing why Desmond did such a thing, at least from the point of view of "inside" the story. But from the point of view of why the writers might have made this move, he raised this fascinating insight from Flannery O'Connor's writing about her fiction, a point that strangely resonates with what Desmond seems to be trying to do in sideways reality:
"I suppose the reasons for the use of so much violence in modern fiction will differ with each writer who uses it, but in my own stories I have found that violence is strangely capable of returning my characters to reality and preparing them to accept their moment of grace. Their heads are so hard that almost nothing else will do the work. This idea, that reality is something to which we must be returned at considerable cost, is one which is seldom understood by the casual reader, but it is one which is implicit in the Christian view of the world." (Mystery and Manners, p. 112)
Wow. Now that's worth chewing on. It's also worth noting that, when you apply this quote to the artistry and story of LOST (no big stretch, is it? it really does seem to fit!) Desmond here seems to stand in for "the writer." He is essentially trying to alter people's stories, much as a writer alters a character's story by what she chooses to have that character go through. It dawns on me that Des has the knowledge of a sort of omniscient narrator right now. And he is acting as -- an ambassador? a wake-up call? -- to the people of sideways world with whom he has shared some life-altering experiences. He wants them to "return to reality" even if there is "considerable cost" involved. So part of the question for us, in LOST, becomes: what is reality for these castaways? And how much do we trust Desmond and what he's willing to do to return them to it?
The whole notion of non-gratuitous violence being utilized as a call to grace is a very O'Connor'ish theme. I keep her book Mystery and Manners on my writing desk at all times, so it was easy to look up the quote Jensen used. I was fascinated to see that it came within the larger context of her discussion of her much-read and oft-misunderstood short story "The Misfit." If you ever had to read one O'Connor story in Lit. 101, that was probably it, and more than likely it left you baffled, as it leaves most of us the first few times through. What she goes on to say about the story is very revealing, and also has some resonance (I think/hope) for LOST. I'm going to quote parts of it at length, from pgs. 112-114 (emphases mine)...
"I don't want to equate the Misfit
This story has been called grotesque, but I prefer to call it literal. A good story is literal in the same sense that a child's drawing is literal. When a child draws, he doesn't intend to distort but to set down exactly what he sees, and as his gaze is direct, he sees the lines that create motion. Now the lines of motion that interest the writer are usually invisible. They are lines of spiritual motion. And in this story you should be on the lookout for such things as the action of grace in the Grandmother's soul, and not for the dead bodies.
We hear many complaints about the prevalence of violence in modern fiction, and it is always assumed that this violence is a bad thing and meant to be an end in itself. With the serious writer, violence is never an end to itself. It is the extreme situation that best reveals what we are essentially, and I believe these are times when writers are more interested in what we are essentially than in the tenor of our daily lives. Violence is a force which can be used for good or evil, and among other things taken by it is the kingdom of heaven. But regardless of what can be taken by it, the man in the violent situation reveals those qualities least dispensable in his personality, those qualities which are all he will have to take into eternity with him; and since the characters in this story are all on the verge of eternity, it is appropriate to think of what they take with them..." (Mystery and Manners, pp. 112-114)
I know that it's easier to see this in the literary work of one "serious" and Christian author than it is in a weekly television show written by multiple writers, some of whom may or may not be Christian. But I still think the overall quality of story-telling in LOST hints at this kind of artistry, and I'm thankful to Jensen for making the connection. It's given me a whole new way to approach these last five hours of the story, on the lookout, as it were, for mustard-seed gestures, invisible lines of spiritual motion, the action of grace (no matter what the body count), and the revelation of essential and indispensable qualities in characters faced with violent situations who just may be on the verge of eternity. Not a bad way to watch television.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Amazing Grace and Benjamin Linus
"Maybe I am!" Harry bellowed, and he flung his arms over his head, hardly knowing whether he was trying to hold in his anger or protect himself from the weight of his own disillusionment. "Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!...I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in..."
~"The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore," Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Raise your hand if this passage flashed through your mind while you were watching "Dr. Linus" episode 6 of the final season of LOST. "Dr Linus," which wins my vote for the most gut-wrenching, tear-inducing episode of the entire series thus far, gave us three people, three followers/disciples of Jacob, who might have said words quite similar to Harry's in the nadir of their despair. Ilana was in tears much of the night; Richard was headed for the nearest bridge (or stick of dynamite) actually heading back to the place where we think he was once a slave (shades of John Newton's Amazing Grace anyone, in the slave ship references?). Jack didn't have that kind of Harry moment this week, but he had a big one in "The Lighthouse" when his angry mirror-smashing reminded me forcefully of young Harry smashing things all over Dumbledore's office.
And then of course, there was Ben.
Jacob is dead, killed at Ben Linus' hand, and no one who has followed Jacob -- or been touched by him -- seems to know what to do next. But in this episode a number of our castaways (now significantly a blend of castaways and others) seemed to take small fumbling steps out of the pit and toward the light -- or in the case of Ben Linus, a giant leap out of his own grave and into the arms of amazing grace.
Besides the brilliant writing that wove together the sideways plot with the island plot, I was just overjoyed to see the LOST writers take this leap, to offer such a damaged and broken character a real chance at forgiveness, love and acceptance. Ben has been one of the strangest, most convoluted characters on the show -- easy to pity, easy to fear, easy to hate, hard to love (well, at least for some of us!) and never, ever easy to trust.
So much I could write about here, but lots of folks have recapped the episode brilliantly already (check out Doc Jensen, Erin's Lost Reflections, or Arabella at the Hog's Head) so let me just pen a couple of quick reflections.
~First, how powerful was this picture of forgiveness? Ben was shackled, digging his own grave, literally on the brink of death. Ilana was about to kill him in vindication for the murder of Jacob, a man they both loved (but neither understands). Suddenly Smokey/Flocke appears from out of nowhere, offering Ben a chance at supposed freedom. He has enough power to literally unloose Ben from those shackles, but we quickly realize that a physical unchaining is not what Ben needs. If he takes Smocke's offer, he will only be exchanging physical bondage for far worse, ongoing (deepening) spiritual bondage. It's only when he hears Ilana's words of forgiveness and acceptance, later in the jungle (as he holds her at gunpoint and confesses his worst sins, and as she weeps) that Ben is truly freed. That's when the shackles fall, not from his ankles, but from his soul.
~Second, how long has Ben been on this path to redemption? I'm going to venture to say that some of the most important milestones on that path happened when he came face to face with evil. The unknitting of Ben's damaged and ravaged self got worse when he had a hand in Alex's death (a death for which he sought judgment) and the sweater of his soul really started unravelling after he killed Jacob, the supernatural mentor/father figure he has believed himself to be following and listening to for all these years. But when we *really* began to see Ben unhinge was when he faced Flocke in the temple, seeing Smokey for what he was (no matter the disguise he was wearing) and realizing, perhaps for the first time, that there was an evil force opposed to the good, opposed to Jacob and Jacob's side, and that such a terrible evil had manipulated Ben (himself the master manipulator) into doing something horrifying.
In other words, Ben was undone when he was truly faced by evil -- saw it for what it was -- and realized it was also within him.
Think about it. Twice now, before his second encounter last night with Flocke, we have seen Ben Linus face to face with evil: first when he recognized Smokey in the guise of Locke in the temple, and then when he saw Sayid turned murderer in the temple (how interesting that both encounters were in the temple). The look on his face when he saw Sayid was truly unnerving -- he looked like he might be physically sick. Why?
After all, Ben Linus has seen Sayid kill before. He's asked him to. Ben knows all about evil, doesn't he? Ben Linus has done awful things. He has murdered, he has manipulated, he has treated people terribly. In fact, one could argue that the two people he has treated the worst, of all the original castaways, are Locke and Sayid. More than once he attempted to murder John, and finally succeeded in that hotel room in LA. And he manipulated Sayid's grief for his own ends, playing on the worst characteristics of Sayid's nature and prompting Sayid to return to a life of violence that Sayid had been trying to escape.
But although Ben has done these terrible things, he hasn't seemed to realize how terrible they are. He has justified them in the name of good, or in the name of what he thought was good (I'm banking on the fact that much of what Ben has done in the name of Jacob were not things Jacob wanted him to do at all, and that Ben has been deceived and played by Smokey for years). It's only now, when looking into the face of evil, evil shown to him in the faces of two men he has manipulated and terribly wronged, that Ben comes face to face -- not only with the reality of evil, but with the reality of how far it has pervaded his own soul.
Small wonder he looked sick, abandoned, unhinged, and well...dare I say it?...lost.
But that's precisely where grace has a chance to reach us, isn't it? When we get to the end of who we are and realize that what's inside us is all twisted and wrong, when we're not even sure where to turn to for help (and convinced, perhaps, that no one good will ever "have us" -- for "who could ever love a beast?") then forgiveness or love has the chance to speak its word and pierces through the darkness. When Ben heard Ilana's words "I'll have you" he looked stunned, like a man caught in the headlights. And so he was, really, because the same light that showed him his worse self also showed him the only way out of the grave. Ilana spoke a word of grace, the kind of grace that God speaks into our lives. Charles Wesley understood that radical kind of grace when he wrote "And Can It Be" -- "My chains fell off, my heart set free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee."
~And could it be...that Ben's not through with his journey yet? Could it be possible that Ben might have love and grace to offer others ("he who has been forgiven much, loves much" says Jesus) perhaps even those whose lives he most seriously wounded? It may be too late for him to make any sort of restitution toward John (since the real Locke is dead) but could he have a part in liberating Sayid from his bondage to Smokey, if the real Sayid is still in there somewhere?
~"The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore," Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Raise your hand if this passage flashed through your mind while you were watching "Dr. Linus" episode 6 of the final season of LOST. "Dr Linus," which wins my vote for the most gut-wrenching, tear-inducing episode of the entire series thus far, gave us three people, three followers/disciples of Jacob, who might have said words quite similar to Harry's in the nadir of their despair. Ilana was in tears much of the night; Richard was headed for the nearest bridge (or stick of dynamite) actually heading back to the place where we think he was once a slave (shades of John Newton's Amazing Grace anyone, in the slave ship references?). Jack didn't have that kind of Harry moment this week, but he had a big one in "The Lighthouse" when his angry mirror-smashing reminded me forcefully of young Harry smashing things all over Dumbledore's office.
And then of course, there was Ben.
Jacob is dead, killed at Ben Linus' hand, and no one who has followed Jacob -- or been touched by him -- seems to know what to do next. But in this episode a number of our castaways (now significantly a blend of castaways and others) seemed to take small fumbling steps out of the pit and toward the light -- or in the case of Ben Linus, a giant leap out of his own grave and into the arms of amazing grace.
Besides the brilliant writing that wove together the sideways plot with the island plot, I was just overjoyed to see the LOST writers take this leap, to offer such a damaged and broken character a real chance at forgiveness, love and acceptance. Ben has been one of the strangest, most convoluted characters on the show -- easy to pity, easy to fear, easy to hate, hard to love (well, at least for some of us!) and never, ever easy to trust.
So much I could write about here, but lots of folks have recapped the episode brilliantly already (check out Doc Jensen, Erin's Lost Reflections, or Arabella at the Hog's Head) so let me just pen a couple of quick reflections.
~First, how powerful was this picture of forgiveness? Ben was shackled, digging his own grave, literally on the brink of death. Ilana was about to kill him in vindication for the murder of Jacob, a man they both loved (but neither understands). Suddenly Smokey/Flocke appears from out of nowhere, offering Ben a chance at supposed freedom. He has enough power to literally unloose Ben from those shackles, but we quickly realize that a physical unchaining is not what Ben needs. If he takes Smocke's offer, he will only be exchanging physical bondage for far worse, ongoing (deepening) spiritual bondage. It's only when he hears Ilana's words of forgiveness and acceptance, later in the jungle (as he holds her at gunpoint and confesses his worst sins, and as she weeps) that Ben is truly freed. That's when the shackles fall, not from his ankles, but from his soul.
~Second, how long has Ben been on this path to redemption? I'm going to venture to say that some of the most important milestones on that path happened when he came face to face with evil. The unknitting of Ben's damaged and ravaged self got worse when he had a hand in Alex's death (a death for which he sought judgment) and the sweater of his soul really started unravelling after he killed Jacob, the supernatural mentor/father figure he has believed himself to be following and listening to for all these years. But when we *really* began to see Ben unhinge was when he faced Flocke in the temple, seeing Smokey for what he was (no matter the disguise he was wearing) and realizing, perhaps for the first time, that there was an evil force opposed to the good, opposed to Jacob and Jacob's side, and that such a terrible evil had manipulated Ben (himself the master manipulator) into doing something horrifying.
In other words, Ben was undone when he was truly faced by evil -- saw it for what it was -- and realized it was also within him.
Think about it. Twice now, before his second encounter last night with Flocke, we have seen Ben Linus face to face with evil: first when he recognized Smokey in the guise of Locke in the temple, and then when he saw Sayid turned murderer in the temple (how interesting that both encounters were in the temple). The look on his face when he saw Sayid was truly unnerving -- he looked like he might be physically sick. Why?
After all, Ben Linus has seen Sayid kill before. He's asked him to. Ben knows all about evil, doesn't he? Ben Linus has done awful things. He has murdered, he has manipulated, he has treated people terribly. In fact, one could argue that the two people he has treated the worst, of all the original castaways, are Locke and Sayid. More than once he attempted to murder John, and finally succeeded in that hotel room in LA. And he manipulated Sayid's grief for his own ends, playing on the worst characteristics of Sayid's nature and prompting Sayid to return to a life of violence that Sayid had been trying to escape.
But although Ben has done these terrible things, he hasn't seemed to realize how terrible they are. He has justified them in the name of good, or in the name of what he thought was good (I'm banking on the fact that much of what Ben has done in the name of Jacob were not things Jacob wanted him to do at all, and that Ben has been deceived and played by Smokey for years). It's only now, when looking into the face of evil, evil shown to him in the faces of two men he has manipulated and terribly wronged, that Ben comes face to face -- not only with the reality of evil, but with the reality of how far it has pervaded his own soul.
Small wonder he looked sick, abandoned, unhinged, and well...dare I say it?...lost.
But that's precisely where grace has a chance to reach us, isn't it? When we get to the end of who we are and realize that what's inside us is all twisted and wrong, when we're not even sure where to turn to for help (and convinced, perhaps, that no one good will ever "have us" -- for "who could ever love a beast?") then forgiveness or love has the chance to speak its word and pierces through the darkness. When Ben heard Ilana's words "I'll have you" he looked stunned, like a man caught in the headlights. And so he was, really, because the same light that showed him his worse self also showed him the only way out of the grave. Ilana spoke a word of grace, the kind of grace that God speaks into our lives. Charles Wesley understood that radical kind of grace when he wrote "And Can It Be" -- "My chains fell off, my heart set free, I rose, went forth, and followed Thee."
~And could it be...that Ben's not through with his journey yet? Could it be possible that Ben might have love and grace to offer others ("he who has been forgiven much, loves much" says Jesus) perhaps even those whose lives he most seriously wounded? It may be too late for him to make any sort of restitution toward John (since the real Locke is dead) but could he have a part in liberating Sayid from his bondage to Smokey, if the real Sayid is still in there somewhere?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
More Musings (Alchemical and Other) on LOST
I can't seem to help myself...the more I watch LOST's final season, the more excited I'm getting about the ways it's using alchemical imagery.
If you've not watched last week's episode "The Substitute," don't read any further. Otherwise, let's forge ahead.
When my friend Erin saw my last post, and knew that I hadn't yet seen the latest episode, she left an enthusiastic comment to let me know that lots of albedo imagery was on the way. And boy, was she right.
"The Substitute" focuses on John Locke, one of my favorite Losties. We get three versions of John in this particular episode: island John (dead); island fake John (whose body has been taken over by Smokey); and sideways world John (broken and flawed but loved and somehow renewed).
Whatever the writers intend us to think about regarding the sideways story ~ is it a reality that might be? that is? that will be? that could be? that should be? ~I am loving it.
And part of the reason I'm loving it is because, oh happy day, the writers seemed to get the memo from so many of us who have enjoyed this show for five seasons. The mysteries are grand. The science-fiction and fantasy elements are intriguing. But the characters...the characters!...are what it's all about. They're why we care that any of the rest of it is happening.
Because I care deeply about these characters, I love seeing what their lives might look like if able to let go of their baggage, or at least begin to. What would a second chance at life look like for these people, especially if their island lives have taught them important life lessons? What if people could re-enter their own pasts with newly gained forgiveness and wisdom and hope?
Because alchemical literature majors in stories that deal with purification and transformation, such stories are rich in symbols that help reveal the purifying and transforming process. And LOST seems to be literally dripping with such symbols right now.
With John's story, we definitely seem to be in the albedo stage. Think, if you will, of just a few of the major images in "The Substitute." We see John:
~lying humbled, facedown, on his lawn, unable to move, drenched in the spray of his sprinkler system. Pre-island John would have bellowed in rage; sideways John just laughs, in an echo of how he laughed in wonder and lifted his face to the heavens when it poured rain on him on the island in season 1. I was so awash in the excitement of seeing the water imagery this time around that I almost missed that echo; both Erin and Dana (my hubby) more astute LOST-observers than I, picked it up right away.
~in a bath (a bath! how alchemical can we get!) discussing his wedding (a wedding! how alchemical can we get!)
~looking contemplatively in a mirror. Oh this you have to love. Doppelganger John, contemplating his mirrored reflection. Just as doppelganger Kate contemplated her's last week, and doppelganger Jack did the week before. Hats off to Doc Jensen, amazing pop culture critic, for noticing that we've had three sideways bathroom-mirror moments so far. LOST has always abounded in "seeing eye" imagery, and I love that mirrors are showing up everywhere in season 6. Mirrors are one of the most potent symbols of spiritual contemplation, hinting at the union of subject/object. More contraries resolved? We shall see.
But my favorite alchemical symbol last week turned out not to be one involving water, at least not directly (though we had to get there on a perilous trip down a cliff next to a crashing ocean). I almost shouted in glee when I saw the white rock and black rock on the scales. Yes, I know...we've seen white and black rocks before in this show, but never before had they seemed this pregnant with meaning, a meaning that goes far behind the simplistic dark=bad and light=good, though that's there too. The white rock reminded me forcefully of the philosopher's stone (and here we're at the albedo stage again, with the material washed and purified, ready for the red flushing of the rubedo).
The white rock also made me think of the white stone from Revelation 2:17. This is the stone given to those who conquer, a stone on which is written a "new name." Given the fact that the phrase "black rock" conjures for us images of the slave ship of the same name, which we've seen earlier on the show, it seems to me that the difference we're being shown here, between Jacob and Smokey, and the alternatives being presented to those who (like Sawyer) find themselves needing to choose allegiances, is between servitude and freedom. Or you might say between slavery to old, outmoded lies about themselves and the joy of knowing their true selves: loved, forgiven, redeemed.
And how much do I love that it's Sawyer most explicitly confronted with this choice right now? If there is one character on LOST we long to see embrace a new name, his true name (James Ford ~ is he fording a deep river?) it's Sawyer, whose very moniker reminds us constantly of his bondage to his past.
If you've not watched last week's episode "The Substitute," don't read any further. Otherwise, let's forge ahead.
When my friend Erin saw my last post, and knew that I hadn't yet seen the latest episode, she left an enthusiastic comment to let me know that lots of albedo imagery was on the way. And boy, was she right.
"The Substitute" focuses on John Locke, one of my favorite Losties. We get three versions of John in this particular episode: island John (dead); island fake John (whose body has been taken over by Smokey); and sideways world John (broken and flawed but loved and somehow renewed).
Whatever the writers intend us to think about regarding the sideways story ~ is it a reality that might be? that is? that will be? that could be? that should be? ~I am loving it.
And part of the reason I'm loving it is because, oh happy day, the writers seemed to get the memo from so many of us who have enjoyed this show for five seasons. The mysteries are grand. The science-fiction and fantasy elements are intriguing. But the characters...the characters!...are what it's all about. They're why we care that any of the rest of it is happening.
Because I care deeply about these characters, I love seeing what their lives might look like if able to let go of their baggage, or at least begin to. What would a second chance at life look like for these people, especially if their island lives have taught them important life lessons? What if people could re-enter their own pasts with newly gained forgiveness and wisdom and hope?
Because alchemical literature majors in stories that deal with purification and transformation, such stories are rich in symbols that help reveal the purifying and transforming process. And LOST seems to be literally dripping with such symbols right now.
With John's story, we definitely seem to be in the albedo stage. Think, if you will, of just a few of the major images in "The Substitute." We see John:
~lying humbled, facedown, on his lawn, unable to move, drenched in the spray of his sprinkler system. Pre-island John would have bellowed in rage; sideways John just laughs, in an echo of how he laughed in wonder and lifted his face to the heavens when it poured rain on him on the island in season 1. I was so awash in the excitement of seeing the water imagery this time around that I almost missed that echo; both Erin and Dana (my hubby) more astute LOST-observers than I, picked it up right away.
~in a bath (a bath! how alchemical can we get!) discussing his wedding (a wedding! how alchemical can we get!)
~looking contemplatively in a mirror. Oh this you have to love. Doppelganger John, contemplating his mirrored reflection. Just as doppelganger Kate contemplated her's last week, and doppelganger Jack did the week before. Hats off to Doc Jensen, amazing pop culture critic, for noticing that we've had three sideways bathroom-mirror moments so far. LOST has always abounded in "seeing eye" imagery, and I love that mirrors are showing up everywhere in season 6. Mirrors are one of the most potent symbols of spiritual contemplation, hinting at the union of subject/object. More contraries resolved? We shall see.
But my favorite alchemical symbol last week turned out not to be one involving water, at least not directly (though we had to get there on a perilous trip down a cliff next to a crashing ocean). I almost shouted in glee when I saw the white rock and black rock on the scales. Yes, I know...we've seen white and black rocks before in this show, but never before had they seemed this pregnant with meaning, a meaning that goes far behind the simplistic dark=bad and light=good, though that's there too. The white rock reminded me forcefully of the philosopher's stone (and here we're at the albedo stage again, with the material washed and purified, ready for the red flushing of the rubedo).
The white rock also made me think of the white stone from Revelation 2:17. This is the stone given to those who conquer, a stone on which is written a "new name." Given the fact that the phrase "black rock" conjures for us images of the slave ship of the same name, which we've seen earlier on the show, it seems to me that the difference we're being shown here, between Jacob and Smokey, and the alternatives being presented to those who (like Sawyer) find themselves needing to choose allegiances, is between servitude and freedom. Or you might say between slavery to old, outmoded lies about themselves and the joy of knowing their true selves: loved, forgiven, redeemed.
And how much do I love that it's Sawyer most explicitly confronted with this choice right now? If there is one character on LOST we long to see embrace a new name, his true name (James Ford ~ is he fording a deep river?) it's Sawyer, whose very moniker reminds us constantly of his bondage to his past.
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