Spoilers to follow.
Last night, ABC’s “Lost” closed its doors. For six years, “Lost” has delighted and frustrated viewers with its utilization of philosophy, psychology, and ever-dense mythology. There have been brain teasers and impenetrable mysteries, murky motivations, metaphysical musings and usually more twists than several pretzel factories. It had a praiseworthy sense of ensemble-style character development, and compelling thematic underpinnings. Last night it took its final bow, wrapped up its characters and ultimately gave the last word on what “Lost” was all about.
So, what was “Lost” all about? For many, it was always about its heady (even labored) mysteries involving time-travel, ancient artifacts, modern technology, and in the end, the very essence of the elemental battle between good and evil. For them, I would imagine in no uncertain terms that last night’s series finale was a colossal disappointment: we got very few tangible answers to this season’s pressing “questions,” to say nothing of ones that have been backlogged in previous seasons. Last night, I’m sure there were a lot of people who wanted definitive statements about Jacob, The Man in Black, The Island, The statue, the mysterious light, the lighthouse, Jacob, Charles Widmore, the spirit of the island, and maybe more information on, say, Walt, the Dharma Initiative, the Others, etc. They never came. Yes, the finale was preciously low on spoon-fed, iron-clad irrefutable answers.
So what?
That may sound overly dismissive, and I don’t mean to belittle the efforts of viewers who became convinced over the six seasons of “Lost” that everything would tie together in a nice little ending complete with gift wrap and a fancy bow. I will say, however, that I see the lack of resolution in last night’s episode in regard to the “mysteries” of “Lost” to be quite a plus. I simply do not care too much about the questions left unanswered, because solved mysteries are inherently uninteresting. When they’re finally resolved, they become little more than finished crossword puzzles. At some point in the history of the show, I stopped caring too much about the vague riddles of “Lost,” because they were simply a way to get to the real meat-and-potatoes of any TV show: the character development and storytelling. It may seem a bit contradictory to champion a show’s sense of story while being content with scratching my head about elements of backstory. But backstory, however mysterious, is a vehicle to get to drama, and not the other way around.
To illustrate everything that the “Lost” finale got right, let’s look at a similar show’s closer, and think about everything it did wrong. When the final episode of “The X-Files” aired in 2002, the show’s producers resolved once and for all to settle the series’ convoluted mythology for its demanding (if dwindling) audience. And so the final installment, titled “The Truth” (to answer the series’ long-running tagline “the truth is out there”) was framed as a long-winded courtroom drama that explained, in excruciating detail, every little mysterious element that had plagued the series from the start. The result was a tedious exercise in showing your work: it was clear their intent was to prove how well the series’ mythology hung together when (a) it really didn’t and (b) it’s alright that it didn’t, but it’s not alright to waste viewers’ time with minutae. In an attempt to fill out its backstory, they had forgotten to tell A story. It was deeply unsatisfying, because it did not feel like an ending, but rather a bibliography directed by footnotes. By keeping its eye on the ball and focusing on character, “Lost” stepped right where “The X-Files” stumbled and died.
It is time we face something about serialized television. As a proponent of the medium, please understand that I mean the upmost respect when I state that quite plainly, it is always the result of improvisation. Plans change, people leave, ideas are re-drafted, things are refined. In the second season of “Lost” alone, several actors (who were undoubtedly going to play important parts of the mythology) had to be cut because they quit or were fired. It happens. Even the first season of the show, upon study, will probably be filled with elements that illustrate a lack of preparedness. And that’s okay. The job of any TV producer while working on a budding series is not to think out a backdrop to the smallest detail, or map out through character arcs, or a devise an inflexible five-year plan. Their job is to produce a compelling show that will get a second season. And then, after the longevity is secured, their job is to create something that finally hangs kinda together, while still providing room for spontaneity, character growth, and audience interest while running for six years, rather than moving lockstep in a rigid formula. Anyone who complains that “they made it up as they went,” is right. And that’s what they should have done anyway. That's the way TV works. Sorry.
In the end, the mythology of "Lost" does hang together, I think, although you have to accept a lot of things on faith, especially faith in the concept that ungiven information does not automatically equal “cop-out.” Of all the unanswered questions, I guess my biggest disappointment was truly the one that we kinda did get an answer for. “The light whirpool/cave: was that just a MacGuffin?” Yes, it was. Oh well. And I can live with that. It doesn’t matter, all that matters is the characters. If you disagree, then I’m sorry, but I feel “Lost’s” intentions to focus on character first were stated very fluently in the first season, where every episode featured character-centric flashbacks that showed what made them tick. Take it or leave it.
So, the characters. The great thing about television is its advantage over film, especially when it comes to long-form storytelling: when the writing is good, the characters, in some small way, become our friends. We care, and we want to know what happens. Few ensembles on the air right now are were as rich and well-drawn as “Lost,” so it’s probably only fitting that seeing where they all ended up was a draining experience. I had to wait and decompress before I decided what I truly thought. But the thinking is over, and I have to come down on the side of those that loved it. The running “flash-sideways” storyline was finally resolved, as every main character was reunited and became aware of the other timeline, and their own past histories. Much of the show's six-year thematic trajectory eventually boiled down to the battle between good and evil inside men’s souls; to see love redeem these characters in the next life once and for all was cathartic and moving.
Yes, the next life. As it turns out, the “flash-sideways” was not a parallel timeline, not an alternate universe, but a place outside of time, a place “made” by the Losties, once they had all died, to find each other again and move on together. [Important note: anyone who reports that, in the end, “they were dead the whole time” is w-r-o-n-g, plain and simple.] This idea, a neat twist that I did not see coming, could very easily have fallen into maudlin nonsense, or worse, a final turn of the screw to upset the fans. But the final scene, showing Jack fully aware and finally reunited with his friends was exceptionally done. It was nonsense, yes, but very persuasively executed.
At this point, I can’t write a final Lost wrap-up without discussing one man who has truly been the heart and soul of the series for six years: Michael Giacchino. The Oscar-winning composer, scoring every episode, has weaved over the past half-decade a fantastic tapestry of theme and leitmotiv that rivals the works of Williams’ “Star Wars” and Howard Shore’s “Lord of the Rings.” Working in concert with the terrific acting (especially of Matthew Fox and Michael Emerson) and writing, it helped make the finale not just a TV event, but an EVENT. The final scene, which brought home so many musical themes from the history of the show in incredible fashion, was downright magical. As Giacchino's "Oceanic 6" music slowly snaked into his "death and rebirth" theme, I got severe chills. The man's a genius.
I did have my issues with the way last night went: it felt a little padded at times, a little uncertain, and I regret the fact that season 6 ended the way it began: still a little unclear on the motivations of certain key characters. The final confrontation between the Man in Black and Jack was somehow both epic and a little anti-climactic. The drama of Kate, Sawyer and Ben perhaps not being able to make the last lift-off of the Ajira Airlanes planed piloted by Lapidus felt like a non-starter. And to be perfectly honest, I could have done with a taste more of what happened to the survivors. Before they died, of course.
But, like the best finales, it had so many perfect small moments that I can pretty much forgive anything. When I think of the “Lost” finale, I’ll remember the smile on John Locke’s face (the real Locke), his life finally fulfilled, and his final act of forgiveness. I’ll think of the quiet sadness of Ben, sitting on that little bench outside the church, somewhere in a special Purgatory, knowing he cannot join anyone until he is ready for redemption. The joy of Hurley, the most good-hearted person on the island, being entrusted with the wellspring of all that was good in the world. The sadness as Jack said goodbye to his friends, and the elation as she met them again. Richard’s discovery of his first grey hair, knowing that he can finally die. The sweetness of Sawyer finding Juliet, of Sayid finally reconnecting with his beloved Shannon, or Eloise Hawking’s sorrow at her son moving on to the next life before her. And, of course, the final conversation with Christian Shepherd, who throughout the series seemed to harbor dark secrets, and now finally reveals a bright one. All of these things will be downright polarizing to the viewership. But you know what? They worked for me.
At the end of all things, I want to say thank you. Thank you to ABC for green-lighting such a risky show, thank you to J.J. Abrams, Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse for creating it. Thank you to the viewers who gave it longevity, thank you to the tireless (and immensely talented) cast and crew that gave it life and purpose. It was bold and adventurous, and tried for big things. And I think it succeeded on its own terms, rather brilliantly.
Thank you, guys. I loved getting “Lost” with you.
See you in the next life, brotha.
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