Amateur Lost deconstruction: The futile search for unreachable answers

Now featuring more verbosity and less insight

On the brink of Season 4, Episode 3 (and the unveiling of another member of the Oceanic Six): Five questions that came out of Episode 2.

1. Who does Matthew Abaddon work for?
A couple things to consider here.
First off, the bearded helicopter pilot (Frank Lapidus) was well-versed in the flight manifest of Oceanic 815. He knew that Juliet wasn’t on it, deducing “she must be one of the natives.” The very fact that he knows natives exist leads us to believe that he must have learned this from Abaddon (aka Lt. Daniels aka Lance Reddick). And the only way I can think of that Abaddon would know about the natives is if he had a Dharma connection (making him aware of Ben’s earlier actions in The Purge).
Based on this evidence, I would guess that Abaddon works for Dharma.
Then again, Naomi somehow knew about Desmond and Penny, which would indicate a Widmore connection.

2. Is the whole “Miles as ghostbuster” angle a turnoff?
This falls into the category of general Lost preferences. I have to say I am one of those people who think the sci-fi quotient has been upped just a little too much. I realize that watching this show takes some sort of suspension of disbelief, but I would like to think that it is at least mostly grounded in reality. I guess what I am saying is that I can handle the on-island craziness: everything from ghosts and monsters to mysterious whispers and disappearing edifices. But when the fantasy extends off the island, I find myself rolling my eyes. And I put the Miles flashback into the category with Claire’s psychic and Walt’s bird episode — I feel like I might was well be watching Battlestar Galactica.

3. What is with the Dharma polar bear in Tunisia?
A popular theory is that the polar bear is evidence of time travel within the show. I, however, choose to view it as simple proof that Dharma has other projects going on around the world in addition to the island experiment. I would cite the time the girls in the Looking Glass hatch were told by Ben that Patchy was on assignment in Canada — they didn’t seem surprised to know that Dharma had other interests in other places.

4. Who is Ben’s man on the boat?
All signs point to Michael. After all, Ben was the one who sent him off on the boat (with Walt) to begin with. And we haven’t seen him since. Who is to say Ben didn’t somehow con him into working for him. Also, Harold Perrineau’s name is in the opening credits for some reason or another, and he is the actor who plays Michael.
Other speculation mentions Ben’s childhood friend Annie as a possibility. I have not doubt that we will see her again (in grown-up form), but not for this.
What’s with the plane wreckage? Its been theorized for a long time that fake wreckage was planted.

5. Who was Ms. Gardner’s murdered grandson?
The Lost creators rarely do anything by accident. And in the flashback scene where Miles is connecting with a murdered boy, the camera focuses on one particular photo for quite a while. After further review, it looks an awful lot like the same person who played the younger version of Mr. Eko. If that is indeed the case, I have no smart explanation for the time frame or why Eko was in Inglewood, California. Just more for us to be confused about. Awesome.

Runner-up questions:
Why were Ben and Locke so surprised that Hurley had seen Jacob’s cabin?
Why was Daniel Farraday crying?
Does Ben really know about the black smoke monster?

On Blogular Nomenclature

If by serendipity someone happens to stumble upon this page, assuming they are not a student of narrative nonfiction, they will probably wonder about the name.
Here is my best attempt to explain it.
"Frank Sinatra Has a Cold" is the title of a a Gay Talese profile of Old Blue Eyes, published in the April 1966 issue of Esquire. It is, quite simply, the work of a writing genius performing at his peak.
I will do my best to summarize what you will find on the article's Wikipedia page.
After writing for quite a while at the New York Times, Talese grew dissatisfied with the limitations and boundaries of newspaper writing, and decided to pursue the magazine-writing life. He signed a six-story contract with Esquire (a one year deal, giving him ample time to delve into each subject). His first assignment was to write an in-depth profile of someone who had turned down interview requests for years, someone shrouded in both fame and secrecy: Frank Sinatra.
As was to be expected, Sinatra did not want to be interviewed. Despite repeated advances by Talese, Sinatra would have no part of it.
Instead of giving up or asking for a new assignment, however, Talese went ahead with the piece the way it probably should have been approached in the first place: via the write-around. He spent three months following Sinatra around, observing what he could about the man and interviewing everyone that would cooperate among Sinatra's entourage — as Esquire puts it, "his friends, his associates, his family, his countless hangers-on." The end result (aside from a $5,000 expense tab) was a truly brilliant work of storytelling about much more than one man. The whole thing is online, if you care to read it. It is also the second entry in The Gay Talese Reader: Portraits and Encounters.

Why do I care for this particular piece so much? Does it lie in the hokey message of perseverance, the way Talese forged on despite the initial and massive roadblock in front of him? Not really, though I do suspect on some level that I unconsciously admire that.
For me, however, it is the pure quality of writing.
It is almost entirely a personal taste thing.
In my line of work, I see so many labored over-descriptions and so many metaphors used for nothing more than the sake of using a metaphor (the retarded sportswriter's cane). I see so many attempts to tie things up in a bow, so much imposing of morals into stories that don't have them. With Talese, nothing is forced. It just flows out to the point where you say "Damn, why didn't I write that?"
"Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel, only worse."
Seriously, why didn't I write that?

There's also the fact that the piece pretty much reinforces my own thoughts and gives credence to my own common complaints. Like Talese, I am frustrated by the newspaper medium and the restrictions that come with it. Like Talese did, I think that primary sources are totally overrated. If you want to know about an athlete or a movie star or a chemist or a philanthropist, the last person in the world you should talk to is the person himself. In fact, talk to everyone but that person.
And like Talese (at least in my mind), I feel like I am wasting away , that I should be doing so much more. That I should be writing screenplays and novels and short stories and broadway shows.
Oh, to be young and naive and marginally ambitious.
My god I sound like a douchebag.

Utterly Anonymous

So, right now this blog has precisely zero regular readers (myself included).
Pros to having no site traffic:

1. If, for some inexplicable reason (because it certainly will not be due to my diligent efforts, I can promise you that) the blog takes off or if it gets linked by some bigger site, I can pull the whole "I came from nothing" angle.
I am especially looking forward to the part where I compare myself to Mahatma Gandhi or someone similarly tasteless, and equate my situation with theirs. "I was left for dead!" I will almost certainly say, most likely in my best approximation of the way Daniel Day Lewis might say such a thing.

2. I can be a hypocrite and an egomaniac.
Along with the vast majority of the human population, I think "personal diary" blogs are the scum of the earth. But here I am, using "I" or "my" in every sentence. With no audience, this does not become too much of a problem.

3. I can be lazy and negligent.
With no one I am trying to impress, I do not have to post every day, or even every week. I can be literally "As Procrastinatory As I Want To Be" — coincidentally, also the name of Dennis Rodman's unreleased second book.

4. I can post what I want.
For example, I may not discuss Gilbert Arenas' testicular situation if, say, I knew my mother would be reading. She will inevitably find this place, though, and I will be ruined.

5. These very paragraphs, in which, I speak to no one but myself about the fact that I am, in fact, speaking to no one but myself will serve as a built-in insanity defense in the event that I ever commit a crime.
Unfortunately, I am far too big of a pussy to ever knowingly commit a crime. If I do accidentally disobey the law, my dream is that it will be some sort of white-collar crime.

Saturday linkage

SPORTS
*A compilation of Chris Berman videos, capturing his typical, jovial off-camera state of mind. I can't figure out whether I have more or less respect for him now. (Sports By Brooks)

*Which MLB pitchers are most likely to throw a no hitter? Joe Posnanski discusses, in serious depth. John Maine at No. 9? Huh?

*JP also looks at how successful MLB teams have been with their 1st round draft picks in the last ten years. Pretty much enforces the notion that Billy Beane is a genius, though we now now that genius juice does not necessarily rub off on those around him (I'm looking at you, Paul DePodesta.

*The awesomeness never stops from Gilbert Arenas. Here, he discusses his favorite drink and most painful injury. Hint: The words "scrotum" and "keloids" come into play. (D.C. Sports Bog)

*Will Shaq return to the Heat for a day? This interesting TrueHoop post discusses what will happen when Miami and Atlanta replay the finish of the game that incorrectly disqualified Shaq with five fouls. The better question might be whether Miami would want him or not.

ENTERTAINMENT
*Maybe there is justice in TV land. Lost and House doing well in ratings, Lipstick Jungle tanking. Then again, Friday Night Lights and The Wire still can't find an audience. And American Idol continues to sneeze at Napoleon's run of dominance. (BuzzSugar)

*Styleguide outlines how you can look and dress like your favorite Lost character. Just one question: Who is in such a rush to go to Hurley for style tips?

*Slate documents the backlash against Juno. I, for one, don't understand it. When did people stop going to the movies for pure enjoyment and start going in search of some bigger significance? I loved Atonement and No Country for Old Men, but no movie in the last year was more enjoyable for me than Juno.

POLITICS
*I'm no political strategist, but I can't see how McCain could have any chance against Obama (assuming he gets the nomination). The whole "old and aging" versus "young and excuberant" angle seems like it would be impossible to overcome. Ariana Huffington and Slate seem to agree.

Amateur Lost deconstruction: The futile search for unreachable answers

Featuring increased verbosity and decreased insight
In honor of tonight's episode, here are five questions that came out of the Season 4 premiere:

1. Who are The Oceanic Six?
Totally awesome name for a jazz band, by the way — Is there a person alive who wouldn’t fork over five bucks to see Miles Davis and the Oceanic Six? (If for no other reason, than to see how well Miles’ corpse was capable of hitting the blue notes)
We already know Jack, Kate and Hurley find their way off the island, leaving three others. Then we have the unknown person in the coffin (according to Jack, “neither” friend nor family). And if we assume Desmond’s prognostications are correct, Charlie died so Claire and Aaron could get off the island. Since I assume that Jack would label Claire and Hurley friends, and since he told Kate about the funeral in the Season 3 finale, that only leaves a couple options. It could be baby Aaron, but in that case Claire would have been at the funeral.
That leaves just one lone ranger who Jack does not consider friend or family. The most logical choices, I suppose (probably far too logical), are Locke and Ben.
So there you have it: Jack, Kate, Hurley, Claire, Aaron, and your choice of the Locke/Linus pupu platter.
Then again, Jack could have a falling out with one of his supposed “friends,” or Desmond could prove to be a poor substitute for Nostradamus. And why wouldn’t there be any members of the news media on hand to report the death of one of The Oceanic Six? Maybe more make it off the island, but only six are acknowledged publicly.
The moral of the story, as always: I know nothing.
I guess the good news is we’ll have our answer soon if the flash-forwards continue.

2. Is Charlie actually dead?
Here’s what we know:
a) Hurley’s friend in the loony bin is able to see Charlie after supposed death
b) Hurley feels it when Charlie slaps him in the face after supposed death
c) Hurley can make Charlie disappear at will (the whole counting to five thing) after supposed death
d) Hurley has a history of seeing people that aren’t really there (i.e. Dave)
e) Jack’s dad Christian has appeared on the island after his death off the island (real or imagined, we saw him)
f) Jack’s flash-forward in the Season 3 finale left us unsure if Christian is alive or dead back in the real world
g) Boone appeared once or twice on the island after his death in dream sequences, but we have been led to believe he is, in fact, dead
Of all the seven facts listed above (and there are many more I have left out: Mr. Eko and his brother come immediately to mind), the one I give the most weight to is the last one. Boone died on the island, and we have been given no reason to believe that he is anything but dead. Same thing goes for Ana Lucia, Libby, Paulo, Nikki and all the others I can remember dying on the island. Because Charlie’s case relates most closely to theirs, I am going to go ahead and assume that he is truly dead.
Perhaps a better question would be ‘What happens to the Losties in death?’ Boone appeared to be completely different in the afterlife, and Charlie went for the American Badass look with aviator shades, short hair, a leather jacket and a v-neck print T-shirt. Perhaps the creators are trying to tell us something about death.

3. Is the mysterious leader of the Others — Jacob —the same person as the supposedly deceased Christian Shephard?
There is no doubt that Jack’s father was the one on the rocking chair inside Jacob’s cabin: the actor’s name listed in credits (John Terry), and screencaps clearly show it is him.
Then again, we also know that Christian lie dead in a coffin when the plane originally crashed, that Jack saw a suit-clad version of Christian at various locations on the island after the wreck (Season 1), that Christian was mentioned multiple times in a hospital flash-forward (as if he were still alive, in Season 3), and that the hallucination-prone Hurley saw Christian’s visage last Thursday despite never having met him before (from what viewer’s are aware of, at least — we don’t know what’s happened off-camera).
Where does that leave us? Essentially nowhere.
There was another person in the cabin, however. So maybe that was Jacob.
I give up.

4. Why do the escapees want to go back to the island?
It was Jack in the Season 3 finale, Hurley in the premiere of Season 4.
The Lost producers have clearly been propagating the following scenario:
The Oceanic Six get off the island sometime in the near future, but at the expense of leaving the other survivors behind (Remember the Oceanic representative’s cryptic “Are they still alive?” comment to Hurley, sans business card). The Six then reach some sort of pact where they agree to lie to the world about the number of original survivors, and the happenings on the island (This is why Hurley denies knowing Ana Lucia in the interrogation scene). Ultimately, though, the guilt is too much to bear for those back in the real world. In the series finale, they go back to the island.
That would be much too predictable for Lost, however. Hopefully, it is all a red herring.

5. Will we only get flash-forwards from this point on?
This is more of a structural question, but perhaps the most important one of all since it will determine how the rest of the series plays out. Here’s the thing: We know that Lost will air for precisely six seasons. And the flash-forwards start at what is essentially the exact halfway point. That seems too coincidental to be pure chance. I have to believe that we are looking at an extended run of flash-forwards for the foreseeable future.
Which, if you ask me, is a good thing. The Season 4 premiere was as captivating to me as any of the previous ones. Hopefully, the flash-forwards will be just the shot in the arm that the show needs to be consistently good the rest of the way.
Every season so far (especially Season 2 and Season 3) has featured a noticeable lull in the middle, one where the show loses steam for a few episodes. I have nothing against character building and a more methodical style of pacing, but Lost seems to turn it on and off so abruptly that viewers become bored. The good Lost, chalked full of a questions and action, makes the average Lost (i.e. the Bai Ling episode) seem like terrible Lost, if that makes any sense.
Hopefully the flash-forwards will cut down on the number of average episodes.

Runner-up question:
What is the deal with Jacob’s portable shack?

An Open Letter to FOX

Attention: FOX boneheads, nitwits and morons.
I write to you today on behalf of the American public.
As football fans, there are only two things we truly need from a television broadcast. The first-down line, the super Slo-Mo replays, the sideline reports, the injury updates, the line-of-scrimmage audio, the celebrity cutaways — they’re all nice amenities we’ve come to expect and rely on. But in truth, only two are absolute necessities: the clock and the score. They are so basic, in fact, that we take them completely for granted (as we should) until they go missing.
Which is exactly what happened Sunday, on the second most-watched broadcast in the history of television.
Excellent work, guys. Way to rise to the occasion.
Oh, the score was there. The clock, however, was not. Or rather, it was so inaccurate for such a large portion of the game that it may as well have been invisible. As many of the almost 100 million viewers undoubtedly noticed, FOX’s ticker was often stopped when it should have been running (especially in the first half). It sometimes ran when it should have been stopped. And any sight of the play clock was a pipe dream.
The only time viewers had any idea what was going on was in the brief moment when the camera panned past the actual scoreboard inside University of Phoenix Stadium.
It’s not like that stuff is important, important, though. The space-time continuum is so overrated.
I do understand the conundrum you’re faced with, however. I mean, you only have so many man-hours to go around. And I wouldn’t want you to pull anyone off that hard-hitting red carpet coverage. Decisions had to be made — And if hiring an accurate timekeeper came at the expense of a John Travolta interview, well… Who wouldn’t want to know what Danny Zuko thought about the big game?
For future reference, though, I thought of a few cost-cutting measures that might enable you to keep someone around with a better understanding of the complex motor skills required to start and stop a timepiece.
1. A Ryan Seacrest shaving moratorium.
Think of all the wasted razorblade funds your ubiquitous host must have gone through to achieve that amorphous blotch of facial hair below his chin. Next year, clarify things by letting him grow the full beard. That way, viewers won’t wonder whether their television set is smudged or if the contrast is off.
2. Eliminate the use of replay.
FOX’s producer’s seemed to be catering to that rare species born with X-ray vision Sunday. It was almost uncanny how poor the replay selection was. If there was a question about whether or not a receiver caught the ball or pinned it on the ground, we were sure to get the view that showed his back to the camera, precisely the least helpful of all the 456 vantage points at hand. Eradicate this problem by doing away with replay altogether next year. The broadcast might suffer, sure, but production quality doesn’t seem to be too high up on your list of priorities, anyway.
3. Stop stealing music.
You may have thought you were saving money when you decided to use a snippet of Arcade Fire’s “No Cars Go” in a promo without asking the band’s permission. But now that they have decided to sue the pants off of you, it seems that strategy has backfired. Rid yourself of this pitfall by only using music in the public domain next time around. I’m thinking “Frere Jacque” for the intro and Bach’s “Fugue in C-Sharp minor” as we head to the first commercial break.
So there you have it. I’ve got plenty more ideas if you need them.
The clock is ticking. Not that you guys would know.
Sincerely, A Concerned Citizen