Lost

Last Saturday we watched the last episode of Lost. (Not all of us—one member hates the show.) I know the show finished weeks ago, but what can I say, other things were more important.

I’ll admit up front that I’d turned my back on Lost last season. After Ben was found “not guilty” by the smoke monster, I threw up my hands in protest and resigned myself to never watch the show again—I’m a huge believer in justice.

However, a couple of friends convinced me to give it another shot. I think they just wanted someone they could talk to about the show. So I watched random episodes this year. And I have to admit that the sideways flashes were interesting, even though I was being manipulated to like certain unlikeable characters like Ben.

I geared up for the finale. After all, the writers had showed real creativity in early seasons, and I figured that they might have something amazing for the final episode.

I was wrong. The white chapel with the symbols of Judaism, Christianity, Hinduism, etc., etc. Please. I realize that they chose to go with non-offensive American religious inclusivity, but that was just hokey. While the credits were rolling at the end, two of my teenage boys said, “Said is seriously bummed.” “Why?” I asked. “He didn’t get his seventy virgins,” they said. “He got Shannon.” None of my boys liked Shannon—she was/is an uber-whiner and they hate whiners. I explained that Said was probably atheist and didn’t die during jihad so it didn’t count. “Oh,” they said. Any wonder why they watched the finale?

Part of the disappointment for me is the writers went for the easy out—the characters are in all process, maybe to heaven, but you can pretend not if you find that offensive. Several seasons ago, I was hoping that the island was purgatory and that the characters were redeeming themselves from their past sins. Now I’m not Roman Catholic and I don’t believe in purgatory, but it would have been a cool concept and very Dantesque. Even the holding back evil on the island was fascinating concept that could have been a much bigger part of the ending. They could have gotten all Greek on us and tied the ending into the whole Pandora’s box thing—Jack is only thing between us and a descent into utter chaos.

I guess I wanted a full-orbed purpose for the story. Maybe it’s the novelist in me. Or maybe it’s the years of studying literature. I wanted a purpose for the character’s suffering, even if it was post-modern purposelessness. It just felt like they tacked on a non-offensive happy ending.

Time to watch Leverage.