Living & Arts

Love ‘Lost’ and found, again and again and again

In print | February 26, 2009

Most people in serious relationships make special plans for Valentine’s Day. Some go out for romantic dinners; some take in a show; and some buy sexy lingerie and prepare for some lovin’. I, however, had other plans. My significant other and I made a date for the Wednesday before Valentine’s Day. That night I dimmed the lights, put on my boxers (with hearts on them … I had to at least try for festive), and curled up on my bed with my computer to spend some quality time with my one true love: “Lost.”

Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Alex,” you’re probably saying to yourself, “why this intense, time-consuming, soul-sucking, brain-melting and unhealthily dependent relationship with a TV show? Wouldn’t a relationship with an actual human being be more fulfilling?” And trust me, I understand completely. Why should I devote so much time and energy to something that teases me with questions that are never answered, that disappears from my life for long stretches, and that might not (God forbid!) end in a satisfactory way. Oh, wait …

As has happened in so many relationships, we’ve had our rough patches. Season Three, for example, with its endless Other-intrigue, lame attempts at character introductions (Nikki and Paolo, anyone?) and a plot that went nowhere (although there was incredibly hot cage sex between Kate and Sawyer who, contrary to what people might try to tell you, are meant for each other — Jack or no Jack), tried my patience. Like the denial-ridden half of a failing partnership, however, I defended my beloved to the rational people in my life. “It’ll get back on track,” I said. “The writers just need some time to get their thoughts together. It’ll go back to being the gem it was in season one, I promise!” And, lo and behold, I was right. The season three finale hit all the right notes, ending with a monster of a twist that left me gasping for air, stunned and completely satisfied. My faith in “Lost” had actually been rewarded. It had returned to a state of mind-blowing awesomeness and would only get better.

Now we’re into Season Five, and our relationship is better than ever. Some people criticize the time-jumping and endless discussion of electromagnetic radiation, but after four years, the giddy theorizing is like crack to me. I can’t wait to find out why both Jin and newcomer Daniel Faraday (an utterly fantastic addition, unlike the aforementioned Nikki and Paolo who I just can’t hate on enough) have appeared in the Island’s past wearing Dharma jumpsuits, why the ghost of Christian Shepherd (Jack’s father, now transformed into one hell of a confusing undead entity) keeps popping up, and the ultimate question … when are we?

Despite all the space-time continuum craziness, however, my relationship with “Lost” has endured because of … well, because of relationships. As crazy as the time-travel is, the real reason that the show holds together is because of the fascinating interplay between the dozen or so principal castaways. I’m not just talking about the perpetual war between the Jack-Kate and Kate-Sawyer shippers (although, for the record, Jack-Kate people are wrong! Kate and Sawyer all the way!), but also about the continual psychological conflict between Jack, the man of Science, and Locke, the man of Faith, that lies at the center of the show’s epic drama; the twisted power dynamic between Ben and … well, everyone, really; and the series’ vibrant, beating heart, Desmond and Penny.

Desmond and Penny’s wonderful, subtle-yet-epic and utterly spectacular storyline brings me to what I consider the single best episode of “Lost” yet aired: the Season Four outing “The Constant.” That episode was a perfect synthesis of everything that makes “Lost” so great, featuring time travel, weird pseudo-science on the part of Faraday and a Desmond-Penny story arc that culminated in what may be the single best scene ever set on film, and I am not exaggerating: a phone call between Desmond, stuck on a freighter, and Penny, in her apartment in London on Christmas Eve, that was joyful and heart-wrenching and made even my cynical soul break down with the emotionality of it all.

The only thing missing in “The Constant” — not that I’m complaining — was Ben Linus. As embodied by the phenomenal Michael Emerson, Ben is the Island’s creepy protector. On a show in which most of the important dialogue is shouted, Emerson understands the power of a quiet line delivery and a pointed stare. Ben’s usual calm, cool and collected nature makes it even more shocking when, in Season Four’s second-best episode “The Shape of Things to Come,” he finally loses it, in the aftermath of the single most brutal scene in the show’s history (and yes, this scene is more violent than the one in which the smoke monster ripped a guy’s arm off in Season Five’s aptly named “This Place is Death”). The action that finally sends Ben over the edge is the sight of season four psychopath Albert Keamy shooting Ben’s daughter Alex in the back of the head, execution-style. Even here, however, Emerson’s performance is understated; his shock is expressed not in screams or gunfire, but in a blank stare that slowly gives way to horror and sadness.

Emerson, like Jeremy Davies, the actor who plays Faraday, was a spectacular addition to an already strong cast. If the true heart of “Lost” is in the relationships, the ultimate reason for the show’s success is the solid writing and the performances given by the actors who give life to those relationships. From Henry Ian Cusick’s tortured Desmond to Yunjin Kim’s tough-yet-vulnerable Sun to the incomparable Emerson, the cast is perfectly suited to their roles. (I have to except Fionnula Flanagan, whose Mrs. Hawking is just getting painfully arch and hammy, from this generalization. She’s supposed to be wise and enigmatic, but she’s just irritating.) It’s these actors who keep me tuning in; if their characters weren’t so relatable, the outcomes of the many mysteries of “Lost” would be completely irrelevant.

Alex is a sophomore. You can reach her at aisrael1@swarthmore.edu.