Ted Landau on Apple, politics, evolution, movies & whatever
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Giving up hope for Lost
Mar 25th
The other day, on Twitter, I wrote: “I have officially given up hope that Lost’s final season will live up to my expectations.” I wrote this in reference to my reaction to the most recent episode: Ab Aeterno.
Some suggested that I should lower my expectations. Maybe I have set them too high. But this has been a special series and I believe high expectations are in order.
Several people wanted to know the basis of my negative reaction to an episode that they (and most other fans apparently) found to be one of the better ones of the season, if not of the whole series.
Okay. Here’s my answer.
First, a bit of clarification. I chose my words carefully in my tweet. I did not say that I thought it was a bad episode. In fact, I thought it was a good one overall and mostly enjoyed it (although I had a few quite specific objections, as I describe below in “The episode itself”). My overriding concern is what the episode appears to foretell about what is still to come. To me, if this is as good as it gets, I believe most large questions will never be answered. Perhaps it is unfair to burden this episode with so much weight. But that was my reaction when it was over.
Yes, this episode gave answers to a few lingering questions about the Lost mythology, especially as to the back story of Richard.
However, the answers too often seemed arbitrary and unsatisfying. In addition, too many related questions remain still unsolved. And, too often, what answers we got left new questions unanswered in their wake.
Perhaps the best example of this is the statue. We learn how the giant statue came to be broken (the Black Rock rammed into it). But we were also led to believe that the Black Rock was carried to the island by Jacob’s hand. If Jacob has the power to do this, shouldn’t he also have the power to make sure that the ship misses the statue (which is apparently his home)? Ultimately, I felt the producers/writers had no preconceived idea how the statue was destroyed. The Black Rock gave them an opportunity to invent an answer — even if it doesn’t make much sense and adds nothing to our overall understanding of the mythology.
Further, we still know almost nothing new about the statue itself. Why was it built in the first place? Who built it? Why have Jacob and MIB taken up residence there? What do all the hieroglyphics mean? Perhaps some of these answers will be forthcoming in future episodes. But I am increasingly doubtful.
Writers pulling a fast one?
I believe the writers have pulled a 3-card monte sleight of hand in this regard. While the current emphasis on Jacob and MIB is understandable (as it represents the end game of the story), this focus also affords the writers a chance cover up and ignore many significant mysteries — and hope you don’t notice.
To cite one huge example, I’d like to know more about the DHARMA Initiative. Was the arrival of the DHARMA group part of Jacob’s grand plan to bring people to the island? Or did they arrive independently? Why exactly did Ben and the Others find it necessary to kill virtually all the DHARMA people in the “purge”? What was the basis for the hostility between DHARMA and the “Others”? And who are the “Others” exactly? They must have all arrived on the island after the Black Rock incident. How did they continue as a group when all prior arrivals died (I am guessing Richard is the key here, but I’d like some confirming details). And what is the ultimate cause/purpose of the Other’s inability to have children?
For that matter, why is time travel (something discovered by the DHARMA people) a possibility on the island? How does that have anything to do what Jacob and MIB are up to? Who created the frozen donkey wheel in the first place? And why does it take you to Tunisia? Who exactly was continuing to drop DHARMA food on the island (long after the purge had taken place); how did these fliers appear to locate the island so easily as to come and go at will?
Why were the “Numbers” engraved on the Swan hatch? And most significantly: who ever thought that the whole idea of having to reset a counter every 108 minutes using an Apple II computer (or risk having the island, perhaps the entire world, destroyed) was anything but one of the stupidest ideas of all time? Why not invent a simpler more reliable method? Or just pull the fail-safe switch and be done with it? And the whole time that Desmond was entering the numbers on his own, Ben and the Others were roaming around on the island. Were they not aware of what might happen if Desmond happened to get sick and be unable to reset the counter? If not, why not? They seemed to have intimate knowledge of everything else DHARMA. If so, why did they not take any preventative action here?
Speaking of entering the numbers, we have learned that the reason that Flight 815 crashed is because Desmond experimented with not resetting the counter just as the plane was in the vicinity. We have also been led to believe that the people on the plane, especially the candidates, were brought to the island by Jacob. Are we to therefore assume that Jacob is somehow responsible for what Desmond did? If not, then was it just lucky for Jacob that Desmond did what he did? For that matter, how was it that all the latest candidates were on this same plane? Did Jacob manipulate this as well?
Speaking of the candidates, who is ultimately responsible for determining who they are? Jacob? Or some yet higher power? What are the criteria? Why is it necessary to have so many candidates to choose from? Can’t Jacob just figure out who the best choice will be? Was Jacob himself a former candidate and a replacement for someone else? Or is he the “first”?
Then there’s Charles Widmore. How did he know that a “war was coming” back in Season 4? For that matter, the entire season 4 was spent with the people on Widmore’s freighter trying to capture Ben. Ben no longer seems to be a goal for Widmore, as he now claims to want MIB/Locke. If so, what happened to shift Widmore’s attention? Also, given that the island disappeared at the end of Season 4, how has Widmore able to find it again? If it was this easy for him to refind, what was the point of moving the island in the first place?
Ben and Widmore in some ways appear to be mimicking Jacob and MIB. Both pairs are opposed to each other. Both pairs seem to be governed by “rules” that say they can’t kill each other. What exactly is this all about? And who set these rules in motion?
Similarly, what exactly determines the limits of Jacob’s and MIB’s powers? Why is it within Jacob’s power to grant immortality but not bring Isabella back to life? Why could MIB not kill Jacob, but Ben could?
Again, all of this seems so arbitrary. It reminds me of what I call the “Harry Potter cop-out.” As much as I liked the Harry Potter books, I more than once was irritated by plot twists that turned on the appearance of a new spell, one that could do exactly what was needed to save the day at that moment and yet had never before been mentioned in any of the books. How convenient to be able to invent a new spell whenever your heros are caught in a tight spot. As a literary device, I felt this was not playing fair with readers.
I feel the same way about the arbitrary solutions in Lost. How convenient that Jacob can grant immortality but not raise spirits from the dead. Convenient, but otherwise without any rhyme or reason.
Another part of my problem here is that the answers are drifting too much in a spiritual direction for my taste. I guess I am more a “man of science” than a “man of faith.” I am mostly okay with science fiction aspects of the show, such as time travel. But when it starts pointing towards concepts of heaven, hell and God as the ultimate answers, I get more than a bit queasy.
The episode itself
Beyond all that I have just written, I have some quite specific criticisms of the episode itself.
First up is Richard’s back story. It was too trite and corny. The whole business of a dying wife, Richard going to an insensitive doctor who rejects pleas of help, an “accidental” murder.” Been there, done that. I could see it all coming a mile away.
The worst of the story was the lovers’ reunion at the end. This is almost a direct rip-off of the movie Ghost, with Richard, Isabella and Hurley playing the roles of Patrick Swayze, Demi Moore and Whoopie Goldberg. Come on!
Actually, let’s pause at this business of Hurley talking to dead people. What is with this exactly? Does everyone in the afterlife have a direct line to Hurley? Are we really supposed to accept the idea that a woman who has been dead for about 150 years can somehow contact Hurley at just the appropriate critical moment? Are we, at a minimum, supposed to believe that such an afterlife is even a reality within the Lost universe? [Actually, I hold out some hope that this was not Isabella at all, but was in fact Jacob; we'll see.]
Once again, answered questions too often raised even more new questions.
Jacob claims he keeps bringing new people to the island to prove to MIB that people are not bad by nature, that people are able to be redeemed. Why is it so important to Jacob that he prove this point to MIB, apparently at the cost of the lives of most of his “contestants”? Why should Jacob care what MIB believes on this matter? Will it change anything if he convinces MIB on this point?
If the Black Rock is an example of Jacob’s attempts to prove his point, why does Smokey almost immediately kill all but one of the survivors? How can people’s nature be established if they are dead? Was there some advance agreement between Jacob and MIB that Richard was to be the lone survivor in this latest move of their chess game?
Given how long Jacob and MIB have been at this game, why does Jacob appear surprised that MIB is attempting to kill him in this latest episode? Can this really be the first time MIB has tried this move?
Why does Jacob need to make Richard his “intermediary”? Couldn’t Jacob intervene directly if he chose? Or is this just another example of a hollow arbitrary explanation for how Richard came to have his role on the island?
This is hardly an exhaustive list, but enough to give you the idea.
Wrapping up
I have held on to hope that there is an overarching explanation for everything that has taken place on the island — a framework for the big puzzle that the individual pieces would eventually fit into. This hope is fading. I expect we will learn much more about Jacob and MIB in the weeks to come. And there will be some resolving perhaps even satisfying climax in the end. But that’s about it. This latest episode was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me in terms of hoping for much else. Perhaps I am wrong (I will happily admit my error if I am). But I doubt it.
Sadly, some mysteries to remain “Lost”
Feb 1st
The premiere of the final season of Lost finally arrives tomorrow. As a dedicated Lost fan, who has watched (often more than once) and analyzed every episode since Season 1, I can hardly wait. I am confident I will not be disappointed.
Still, thanks to Entertainment Weekly’s cover story on Lost this past week, I am compelled to revisit a long-standing complaint. In the article, the producers of Lost (Cuse and Lindelof) are asked “Just how many of our questions are going to get answered anyway?” The producers response is essentially one they have given before: “There are so many many questions that people probably have that we just can’t address.” They continue with their Star War’s “midichlorian” analogy, citing that some questions are impossible to answer anyway, without raising more questions, ultimately leaning to “overexplained lameness.”
Let me be clear. This is all just a copout.
Their excuse might pass muster for some minor mysteries. Given the wealth of questions that have come up over the five seasons of Lost (here is a fairly complete list of the questions), I know there are too many to expect all of them to be answered. But there are major ones that, in my view, demand an answer — at least if the series is to have a satisfying conclusion. One key question, for example, surrounds the meaning of the “numbers.”
I first commented on this in a Lostpedia blog entry last year, after the producers initially warned us of their intent. Sadly, it is just as applicable now as it was then. Here is what I wrote:
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"I just finished reading Damon Lindef's statement regarding The Numbers (where they imply that there may never be a full, or even any, explanation as to the significance of the 4 8 15 16 23 42 numbers). I was more than disappointed.
I believe his statement that 'We call it the midi-chlorian debate, because at a certain point, explaining something mystical demystifies it,' is mainly a cop-out. In Star Wars, there was never any mystery surrounding the origins of the Force. It was accepted as part of the Star Wars universe, in the same way that the possibility of time travel is accepted in the Lost universe, without need of a detailed explanation. The Force was never raised as a mystery to be solved in Star Wars.
The Numbers are quite different. They were the focus of major plot mysteries in season 1 and into season 2. Why were those particular numbers selected to be entered every 108 minutes? Would it have mattered if different numbers were entered? Could it have worked with 107 minutes? Why was Hurley so involved with the Numbers and not any one else?
There are secondary related questions as well: Why maintain such an important function (typing in the numbers) via a system that is so prone to possible human failure? Why weren't the Others checking in at the Swan? Did they really just assume that Desmond would never fail to reset the switch? Why not just press the fail safe button in the first place and avoid all the hassle of entering the numbers (I believe I know the answer that but I'd still like to see it answered officially)? Why was the system needed at all? Presumably there was no such system before the Dharma people arrived; how and when did the need for it arrive? And so on and so on.
Even if we assume that the meaning of the Numbers has to do with the Valenzetti Equation (as suggested in Lost material that appeared online but never clearly in the canon of the show itself), it still doesn't answer any of these other questions.
For me, to dismiss the answers to such questions as of 'no interest whatsoever' is simply saying: 'We screwed up. We didn't have a good explanation when we went down this road. And now, rather than coming up with one, we're going simply say it doesn't matter."
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To some extent, what Cuse and Lindelof are suggesting is like a murder mystery where the victim is killed in some apparently impossible way. In the end, we learn who the murderer is, but we are never told how the murderer pulled it off. Instead, we are told that this ultimately doesn’t really matter. Bull! This is unfair to the reader. Just as Lost similarly appears intent on being unfair to the viewer.
The final season of Lost will be spectacular anyway. It’s just that I had hoped that the writers and producers really knew what they were doing when they introduced these mysteries over the years. And we would at last get the answers this season.
I know we will get answers to at least some of the major mysteries. I can only hope this will be sufficient.
Enough complaints. It’s time to get ready to sit back and enjoy the ride. Here we go…
V: In danger of contracting X-Files Disease
Dec 1st
So I’ve watched the season thus far of V. It’s been good enough to keep my interest — and keep me returning for the next episode. But I fear this will not last too much longer.
Why? Because the concept behind V is much better suited to a mini-series (as was the original show upon which the series is based; although it too was expanded into a one-season series the next year) than a multi-season series with an unknown end point.
Essentially, the plot boils down to answering two main questions: “What are the aliens really up to?” and “When will the majority of humans figure out what’s going on and fight back?” It’s hard to imagine how you can drag out these answers for more than one or (at most) two seasons. I see the writers trying here; in the last episode (until next March), the heroes argued why it wouldn’t be wise to simply expose the aliens just yet. I wasn’t convinced.
There are also some plot points that stretch my credulity (such as inter-species romantic love and a human pregnant from an alien). My knowledge of biology and evolution suggests that this has a zero probability. But that’s another story.
If the people behind V keep trying to stretch things out (as they apparently intend to do), they risk the dreaded “X-Files” disease. This is when the answers to the central conspiracy/mystery of a series are artificially delayed, so as to keep the series going for as long as it remains popular. After awhile, viewers get annoyed at how contrived everything becomes, how the plot never seems to advance (despite teasers suggesting that something will actually happen). Viewers ultimately abandon the series because they just don’t care anymore. Or at least don’t care to wait anymore.
That’s what happened to The X-Files in its later seasons. And this was exactly what was in danger of happening to Lost, until the third season, when the producers got ABC to agree to set the sixth season as the final one for the series. With a known end point, the producers/writers could now map out the plot without having to worry about “What if we need to make the series last a seventh season?; We can’t afford to reveal too much.” After this decision was made, Lost quickly evolved to become one of the greatest most compelling series in television history. I am counting the minutes until the final season begins on February 2, 2010.
Flash Forward, another new series this year, has so far done a much better job of handling this balancing act. I feel mostly satisfied that events are progressing, even though the fate of the series (in terms of how many seasons it may last) is still unknown. And, from what I have read, major questions will indeed be answered before Season 1 is over.
V, in contrast, has been unable to figure this out. Given the limits of the plot, it may be an impossible task. Still, unless it figures something out, I predict the series will burn out before the first season is over. I give it low odds of surviving to a second season and near-zero odds of a third.
The most logic-defying sequence in movie history
May 22nd
I’m a die-hard James Bond movie fan. And Goldfinger ranks up there as perhaps my all-time favorites James Bond film.
At least it was until I watched it again recently. I’m now thinking of downgrading it a bit.
Yes, it still has all the iconic scenes that remain so indelibly imprinted in my mind. But watching it again, I was struck by how much of the movie makes absolutely no sense from any logical perspective. And I found it impossible to ignore this, even accepting the idea that the movie is basically an escapist fantasy.
I won’t bore you with a complete list of all the ridiculousness in the movie. Instead, I want to focus on just one sequence; a sequence that so defies logic that I believe it could well be the #1 all-time most logic-defying sequence in movie history. I’m talking about the scene that begins with the assembled hoodlums inside Goldfinger’s Kentucky ranch.
For starters, in the meeting room, Goldfinger unveils an elaborate hidden control panel that he uses to show the assembled group his big plan. However, the show consists only of a simple map and a 3-D mock-up of Fort Knox, also concealed until he presses the buttons to reveal them. Even granting that these items may have had some use beyond displaying them to his criminal associates, it’s hard to imagine why such an expensive and elaborate setup was needed to conceal and reveal these two items. Couldn’t he just keep them in a locked room? Okay, Goldfinger is super-rich and can afford it. But still.
Anyway, we’re just getting warmed up. Next, Goldfinger kills off the entire group by mechanically sealing off the room and spraying nerve gas into it. Are we to believe that he kills people off this way with such frequency that he decided to install a permanent setup just for doing so? Surely, there are many simpler less elaborate ways he could have taken care of this matter. Again, I can pretty much forgive this. James Bond movies, after all, are all about elaborate schemes.
But now, we enter into the realm of the unforgivable. If he always intended to kill everybody (as seemed to be the case), why even bother giving them the dog and pony show about how he was going to raid Fort Knox? Why not just kill them as soon as they were all in the room. Again, I understand that the movie needs to reveal the Fort Knox plot to the audience. But couldn’t the movie makers find a way to do it that doesn’t require that you be halfway in a coma in order for you not to notice how preposterous it all is?
Even if you are willing to suspend disbelief and accept all of the preceding, there remains the coup de grace of the entire sequence:
One of the criminals, appropriately named Solo, decides to opt out of the Fort Knox deal. He wants to take his promised money and leave. Goldfinger agrees and sends him on his way. Given that even he is going to be killed anyway (shot by Oddjob, as we soon find out), why let him leave? Why not just have him die in the room with the rest of the hoodlums? Goldfinger could have easily come up with an excuse to leave the room before letting Solo exit.
Okay, so Goldfinger passed on this opportunity. A lapse in judgement perhaps. But why not then shoot Solo before he ever leaves the property? Ah, that would still be too easy. Instead, Goldfinger puts Solo into a limo, ostensibly with instructions for Oddjob to drive him to the airport. And yes, there’s the payment of a million dollars in gold bullion in the trunk!
Solo never makes it to the airport — to no one’s surprise. Oddjob shoots him in the car along the way. Oddjob then dumps the body in some remote location, drives back to the ranch, and takes the gold out of the trunk, right? In your dreams. Why do anything that makes even the slightest sense when there is a much more complicated and totally idiotic way to accomplish the same goal?
What actually happens is that Oddjob drives to an auto junkyard that has machinery to crush and compress cars into nice compact cubes. And then, after compressing the limo (with the dead Solo still inside, of course), he places the resulting cube on the flatbed of a truck, somehow conveniently waiting for him, which he then drives back to the ranch. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?
If you have not yet turned your brain off by this point, you may be wondering: Why take the compressed car back at all? Ah, you forgot about the gold. The million dollars in gold is still contained within the now heap of metal and human body parts — and needs to be extracted. Holy smokes, why didn’t Oddjob just remove the gold from the car before he compacted it? That would have saved Goldfinger from the ugly extraction task. In fact, it would have eliminated the need to take the compacted car back to the ranch at all. Ah, but then we wouldn’t have been able to have the witticism, spoken by Bond and Goldfinger in different scenes, of Solo’s “pressing engagement.” Oh yes, what does a total absence of any sense matter, when there’s a witty remark at stake?
Okay. I know James Bond movies aren’t meant to be taken seriously. And I will more than willing to accept some lack of logic in the name of fun. You’d be hard pressed to find an action movie that doesn’t have at least a few such minor lapses. But there comes a point when it all gets too much. For me, the Goldfinger movie surpasses that point several times over. I guess I was more forgiving when I watched it when I was younger. But I am not now.
Perhaps I am more harsh now because I see a bigger problem lurking. I believe the success of these early James Bond movies laid the groundwork for most of the hundreds of action movies that followed. The Bond franchise showed movie makers that you don’t need an intelligent script, or even one that makes any sense, for a movie to be successful. Throw in enough fight scenes, chase scenes, special effects, and explosions — and the audience will pay for a ticket and ignore the fact that there is no coherent plot to the movie.
That’s why I am almost always disappointed now in each new action movie that comes out. I hope the day may yet come when, in describing a movie, the words intelligent and action need not be mutually exclusive. I see some glimmer of hope here with movies such as 2005′s Batman Begins. But they are still more the exception than the rule. The vast majority of this summer’s movie blockbusters, sadly, appears to be sticking to the old formula.