What Do You Use?

It's Finally Over

It is no secret that I am a Lost fan, and in spite of having watched all of the final Season live, as they were being broadcast, I can't say I've been watching since the beginning. I picked up the show around the end of Season 3, and it wasn't until part way into Season 5 that I started watching them as they were coming out. Even then, as I first sat down to watch Season 1, I wasn't even sold on the show until Episode 11 - when they first find The Hatch - that I was really hooked. That alone probably explains quite a bit about me as a fan; rather than the characters, the actors, stuff like the DHARMA Initiative and the monster were much more interesting to me.

Anyway, I've been resisting the urge to write about the Series Finale until today. Part of me feels like I'm still unpacking things here and there, thus making an overall interpretation of the show incomplete, or at least, moot. Part of me also feels like I can't really offer much more insight than the show does itself; sure, there are a few unsolved mysteries that were swept under the rug here and there, and I can certainly understand why so many people are suffering from a case of the WTFs, but to me, it works as an ending. I don't feel cheated, and I don't feel like it was bad in the least bit. I was definitely entertained.

[Warning: Spoilers ahead.]

I also felt a little vindicated, when it turned out that I was onto something when, over two years ago, I wrote an essay about the use of sound in Season 1. (Here's the link.) While I made no predictions about the future of the show (Why would I? How could I?), the overall thrust of my essay was that Hurley is important to the show, because he is our in-show proxy, that helps us understand the mysteries of the island because we're more like him than anyone else on the show. This comment has particular significance now that it has been revealed that Hurley is the protector of the island. Not only was that very satisfying, personally, but makes total sense, meta-textually. Think of the writers as Jacob and Jack, and the fans as Hurley, and the analogy works. While the writers must move on, we as fans will protect the island through being emotionally invested fans of the show itself.

The circular nature of the show was also an inspired ending. The loop feels so complete, that the Pilot episode of Season 1 makes an excellent follow-up to the Season Finale. (Try watching them back to back. It really, really works.) I think this particular ending signals a number of things to us. First, this ending was planned from fairly early in the creative process. (How early is fairly irrelevant; the fact that they even TRY to answer as many questions as they did illustrates that the end was a consideration at a number a stages while the show was being made.) Second, all the imagined Prisoner connections I was seeing extend further into the show than I thought. And lastly, for a show that toyed with Time Travel as a narrative device (both literally and symbolically through narrative structures), it only makes sense to end where it begins. Flashbacks, -forwards, and -sideways seem particularly appropriate for a show that is going around in circles the whole time anyway. (Considering that there is strong evidence to support the notion that this is not the first time the island has had to gather forces to help destroy a Smoke Monster like this, again, helps suggest that this really is the only ending that makes sense, anyway.)

As with anything, there were some things that I did not like. But, as I've said before (and will say again), there are very few stories that I've read that are completely flawless anyway. I can't think of many things that I've enjoyed 100% (with the possible exceptions of four albums), and it would be ridiculous to suggest that Lost should have been held to such a high standard, too. More than anything, I would say that the extreme emphasis on religion and religious themes really started to bog the show down at times. I am not religious, and find a lot of religious themes completely lost of me (no pun intended).

I was especially frustrated with the Sideways Universe acting as a sort of afterlife for the characters, which seemed very unnecessary. However, upon reflection, this notion of the afterlife does not fit (exactly) any of the religious concepts I'm familiar with, and in fact, seems to be an amalgam of a variety of notions. The Lost version of the afterlife doesn't appear to suggest that any particular faith is the correct one, but rather, the relationships and friendships that we forge in the real world entirely determine what happens to us when we die. It isn't quite enough to convince me to adopt religion (specific ones, or just a general sense thereof), but it does seem to suggest that even if religious faith is onto something, it is more motivated by what we do here and now, than by what happens to us before and afterward. It's not a perfect fit for me, but it is certainly better than most television world views, that's for sure.

Etc., etc. I could go on and on, and I'm still sorting through all the things I noticed / liked / observed / connected with throughout the entire Series. Let's just say that I really, really liked it. But there were two details in particular from the final show that, for me, really exemplified what I loved about the show overall:

As Desmond (now immune to severe electromagnetic discharges) is lowered by Jack and Flocke into The Heart of The Island, he wanders past a few different human skeletal remains. Nevermind that The Heart of The Island is supposed to either turn you into a Smoke Monster, or kill you due to the extreme electromagnetic forces. Somehow, at some point in the past, a few people have gotten in. Who, and how? Clearly, that's another show. It makes the cuneiform script found on the stone plug itself seem almost irrelevant.

Wait, cuneiform script? You mean there were people on the island BEFORE the Egyptians, who already pre-date Jacob, the Smoke Monster, and their mother? Really?

It just goes on and on like that. And I, for one, couldn't be happier. I haven't been hooked on a Network TV show since High School, and while I can't say that my faith in Hollywood has been completely restored, I'm more than happy to know that someone, somewhere, can come this close to getting it right.

Well done.

Snuff Box

I can't be in love if it's plastic
To live on my own just seems tragic
But we'll raise our swords high when our day comes,
You thought it was gold but it was bronze.

So get here in time when our day comes,
You thought it was gold but it was bronze.
So get here in time when our day comes,
You thought it was gold but it was bronze...

So I guess it's goodbye now it's over,
Nothing much changed, we're just older,
But if I see you again back in detox,
Put my remains in my snuff box.
And if I should die of smallpox,
Put my remains in my snuff box.

Wilhelm Weirdness

Here's a little something that I found last night that is exactly up my ally: The Wilhelm Scream sound effect, and it's history.

My friend Steve sent me the DVD for The Middleman, a short lived TV show on ABC Family that is to Comic Book Fiction what Buffy is to Vampire Fiction. The primary creator and writer is Javier Grillo-Marxuach, with more nerd credentials than I thought possible. (Not only does he write comics, but he was one of the writer's and producers for the first two seasons of Lost. As I hadn't heard of The Middleman before (how, exactly, I missed it is a mystery to me), I turned to the above-linked Wikipedia entry for more information, one of the first things I noticed was the short sentence, "Every episode used the Wilhelm scream in some way." I couldn't let a quick reference like that go un-Googled, so within a few minutes I had the whole story sorted out.

The short version: In 1951, a Warner Brothers movie called Distant Drums used a set of recorded screams that became popular among sound effects editors. As the years wore on, the scream became an in-joke among those editors, who would go out of their way to sneak it into films in any way they could. It is claimed that the effect appears in over 140 films. Sooner or later, film nerds began to catch on: George Lucas, Steven Speilberg, and Joe Dante were some of the first people to revive it's usage, and the tradition has been picked up by Tim Burton, Quinten Tarentino, and Peter Jackson. As more and more film nerds become hip to the effect, it becomes used even more often, only perpetuating it as a sound chiché. It's only fair, then, that when something as pure-geek as The Middleman starts being produced, you'd have to pull out all the stops and put it in every episode. At least Javier is following in a good TV tradition too: Wilhelm has screamed in Maverick, The X-Files, Angel, The Family Guy, and in commercials for both Dell and Comcast.

(I can only imagine that this kind of obscure referencing could have only contributed to ABC Family just scratching their heads before giving up and canceling something this idiosyncratic. Perhaps that's why it is so appealing.)

For those of you not exactly sure if you can place the effect in film, some kind person has created a great YouTube video that collects some of the best useages of Wilhelm in an easy-to-digest 3 1/2 minute form. If this doesn't bring a smile to your face, then really, what will?

Dammit

It happened: I got hooked on a TV show for the first time since I was a kid.

Now, not only am I totally obsessed with Lost, but after the season finale last night, I have to wait a year to find out how it ends.

See, this is why I didn't want to start watching it in the first place.

Against The Law, I'm Sure

I seem to recall a bill that was passed some years back that stated that there would be more hot people on TV, for the general well being of humankind. While it was delayed for some time due to W's stint in office, and then the writer's strike, and then the economic downturn, I distinctly remember that things had finally been settled once the election had been settled, and that we would be slated to see the results, "No later than the end of the 2008 - 2009 broadcast season."

So, where have all the hot people gone? I have been completely unable to find any hot people on TV, and not a single current celebrity has managed to do anything for me since the Secretly Hot Girl from Freaks & Geeks. (Busy Philipps, pictured above, though I was horrified to discover that she is decidedly not hot in just about every other role she's played.)

Take, for example, Lost. A huge ensemble cast, and every one of them is Hollywood Hot instead of using that large cast to explore the vast expanse of humanity that comes in various shapes and sizes. They were getting a little closer with the introduction of Charlotte (intelligent female Indiana Jones type with an accent and red hair), but in many other ways she was just more of the same old, same old when you get right down to it. (It didn't take long to bore me with the uncomfortable budding romance between her and Daniel, or her unnecessarily conspiratorial attitude.) While the smart thing goes a long way, I could see her dumping you the moment there's another Dharma Polar Bear skeleton to dig up.

I would like to re-initiate the campaign to improve the hotness of the performers on TV. I know that my roommate is on board, and there can't be that many people out there would would disagree. (In fact, I dare anyone to find a person who would admit, "I'd much prefer to have painfully ugly people on TV.") Sure, TV's free. And yes, one man's hottie can sink another man's boner. But there were, last I counted, about 200 channels, each with 24 hours of daily programming, and most of those shows have more than two actors each.

Do the math; there is room to improve the overall hotness ratio. Write to your congressman today! Do you want to go one more week hoping that the plot of some crappy show will passably keep you entertained for the next hour, when you know that's not gonna happen? Wouldn't it be easier if at least one of those people fumbling their way through their lines was at least pretty?

Lost - Season 1: A Personal View

Music: Negativland - Over The Edge Podcast

Having come of age in the 1980's, it's nearly impossible for me to imagine a time when "Silent Cinema" would even be a possibility. The notion that audio and video were, in the beginning, separate makes sense now, but as a kid I would never have thought to think of them that way. Sound in film was so pervasive, so complete, and so ingrained in the experience of watching a movie that I never even paid attention to the way sound functions until I began taking film classes.

Fans are already aware of this, but sound is a HUGE element of Lost, and not just the musical score (though that plays a big part in the show, too). For a show that is as convoluted, sprawling, and interconnected as it has become, the act of watching a single episode often becomes an epic unto itself, sifting through clues and plot-points to try and connect what has happened with what is happening. To help make this easier, sound (and the way it's used) helps guide viewers through the garbled layers of the show, and encodes the experience of watching it with audio-cues that adjust our viewing experience as we bob and weave our way through any given episode.

Like with many things that I enjoy, the humble beginnings are never perfect, and Season One of Lost is no exception. As the show stumbles to gain solid footing during it's first cautious outings, it is hard not to feel that something is "off" as the Season progresses. My first impression was that the Season merely started slow. It wasn't until 11 episodes in that I really felt like the show hit it's stride, and even then the style, form, and flow didn't really begin to become codified until near the end of the Season (which is carried over into Season Two, and becomes the dominant form the show takes). With a single viewing, it's easy to see many of these growth spurts as indicators of the art and artifice trying to maintain the right balance. However, with an ear for the sound and how it's used with regards to Hurly, Season One manages to communicate to us so much more than what is on the surface.

In the opening scenes of the Pilot episode, Jack is the character we meet first, and for many he is the point of entry when it comes to the world of the show. He is central to most of the storylines, appears in a larger number of flashbacks than most, and quickly becomes the leader of the main characters. But, more realistically, Hurly serves the function of our in-story proxy much better than Jack. Lost fans are, if anything, pop-culture junkies, searching for clues in the referenced media within minutes of the show's initial broadcast. We connect to his interests because they are our interests. And, unlike Jack, we have more in common with the skillset Hurly has at his disposal. Chances are, we are not Doctors or Leaders of that kind, and when faced with survival on an Island, wouldn't have many practical skills to contribute to the cause. Instead, we ARE good at looking for ways to relieve stress, pusuing interests for fun, and nit-picking about Star Wars... just like Hurly.

While the mysteries of the Island are not unfathomable, even for someone "in the know" they are extremely difficult to make sense of, an element of the show the writers are highly attuned to. The structure makes sure this does not overwhelm us with regards to this aspect of the show: each little mystery is revealed one at a time, adding to what we already know while never completely illuminating everything. This makes it easier to take, for both the characters and the audience. If first-time viewers were suddenly dropped into the middle of a story involving an Island-Monster, mysterious residents, and a "Hatch" that rapidly becomes the obsessive focus of the weirdest person you know, it would be far too easy for those viewers to change the channel. To keep us tuned in, these plot-elements are revealed one at a time, and slowly. And to help ease viewers into these mysteries, we are guided by the clever use of sound.

Lost utilizes sound in a variety of ways to help direct our experiences as viewers. Primarily this is achieved through the use of diegetic sound, elements that have a source that all the characters can hear and interact with. (Dialog, crashes, explosions, a radio playing, etc.) The show also employs sountrack music to wonderful effect. The score is both creepy and beautiful, compelling and nerve-bending, horrific and mundane, and always at the service of the story. This music is always non-diegetic: the characters cannot hear it because it only exists as a sound-texture to contrast against / work with the images we see on the screen. The effects of this sound, then, can only really be understood in relation to us, and the way we interact with what we see / hear on screen. Nearly every piece of film produced now has at least some diegetic sound elements, and more often than not, non-diegetic ones, too.

In Lost, sound is used in two additional ways to a tremendous effect, first with non-/diegetic sound sources evolving from one to the other, and second with the "cues" used to indicate the beginning and end of a flashback. The flashback cues are a unique feature of Lost; they are entirely non-diegetic, but rather than working with the images on screen to create an emotional response, their entire function is to telegraph the beginnings and ends of Flashbacks. This sound is never heard by characters on-screen, and while they are heard in conjunction with on-screen images, rarely does this cue work to give us emotional insight into what we've seen. This becomes extremely helpful as the show progresses. While the flashbacks in and of themselves are rarely difficult to make sense of, the cue clarifies to us (within an already confusing narrative) what is "real-time" vs. "flashback." (Or, in the case of the end of Season 3 "flash-forward.")

In the first 17 episodes of Season One, Lost uses the American Audio-Montage technique to "wrap-up" more than a few of their stories. For a first-time viewer, this schmaltzy ending comes off as extremely corny, like an element of the WB's / CW's Prime-Time Soap form of storytelling, where a pop song is used to convey how everyone feels much more effectively than "dialog" or "story." In three specific cases, these audio-montages in Lost begin as diegetic sound that evolves into a non-diegetic source, and in all three cases, the sound begins as a song that Hurly listens to on his CD Player.

The effect of the use of this convention on-screen works as a means of reinforcing Hurly's role as our in-show proxy. Through the simple act of listening to a song, Hurly triggers an audio-montage that we are led-through, and summarizes the emotional trajectories of the characters through his careful selection of songs. After all, Lost is not something you can just jump into, and by easing us into the kind of show that it becomes near the end of the Season, we are able to better acclimate to this with Hurly as our guide. Very quickly, when there is a pop-song playing, it works as a "cue" to indicate that what we are seeing is now from his POV.

With this in mind, the ending of the third episode takes on a much more Lost sense of structure than the schmaltzy audio montage would indicate. In the closing scene of the episode, Jack suggests to Kate that everyone on the Island gets to "start over," and when Hurly listens to his CD Player, everyone appears to be doing just that: the tensions between Jin & Sun, Shannon & Boone, Sayid & Sawyer, Michael & Walt (& Locke), etc., all seem to have melted away in favor of a family-drama kind of closure. The first time through this scene, one is struck with a sense of how much like the rest of one-hour television it actually looks.

However, a closer look reveals that this pop-pap moment conveys something else entirely: we know that Jack is wrong, as the emphasis on flashbacks illustrates that who they were is as important as who they are, now (or, at least, the former informs the later). And while everyone seems to be ending this particular episode "happily ever after," anyone who watches past this episode (or even past the audio-montage to hear the end-credits theme music) knows that the problems and tensions that everyone faces are nowhere near close to being resolved. It only appears to end that way because, for Hurly, that's how he wants to see it. His upbeat character and happy-go-lucky attitude manages to affect even the POV of the audience.

When he listens to his CD Player in the sixth episode, we already know that the POV has switched to that of Hurly's, but the tone is drastically different this time. The song itself says it all, "Are You Sure (This Is Where You Want To Be?)" by Willie Nelson. At the end of a story about making choices about where to live (the caves or the beach), Hurly's Audio-Montage leads us through a series of close-ups that illustrate the outcome of everyone's decision. No one is happy, not even Hurly, who is normally able to go with the flow. While the song works perfectly in the context of the episode, it also works to further drive home the point that everyone wants off the island. Our relationship to the show is also aptly summarized, too: the real story is about to unfold, and we are left asking ourselves if this is the kind of show we want to be watching.

Like the set-up of a well-told joke, the third and last time Hurly attempts an Audio-Montage is in episode 17. Much has happened, story-wise, since this gimmick has been used before, and as viewers we have become invested in the mysteries despite the actual amount of screen-time they may have been given. Initially the montage appears very much like the ones we've seen before: Michael and Jin set aside their differences to work together on rebuilding the boat. Shannon & Sayid appear to be working on their budding relationship, etc. But we've just seen Boone warn Sayid about just that, and we know this is by far the happiest resolution for everyone. Then we see Sun, alone, nervously flaunting a freedom she never had before, as we know that the next chapter of her story will be difficult for everyone. By the time Charlie brings Claire some water, we've already connected to the idea that their story will end anything but happy. When Hurly's CD Player finally starts skipping, breaking the fantasy entirely, we are not surprised when his batteries have run out. Hurly's last source of escapism is gone, and the mysteries of the island can no longer be ignored.

It is no wonder that the following episode is Hurly-centric, and even takes a jab at these audio-montages when we see Hurly hiking to what sounds like a Hip-Hop track. It's jarring, and we know his CD Player shouldn't be working, until we realize that the sound is actually part of the impending flashback, coming out of the stereo that Hurly is listening to in the past. We are also not surprised that from here on out, the pace of the season picks up tremendously, as if the mysteries can no longer be contained and held back through Audio Montages. In fact, in light of Hurly's connection to the numbers, our identification with Hurly not only seems to be a better way of reading Season One as a whole, but begs the question: why we weren't more conscious of this the first time through?