In the next-to-last episode of “Lost,” Jacob and MIB’s surrogate mother tells the twins’ mother (before killing her), “Every question I answer will simply lead to another question.” This quote could aptly serve as the epitaph for “Lost,” which recently ended with an epic two-and-a-half-hour finale that was shrouded amidst mixed audience response. These words echo over the entire six-year series, and one can imagine it being bandied about by the producers and writers as they struggled to find the best ending for this TV-show-turned-worldwide phenomenon. In constructing and deconstructing plot lines, the powers-that-be created so many branching questions, theories and queries that I believe they ultimately accepted that they had effectively written themselves into too many corners. As a group, they collectively threw their hands up and decided to just end the show as emotionally and easily as possible.
A copout? Sure. Fitting? Uh-huh. The way it had to be? Yes.
Because as many references and similarities as there are to “Star Wars” (and there are tons), “Lost” was never going to be as deftly and cleverly tied up as that unforgettable epic. Yet the sense of entitlement that has pervaded our society leads so many to believe that they have bought or earned something with six years worth of viewing, that they are somehow owed everything tied up neatly with a bow and served up to them on a silver platter. They think they traded six years for the right to demand answers, and plenty of them, within 150 minutes, if you please.
But “Lost,” like life itself, isn’t that simple. Ultimately, that’s one of the messages that the producers worked so hard to share with the audience that they listened to and forged such a rare bond with. Whether they stumbled into this ending on accident or not is debatable, but the reality is that there was never going to be a finale that answered all of the questions and made everything all of a sudden make sense. Because that was part of the magic of the show; it reeled you in and made you an active participant. A large portion of how invested and involved you got in the series depended on how willing you were to suspend belief, to challenge assumptions, to buck the ordinary. And they carried that through the finale, asking you to decide for yourself what you chose to believe about the controversial ending.
“Guys … where are we?”
Did all the Losties die on Oceanic 815’s impact on the island? Did the survivors eventually make it off the island, live alternate lives and eventually reunite in death? Was it all a purgatory after all? I personally choose to believe that everyone died in the crash and that the island was a purgatory that was consciously created by the collective souls of the flawed, the lonely, the searching. What brought these characters together were these shared traits; redemption and resolution of these flaws eventually reunited them once again in the afterlife. Keep in mind the repeated phrase “Nothing is irreversible”:
JackFlaw: Living in his father’s shadow, his life is dominated by the sense that he’s just not good enough
Redemption: Becomes a father who learns from his father’s mistakes, becomes a leader, learns to relinquish power, then ultimately finds his purpose is truly about saving others, on the island and in the ER, finds and (arguably) fixes Kate
HurleyFlaw: Lives in his own mind as the unluckiest lucky man ever, feeling that he lives under a bad sign, with zero confidence and no companionship
Redemption: Finds inner confidence through the family of survivors, eventually becomes a leader by having others believe in him, finds Libby
SawyerFlaw: The unstable rogue, chasing his namesake, his criminal actions mirror the con that is his life
Redemption: Allows himself to fully love Juliet and becomes a cop in an effort to turn violence into help for others
KateFlaw: The beautiful murderer who is always running away from the past
Redemption: She becomes a mother and a wife, falling for Jack and finding a stable home and family
SayidFlaw: An expert torturer who can’t escape violence and death in his life and can’t stop chasing what he can’t have, Nadia
Redemption: Escapes his stereotype as a murderer by sparing Desmond and sacrificing himself to save others on the sub, earning him a second chance at love by finding Shannon
JinFlaw: Rigidly traditional man who is indebted to a mercenary businessman for rescuing him, making him a bad husband to the businessman’s daughter
Redemption: Sacrifices himself for Sun, becomes a father, becomes a hero, forgives and is forgiven
SunFlaw: Stuck in the middle of a clash of cultures, she fights traditional roles and mores, becoming an adulterer in the process
Redemption: Becomes a mother, finds Jin again, forgives and is forgiven
On a secondary level, Benjamin Linus’s flaw is that he is a power-hungry, malevolent man who seeks redemption by taking a secondary role and reveling in the fact that someone (Hurley) actually asks him for help. But the fact that Linus isn’t “ready” to enter the church at the end seems to suggest that he has not completely given up on the idea that might be able to influence Hurley into using the island for his own means or eventually usurping Hurley’s power.
"Tell me I'm going to see you again"Of course, there are several interpretations about the ending, with no clear “right” choice. And that’s part of the beauty of the show; after 121.5 hours, your belief still largely dictates the ending that you want, the finish that best fits your personality, your soul. I might feel that the island represents purgatory, with Jacob figuratively filling in the role of a god recruiting for heaven and the MIB figuratively serving as the devil bringing souls to hell.
In that sense, the show took a very surprising religious turn, to me at least. We are somewhat clued in when Kate laughingly questions the seemingly ridiculous name of “Christian Shephard.” With incantations, drinking of liquids with transmutative properties, the metaphor of the wine bottle with the cork in it, martyrdom, the Biblical names, the symbolic light, the church ending … it is almost as if the churchy overtones were there all along, yet maybe we chose to overlook them.
In the end, where they are is secondary to the idea that this is, at its heart, a morality tale. It’s a story of flawed characters (think “Wizard of Oz”) who are thrown into a situation—self-created or not—that forces them to face their flaws and adapt as people. Jacob tells them they are all lonely, looking for something they can’t find in the “real” world (life), and in accepting his sacrificial role, Jack admits that the island is the one thing in his life that he hasn’t managed to ruin.
“I’ll go where the light’s brightest.”
Everything ends at the source, which is a bit of clever irony. At this point, my belief is that all the major characters are already dead and trying to help Jack see the same truth so that he can ascend or descend. Desmond tries to tell him that the source lets you be with the ones you love, but Jack responds that there are no shortcuts and no do-overs, making you believe that he still feels he has yet to redeem himself, has yet to perform the heroic action that will help him find the elusive peace he doesn’t even know he is seeking.
And in the end, “Lost” is all about Jack’s quest for peace and redemption; it always was. His own harshest critic, he can’t fully appreciate how others view him, but only perceives himself in his father’s critical eyes. When Kate tells him, “Let the island sink,” she’s telling him to let it all go, to let the albatross that’s been hanging around his neck slip away, to allow himself to ease his burden. He says he can’t because he’s not ready yet. Kate telling him she loves him, Hurley telling him he believes in him and Sawyer thanking him all go a long way toward pushing him toward peace, but as the show states, how others view you doesn’t matter compared to what you feel about yourself.
Locke tells him, “Jack, I hope that somebody does for you what you just did for me,” in wishing for him found peace. Jack finally lets go when Kate says, “I know you don’t understand yet, but if you come with me, you will.”
But what does letting go -- and moving on -- really mean?
[Editor's Note: Stay tuned for Part II, since it's impossible to talk about a six-year show ending with a two-and-a-half-hour finale in one post. Giddyup.]
