‘Lost’ blogging: wibbly-wobbly, tiny whiny
Still not caring so much about Lost.
Widmore, on the Island, 50 years in the past, with an H-bomb.
That sounds like a really bad game of Clue.
I’m just not seeing anything to care about anymore here. All of a sudden Daniel’s in love with Charlotte? Just as she’s about to keel over from a time travel-induced brain aneurysm? (Who didn’t see that coming?) Or maybe that’s why Daniel pretended to love her, because he knew she was about to keel over and he wanted to make her last days happier? But this is my problem: If either of those possibilities is equally plausible — and I think they are — then there’s something wrong with that. We’re in a situation where the characters are ciphers, and can be shuffled around according to the needs of the increasingly twisting plot, instead of according to the needs of themselves as characters.
There’s a kind of story that can do that, and get away with it. But it’s not what Lost has been, and it’s not the story I’ve been onboard with for years now.
The only thing that’s remotely interesting to me at the moment are the most trivial bits of trivia. Penny and Des’s baby-in-the-future is named Charlie? Awww. Widmore funded Faraday’s research? Okay. But the Others all of a sudden speak Latin? Since when?
It’s so sad to have a show you’ve been riveted to in the past suddenly disappoint. *sigh*
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