Tag Archives: numbers

Why Lost Sucks

18 Jun

(Disclaimer: I speak as a former ferocious Lost fan. I scrutinized every episode, followed every backstory and knew every subplot. I was one of those fuckers that posted on Lostpedia).

Wait, this ISN’T an open audition for Survivor Season 27?

There are two types of people in this world: those who watched Lost and those who didn’t. If you are a part of the former group, then from the years 2004-2009 you led a life of blissful ignorance, un-perturbed by the nonsensical words of John Locke and the heavy breathing of Matthew Fox. If you are a member of the latter group, then my condolences. You most likely spent the better part of 6 years trying to understand that crazy island. But all that it amounted to was many hours spent watching unshaven, un-showered (yet improbably attractive) castaways as they tracked boars, fiddled with radios, killed “Others,” got locked in cages, and had dirty jungle sex. It was all a waste. Because in the end, Lost made NO. FUCKING. SENSE.

Let me break it down for you.

1. The Smoke Monster
Seriously, FUCK THE WHAT. The thing made sounds like Jurassic Park mixed with violent parrot sex. It… killed people? It was John Locke? It wasn’t actually John Locke? It was the Man in Black? MAN IN BLACK WHY U NO WILL SMITH?

Actually, it’s a storytelling device that kills off characters after the actors get DUIs. (Sorry, Mr. Eko. That shit sux.)

Attention to the writers of Lost: if you introduce a cool-ass new premise, follow up on it. There’s another group of people on the island who have been there doing shit since the 1950s? Hey, that’s cool! You know what would have been even cooler? IF YOU HAD EXPLAINED WHAT THE OTHERS WERE DOING THERE, OR HOW THEY GOT THERE, OR WHAT THE FUCK THE POINT OF THEM EVEN WAS.

3. The Scalp of John Locke
In Locke’s flashbacks, he boasts a head of luscious brown locks. But on the island, he is as bald as the day is long. I’ve sat down and done the math (don’t you judge). Those flashbacks weren’t that long before the crash. The poor bastard went from Farrah Fawcett to Mr. Clean faster than he could say 4,8,15,16,23,42. It makes no sense.

Which brings me to my next point…

I just…I don’t…I can’t…why. I mean, I can’t even put my confusion into an eloquent paragraph. Why those numbers? Why in that order? What do they mean? Where did they come from? Why not a different sequence? Why not 69 69 69 69 69 69?

5. Sawyer 2.0: The genteel hero
This isn’t a mystery. I’m just upset about the hottest badass on television turning into Mr. Rogers. In the beginning, Sawyer was all “son of a bitch. No one understands me, I’m tortured, I’m smoldering.” But then motherfucker fell in love with Juliet, and he turned into a softie. No more angry stares, no more sexist remarks, no more racist nicknames, no more klepto tendencies. Instead, Sawyer becomes the gang’s hero, their fearless leader (read: an annoying little bitch). Didn’t we already have Jack for that?

6. That Dude Richard
You know, that guy who wears eyeliner and doesn’t age. I don’t know what the deal with that is. I think it’s just one of those things that you have to accept. Like how it’s possible for Santa to travel all around the world in one night. Or why higher education is so ungodly expensive. Or why Chet Haze exists.

7. None of this matters anyway because the characters were in purgatory all along
Wow, seriously? Great. Awesome. The show ends and nothing is answered. The island was actually a weird, alternate-sideways-purgatory universe. COOL.


I think the writers thought that they had come up with an elegant solution. They got to evoke faith and come up with neat resolutions for all of the characters (THEY’RE DEAD). They also waived their obligation to answer any of the mysteries. YOU CAN’T PULL ONE OVER ME, CARLTON CUSE AND DAMON LINDELOF! I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOUR SHITTY-ASS COP OUT ENDING.

Anyone can write a show, book, or movie that is full of mysteries. It’s explaining the mysteries in a sensible and logical way that takes talent. Lost writers, you fail.

Whatevs, I’m over it. Fringe, anyone?