Maybe Reading Could Help: Darkness

I keep thinking about this bit in Dave Eggers' The Every where the main search engine and the main online commerce place have merged and everything is controlled and curated by them--- and halfway through the book it is explained that people in this world quit reading and the skill just went away. The only people around who could still do it were people on the legal teams, because those organizations actually required literacy and comprehension, but nothing else did. No one else gave a shit so there wasn't a need for books anymore and they all just went away. (This gives a little of two different Twilight Zones, both starring Burgess Meredith, and it's upsetting just how correctly Rod Serling had humanity, even 60 years ago) 

I'm not bringing this up because I'm afraid of not being able to read again (I have enough books to last me the rest of my life, no repeats, and I have lots of glasses in case mine break), but it's sad and horrible, thinking about this BRAWNDO HAS ELECTROLYTES world we live in and the direct consequences of an unthinking, unable-to-empathize populace who doesn't care to read. 

Anyway, here's what I read over the last month, I call this stack DARKNESS. The first 3 of them were re-reads, because I'm obsessive and I never get over anything.

1. Everything's Eventual: 14 Dark Tales, by Stephen King

I looked back on other blogs I wrote on this and I guess this is the third time I've read the whole book, although I have read "1408" and the title story a few more times, still. Again, I always read things multiple times, dating back to age 2 when my mother used to read me The Story of Ferdinand or Goodnight Moon when she put me to bed. When she left I would just start it over and recite whatever story to myself, again.

This time I loved: Illustrating the severity of Jack Hamilton's gunshot wound first by having the smoke from the Lucky he inhaled exit out the back of his lung where the bullet hole was (Like Juno in Beetlejuice but less funny and more yikes) and then ongoing, by the various stages of pus and Jack's energy. With a title like "The Death of Jack Hamilton," you obviously expect the guy to die, but these were still nice details. There was a lot of visceral medical stuff in this one I never really noticed before. Infection is no joke, kids. You can't just shrug that shit off.

Also all descriptions of the insane maitre d in "Lunch at the Gotham Cafe", and always with this vibe of very dark humor with the hindsight. Like, who would come up with these metaphors when telling the story of getting randomly chased around with a butcher knife?  ". . . bent forward slightly from the waist as he was, he made me think of a drawing in my sixth-grade literature book, an illustration of Washington Irving's unfortunate schoolteacher, Ichabod Crane." Steve Davis (main character) was clearly over it all before he even walked into that cafe, and often it's these out-of-fucks kind of people that tell the best stories about whatever bullshit they encounter. 

And in "1408," still my favorite in this collection, and I maintain, the scariest: "Whatever there is in that room, it's not shy." NO SHIT. It's a small thing, but why is there always a changing painting in so many of these stories? Evil coming out of neutral decorative objects: fruit to rot; regular teeth to fangs; even the floor changes after everything gets going to include "smooching noises" when Enslin walks on it. Stop it. I'da been long gone at the first hint of motion sickness when the goddamned doors started tilting and shifting right off the elevator. Not to mention how everything is orange--- there's something seriously wrong with this entire setup. 

Reading these all over again helped me laugh a little and appreciate creepy characters and cleverness in storytelling (although I still refuse to read "1408" at night). That settles it. I think I always need to be reading a Stephen King book. 

2. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

I am a very different person now than I was when I first read this. This time, knowing what the deal was from the beginning, I started keeping track of who was the bigger liar, and how early this started coming out (Nick's secret cell phone, which details from Amy's diary were somewhat true versus flat out lies, etc.). What I started noticing more was the difference between how Nick's lies and character flaws are peppered here and there throughout the story beginning early on and the truth about Amy's disordered personality is withheld until she explains how has framed Nick for her murder. I think the end goal was to be as if Nick's version he wrote (in the book, that Amy made him destroy) was actually this book, his chapters of Gone Girl, combined with Amy's true account of all the events as she experienced them (first part the diary that she partially reported truthfully and partially made up, second part the truth of everything that happened to her after she abducted herself), and this just really highlights the differences between them: Nick is an asshole; Amy is pathologically disturbed. We receive the negatives about Nick early and consistently; the disturbing problems with Amy's character emerge slowly at first, and then erupt. And because she is the narrator of her chapters of the story, and she's been proven to be a liar and a manipulator, we can never really be certain she's telling the whole truth. 

Could she have genuinely been diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder (psychopathy)? There are hazy details missing from her childhood above and beyond her parents not relating to her or treating her like her own person (although was that even real? she could have made that up, too). She would have needed to meet criteria for conduct disorder in childhood or adolescence in order for APD to apply; it seems odd that this would have escaped both her psychologist parents, but a very smart person with beauty, talent, and resources would have likely found ways to perform the role of a psychologically typical daughter. The moments when Amy criticizes people who are trying to help her--- Boney, the cop ("I find ugly women are usually overly deferential or incredibly rude") Desi, or even her parents--- show her as cold and unfeeling, with no desire to relate with any real humanity. Can she relate to people on this level? Yes. She charms many. But she also uses and frames countless people in her life, and kills Desi with no remorse---like everyone else, he is nothing more than a means to an end. She chooses who gets her painted-on humanity, just as she chooses to disclose certain details in the telling of her story and not others. Amy Elliot probably wouldn't find anything wrong with her actions, nor would she be able to reflect more deeply into why she does what she does. Nick at least knows he's an asshole and could probably pinpoint all the ways and reasons why he is one.

The experience of reading this again was unpleasant, but I have a feeling personality disorders will be making a nation-wide comeback very soon. I thought it would be useful prep. Also I re-watched the film and thought there were several missed opportunities in Fincher's choice not to include the numerous friends from Amy's past who she screwed over. One final thought: I found a scholarly article on apapsychinfo that used popular film characters as a way of discussing the etiology of personality disorders. The authors actually started back with Fatal Attraction's Alex Forest (Borderline Personality Disorder), changed the ending a bit to allow Dan and Beth Gallagher's daughter Ellen to become an orphan in foster care, and suggested that these negative experiences could set the stage for young Ellen to be adopted by two childless psychologists (The Elliots), and subsequently develop conduct disorder and then Antisocial Personality Disorder as Amy Elliot in Gone Girl. 

3. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood 

Talk about darkness. What upsets me about reading this now is how it relates so completely with how some people, some who think ectopic pregnancies can be re-implanted or that cameras can be swallowed to record data on fetuses, want to use our government to control women. I used to think it was a fringe element, no more than 40% in the heyday and far less than 20% after the real crazy came out. Turns out it doesn't matter. People still aren't listening, or they're actively siding with Gilead's boys.

"You wait, she said. They've been building up to this. It's you and me up against the wall, baby. She was quoting an expression of my mother's, but she wasn't intending to be funny."

I gotta go with the show over the book on this one; there's at least some revenge happening there.

4. Everything That Rises Must Converge by Flannery O'Connor

Yes, well. Bouncing back to personality, there were several issues with every character in every one of these stories. Everyone is very racist, and the characters who don't believe they are racist, or who believe they are less racist than other people in the story with them are usually the most racist of all. There are class issues, too, farm money, education, religion, etc., but mostly everyone is just really unpleasant. That said, there is an element of inevitable train wreck that comes in reading each of these; the situations themselves that these people are in are actually interesting enough to keep you locked in. As in, what is the guy going to do to purposely embarrass his mother on the bus? Is that little girl going to side with her grandfather or the father that beats her? What is the religious wife going to say about the latest tattoo? Then add to each answer, "and how will this fuck things up worse than they already are?" 

I read "A Good Man is Hard to Find" (very small town, In Cold Blood murder-y) in an English short story class at MCTC in 2000, and as much as I was disturbed by it, these were somehow worse, darkness-wise. O'Connor's feelings about religion are actually kind of valid---something like "the world is so horrible and violent that only God can save us . . ." I wonder what she'd think of organized religion, today.

5. The Splendid Ticket by Bill Cotter 

The darkness in this book is embodied by the character of Dean Lee, who wasn't even that terrible of a human, just made bad choices. Gambling addiction and guns. Bad combo. I had a professor who described a large percentage of her female clients' problems as needing either a winning lottery ticket or a husband-ectomy. Angie needed both.

I hated knowing all along how this was going to end.

The Twilight Zone: The Comedian

I started watching The Twilight Zone in the early 80s with my parents and brother when the old black-and-white reruns aired on channel 9 at 10 o'clock at night. The first time I really remember being scared as a child was during the episode, "The After Hours," when Marsha White realizes (with the help of a blaring tuba blast) that the saleslady who helped her in a department store was actually a mannequin. Later, after our family moved to town and my dad signed up for the Columbia House Video club that sent out a beta tape of four Twilight Zone episodes each month, my brother, best friend, and I would watch the entire tape in one sitting, freaking out over how cool it was that something so old could still be so scary. Most of our favorites focused on those chilling horror elements so well-done in episodes like "The Living Doll," "The Dummy," or "The Grave." Who could forget that shit? I hear the creepy laughs of ALL THREE OF THOSE VILLAINS in my worst nightmares, even now!

When Matt and I were first married I subscribed to my own video club (VHS then, thanks) and made it a mission to watch each episode and review it, from start to finish. It was a wondrous project that I loved dearly--it reminded me of my dad and some of the greatest experiences of my youth. Watching as an adult led me to the conclusion that in a lot of these episodes, people aren't very nice, or in a somewhat gentler way, people really seem to have trouble with bad decisions, and now, some sixty years later, it's both reassuring and troubling that not much has changed. I think creator Jordan Peele understands this concept only too well. My overall assessment: This series is going to be amazing.

The Comedian (2019) 
written by: Alex Rubens
directed by: Owen Harris 
starring: Kumail Nanjiani, Amara Karan, Diarra Kilpatrick, Tracy Morgan, Jordan Peele

Samir Wassan (Kumail Nanjiani) is a comedian who wants his standup routine to matter. He wants to entertain his audience yet he wants to inspire deep thought about important issues such as the second amendment or the shortcomings of the president. He also wants respect, followers, and money for his efforts. After a flat performance Samir meets comedy legend JC Wheeler (Tracy Morgan) at the bar where Wheeler shares what he's learned in the business. "The audience don't care about what you think, they care about you." Sharing deeply personal details, Wheeler implies, is necessary to win people over and gain followers, although he also warns (with a billow of vape-smoke) that this kind of sharing isn't without consequences. Samir continues to open each of his sets with the same oppositional rants but he eventually takes the advice and begins using material from his own life to win approval from the crowd. Wheeler was right---it works for Samir, instantly. The question is, just how long will Samir be able to continue feeding his audience, and at what cost?

"Once it's theirs, that shit
is gone, forever."

The technique used in telling this story pays great artistic homage to Rod Serling's original opening monolog (which creator Jordan Peele kept* and announced himself), namely the elements of light and shadow. As the majority of the scenes take place at night inside the comedy club or in the city streets surrounding it, shadows, lighting, and depth of field showcase beautiful darknesses that accompany these settings. Blues, blacks, golds, neons, and smoke look amazing throughout each scene.

The camera both takes its time revealing walls, ceilings, and corners (watch for HUGE Easter eggs from the original series on the opening mural and in fellow comedian Didi Scott's dressing room) and also overwhelms us with a series of rapid, manic shots when Samir, in the height of his success, goes on what can only be coined as a sharing-spree, firing off names and details with power and vengeance. Little musical effects punctuate shocking scene endings. At least three classic Twilight Zone episodes** are alluded to (via the comedy scene, the changing and vanishing of objects from the world, and the willful elimination of displeasing items), and The Shining is referenced through Samir's apartment corridors, the mural at the comedy club, and the mention of the family name, "Torrance," in a story that is told in passing. All of these technical elements show us that in addition to being an amazing writer and creator, Jordan Peele knows and loves his film and television ancestors; he's a smart guy who has a lot of interesting things to show us.

The theme present in this episode is very nostalgic for fans of the series--the issues being explored here are of the same vein as many of Serling's original episodes, but with modern updates and allowances for items such as social media, the commonness of curse words, and insight into the lives of people who aren't exclusively white and European. The theme overall that emerges is a common one, suggesting that age-old idea that things seem to go well for a while when an average citizen is granted a special type of power or control, but in the end, humankind never really can master that moderate middle ground between being satisfied with what is given and the constant need for wanting more. Samir could have stopped himself halfway through this episode, realizing he's good with the initial bounty of popularity, riches, and respect he finds, but he doesn't do this. The message that Peele is exploring here is that like Samir, humans rarely ever quit while they're ahead. Stephen King talks a lot in interviews about how he enjoys the idea in many of his stories of a "Pandora's Box," that once opened, facilitates the decline of lives due to the usually-fated tendency toward poor decisions that humans seem destined.

Also worth mentioning is the ethnic background and composition of the key characters in this story. Samir is an Indian-American comedian who competes with a white (presumably hetero) male, Joe Donner, and an African-American homosexual female, Didi Scott, onstage at the comedy club. Donner is identified early on as someone whose livelihood and future is effortlessly secured by his whiteness. He is overweight, vulgar, sexist, and guilty of a hit-and-run accident that resulted in the deaths of a woman and her infant, yet he is not only found innocent and allowed to continue performing comedy, he's a celebrated icon! Joe Donner is indicative of the larger (fat, criminal, white) system that calls the shots, controls the money, and largely influences the audience, who resemble his demographic more than any other. Joe Donner's character represents those who RUN THE SYSTEM.

Didi is an interesting character because she manages to remain true to herself and her values while at the same time functioning within a system that is stacked against her, knowing full well the rules and sacrifices that go along with what she's doing. She doesn't kiss anyone's ass, but she knows that she's subject to the obligations that go along with success and income, which largely involve playing to the white people with money. Didi's character represents someone who KNOWS THE SYSTEM and does what she can to FUNCTION SUCCESSFULLY WITHIN IT.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have been
Samir Wassan!"

Samir is the wild card, the character who has two conflicting desires: he wants to make people think with his comedy but he also wants fame and riches. Peele's point via JC Wheeler's character is that Samir cannot have both of these elements at once, especially as an Indian-American (although this concept could have worked with a character of any ethnic background, really). A performer will eventually have to choose between keeping true to himself or making a living. Samir chose to make a living, and in the end, it ruins him. Samir was at first a FLUKE WITHIN THE SYSTEM, but then became just another cog in the machinery of entertainment, ultimately losing everything that made him an exceptional human being in the first place. And what of JC Wheeler? Is he Jesus (JC)? Is he the devil (vape smoke seems too aesthetic at the right moments to ignore)? It's open for debate, although Wheeler is definitely a knower, an influencer of the game, and someone who sets acts in motion. Samir mentions in their early discussion that Wheeler was everywhere, then just disappeared. What happened to him? Having found out the secret of successful stand-up, did Wheeler decide to just hang around and serve as a sentinel, a guide, to others that were following in his footsteps? Or is he more than that, someone always waiting, always watching, meant to escort young performers to their respective demises? Is the episodes's message that a skilled insider is controlling the system or is it rather that humans will screw themselves and take whatever bait is put before them?

Hard to say where the line is drawn, or if it is, at all.



* Peele's updated introductory monologue substitutes the words, "one," and "one's" for "man," and "man's."

** "The Dummy," focused around a comic and ventriloquist, "Shadow Play," involved a death row inmate who could change the elements of his surroundings at will (because the entire story was being dreamt, by him), and "It's a Good Life," brought us Anthony Freemont, who disposed of anything he didn't like into his family's cornfield.

Black Mirror, Season 1

This is 100% my kind of television. It's like The Twilight Zone but different. Edgier. And, to be honest, examples of the exact kinds of situations I envisioned back in 2007 when everyone started getting all OMG so into Apple Phones and Ipads and YouTube and Facebook. Yes, I am writing this from a computer and sharing it on social media, so I guess that means that I'm self-aware enough to be able to discuss the destruction of humanity while actively participating in its downfall (but I'm also the one who's been telling everyone "IT'S A COOKBOOK!" too, so lay on, haters). Anyway, full disclosure warning, this show is disturbing (psychologically on the level with the Saw films but not quite reaching The Human Centipede); these stories are not likely to be everyone's cup of tea, but they're still important stories.

Episode 1, The National Anthem, takes on YouTube and social media by exposing just how easy it is to ruin someone's life: a member of the royal family is kidnapped and will only be released if the prime minister has relations with a pig on live television. Yes, A PIG. Our initial reactions as viewers echo those of the PM's---this has got to be a joke (it isn't), and there has to be a way to keep this private (there isn't). Nothing is containable anymore, especially where American news media and Facebook users are concerned! An early version of this idea may have been presented by Pumpkin (Tim Roth) and the conversation about the telephone ransom in Pulp Fiction back in 1994, what's to stop some random person from robbing/blackmailing/harming someone else? These days people are not only more ruthless and righteous in their sabotage of others, the sabotage, the ridicule, the dehumanization are all completely public and broadcasted everywhere for the world to see. The motivation for it is simply to destroy a public figure in the most humiliating way possible, and it works.

yeah, this is us.

This narrative is different than the by-comparison tame Twilight Zone, Night Gallery, or even X-Files episodes that explored unexplained phenomena or the evil men do. In the first place, the self-reflexivity used here is significant (and I think, the point of it all). Cleverly, the camera lingers many times on the horrified reactions of citizens during the main event, as it were, and we, the audience, are also implicated as watchers of this disturbing act as we have also chosen to participate and are just as guilty. It's a strange, unpleasant viewing and again, definitely not for everyone, but the experience of watching speaks very effectively to the real-life horrors made possible through technology. We don't like to think about it, but this sort of thing is possible. Second, the unflinching way this dark material is presented, straight up, head-on, and without frilly editing or ceremony seems to thrust the realization at us that THIS IS THE WAY THINGS ARE NOW. It's accepted----dissected and dealt with I suppose, but accepted. Yikes.

Episode 2, 15 Million Merits explores a contained civilization where young citizens pedal on stationary bikes to presumably provide a sort of fuel for life. Reality television is everywhere: it surrounds each individual living space, it's in the bathrooms and on display in front of the bikes, it even serves as a source of redemption or a threat, depending on how the cyclists perform (the good ones can get out by becoming famous, the bad ones become the targets for a hunting program). Bing (Daniel Kaluuya) has managed to accumulate over fifteen million merits but is bored with his life until he hears Abi (Jessica Brown Findlay) sing in the bathroom. He uses his merits to gift her a ticket for a talent show, Hot Shot, explaining, "I want something real to happen." Something real does happen, something really terrible.

RESUME VIEWING!

This is really just an updated, re-telling of Orwell's 1984 where everyone looks good and already loves Big Brother. Fittingly, everything is wrapped up in the television screens. A single look away brings about a flashing red warning (with the threat of more punishment to come); pornography is offered up constantly based on each cyclist's inner emotions, reactions, and vital signs. Violence and rage are encouraged while objectification is not only accepted, it's the only thing that can save the cyclists from a life of pedaling. Bing's fate eventually speaks to the cleverness of those who have created this civilization----even when someone exposes the evil inherent in such a system, the powers that be know exactly what they're doing and the system continues to work.

Episode 3, The Entire History of You, provides a look at a future where implanted memory grain devices allow everyone to rewind and review anything that's ever happened to them with the touch of a remote button. Memories can be played back within (inside) one's own vision or shared with others on a screen, and this is what serves as entertainment and underscores all interactions. This open access to the past isn't all it's cracked up to be though, a young married couple (Toby Kebbell and Jodie Whittaker) learns that there are some pretty serious consequences to hitting life's "rewind" button.

Is this us?

In 2011, the year this program debuted, it may have seemed like more of a reach--- a future where everyone is wrapped up in themselves, their memories, or the sharing of memories with others, but in today's world this kind of absorption barely garners a reaction. We see it happening on the regular, not with grains but with our phones (note the glassy, removed effects in the watchers' eyes when they "dial in"). Miraculously, one of the story's characters willingly chooses to have her grain removed ("I've never felt better!") but is shunned by the others who are confused as to why anyone would want to live this way.

Obviously not everyone is going to like these negative takes on technology and the hazards of our connected world; technology and being connected have made a lot of positive things possible after all. But has social media improved our lives? Are reality television programs positive experiences for the participants and those who watch? How is all this knowing affecting our physical and mental health? How are the children dealing with it? The series' title is a roundabout way of getting at these questions and the answers don't seem very reassuring.

All The Twin Peaks #5

"I saw this man in my dream."

Twin Peaks Journal
Episode #5, The One-Armed Man
Airdate: May 3, 1990
Written by: Robert Engles
Directed by: Tim Hunter

Summary: Sarah Palmer describes the man she saw in Laura's room; the one-armed man is found; Norma's husband, Hank, is paroled; Cooper and Truman investigate Laura's bird bites; James meets Madeline Ferguson; Leo impresses Ben Horne by killing Bernard Renault and promising to burn down the mill; Cooper searches Jacques Renault's apartment and find Leo's bloody shirt; James and Donna can't find the necklace.

Other Areas of Interest:
*There seems to be some weirdness going on between Leland and Sarah when she's talking to the cops. Is Leland making fun of her "visions?" She seems pretty annoyed with him after he brings up the necklace vision . . .

*Ah, Lucy and Andy are "together," or were, maybe.

*Cooper asks Jacoby if Laura had problems, "Oh my, YES."

SICK.

*Hank is a damned creep. What's up with that domino? Quit putting it in your mouth. Yuck. I can't believe Norma hit that.

*Cooper and Truman stepping up to shoot targets after having emotional conversation about broken hearts is awesome.

Rating; 🍩🍩🍩1/2  (3 and 1/2  doughnuts out of 4 possible)

Things are getting complicated. According to Donna, Laura said her mother was "spooky." How about the fact that both Sarah AND Cooper have had visions/dreams of the same creepy guy? And while Laura's death is the catalyst for the story, it's a far cry from being the only strange occurrence around here. Everyone's either having an affair or plotting to ruin someone's life (with Ben Horne or at the request of Ben Horne). The drama is escalating nicely---at this point really anyone could have killed Laura and it's like a game of Clue over here, trying to narrow it down.

And about the doppelganger theme (introduced first on "Invitation to Love," the soap opera the characters seem to enjoy). See "Mirror Image," on The Twilight Zone for the endgame of all this business.The Madeline Ferguson situation is a giant red flag.

Hey, it's me! Seems legit. . . 

Best Lynch Moment: Ben Horne taking "Little Elvis," for a bath.
Best Line: "File it under "f" for "forget it,"--Cooper to Gordon Kohl regarding Albert's report on Sheriff Truman
New Characters: Gordon Kohl (voice), Hank Jennings
Coffee, Pie, or Doughnut References: 1
Journal Entry of the Day: The one, the only, LEO JOHNSON

Give (Alien) Peace a Chance: I am Number Four

There is a lot of unnecessary hate out there for this film. Then again, teen movies aren't favorites with everyone. The dialogues are usually campy and (st)uttered by inexperienced players. The sexual tension gets old fast. The plot lines (virgin has relations with apple pie; vampire falls in love with uncoordinated tomboy; redheaded sophomore's birthday goes unnoticed; etc.) are far-fetched and sometimes silly. In this regard, D.J. Caruso's I Am Number Four  blends in perfectly, because on some level (and older viewers might do well to remember this) ALL TEEN FILMS ARE RIDICULOUS. So if you're okay with a little bit of ridiculousness, are able to appreciate the nostalgia of teen-dom, and enjoy science fiction, this film is for you. 

First off, don't be fooled by dismissive comparisons to The Twilight Saga; this film is actually nothing like Twilight except for the teenage characters and the sharpness of the enemies' teeth, but that's honestly reaching, a lot. If the film was influenced by anything, it was by the science fiction/thriller aspects of television shows like The Twilight Zone, The X-Files, and if I want to reach some more, evenLOST or The Matrix. The film opens with an unseen creature chasing a young man (Number Three) through a jungle. The star of the story, Number Four, has unnatural physical powers (legacies) that becomes stronger when his emotions flare. And throughout the film, verbal homages are paid, "You mean those 'truth is out there' freaks?" and "my entire childhood has been an episode of X-files." Even the title fits in on a very basic level among Twilight Zone writers' selections---Richard Matheson's I Am Legend and Charles Beaumont/John Tomerlin's Number Twelve Looks Just Like You.

This film works because of two things: the casting and the effects. The length (only 109 minutes) and the music didn't hurt, either. The entire production was extremely well cast, but topping the list were the two principals, Pettyfer and Agron. They both gave their characters an almost subtle, hesitant charm, choosing eye-rolls and smirks over stuttering or squinting (there were a few neck-clenches, however). The first kiss between them strikes a chord by providing the words every lovesick teenager wants to hear; "All I think about is you." Also well cast was Timothy Olyphant (Go, Deadwood, Justified), who, while a little young for a father figure role, is always a good business decision. His first scene shows him wonderfully shaggy-haired and in beach bum attire, looking very much like a version of LOST'S famed pilot, Frank Lapidus. Speaking of LOST, alum Kevin Durand (who plays the lead Mog) just can't get a break. If playing awful commando Martin Keamy wasn't a plague on his soon-to-be-typecast-as-a-disgusting-villain-for-the-rest-of-his-life house, then I don't know what is. All the sneering, inhaling, and delight in the causing of pain suit him perfectly; Durand is a legitimate fright. 

sick! 

The story is about Number Four (played by Alex Pettyfer), an alien from the planet Lorien living on Earth with his protector, Henri (played by Timothy Olyphant). Forced to leave their home because of enemy attacks, the two are on the lam from the Mogadorians or Mogs, who are searching for Four and the others like him (the first three have been destroyed already bringing Four's number up on the hit list). Henri tries to convince Four (or John, as he's called in public) to keep a low profile but Sarah (Glee's Dianna Agron), a blossoming young photographer catches his eye and things start to get difficult. Loriens mate for life, you see. Sarah used to date the star quarterback, who is a bully. The bullying happens mostly to a young underclassman who believes his father was carried off by aliens, which turns out to be correct. All this drama causes Four to often lose control of his powers and open a little kick-ass from time to time, allowing the Mogs and another mysterious number to easily track where he's hiding through web postings and Youtube. There come slightly awkward scenes. Explosions. And an extremely stylized ending (where Michael Bay's hand in production becomes evident), but you know something? It all works.

Yes.

In terms of the effects, everything flowed really well and was impressive. The Mogadorians looked scary, Four (and Six) could do cool tricks, and the Matrix-calibre end battle was well done. Yes, a lot of what happened was far-fetched and at times a little silly, but this picture was never meant to be an exercise in reality. If you ask me, the kids did just fine. Sequels? See you there.

Unknown: You Can Do A Lot Worse

If you're looking to dissect plot-holes and debate narrative plausibility in mainstream cinema, you'll want to skip this one. However, if you're cool with puzzle-solving, car chases, and just a fun, entertaining event, (think The Game meets The Fugitive in Germany) it'll be right up your ally. Unknown is a smart, well acted, well driven spin on a concept explored many times over in literature, television, and film: the loss of identity. Whereas The Twilight Zone's "Person or Persons Unknown," which was no doubt the inspiration for this screenplay, dealt with an identity switcheroo on a calm and intimate scale, this film literally throws its main character (Liam Neeson) into a sea of confusion when he must not only determine why everyone in his life has suddenly forgotten him but also figure out how to prevent an assassination and breach of security involving his "work" in biotechnology in a foreign country. The result is a tense, visually thrilling experience which director Jaume Collet-Serra pulled off with style. 

Liam Neeson plays Dr. Martin Harris, in Berlin with his stunning wife Elizabeth (January Jones) for an important biotechnology seminar. Once they arrive at their hotel, he realizes that his cab driver left an important briefcase back the airport; he hurries inside another cab to retrieve it. On the way, his driver (Inglourious Basterds' Diane Kruger) swerves to avoid hitting an appliance and the cab winds up in the river. After he wakes from a coma in a hospital four days later, no one appears to know who he is and another man (Aidan Quinn) has sidled up to Elizabeth, claiming that he (Quinn) is the real Dr. Martin Harris. The race is on while (the original) Dr. Harris enlists the help of his cab driver (Kruger) and an ex-East German spy to figure out what exactly is happening to him.

The look of this film is what captures; snowy, gray, not exactly grainy, but sinister, as if Berlin itself might be in on the deception. After Dr. Harris leaves the hospital against medical advice, he begins to have colorful, overexposed flashbacks of his wife and bouts of shaky disorientation; the filmmaking showcases these events nicely without overdoing. Once the bad guys show up we get a Benz versus Volkswagen car chase through the streets of Berlin, also skillfully done (and very reminiscent of 24 or The Bourne Identity). The intensity keeps on all the way through to the end, which wraps up with a twist, crash, and bang, literally. Bottom line? Briefcases *do* get lost, memories *can* get buried, and there *are* conspiracies. If you don't over-think and just shut up and watch, you'll probably be glad that you did.

 

The Dangers of Poor Middle Management: The Adjustment Bureau

"Do you believe in fate? (No.) Why not? (Because I don't like the idea that I'm not in control of my life.) I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU MEAN."

Back when Morpheus and Neo were having this conversation in The Matrix, audiences knew straight away that control was a bad thing, and that by association, the agents of the system that oversaw that control must also be bad. It was a given that human beings should be allowed to make their own choices. David Norris (Matt Damon) stumbles into a similar predicament in The Adjustment Bureau, and be it God or robots, control is still a bad thing.

This is actually a very sweet, very tender film that is carried by Matt Damon's skill and validity as an actor and by the chemistry he shares with co-star Emily Blunt. There are no robots, no slowly cascading bullets, and not nearly enough techno in this film, which is unfortunate. Many viewers will expect at least some action driven carry-over from Damon's Bourne films (in which screenwriter/director George Nolfi was himself involved) but that doesn't happen either. If you walk into the theater expecting testosterone, you'll be disappointed, but if you're okay with seeing a (faith-based) love story, and you don't fall to pieces over a little rule-breaking, you'll probably enjoy yourself.

That said, there are problems in this film. The Adjustment Bureau exists to make sure the events on Earth run according to plan, a royal, worldly plan handed down in interactive manuals to Fedora-wearing gentlemen from an unseen Chairman. No one comes right out and says that The Chairman is God and that the hat-wearers Angels, but they almost do, and identifying this Bureau as such creates problems because they don't seem to be very good at their jobs. David Norris's issues start when his Bureau Agent oversleeps during a crucial moment in his particular plan, and as a result, David runs into Elise (Blunt), the exact woman from whom they're trying to keep him. Luckily, the rapport between David and Elise, from the very first moment they meet, is interesting, engaging, and literally creates the driving force for the entire film; the love story between them is a good one. Later, when Norris stumbles upon a very Twilight Zone moment of human bodies frozen in time as The Bureau "re-sets" one of his co-workers, the men in hats explain exactly who they are and what they do: 

1. We control everything.
2. Everything we control is based on The Chairman's Plan.
3. We don't care about what you want.

4. If you expose us, we'll erase your brain.

None of what they say really carries all that much weight in the run of things, mostly because David (and viewers) have no choice but to take all this seriously without ever being shown that these things are true or even possible, which is a leap of faith that some people probably won't accept. And there's the whole not-being-able-to-make-your-own-choices thing, which won't sit well with anyone who has been taught to believe that their God is a loving one. As it turns out, the rest of the film shows that The Adjustment Bureau really isn't all that effective, is poorly managed, and makes a lot of threats; all it takes to shake up the system is someone like David who won't take "no" for an answer (there's your rule-breaking). Beyond this, there are several great scenes that involve The Bureau's power, their means of exiting and entering the human world, and just the menacing look of the men in hats, especially in a group---those things are fun; the film could have been strengthened by more scenes that cast The Bureau in a light of strength or ability. It's hard, though, to get past just how many times they keep getting it wrong, as well as the bigger concept that The Chairman doesn't really care about David's desires or feelings, and seems to employ a bunch of blowhard stooges to do His bidding. Send them all to Agent Smith for "Adjustment Re-training" and you've got a bulls-eye.

Everything's Eventual.

I first read this years ago on my breaks when I was still doing days at Sbux; I loved them all. I picked it up again hoping to enjoy them just as much the second time and did. I just think it's an extremely well-rounded collection and I don't know, just really pleasing. These stories are different from King's novels, obviously, in that they're shorter and more direct, but they're also pretty different from other collections of shorts that he's done in the past. It's not just subject matter (though many of them are a touch more light-hearted than something like The Monkey or Survivor Type) but many of the stories are also terrifying (I'm thinking specifically of 1408, which I've written about before). I think what I like best about this collection is the overall vibe or feeling of the stories that compose it; I'd finish each one and I don't know, just grin and reflect, sometimes wanting to start all over and read them again. They made me happy.

1. Autopsy Room Four. This is one of the more light-hearted ones; easy to read, clever, drops little hints nicely about what actually happened to the "patient," and so on. If you're a fan of the season 3 Tales From The Crypt episode "Abra Cadaver," you'll probably enjoy this, too. And for what it's worth, I myself also enjoy the word "boomslang," and seek it out in my son's various snake anthologies just so I can say it aloud.

2. The Man in the Black Suit. I liked this, and found it extremely frightening. I loved the details, the dog named Candy Bill, the Gordy Lachance sort of feeling to it, the man and how he looked, fire for eyes, all of it. Something bigger that I love about this story (and others like it, and there have been a few) is the idea of these characters who see or experience something awful, live their whole lives without forgetting it, and then spill it, detail for detail---as if nothing has faded. Folk-tale-y, scary campfire stories.

"Even before he reached me, I recognized the aroma baking up from the skin under the suit---the smell of burned matches. The smell of sulfur. The man in the black suit was the Devil. He had walked out of the deep woods between Motton and Kashwakamak, and now he was standing here beside me. From the corner of one eye I could see a hand as pale as the hand of a store window dummy. The fingers were hideously long."

3. All That You Love Will Be Carried Away. Melancholy, random, and very detailed, this one is. The graffiti made me laugh; the loneliness of the character made me sad. I really loved the way he (King) chose to end it, though. Occasionally ambiguous endings annoy me but this one was perfect.

4. The Death of Jack Hamilton. Forgive me, but I didn't read this one this time around; I inadvertently skipped it because I think it reminded me of having dizzy pregnant spins in the break room at work (in 2009). Bad memories. And honestly, if I can make a polite criticism, I usually require my gangster stories to involve someone hot (Ray Liotta, De Niro, Johnny Depp, etc.) with a lively soundtrack. No offense.

5. In The Deathroom. This was enjoyable, short and direct, but in terms of endings it was a small letdown because it kind of cheated. The overall story worked for me, the descriptions of characters and the setting of the death room were properly sinister (you'd never catch me in *any* country south of the border for these specific reasons), and I was interested. At the risk of sounding ungrateful though, I wanted to know how he busted out of there.

6.  The Little Sisters of Eluria. Yeah, skipped this one, too, but only because I wanted some perspective from The Dark Tower series, which I haven't read any of yet. I'll come back to it once I have and then we'll talk.

7. Everything's Eventual. I LOVED this. I just find it so clever and brilliant, the details, especially. What a setup. This story is really one of my favorites, ever.

"I fished the chalk out of my pocket and dropped down on one knee. For one second I thought the whole works had gone out of my head, and that was bad. I felt despair and sadness trying to fill me up and I thought, No, don't let it, don't let it, Dinky, fight it. Write anything, even if it's FUCK MRS. BUKOWSKI'S DOG.

But I didn't write that. I drew this shape, I think it was a sankofite, instead. Some weird shape, but the right shape, because it unlocked everything else. My head flooded with stuff. It was wonderful, but at the same time it was really scary because there was so fucking much of it . . . If someone had come along, I would have ignored him. Shit, if Mrs. Bukowski's dog had finally broken its rope, jumped the fence, and clamped down on my ass, I probably would have ignored that.

It was eventual, man. It was so fucking eventual I can't even tell you."

8. L.T.'s Theory of Pets. I giggled a lot at this one; calling the cat "Screw-Lucy" was probably my favorite. I don't actually think the violent bit at the end (wife's demise) was the best, but the story had so much heart and ridiculous silliness that won me over, I still dug it.

Tom Berenger played the writer? No way! 

9. The Road Virus Heads North. I liked this one a lot; I think everyone has a framed picture in their past that they're scared of----my mother told me that once when she was little, her sister told her that the woman in the picture in their bathroom (Sylvia) was watching her. And after she said this, my mother thought the eyes really were watching, seemed to move with you across the room, etc. The thing about this story that got me were the subtle changes in the photo at first (fangs a bit longer, arm extended differently, tattoo, no tattoo? etc.) but then after he realizes that it's indeed happening, the picture just goes off the hook. Nice.

10. Lunch at the Gotham Cafe. Wow; this was another one I really loved. I don't know what I liked most about it, the crazed French dude (Guy the Demon Waiter) or King's little explanation before the story and knowing that this entire creepy story was born from such a seemingly minuscule little interaction between King and a waiter. Genius.

EEEEEEEEEEE!

"'Forgetful of me you shouldn't have been!' Guy screamed, sounding like Yoda in the Star Wars movies. 'Your hateful dog! . . . Your loud music, so disharmonious! . . . Eeeeee! . . . How you ever---'

There was a large pot on one of the front burners of the lefthand stove. I reached out for it and slapped it at him. It was over an hour before I realized how badly I'd burned my hand doing that; I had a palmful of blisters like little buns, and more blisters on my three little fingers. The pot skidded off its burner and tipped over in midair, dousing Guy from the waist down with what looked like corn, rice, and maybe two gallons of boiling water."

11. That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French. This is my normal kind of story; reminded me very much of The Twilight Zone episode, "Shadow Play," or even LOST, without the changes in characters or you know, time travel and stuff. Any time a Crown Victoria (Crown Vic!) is used in a story it thrills me. Grand Marquis or Caprices too, for that matter. Precognition might seem like a cool trick to some, but I think the story captures a really disturbing and ominous aspect to it, pairing it with being caught in an endless loop like they were . . . yee.

12. 1408. Yes, yes, YES! Another absolute winner. I'll tell you in all honesty that I first read this at work in the break room (and had to constantly glance behind me while doing so), then read it for the second time in the bath last year (and got extremely shivery and uncomfortable) and then earlier this week, had to put it off for a day because the night it came up on the rotation, Matt was out that night for a concert. I was not willing to read it alone in the house at night because I knew it would completely mess my shit up (and bad), despite having read it two other times before. This one terrifies me; I think it's the scariest of anything in King's collected works. I just find it so . . . unsettling and well done. This is so wonderfully crafted and subtle in its evil that I think it might be the most goddamned genius thing I've ever read, or close to it, anyway. In the link up above, I mentioned my favorite bits of writing, here are a few different ones:

"In the picture where the fruit had been, there was now a severed human head. Yellow-orange light now swam off the sunken cheeks, the sagging lips, the upturned, glazing eyes, the cigarette parked behind the right ear."

"The thought of Olin smirking (in his deferential New York hotel manager way) and saying I told you so didn't bother him, and the idea that Olin had somehow induced these strange perceptions and horrible fear by chemical means had entirely left his mind. It was the room. It was the goddamned room."

13. Riding The Bullet. I was fooled by this in that I assumed for sure that the old piss-smelling guy was the monster, but you know how I feel about the elderly by now, I suppose. It had a lot of heart (mother/son experiences, memories, devotion, etc.) and it's pretty clear that King felt very strongly about his own mother from many of his stories, but this one definitely stands out.

14. Luckey Quarter. I loved this, and loved that it was the last one in the book. Light, wonderfully random, and entertaining. Wasn't there a Twilight Zone with Dick York dealing with something similar?

The Howling Man.

This is part of The Twilight Zone Marathon that is going on today and tomorrow on SyFy; "The Howling Man" plays tonight at 11pm Eastern, 10pm Central Time. It's a rare episode that isn't always included in many of the video collections, or at least it never used to back in my day. It's worth checking out. There are a few nerdy parallels to LOST, best of all the line by Brother Jerome about the mysterious prisoner, something about not talking to him, for if he speaks to you it will already be too late?

Smokey?

"You can catch The Devil, but you can't hold him long."

Happy 2011, Everyone!

The Box.

The Box, 2009, directed and written by Richard Kelly.

"A small wooden box arrives on the doorstep of a married couple, who know that opening it will grant them a million dollars and kill someone they don't know." (IMDB).


I'm sure everyone probably knows this already, but this feature film is based on a short story that was originally made into a (new) Twilight Zone episode, Button, Button in the late eighties. I came across a pretty sweet blogger who has the original youtube posted, if you're interested in seeing it; Mare Winningham (Wendy, wearer of the scuba-suit support hose from Saint Elmo's Fire) stars as the wife.

The Jaded Viewer

So really, I didn't hate this as much as I thought I would. I very nearly had to get up and walk around when Norma (Cameron Diaz) first opened her mouth, number one, a southern accent, and number two, a teacher of philosophy? CAMERON DIAZ AND SARTRE? Please. And her playing a mother is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen in my life; the woman from Throw Mama From The Train is more maternal than Cameron Diaz. She's very pretty though, prettier in this than probably anything else I've seen her in. And after a while the bad southern didn't bother me anymore, probably because it was disguising her normal grating voice, so it kind of ended up working, you know?

I also liked a lot of the mise en scene; this takes place in 1976, so there was plenty of patterned wallpaper, which (secretly) I love. Norma has a scene where she's putting hot rollers in her hair, fun!
The story is . . . interesting, I'll say that. And while I appreciate trying to incorporate something awesome (The TZ) into a bigger picture, drawing on events from the writer's own life, I think he really bit off more than he could chew with this whole thing.

Wow. 

1. The Box Story
2. The Planet Mars business
3. The disfigured man a link between them?

It got too ridiculous near the end. And they kept changing their own rules and adding more and more layers to something that was already a little far-fetched. I think the original story worked simply because less was more. The guy dropped off the box, they pushed the button, he picked it up, "AND NOW I'M GIVING IT TO SOMEONE YOU DON'T KNOW." The End. We didn't know how he knew they pushed it, we didn't know where the box came from and we didn't need to--it would have been unnecessary. I realize that in order to flesh a 20 minute short out into a full length film they needed to take some liberties in extending the plot a little, and I give him full marks for being interesting, I suppose, but I just didn't really dig it all that much.

P.S. A few good friends and I redid our own version of The Box for an eleventh grade English project; one ending had a Scooby-Doo "meddling kids" twist with a completely random character we made up by the name of June Monday. I was the box-deliverer, three friends were button-pushers, and one other was the unfortunate victim, decorating a Christmas tree singing a St. Nicholas Day song my German Teacher Mother taught us the year before. She ended up biting it right after "Lustig, lustig, tra-la-la-la-la." It was a good time.

June Books.

For some reason I'm always reading like 45 books all at once. I like to think of it as having my reading habits follow my moods. Like how some nights you just really crave an Adam Sandler film, other nights you are feeling a bit more Kubrick, etc.

1. Main Street by Sinclair Lewis. And this image to the left looks nothing like the yellow and black cover on my copy so already I'm feeling dishonest about how this is going. I picked this up at Half Price Books probably two years ago, started reading it two years ago, and got extremely bored and pitched it into a drawer somewhere for another year. Once I started trying to read it again (unlike Walden) I was able to enjoy it more. I seem to be developing a love/hate relationship with it; being from a small town I really take offense at some elitist city bitch just thinking she can waltz right in and start overhauling everything, but being from a small town and being a city dweller now, I can very much see where she (Carol) is coming from in wanting to make things exciting.

Lewis really didn't put many positive things in about Gopher Prairie, as far as I can tell, and that bothers me. I'm almost considering writing a huge counterpoint to this whole novel in protest.


2. The Heath Introduction to Fiction, edited by John Clayton. Yes, I am reading a textbook of short stories, one I actually had for a short stories literature class at MCTC about ten years ago. True to form as a student, I read approximately 3% of what I needed to read for the class, but held onto the book for some reason, for which I'm glad because the stories are wonderful. I'll give some examples later, but I'm just going on record to say that it's a beautiful collection. Not a very affordable one, though.

3. Getting Lost, edited by Orson Scott Card. So far I've only read the introduction and part of the first article, but it seems promising. This is more along the lines of scholarly literature (ala David Lavery) and already I'm supressing my need to tell the book to get a life, but hey, it's about Lost and it's a book, what could be better, even if it's uppity? It's kind of entertaining to read how people thought they had the show pegged (after two seasons) because I NEVER DID THAT. . .

 anyway. There are a few other books out there that I finished already, David Lavery (and others') Lost's Buried Treasures and Nikki Stafford's little bubble gum book. Lavery's is pretty cool if you want a really thorough reading list/ancestor text list/link to all other media list, etc., or to read what some pretty educated people have for theories. Nikki's book is a good read for people who don't mind a book that reads like a high school blog/people who aren't really into books but like US Weekly, or people who don't really get Lost but want to be part of the in crowd. Okay, that was mean. The book is fine but it's more of an informal collection of writings.

4. I Am Legend, by Richard Matheson. Haven't started it yet, but I have high, high hopes for it. Richard Matheson is my man having written some pretty decent Twilight Zones (Steel, Nightmare at 20,000 feet, Little Girl Lost) and what would eventually become Steven Spielberg's Duel. Love this guy! I may just have to break down and put Stir of Echoes and I Am Legend on the old Netflix. One can never have too much Kevin Bacon in life, can one?

LOST: Across the Sea

I just watched it again yesterday and I'm ready to go on record: This, after the finale, was my favorite episode of LOST. This one episode explains EVERYTHING.

The real mother was stoned by the island mother after she snubbed the darker twin and refused to name him. Later the island mother admitted that if she had let the woman live, she would have taken the boys to her people and they would have become bad. She has a negative view of people, this island mother. "Because they're people, and that's what people do. They come, they destroy, they corrupt, and it always ends the same." She also seems to know that the dark-haired twin leans toward the sinister, as she explains "Jacob isn't like you, he doesn't know how to lie," and "you're . . . special."

Since Jacob ends up being the one to eventually guard the island, and since he admits to Richard that he wants people to be able to help themselves (believing people are good at heart), he seems to have more faith in humanity than his mother and brother.

When she first shows the boys the light, it's bright enough to take up the entire cave and spill out onto the surrounding water and rocks in the stream. By the time Jack gets there, it's much, much smaller. If this means anything, it probably means that through time, the power and beauty (life, death, rebirth, etc.) that she described has been diminished by evil. She called the light the source, something that each man had a little of inside. The source of the souls of mankind? Have our souls diminished in brightness over the years? In The Howling Man, Serling put in a bit about how having the devil out and about, free to roam the world resulted in the unleashing of massive, widespread evil that brought disaster and world wars--things humanity couldn't have managed without the Devil's help. Might the light have lessened because the inhabitants of the island were corrupting and destroying? Might the fertility on the island have gone away for the same reason?

The island mother leveled the dark twin's people when he showed her his makeshift donkey wheel being built in what would become The Orchid Station. Maybe later, Jacob had to do the same kind of thing (the purge) when the Dharma folks were getting too close to the light (the donkey wheel in The Orchid, the business in building The Swan, etc.) and order Richard to gas them all in order to protect the light. They were getting too greedy, curiosity killed the cat? God made that flood rain down on everyone for a similar reason, right?

Island mother was a weaver. She pulled strings. The dark twin said to Jacob, "it's easy for you, looking down at us from above." Jacob was able to touch humans and alter them somehow. He was the knower of things, he wasn't physically present when Jack crashed into the bamboo fields, but he knew that it happened. He was able to know of things happening off-island (Sawyer's parents, Kate's decent into the world of crime beginning with the lunch box, etc.)

I know, go ahead and jump on me, but I think the island was literally the source of man, and the island's keepers were what we have come to know as God. The beginning of land and life didn't come to be in a blink, but it became. The keeper wasn't a super power but a human being. The island had been moved, probably many times, once the donkey wheel started spinning and the people figured it out. This could explain the polar bears, or the fact that the exit from the donkey wheel was in Tunisia (proximity to what we know as The Holy Land?). I think it's a beautiful fairy tale.

And Jack. The fixer. The savior. The one who rescued everyone! What if a group of writers and producers posited that the Messiah was a character you were emotionally invested in? What if there was something tangible that this character was saving you from, not just a general far-off concept? This idea did more for me than watching Jim Caviezel getting beaten to a pulp. . . what if it was someone you knew?

I think it took six years to get to this end for that reason; we needed that much time to get invested in Jack. True, he's had his moments, good and bad, but that last haggard walk, shoe bloodied and clutching the wound Locke gave him? Come on. Juxtaposed with the reunion with all the people from the island he saved, all the people he doctored, all the people he cared about where for once and for real, he actully looked happy? This show was a sentamentalist's (my) wet dream.

(Again), Bravo.

My aunts used to tease my mother when she was a little girl because she cried every time she watched Lassie. I might be crazy, and I might be reaching, but I know how she felt.

LOST and The Twilight Zone.

I can't hold back anymore; here are the shows from the Twilight Zone's first season that are relevant to LOST. Later seasons to follow. This is sooooooo fun! I wish LOST had been on when I was in college; my nights would have been spent taping up my glasses to do exactly this. The summaries are taken from Marc Scott Zicree's excellent book, "The Twilight Zone Companion."



1. "Where is Everybody?"

Mike Ferris, an amnesiac in an Air Force jumpsuit, finds himself in a town strangely devoid of people. But despite the emptiness, he has the odd feeling that he's being watched. As he inspects the town's cafe, phone booth, police station, drugstore, and movie theater, his desperation mounts. Finally, he collapses, hysterically pushing the "walk" button of a stoplight again and again. In reality, the "walk" button is a panic button, and Ferris is an astronaut-trainee strapped in an isolation booth in simulation of a moon flight. After 484 hours in the booth, he has cracked from sheer loneliness. His wanderings in the vacant town have been nothing more than a hallucination.

From the moment I saw Jack open his eyes up in the pilot episode, I was certain that this was what was happening: They are in some isolation booth somewhere and they are creating all of this drama out of sheer insanity or boredom. I don't necessarily think this episode is the most relevant anymore, but the hallucinations still fit if you consider the random dead people who seem to pop up all over the island; some we know about, like Locke, (Claire?), and Sayid. What about Christian Shephard? What is actually happening (flash sideways) and what is not actually happening? Are certain things just memories or were they actually experienced?



2. "Mr. Denton on Doomsday"

The setting is the Old West. Al Denton--once a feared gunslinger, now the town drunk--is forced to draw against Hotaling, a sadistic bully. But on that same day, Henry J. Fate rides into town. Somehow, Fate's glance gives Denton's hand a life of its own, and Denton gets off two miraculous shots, disarming his tormentor and regaining the respect of the town. His dignity renewed, he swears off liquor. . . (and yes, that is a young Martin Landau pouring the booze into Denton's mouth)

This is reaching a little, but the basic idea is that of the second chance, which is a huge factor for all of the characters. The survivors of 815 are immediately presented with a second chance, (courtesy of Henry J. Fate?) just by being able to start over again on the new island civilization. This is most important for those who were on the wrong side of the law when they took the flight, notably Kate and Sawyer, maybe even Sayid. Charlie got to start over too, eventually triumphing over addiction, developing a relationship with Claire (and Aaron), and pulling some major hero stuff down in The Looking Glass. Rose and Bernard get a second chance to enjoy each other without Rose's cancer; Sayid finds love with Shannon. Locke, obviously takes on an entirely new life on the island (1. no longer paralyzed and 2. replacing Ben as The Others' Leader), Jin and Sun conceive a baby despite struggling with infertility before the crash, and Hurley is no longer a jinx.

The Island=Fate?



3. Judgement Night

On board the SS Glasgow is a German named Karl Lanser, with no memory of how he got there, yet with the feeling that he's met all the passengers somewhere before. Things are made even more mysterious by Lanser's certainty that an enemy sub is stalking the ship, and by his premonition that something is going to happen at 1:15 A.M. His fear proves correct: at one-fifteen a U-boat surfaces. Peering through binoculars, Lanser sees that its captain is . . . himself! The U-boat sinks the helpless freighter, then crew members machine-gun the survivors. Lanser sinks beneath the waters. Later, on board the sub, a lieutenant suggests they might all face damnation for their action. Kapitan Lanser discounts this theory--not realizing that he is, in fact, doomed to relive the sinking of that ship for eternity.

In this story, the SS Glasgow = The Flying Dutchman. Might the Oceanic 815ers be the new crew of the new Flying Dutchman? There is something very tangible about these people having to do things over and over until they get them correct. . . but how does this happen, exactly? Who is pulling the strings? Eloise had a little bit of control over some of the events, or explaining them, anyway. "No Desmond, YOU DON'T BUY THE RING!" "LIKE IT OR NOT, THE ISLAND ISN'T DONE WITH YOU!" What does she know? Is there a manual of island "rules" that she is following? Why is she even involved in all of this anyway? Is there ONE MAIN EVENT that has to happen?



4. Mirror Image

Millicent suspects the bus station is run by lunatics: snappishly, the ticket taker tells her that she's repeatedly asked when the bus will arrive, adding that her suitcase has already been checked. In the washroom, the attendant claims she was there only a moment before. Yet she's done none of these things. She realizes that it is not their sanity which is in question when, in the washroom mirror, she spies a duplicate of herself sitting in the waiting room. Rushing out, she finds the room empty. . .

This hadn't really been on my radar as one to watch out for until Sayid smiled that EVIL smile back at Ben in the Temple after he had obviously gone public with "Team Smoke Monster." This is how "Mirror Image" ends, with the man's doppelganger running away from him, grinning a horrible grin back at him the entire time. A battle between the good and evil inside them?
Fighting the demons inside themselves? Yes.

Honorable Mention: "People Are Alike All Over."