Lost Season 4 Finale: There's No Place Like Home

Doc Teeth here again. In my continuing effort to hijack this blog as a sounding board for bizarre nonsense, I thought I'd post my thoughts going into the season finale. I know a promised semi-coherence, but I can't really deliver more that 15%-20% coherence. Luckily, neither can the show we'll be discussing!

LOST has a tendency to introduce tantalizing, problematic themes, only to dance away from them when the shit hits the fan. The concept of duality has been central to the show from the very beginning: in Locke's backgammon game, in the modified yin-yang of the Dharma symbol, the corpses of Adam and Eve -- even in the logo that begins and ends every episode with white lettering on a black screen. One of the most intriguing iterations of this theme has been the conflict between Jack and Locke, or as they're called in the title of the season 2 premiere, the Man of Science and the Man of Faith. In practice, though, the writers have often struggled to figure out the ramifications of all this symbolism, muddled things with too much heavy-handed philosophizing and not enough organic, character-driven drama.

I feel that Lost's fate is inextricably intertwined with the fate of John Locke, the castaway most burdened with excessive symbolism. When his character arc is interesting and dynamic, the show is terrific -- when he's huddled in the hatch compulsively pressing a button over and over again for seasons at a time, not so much. He's is the only true spiritualist on the island, and the tension between his shamanistic approach and Jack's rigid, pragmatic outlook provides a lot of fuel for the show's drama. As long as Locke was perfectly satisfied with spending all of his time mashing buttons, that tension slackened. Much of the live-wire intensity of season four (the best season yet, for my money) is due to the fact that Locke's been busy leading splinter groups, having esoteric visions and stuffing live grenades into people's mouths.

Prepare yourself, gentle (possibly imaginary) reader, for some intensely pretentious psuedo-intellectual masturbation. (One of my favorite kinds of masturbation.) This is the part where I use Wikipedia to make myself sound really knowledgeable.

As mentioned above, the concept of the double is central to the Lost mythology. The primary figure in the island's mystery seems to be the invisible patriarch, Jacob. When Locke and Ben refer to the island, they seem to be referring to a person. It seems that Jacob and the island might be one and the same. The biblical Jacob was, himself, a twin. He and his brother Esau struggled within Rebecca's womb to be the firstborn. Jacob refused to accept his lot as the second-born (and therefore inferior) son. He tricked Esau out of his birthright, buying it in exchange for a bowl of soup. Later, he tricked his blind, dying father into giving him a blessing meant for Esau. Jacob was a con man who won the blessings of God through trickery. Due to his conniving (as well as the fact that he had an awesome badass showdown with an angel), he received his second name, a name that translates as "struggles with God."

The name "Israel."

I'm spouting nonsense, you say? I'd have to agree. But I can't stop now, because I'm too busy blowing my own mind. (I must be pretty flexible.)

The first flash-forward (the surprise reveal at the end of season three) was the latest moment we've seen chronologically, the current end-point or the story thus far. The season ends with our heroes, the Oceanic Six, stuck back in America, mysteriously desperate to return to the island. Sounds familiar, doesn't it? They (Jack and Hurley, at least) want to return to Jacob -- they want to return to Israel.

So my question is: where is Esau in all of this? Esau is Jacob's twin -- despite the fact that Esau was first-born, and despite the fact that Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright, it's written in the Torah that God loved Jacob and hated Esau. (In the training film for the Orchid [the station all forces seem to be converging on], a subliminal frame blips the message "God Loves You as He Loved Jacob.") Could there be another island? In that video, we see two identical rabbits appear in the same room, causing much panic and consternation among the Dharma scientists. So we have evidence that the time travel we've seen has the potential of creating doppelgangers. So are there two islands? When Locke speaks of "moving the island," is he talking about a time-shift?

There's one line from season two that I keep coming back to -- Ben tells Sayid that "God can't see us." The subliminal message in the Orchid video says that God loves us as he LOVED Jacob. So he doesn't love Jacob anymore. What hides the island? What is the destiny that Locke keeps rejecting? What is the significance of Ben's connection to Jacob? (Remember, the Biblical Benjamin was the youngest son of Jacob and Rachel, who died in childbirth, as all mothers on the island do.) Why can Hurley see Jacob's cabin? Where does Christian Shepard fit into this scheme, and how does he act as Jacob's mouthpiece?

Most importantly, what was up with that four-toed statue?

Anyway, put in the popcorn, pour yourself a stiff drink, and prepare yourself for answers that are less than forthcoming. Most of all, enjoy the exquisite pain of what may be the single weirdest show in the history of network television. I'll be back tomorrow for some post-game, or possibly tonight if I can't resist the urge.

I wish you all much happy bafflement.