'Lost': Talkin' 'bout my generation, Part 2
I've come to realize something during my off-season "Lost" blogging: I've been trying damn hard to repair my relationship with Jack Shephard over these past few months. Not unlike Bonnie Tyler, I've been holding out for a hero all these years. He's gotta be strong, he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from the fight. But instead, I've watched the slow decline of a once promising character, constantly making the wrong decisions and compounding those errors with even more mishaps that ended with detonating a freakin' hydrogen bomb sound like a splendid idea.
So I should hate the guy. I really should. And Lord knows I have. But lately, I've been trying to figure out why. I'm a Matthew Fox fan, no doubt about it. But Jack's rubbed me the wrong way for so long that I forget why. It's almost like he's a guy I met when I moved into college, and subsequently started hating him at the first ice cream social when he hit on the girl with whom I hadn't yet obtained the proper courage to converse. And here I am, twelve years later, and that ice cream social still sticks in my craw something fierce.
And I led the charge in crying foul when he declared that he wanted to detonate a nuclear weapon all in the name of potentially getting with Kate were the slate wiped clean. As I wrote in the immediate aftermath: "Dude, write her a letter. Send flowers. Hell, make a mix tape. But don't detonate a hydrogen bomb with the hopes that the second time around, you and the stranger in front of you will bond over handcuffs." And that was AFTER my spell check removed the 300 four-letter words sprinkled throughout that paragraph. I was one unhappy camper.
But here I am in the middle of a six-month rehabilitation in which I am trying to reframe Jack not in terms of what he's done but instead on how we're supposed to perceive his hero's journey. I've previously written about how "Lost" rewrote the archetypal hero's journey by sticking the nominal end (leaving the Island) as its disastrous mid-point cliffhanger. Jack presumed, as did we all, that leaving the Island was the entire point. And yet now we're all eager to pile on as he's made decision after decision to either justify or rectify his flawed hypothesis.
In short: we've watched a man trying to be proactive instead of reactive. He attacks problems in order to conquer them head on, instead of tai chi'ing his way through life's conundrums. Now, in many scenarios, being proactive is a good thing. Jack's actions in the course of the show would be theoretically sound under normal circumstances, but Jack crucially and fatally refuses to acknowledge until it's too late that he does not live inside of normal circumstances. His inability to allow faith to puncture his rational exterior is demonstrated in his incessant need to fix things. To him, problems have solutions. Those solutions require conscious intervention. Unattended problems are never solved.
In the medical world, this makes sense. In a world in which smoker monsters exist on an Island that moves through time and space, it breaks down. Locke intuitively understood the power of the island, but erred in that he ceded all personal agency to it. He was less of a man and more of a cipher during his time on the Island, wishing for direct orders that The Man in Black (through Cabin Christian in "Cabin Fever") was only too happy to provide. Jack and Locke engaged in the faith/science debate over and over again, neither side willing to give an inch to the other. Only in Locke's death could the two ever hope to come together.
But let's be fair: it's not like Jack's unique in trying to consciously bust through the "Lost" universe with guns a-blazin', hoping to dodge and wave to avoid what's sitting in front of his face. When I solicited suggestions for "The 25 Most Important Moments in 'Lost' History," reader JeffC wrote:
"I would argue the all-time MOST important moment of LOST has to be Jack's betrayal of his father at St. Sebastian Hospital in 'All the Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues.'"
It's a point well taken. I'd actually suggest that Jack confronting his father at the AA meeting in "A Tale of Two Cities" is just as or even more crucial, in that it's the pivot point in Christian's life in which he realizes that his attempts to reconcile with his son are completely and utterly over. In Season 6, I think we'll finally learn just how important Christian Shephard is to the "Lost" universe as a whole: not just as a piece of connective tissue in the Lostaways' past but as a central player in the recent past of The Island.
Watch Christian's look at the AA meeting as Jack walks away. It's absolute defeat. It's not simply that he's lost a chance with his son, but he's lost a chance to keep his son from fulfilling the role laid out for him in the near future. It's eerily close to the same look Eloise Hawking has while talking with Penelope Widmore in "The Variable." The implication here? Christian knew as much as Eloise about his offspring's role in the War of the Island. And both foolishly thought they could protect their children, only to do more harm than they could possibly imagine in the process.
For almost five full seasons, Jack similarly enabled his downfall through his steadfast attempts to avoid it. Such tragedies, part and parcel of the dramatic landscape since Oedipus got busy with his mama, are rampant in "Lost," and perhaps no more so than in the character of Jack Shephard. He thought he would let fate guide him upon returning to the island, but that Locke-ian perspective just left him confused and cleaning blackboards. In Jughead, he saw a chance not simply to have a potential date with a felon. Rather, he saw the opportunity for a world in which his attempts to "fix" things could be staved off. He's a modern-day J. Alfred Prufrock, wondering out loud if he should dare disturb the universe. (Or, at the very least, avoid unnecessary trips to Thailand.)
That his plan is deeply flawed at its core is beside the point. Jack, alongside every other major character in the "Lost" universe, won't get it completely right until the very end. Had Jack returned to the Island like some wizened Jedi Knight, we all would have cried "bullsh$t" at our televisions. Season 5 wasn't about a redeemed Jack Shephard; it was about a Jack Shephard seeking redemption. For him, that redemption lies not in the bottom of a well but in the face of his father. Or rather, the two faces of his father.
At that point, he doesn't have to find a solution. He only has to find forgiveness. And in that forgiveness, in that acceptance, in that laying down of arms after millennia of fighting, will the War of the Island finally end.
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Without a frame of reference, it's hard to discern what way would have been best for Jack to go. I like your theories, but you could just as easily say that Jack not acting is the wrong move. One obvious situation is his choice to not save young Ben. Was that the wrong move? Until the end, we won't know.
It seems to me that Jacob, whom I have to believe at this point is the good guy, nudges towards beter outcomes but believes that salvation is a choice. The MIB manipulates through half truths and lies to get his desired outcomes. While I believe that a central theme to Jacks salvation lies in forgiveness and belief, it would be hard for me, in light of the Jacob/MIB story, to swallow that Jack's redemption lies in choosing to not choose.
But, you may be right. Who knows? I do know that Lost really needs to give us a raft quickly because I don't think anyone has a clue as to what the characters are even trying to succeed at, and while that ambiguity may be good and realistic in a philospical sense, it makes for bad TV in which people quickly tire.
I gave up on Jack in S2 as his actions and motivations seemed to shift with circumstances. This exacerbated by S4 and S5 where his actions felt directed more by plot than any inherant character traits.
Ok, it aint easy balancing hitting us over the head with symbolism vs developing the character but Jack is *so* inconsistent/whimsical. **IF** Jack is supposed to be the epitome of an existential character and I hope Darlton deal with this squarely before the end.
and if jack starts waxing rhapsodic about women with light brown hair, mermaids, and scuttling crabs, i'm opening a can of whoop-***! although i'd be amused to see MiB as a "yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,/The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes/
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains"
Man, of all the cool stuff I read in high school humanities class (including, of course, that story involving an Oracle and a woman named [I think] Jocasta), the last thing I ever thought I'd hear reference to again was "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."
Well done, sir!
Don't remember it well, though... have to check out the link you provided when I get a chance. (I'm pretty sure we were studying Existentialism [which I find fascinating] at the time, and madbards comment below would seem to confirm this.)
Regarding Jack, I'm one of the people who never understood why people hated him -- at least until the season five finale, which as I'm sure everyone will recall I had serious problems with. But I blamed that on the writers, not Jack or the characters.
(Or, to be more generous, the need to fulfill plot points with fewer episodes than required to make them organic because of the writers strike.)
While this discussion is very interesting, it just doesn't seem to me that we know enough right now to figure out what the heck is going on.
At this poing I guess it seems to me that (for the most part) the blame for things not going well for our main characters has more to do with the actions of "the others" (such as stealing Walt and other kids and ultimately Jack/Kate/Sawyer), the monster (who killed the pilot [in the pilot!] after all -- which as far as I know wasn't due to any character flaw on the part of the pilot) (if anything the monster was perhaps looking for Lapidus), and TMIB.
And while I love the poetry of the final paragraph of this essay, I thought Jack had long ago (the season one finale scene with Sawyer in the woods) realized his father had forgiven him -- was proud of him even -- for "betraying him". So I'm not sure what forgiveness you are saying Jack is seeking.
Of course, after getting some sleep I may change my mind regarding much of the above, but those are my initial thoughts anyway.
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Tying into your "generations" theme, one of the most interesting things to watch this coming year is how the Christian/Jack reconciliation impacts the next generation of "Shephard", a/k/a Aaron.
you are probably right about the bigger picture of jack's purpose. i will be the first to admit my intense dislike of him (and kate) automatically biases me against them. but that is a personal opinion and has nothing to do with their part in the show. which i have always acknowledged is a very big one.
i suppose the saddest part to me now is, regardless of my opinion of his personal motivations. the fact is (as stated by other people) there is a lesson or some outcome that jacob and mib are trying to accomplish and each is using each individuals inclinations to implement events to a way that is more favorable to one or the other.
so. sure jack, kate, sawyer have their individual motivations. but is anything they do for themselves at all?i guess my only wonderment now is what is this end result jacob or mib is trying to get to?
Great article, Ryan, and very philisophical in its approach, which I always enjoy reading.
I like your theory that all of Christian's best laid plans for Jack went foul and ultimately created a Jack that can only find peace when his quest for redemption is complete. In a sense, that's what's happened to all of the characters through their various relationships with their parents and other loved ones.
So, I'm hoping that the "solution" that Jacob is looking for is like you suggest; the laying down of arms, acceptance and forgiveness - not just for Jack, but for all our characters. To see the show end on such a philisophical note rather than a plot-driven endgame would be the best possible way to end a show that is, at its core, a philosophical story about humanity's search for redemption and transcendence.
I've always felt that Jack is a character that gets blamed for acting incorrectly no matter what action he takes. If he tries to help, he's being headstrong. If he doesn't do anything, he's being an idiot. If he ignores Locke, he's an idiot. If he finally starts to have faith in the island, he's an idiot. I've read your blogs many times, Ryan, and you tend to glaze over any growth for Jack, as if it never happened, while praising others just for taking their shirt off. It always leaves me scratching my head. I'm guessing if Jack had cool one-liners, he'd be a "better" character to some. I've always felt that Lost, ultimately, is about Jack and Locke. Damon and Carlton have said as much, so I would like to see the final season finally bring these two characters together. Jack did the best he could to protect and defend the survivors, and he didn't do anything that the average person would not have done. I'm sorry, I would not have embraced Locke's "the island is special" mantra either. It's too crazy. Only now, after being haunted and the island almost killing him, is Jack beginning to understand that he might have a larger part to play in the island mythology. I'm anxious to see what that will be in season six.
Ryan, are you saying Jack has forgotten the face of his father.