'Lost', Chuck Klosterman, and why I hate spoilers: Part 2
Last time out, I looked at Chuck Klosterman's new book, "Eating the Dinosaur," as a way to look at the issue of spoilers in the online "Lost" community. Now, as per usual, I started writing about one thing, got distracted and then realized I still hadn't actually talked about the topic I explicitly promised. However, in this case, I simply realized that establishing the parameters of the topic was a greater, more lengthy endeavor than I had realized. Today, I am going to lay more groundwork in exploring the nature of the mysteries of "Lost" and why those mysteries are intrinsic to my particular love of the show.
After all, I shouldn't enjoy being this clueless, but clearly I love it. And it's not just because the show's opaque nature means I can endlessly hurl BS theories at the cyber wall in the months between seasons and never have to worry about being quote unquote "wrong." (Although between you and me, that IS pretty sweet.) The show's unknowable mysteries provide pleasure in that they are almost singularly unique in the pop culture landscape. How many pieces of pop culture have kept so many guessing for so long, simultaneously making the audience feel they are THIS CLOSE to figuring it all out? It's puzzlemaking disguised as long-form narrative.
But here's the downside: with each added piece of the puzzle, "Lost" shifts away from varying levels of "interest" towards varying levels of "satisfaction." Revealing an answer moves reaction from the heart to the head. That's neither better nor worse, but it's certainly different. There's a visceral aspect to analyzing a mystery that is absent in the analysis of an answer. Think of it as the difference between leaning forward on your couch trying to gain clues and leaning back on your couch trying to process what you've just learned.
You would judge the success of the former on how much you were invested in the mystery. Given that we're five seasons into the show and still want to know what the smoke monster is, I'll call that a successful mystery. Can the answer to that, or any other mystery, truly be "interesting"? No, at least not in the way that we have been using the word over the past two entries. It can be "unexpected," to be sure. But by very definition, interest wanes at the moment mystery becomes fact.
I don't remember much about my college education, which I'm sure thrills my parents to no end to read. But I do remember reading the following on a chalkboard during a literature class my sophomore year: "Desire is defined by lack." For some reason, that struck me and has stuck with me to this day. It's not so much that it's profound as succinct and infinitely applicable. In this case, my particular interest in "Lost" lies in what I don't know about the show. I desire to know more, but I enjoy my current state of disarray immensely. Once I glean the answers, I no longer lack that which produced the desire. There is no more desire. There is no more interest, in least in terms as to how it's been defined here.
Now, that's not to say that the show will become useless come the aftermath of the Season 6 finale. But for those that have watched every episode, it will become something different. Let's look at another Klosterman passage from "Dinosaur," since as per usual, he says it better than I can (emphasis his):
One of the minor tragedies of human memory is our inability to unwatch movies we'd love to see (again) for the first time. Even classic films that hold up over multiple viewings-and even those films the require multiple viewings-can never deliver the knockout strangeness of that first time you see them, particularly if parts of the story are willfully designed to momentarily confuse the audience.
Well, he's talking about movies, but he might as well be talking about "Lost." For better or worse, we only have 18 more hours of new show to experience. I think it's better, in that establishing an end date for the show allowed Darlton to move make Season 2's stuck-in-neutral narrative and have a definitive finish line for their story. But even if you enjoy going back and watching old episodes (and Lord knows I do), you can't deny that it's a fundamentally different experience. The new bits of information you might glean are registered on a meta level, a variation of, "Aha! They planned this all along!" In other words, you're realizing things about the writers of the show, not the show itself. It's still very cool, and I give endless props to the writers for their skill in pulling this off. But this is an intellectual discovery, not an emotional one.
Next time out, I'll continue this analysis of intellectual versus emotional discovery, and look at how spoilers for Season 6 will affect them both. In the meantime, what have your experiences been in rewatching old episodes in anticipation of the final season?
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More excellent thoughts! And, as I said a few days ago, *so far* I really enjoy watching the old episodes (both re-experience the emotion as well as picking up on things I didn't notice the first time around [in some cases because of what we've since learned, in other cases not]) and I hope after the show ends I'll still be able to do the same.
Since I'm sure we've all missed my ST-TOS quotes, let me end with Spock's line to Ston (the Vulcan who had just been awarded the mate of his dreams) just after the climax of "Amok Time":
"Ston, she is yours. After a time you may find that *having* is not so pleasing a thing after all as *wanting*. It is not logical, but it is often true."
Absolutely agree with the heart vs. head analogy, and nothing is better than watching a great story for the first time. However, the relentless march of time means that a work like LOST will end up spending far more time as a finished work than as a work in progress (unless the Mayans were right about 2012!). So unless the show can bring about some satisfying resolutions, it risks being "The Crying Game", which is basically unwatchable after the first time you've seen it and know the secret(s).
Now this doesn't mean everything has to be tidied up nice and neat at the end - for instance, I actually DON'T want to know what the smoke monster is, but I DO want to know it's purpose. I DON'T need to know the source of the Island's energy, but I DO want to know how it impacts Jacob's and MiB's plans for humanity.
Ultimately, in long-form storytelling, you HAVE to be able to make the transition from mystery to resolution, and the one question that MUST be ansewered every time is "Why did you tell this story? What is accomplished by telling it?" If you can answer that one well, you have yourself a piece of art that will stand the test of time!
"ansewered"???
Guess my mind truly is in the gutter (SNORT!)
Part of the charm of LOST, for me at least, is not necessarily the sweet beauty of "not knowing" - but the sense of superiority you gain by "knowing"...or thinking you "know". Or "figuring it out".
Way back between season 1 and 2 (and I have to extrapolate from what I recall peripherally, because I didn't start watching and catching up to the show until just before season 3 started) the big question was: what is the island? Is it hell? Purgatory? Another dimension? EVERYBODY seemed to have their own take on the subject, and some even were ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN they had the right answer. Endless debate bounced around, but we were more enjoying the theories we'd come up with than reveling in the unknowns. Was Smoky mechanical? Ethereal? An illusion? Controlled by thought? A manifestation of the island itself? Nobody still knows who or what Smoky is, really, and five years later we're still arguing it - yes, it's unknown but I think I KNOW. And that's one of the coolest things - outguessing the creators and feeling you've deciphered the clues enough to solve one part of the mystery beforehand.
I did it right in this site last week with my speculation on the history and motivation of Charles Widmore - what we don't know about him outweighs what we do know, and he's still primarily an unknown but I took that unknown and "beat it" with my own solution. Right/wrong/indifferent, LOST has given us the chance to have our own many, many, wins along the way.
To get back to the spoiler analogy a little bit, and hearkening back to my comment about The Empire Strikes Back yesterday, I feel sorry for anyone viewing the Star Wars movies second-hand, i.e. not originally in the theatres that already know Luke is Darth's son (sorry). Of course, watching episodes I-VI in order would eliminate that suprise today, but there's no way to recapture that genie in the bottle. Truly, if you weren't around for it, a generation of kids and adults hearing Darth Vader revelation at the end of the movie was possibly the biggest movie shocker of all time. NOBODY expected it and I still remember from my 13-yr-old self, the actual *gasp* from the audience. Those moments are primal and could probably have whole books written about human nature and surprise, and how you can't go back and be re-surprised.
I have an ongoing discussion with my son about reading books - he doesn't yet see the advantage in re-reading a book after he's finished it. I re-read books all the time. I'm able to continue enjoyment of a novel many times but he hasn't figured it out yet. Hopefully he will...
I'm one of those who tries to avoid most Lost spoilers and, instead, enjoys being surprised as the episodes unspool individually. But I have one desire for after the show ends.
I hope someone has been taking careful notes throughout the development of Lost, particularly at writers' meetings. I want to see a book come out, several months after the last episode airs, explaining how the magic was achieved. I'd like as detailed an explanation as possible about when and how decisions about the mysteries were reached. How many of what we now consider pivotal scenes were true foreshadowing, and how much of this "foreshadowing" is the result of our own imaginations? How much were the writers making up as they went along? (A bit more detail, please, than the often heard statement that Darlton knew all along what the last scene was going to be!) For example: Did the writers know all along where the cable on the beach led, or did it show up in "Solitary" -- the ninth hour of Lost! -- just because it might lead somewhere interesting?
It wasn't until "Through the Looking Glass" that I became convinced the producers actually had a plan all along. I nonetheless enjoyed the show because I thought the backstories revealed compelling characters. But, once there are no more spoilers, I'd love to learn what went on in the magicians' back room.
Is the desire for your wife defined by "lack"? I doubt it. Desire and passion are temporary experiences by which nothing should be judged as a whole.
Ryan
You have a great blog here which I have read casually since last year. I don't alway's agree, but I rarely judge a blog's intellectual worth by the right and wrong's of an opinion. That being said, it would e much easier to follow and participate in the comments if they were linked to google (mail) or some such thing so we can read and respond to a comment in a prompt manner.