Spoilers Ahoy. Please don’t read any further if you haven’t seen the Lost finale, ‘The End.’ And read here for my pre–finale column.
Seventeen minutes after the very last shot of those four white letters against the black background, and, um, I’m still not quite sure what just happened. I do know I cried solidly for the last eight minutes, and that certainly wasn’t helped by the re-emergence of a certain yellow lab named Vincent bounding out of the forest. Christ, did I have to manually hold in the sobs, as I’ll be darned if the boys hear me do that “huwawawasneeerfuhuh” noise chicks make when the tears take over all parts of your body simultaneously.
Nuv is looking at some forums online while we wait for Kimmel to come on, and the varying theories about whether or not what happened on the island actually happened are flying fast and furious. This finale, while tidy and beautiful, did leave enough unanswered questions to keep ‘Lost’ fans with something to talk about for approximately another six years.
I myself like the idea that they did all die in the crash, and what happened from that point onward determined whether or not they got to go upstairs into the light, or downstairs into a much warmer light. But, I never watched the show because I am a theorist, or even someone who remembered what they saw the season before. I watched it because I like people. These characters in particular. I liked how they interacted with each other. I liked when they got mad, and what they did with that particular emotion. Or how they loved, and shared and fucked and fought and figured it all out. Or not.
My evenings highlights: Ben getting punched out one more time on the island. I actually laughed inappropriately when he went down, mouth bloodied by Sawyer. As a pregnant person, I am also thrilled that labour, whether in or out of the jungle, lasts approximately 45 seconds, or two pushes. Right? What a relief. And Lapidus. Oh, you hairy beast, good stayin’ afloat there buddy! Hurley’s big sweet moon face, all scared when he had to take on a ginormous responsibility. Ben in the courtyard, choosing to not go in the church. HIs rabbit-y face can make you hate him one minute, but want to absolve him his sins in the next. I see him still as the little Potter-esque boy fumbling around the jungle, because his alcoholic Dad looks like the shitty Dad from that Twisted Sister video I loved when I was little. Jack and Locke’s epic rain fight on crumbling slippery rocks, leading to the finest commercial break cut ever as Jack launched himself mid-punch towards Locke. Jack in pretty much every scene crushing it, whether he was being menacing, heroic or giggling in crazed relief as the water started flowing again in the light pond. I didn’t get to see Eko again, and had to see Shannon. At least she was shoved into some garbage outside a bar before reuniting with Sayid.
Whether or not you liked the ending, you have to admit the way they dealt with bringing people together in the end was lovely, and wet the eyeholes nicely. Sweet sweet hobbit-y Charlie and Claire, crazy Libby and Hurley, Sawyer and the good after all Juliet, and of course the good-together-even-when-it’s-bad Jack and Kate. But, oh yes, the biggest wad of kleenex was used for the appearance of Christian Shephard on his feet, with his son, not being a dick and sharing the type of hug dudes only give each other at weddings and funerals. And as Jack laid down, amongst the bamboo and that one dangling white sneaker, Vincent already asleep beside him, his eyes shutting to end it all, I cried some more. All these characters, and these moments, are what kept me devoted to this ramblin’ ride of a show for the past six years, and I’ll miss them something fierce.
For Nuv’s take on the whole shebang (Hint: more rationale, less tears), see here.
