White Rabbit/House of the Rising Sun: Boone's the new Sawyer
Sept 27, 2014 0:34:04 GMT -5
Pear and MrsLangdonAlger like this
Post by Arthur Dent on Sept 27, 2014 0:34:04 GMT -5
White Rabbit:
"Last week most of us were strangers, but we're all here now. And god knows how long we're going to be here. But if we can't live together, we're going to die alone."
The long conversation between Jack and Locke in the jungle is the centerpiece of this episode, both thematically and structurally, and it is masterfully executed, from the vivid dialogue to the excellent staging. These are two characters I have spent many words criticizing the conception and writing of, and the performance of in Jack's case, but they both improve greatly here, as I cannot deny that this is some of the series' best writing, and that both actors do wonders. Locke's gentle tone as he helps Jack up from the cliff, and calm, thoughtful wisdom in attempting to guide Jack, show how Terry O'Quinn utilizes his natural conviction for the better here, and in parts of this sequence* along with the airport scene and final scene, Matthew Fox shows more natural delivery and a stronger connection to Jack's emotional state. In turn, their exchange beautifully establishes parallels between the two characters: what we see of Jack's relationship with his father fits into information we were given on him in earlier episodes, suggesting that Jack likely and reluctantly had his doctoring career foisted upon him by his father, manifest in his lack of conviction when he says that he should believe his visions to be a hallucination, while Locke as a "meat and potatoes kind of guy" was more naturally closer to being that kind of logical person, until he gained newfound faith inspired by the Island's magic. And lastly, this sequence carefully lays out the central theme of the episode, bringing together the disparate threads, superficially united by the dire need for water, and establishing the true stakes of Jack's arc, the whole episode, and ultimately the series going forward. The various facets within the role of leadership, the struggle to balance these to properly serve that role, and the at best conflicted relationship between leadership, and the simultaneously stubbornly individualistic and innately communal human race, are thoughtfully and powerfully considered in Lost's tightest episode yet, carrying through it a rollicking momentum which is brought to wonderful catharsis in that final speech.
That takes us back to the parallel sequences that open the episode, which draw stark contrast between young Jack instinctively going to protect another kid from bullies**, and how he handles trying to save Boone and Joanna from a riptide. The implicit cause of the shift in his behavior is made apparent sometime later when we see an encapsulation of what had occurred between the two scenarios: his father attempting to provide what is genuinely a valid lesson, that Jack is still young and cannot yet handle such situations the way he as an adult surgeon can, but the delivery being unfortunately muddled due to his father's alcoholism and other apparent issues, and ultimately a number on Jack's self esteem. This thusly informs his present behavior by showing why he consciously chooses to focus on Boone and not her, against what is clearly still his internal judgment, in turn further fueling how he beats up on himself and generally lacks confidence and will. Joanna's death haunts him not because she was personally close or important to him, but specifically because of the anonymity of her death, as him not getting the chance to know her and choosing Boone instead because of that, is all the more regrettable as an apparent humanist. This is all conveyed well in his exchange with Kate, whose exposition on Joanna manages to feel organic and fits well with the details of why Jack is distraught to more effectively give weight to a death of a character just introduced by tearing into why we care less about this character because they were just introduced.
** The staging of that first flashback, as well as the delivery on the part of the kid actor, is tremendously poor, but thankfully the episode quickly moves away from it and builds off the concepts it introduces as well as it does. That scene being so thematically vital could easily and greatly hamper the development of the rest of the episode.
From there, the episode splits itself into two halves that culminate and converge with Jack and Locke's conversation: delving into Jack's psyche as he wanders through the jungle both physically and mentally lost, which is excellently executed in conveying his disorientation and pain through the direction and cinematography; and planting the thematic seeds for where the episode goes from their conversation and after. There is Charlie and Hurley making perfect sense as natural followers, and thus putting worse pressure on Jack due to his mental state, along with Sawyer asserting his belief that he'll always manage to endure and survive, making him resentful of being led, and lastly, Jin's attitude while talking to Sun, ("We don't need anyone else. I will tell you what to do.") which accurately reflects the exact attitude Jack ultimately dismisses for being dangerous in his final speech.
What enables him to ultimately rise to the challenge and make that speech is the need to get out from under his father's long shadow, moving on from his past, beginning to heal his scarred self-esteem and repressed ideals, which manifests in the frustrated destruction of the empty coffin as the closest he can get to properly saying goodbye. The pain of his father's death, especially considering the reverence he expresses for the man, when talking to the coroner, despite their relationship, hinges at least partly on losing the chance to ever properly improve things between them, and make him proud, which Jack desperately needed to boost his self esteem. He takes out all his pent up rage and sadness on that empty coffin right in the midst of the other physical representation of his epiphany about his mind and leadership and all of it intertwined, discovering the valley spring in an achingly, wondrously beautiful and surreal scene. He is not the man his father was, a man of reason, but a man of spirit, and he needs to try to lead and help these people, for himself, yes, but for them as well. They all must rely on each other.
Side Observations:
*The delivery on "I think I'm going crazy" is not so great. .
Joanna repeatedly disappearing from Jack/the audience's vision as he goes through the water is, I think intentionally, reminiscent of the equally sudden appearances and disappearances of the mysterious figure that we first saw in the previous episode.
The show does well to give Claire some personality here, with her "Are you a Gemini?" bit with Claire, as well as her frustration with being unfairly defined and in turn avoided by the others. The latter sequence in turn allows for another opportunity for characterizing Charlie, as he shows compassion for her, the extension of his use of humor as a comfort in reassuring her, and a general accepting and true optimistic (as opposed to Sawyer's self-confidence) nature.
The scene between Kate and Claire has an additional functional benefit by establishing Claire's fatigue from the start in a way that feels natural to previous episodes, and not blatantly setting up something later on. In turn, the pay off of this set up very efficiently heightens the episode's tensions and brings everything into the thread of need for water, before the episode unites everything further.
Towards the end, we have the first, brief appearance of tenderness and affection shown between Jin and Sun, doing well to set up the next episode.
Sawyer's delightfully meta line, that Boone has suddenly replaced him on the most hated list, in both the characters' and the audience's mind, is a fun acknowledgment of how they quickly made Sawyer a far more enjoyable character.
Giacchino's score finally works completely well in tandem with the episode, complementing mood and tensions perfectly throughout, from the opening rescue to the arguments at episode's end.
House Of The Rising Sun:
"It's too beautiful."
Scratch everything I just said. Not to take back the sincere praise I have for White Rabbit, but simply because it was so quickly and effortlessly surpassed as the high point so far.
What's perhaps most brilliant about this episode, even beyond the excellent and remarkably understated thematic unity between the tale of Sun and Jin's marriage and Sayid and Jack's debate over whether to settle for the long term in the caves or continue to seek rescue, is how it manages to both thoroughly place the audience in Sun's perspective while at the same time vividly characterizing Jin through implication and the clash between what we see and what we do not. The rapidly increasing willingness of the show to trust its audience to fill in the gaps in these past few episodes culminates spectacularly here. It is gracefully used to tell a beautiful and tragic story intimately, yet grand in scale, entirely via vignettes within the couple's new house to more effectively emphasize Sun's perspective, what the experience was for her. With Jin, we watch as he sacrifices and corrupts his soul for the sake of a pure love*, but this in turn stains the love and turns it selfish, his new gift a figurative ball and chain for Sun.
*" Remember when all you had to give me was a flower?" And then this turns around back to the flower as an assertion that his love and affection is not dead, a reminder that this is painful for him as well, filling that reunion in the airport with as much palpable hope as there is great fear and regret.
The dog's backgrounded aging is an clever device to further communicate the passage of a great length of time, without being distracting, alongside Jin and their gradually devolving relationship. This ultimately spans a mere handful of scenes, but through its execution carries a sweeping power that could have faltered were it drawn out further. The writing, though admittedly even stronger here than it has ever been, would still not be nearly as impressive without the fantastic, painful performances by Yunjin Kim and Daniel Dae Kim. In the wake of this and consideration of my occasional griping about their scenes in previous episodes, I am tremendously regretful, as I realize just what Yunjin Kim was doing in those scenes with english speakers, and in the wake of their performances on the Island/in the present clearly elevating.
Not to mention, of course, the particular apparent purpose of all the scenes with Michael, although I stand by saying that the topless scene is still unnecessary. On that note, the Island storyline serves as the perfect addendum to the story, working more gracefully intercut with it than previous parallels between flashback and main stories had, as well as giving Michael a great speech and moment, that reminds me just how great Harold Perrineau is and makes me hope that Michael's writing improves as some of the others' have. Freeing Jin in a way that best helps both him and Sun is certainly a step in the right direction, though, and his scenes with Walt are starting to work better, with the bit about his son not knowing his birthday resonating with me and my childhood, and the final "When's your birthday?" being genuinely sweet and affecting.
The other subplot about Charlie and Locke is solid enough, and most importantly, provides some much needed and well-handled levity amidst the tragic love story. The initial talking about Charlie's band is fun and provides the important implication that his career was in a downslide prior to the crash. The goofy bit with the beehive, and Locke starting to lean back towards annoying me with his tremendous dickishness in manipulating Charlie and prying into his business, are easily objectionable but ultimately balanced out, between the promise of what it's setting up, Locke's appreciable notion of Charlie enduring withdrawal by his own will, and what is simultaneously one more great, sweet moment and the big laugh of the hour in Charlie's discovery of his guitar. There's a tangible, powerful idea subtly at work there as well, the metaphorical idea of Charlie never thinking to look up due to being too caught up in his own demons.
While I eagerly await the first Charlie episode that subplot sets up, my other favorite character, Sayid, features into the major plot running counterpart to Sun and Jin. (Okay, not the smoothest transition I've ever written.) Sayid doesn't get much to do here, which is all for the best considering how much the episode covers at the pace it does, but he gets another great line full of personal weight with his declaration that he's "not going to admit defeat" by abandoning the hope for rescue. The ideological conflict between his and Kate's side, and those following Jack into the caves at episode's end, flows into Sun's flashbacks and the clash with Michael to thread a compelling theme throughout, about the divisions that can arise between people, the value and difficulty of unity, and the uncertainty buried beneath it all. The ending sequence captures that atmosphere perfectly as some of the survivors settle into the cave, and Kate stares into the sun on the beach while the words "Are you sure this is where you want to be?" are gently sung. No one is where they want to be, not where they were in life, nor now on this island, and no one feels that more than Sun, pulled into this terrifying and bizarre situation on the chance of renewed love, the hope that is dangerous to lose but she may yet regret.
Side Observations:
Kate's inquiry to Jack early on about his tattoos establishes the fascinating mystery that won't be solved until season three's "Stranger in a Strange Land." Heh heh.
Knowing just how much time the show will unnecessarily spend on the sexual tension being established with Kate and Jack and Sawyer, those scenes could easily have been portentous frustrations, but within the episode itself, they aren't distracting and don't feel like they'll actually build to anything. Kate's blatant attempt to flirt with Jack met only by him incessantly talking about those damn caves felt completely played for laughs, and I greatly enjoyed it. If I didn't know to the contrary, and if the writers had made a better decision, that scene would've been the end of it.
Grades: A-/A
I'm taking next week off to prepare for my Journalism exam and to spend the weekend with my parents.
The week after that, Charlie struggles with withdrawal and everyone goes back to hating Sawyer.
"Last week most of us were strangers, but we're all here now. And god knows how long we're going to be here. But if we can't live together, we're going to die alone."
The long conversation between Jack and Locke in the jungle is the centerpiece of this episode, both thematically and structurally, and it is masterfully executed, from the vivid dialogue to the excellent staging. These are two characters I have spent many words criticizing the conception and writing of, and the performance of in Jack's case, but they both improve greatly here, as I cannot deny that this is some of the series' best writing, and that both actors do wonders. Locke's gentle tone as he helps Jack up from the cliff, and calm, thoughtful wisdom in attempting to guide Jack, show how Terry O'Quinn utilizes his natural conviction for the better here, and in parts of this sequence* along with the airport scene and final scene, Matthew Fox shows more natural delivery and a stronger connection to Jack's emotional state. In turn, their exchange beautifully establishes parallels between the two characters: what we see of Jack's relationship with his father fits into information we were given on him in earlier episodes, suggesting that Jack likely and reluctantly had his doctoring career foisted upon him by his father, manifest in his lack of conviction when he says that he should believe his visions to be a hallucination, while Locke as a "meat and potatoes kind of guy" was more naturally closer to being that kind of logical person, until he gained newfound faith inspired by the Island's magic. And lastly, this sequence carefully lays out the central theme of the episode, bringing together the disparate threads, superficially united by the dire need for water, and establishing the true stakes of Jack's arc, the whole episode, and ultimately the series going forward. The various facets within the role of leadership, the struggle to balance these to properly serve that role, and the at best conflicted relationship between leadership, and the simultaneously stubbornly individualistic and innately communal human race, are thoughtfully and powerfully considered in Lost's tightest episode yet, carrying through it a rollicking momentum which is brought to wonderful catharsis in that final speech.
That takes us back to the parallel sequences that open the episode, which draw stark contrast between young Jack instinctively going to protect another kid from bullies**, and how he handles trying to save Boone and Joanna from a riptide. The implicit cause of the shift in his behavior is made apparent sometime later when we see an encapsulation of what had occurred between the two scenarios: his father attempting to provide what is genuinely a valid lesson, that Jack is still young and cannot yet handle such situations the way he as an adult surgeon can, but the delivery being unfortunately muddled due to his father's alcoholism and other apparent issues, and ultimately a number on Jack's self esteem. This thusly informs his present behavior by showing why he consciously chooses to focus on Boone and not her, against what is clearly still his internal judgment, in turn further fueling how he beats up on himself and generally lacks confidence and will. Joanna's death haunts him not because she was personally close or important to him, but specifically because of the anonymity of her death, as him not getting the chance to know her and choosing Boone instead because of that, is all the more regrettable as an apparent humanist. This is all conveyed well in his exchange with Kate, whose exposition on Joanna manages to feel organic and fits well with the details of why Jack is distraught to more effectively give weight to a death of a character just introduced by tearing into why we care less about this character because they were just introduced.
** The staging of that first flashback, as well as the delivery on the part of the kid actor, is tremendously poor, but thankfully the episode quickly moves away from it and builds off the concepts it introduces as well as it does. That scene being so thematically vital could easily and greatly hamper the development of the rest of the episode.
From there, the episode splits itself into two halves that culminate and converge with Jack and Locke's conversation: delving into Jack's psyche as he wanders through the jungle both physically and mentally lost, which is excellently executed in conveying his disorientation and pain through the direction and cinematography; and planting the thematic seeds for where the episode goes from their conversation and after. There is Charlie and Hurley making perfect sense as natural followers, and thus putting worse pressure on Jack due to his mental state, along with Sawyer asserting his belief that he'll always manage to endure and survive, making him resentful of being led, and lastly, Jin's attitude while talking to Sun, ("We don't need anyone else. I will tell you what to do.") which accurately reflects the exact attitude Jack ultimately dismisses for being dangerous in his final speech.
What enables him to ultimately rise to the challenge and make that speech is the need to get out from under his father's long shadow, moving on from his past, beginning to heal his scarred self-esteem and repressed ideals, which manifests in the frustrated destruction of the empty coffin as the closest he can get to properly saying goodbye. The pain of his father's death, especially considering the reverence he expresses for the man, when talking to the coroner, despite their relationship, hinges at least partly on losing the chance to ever properly improve things between them, and make him proud, which Jack desperately needed to boost his self esteem. He takes out all his pent up rage and sadness on that empty coffin right in the midst of the other physical representation of his epiphany about his mind and leadership and all of it intertwined, discovering the valley spring in an achingly, wondrously beautiful and surreal scene. He is not the man his father was, a man of reason, but a man of spirit, and he needs to try to lead and help these people, for himself, yes, but for them as well. They all must rely on each other.
Side Observations:
*The delivery on "I think I'm going crazy" is not so great. .
Joanna repeatedly disappearing from Jack/the audience's vision as he goes through the water is, I think intentionally, reminiscent of the equally sudden appearances and disappearances of the mysterious figure that we first saw in the previous episode.
The show does well to give Claire some personality here, with her "Are you a Gemini?" bit with Claire, as well as her frustration with being unfairly defined and in turn avoided by the others. The latter sequence in turn allows for another opportunity for characterizing Charlie, as he shows compassion for her, the extension of his use of humor as a comfort in reassuring her, and a general accepting and true optimistic (as opposed to Sawyer's self-confidence) nature.
The scene between Kate and Claire has an additional functional benefit by establishing Claire's fatigue from the start in a way that feels natural to previous episodes, and not blatantly setting up something later on. In turn, the pay off of this set up very efficiently heightens the episode's tensions and brings everything into the thread of need for water, before the episode unites everything further.
Towards the end, we have the first, brief appearance of tenderness and affection shown between Jin and Sun, doing well to set up the next episode.
Sawyer's delightfully meta line, that Boone has suddenly replaced him on the most hated list, in both the characters' and the audience's mind, is a fun acknowledgment of how they quickly made Sawyer a far more enjoyable character.
Giacchino's score finally works completely well in tandem with the episode, complementing mood and tensions perfectly throughout, from the opening rescue to the arguments at episode's end.
House Of The Rising Sun:
"It's too beautiful."
Scratch everything I just said. Not to take back the sincere praise I have for White Rabbit, but simply because it was so quickly and effortlessly surpassed as the high point so far.
What's perhaps most brilliant about this episode, even beyond the excellent and remarkably understated thematic unity between the tale of Sun and Jin's marriage and Sayid and Jack's debate over whether to settle for the long term in the caves or continue to seek rescue, is how it manages to both thoroughly place the audience in Sun's perspective while at the same time vividly characterizing Jin through implication and the clash between what we see and what we do not. The rapidly increasing willingness of the show to trust its audience to fill in the gaps in these past few episodes culminates spectacularly here. It is gracefully used to tell a beautiful and tragic story intimately, yet grand in scale, entirely via vignettes within the couple's new house to more effectively emphasize Sun's perspective, what the experience was for her. With Jin, we watch as he sacrifices and corrupts his soul for the sake of a pure love*, but this in turn stains the love and turns it selfish, his new gift a figurative ball and chain for Sun.
*" Remember when all you had to give me was a flower?" And then this turns around back to the flower as an assertion that his love and affection is not dead, a reminder that this is painful for him as well, filling that reunion in the airport with as much palpable hope as there is great fear and regret.
The dog's backgrounded aging is an clever device to further communicate the passage of a great length of time, without being distracting, alongside Jin and their gradually devolving relationship. This ultimately spans a mere handful of scenes, but through its execution carries a sweeping power that could have faltered were it drawn out further. The writing, though admittedly even stronger here than it has ever been, would still not be nearly as impressive without the fantastic, painful performances by Yunjin Kim and Daniel Dae Kim. In the wake of this and consideration of my occasional griping about their scenes in previous episodes, I am tremendously regretful, as I realize just what Yunjin Kim was doing in those scenes with english speakers, and in the wake of their performances on the Island/in the present clearly elevating.
Not to mention, of course, the particular apparent purpose of all the scenes with Michael, although I stand by saying that the topless scene is still unnecessary. On that note, the Island storyline serves as the perfect addendum to the story, working more gracefully intercut with it than previous parallels between flashback and main stories had, as well as giving Michael a great speech and moment, that reminds me just how great Harold Perrineau is and makes me hope that Michael's writing improves as some of the others' have. Freeing Jin in a way that best helps both him and Sun is certainly a step in the right direction, though, and his scenes with Walt are starting to work better, with the bit about his son not knowing his birthday resonating with me and my childhood, and the final "When's your birthday?" being genuinely sweet and affecting.
The other subplot about Charlie and Locke is solid enough, and most importantly, provides some much needed and well-handled levity amidst the tragic love story. The initial talking about Charlie's band is fun and provides the important implication that his career was in a downslide prior to the crash. The goofy bit with the beehive, and Locke starting to lean back towards annoying me with his tremendous dickishness in manipulating Charlie and prying into his business, are easily objectionable but ultimately balanced out, between the promise of what it's setting up, Locke's appreciable notion of Charlie enduring withdrawal by his own will, and what is simultaneously one more great, sweet moment and the big laugh of the hour in Charlie's discovery of his guitar. There's a tangible, powerful idea subtly at work there as well, the metaphorical idea of Charlie never thinking to look up due to being too caught up in his own demons.
While I eagerly await the first Charlie episode that subplot sets up, my other favorite character, Sayid, features into the major plot running counterpart to Sun and Jin. (Okay, not the smoothest transition I've ever written.) Sayid doesn't get much to do here, which is all for the best considering how much the episode covers at the pace it does, but he gets another great line full of personal weight with his declaration that he's "not going to admit defeat" by abandoning the hope for rescue. The ideological conflict between his and Kate's side, and those following Jack into the caves at episode's end, flows into Sun's flashbacks and the clash with Michael to thread a compelling theme throughout, about the divisions that can arise between people, the value and difficulty of unity, and the uncertainty buried beneath it all. The ending sequence captures that atmosphere perfectly as some of the survivors settle into the cave, and Kate stares into the sun on the beach while the words "Are you sure this is where you want to be?" are gently sung. No one is where they want to be, not where they were in life, nor now on this island, and no one feels that more than Sun, pulled into this terrifying and bizarre situation on the chance of renewed love, the hope that is dangerous to lose but she may yet regret.
Side Observations:
Kate's inquiry to Jack early on about his tattoos establishes the fascinating mystery that won't be solved until season three's "Stranger in a Strange Land." Heh heh.
Knowing just how much time the show will unnecessarily spend on the sexual tension being established with Kate and Jack and Sawyer, those scenes could easily have been portentous frustrations, but within the episode itself, they aren't distracting and don't feel like they'll actually build to anything. Kate's blatant attempt to flirt with Jack met only by him incessantly talking about those damn caves felt completely played for laughs, and I greatly enjoyed it. If I didn't know to the contrary, and if the writers had made a better decision, that scene would've been the end of it.
Grades: A-/A
I'm taking next week off to prepare for my Journalism exam and to spend the weekend with my parents.
The week after that, Charlie struggles with withdrawal and everyone goes back to hating Sawyer.
