Sunday, February 20, 2011

The most dead-on summation of LOST ever written.



The "50 Most Loathsome Americans of 2010" list has been out awhile, but the more I read Ian Murphy's entry on Damon Lindelof, the more I become incensed at LOST's wackass finale (yes, it's taken nearly a year to sink in)...

Charges: As co-creator of “Lost” and co-writer of the monumentally terrible final episode, Lindelof first conjured a confusing yet entertaining sci-fi epic but then, despite its mechanical sound, the “Smoke Monster” turns out to be the ghost of the father of liberal philosophy, side plots about mental illness and alternate universes go nowhere, paper-thin characters inexplicably commune with the dead, and finally, in a clich├ęd, Old Testament-inspired supernatural battle, evil is defeated when a big rock dildo is crammed into a shiny hole by a handsome, emotionless doctor. And the whole damn thing—concocted entirely on the fly, with no eye toward resolution—from the plane crash to the time travel was actually just some brightly-lit, stained glass, feel-good, new-age, ecumenical afterlife delirium. Right. Fuck you, Damon Lindelof. Fuck you, for stealing 127 hours of our lives, giving us hope that television needn’t be utterly awful, and then shitting out the most hackneyed, series-diminishing, spiritually pandering, lowest common denominator deus ex machina to ever air on TV. Fuck you. Fuck you with a fake beard.

Aggravating factor: One of his favorite films is Bambi.

Sentence: Something incredibly convoluted, followed by a tremendously unsatisfying ending.