Showing posts with label Review. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Review. Show all posts

Saturday

"Lost" Thoughts: Part VI (Conclusion-ish)

I carry my sentiment from the end of season five into this blog post about the sixth and final season of "Lost": I am freed from the shackles of a time commitment without definite reward.

Though I am somewhat satisfied with the concluding note of the show (one that has been widely discussed and only moderately criticized) in its humanistic emphasis, I am still furious. I should clarify that I am mostly furious with myself: About a week ago I realized that despite my awareness to the frustrations of people who had been avidly following the show, I, too, had been duped into believing that some profound realization would come to fruition thanks to insightful writing that would incorporate allegorical imagery and complexly woven story arcs. Of course, after an estimated 88 hours of time watching events unfold after the crash of Oceanic 815 I am now aware that the show was just a T.V. show. Damnit. Fooled me.



Monday

"Lost" Thoughts: Part V

I once had an English teacher that loved reveling in the beauty of a Socratic argument that ended where it began. In season five of "Lost," we start with the disappearance of the island and a changing of all inner rules (space, time, physics, etc.); we end the season with a mystery of how the inner rules will be resolved reiterated with the bending of the show's external rules--the trademark black background is, instead, white. Before and after this season, more so than during the time surrounding any other season, the viewers are left feeling just as the title indicates: Lost. That summary is an accurate depiction of the show's ridiculousness.


Wednesday

Assassination in and/or of the Western

I recently spoke with a friend who told me about an article (I believe by Zizek) that discussed how the Western eventually became impossible to make and that we were left with "meta-westerns." (Bryan, forgive me if I am doing a poor job of recounting.) This trend began with "Shane" (which I have not actually seen), in which the entire Western unfolds from the perspective of the child. From then on, Westerns were no longer possible; instead, "Westerns" were stories that unfolded from the gaze of someone actually watching the real Western take place (e.g. "Shane's" child).

With this in mind, I will address two "Westerns" that I recently watched: "The Wild Bunch" (1969)  and "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford" (2007).




I [sic] New York

Recently, I have been considering how random my film reviews are: There is no thematic order to the movies I see, and this may contribute to an illegitimacy in my blogging. Then, I remember that this is a blog that follows my travels, adventures, thoughts, and reflections. There is no particular order to these aspects of my life, so the random reviews (courtesy, in part, of the unsystematic order of my Netflix queue) tow the the line of my life. I am sorry if you do not appreciate.

*****

While I am still a huge fan of "Paris, je t'aime,"  I cannot say my enthusiasm for the city-scape montage of love applies to the poorly planned and odiously executed "New York, I Love You."




(I forgot that preview features Phoenix--perhaps the most redeeming quality of the film.)


Saturday

"Lost" Thoughts: Part IV

Despite the fourth season of "Lost" being about ten episodes shorter than any of the first three (season one, season two, and season three), JJ Abrams and co. generated twice as many questions as they usual do in a season. That being said, I am not sure how much space I can afford for an actual review of the season. I will do my best to recap my thoughts on the season, the show, and where it is going before launching into a recap on questions unanswered and a listing of newly generated questions. Again, I list all these questions because creating and monitoring the progress of questions is the premise and basis for success of "Lost."

With much further ado, "Lost" takes us off the island and brings us to a strange non-island-non-off-island existence within season four. The show has begun leaning away from the petty island drama for the sake of pursuing more confusion about physics, chemistry, space, and time--it is too bad Arntz is not around to help explain some of the conundrums.

At the end of season three, we find out that some Oceanic 815 survivors make it off the island and back to civilization--thanks Beardy Jack. In season four, we have flashes forward to this post-island life for the Oceanic 815 and island survivors (coined The Oceanic 6), flashes backwards to explain more about character origins, and what amount to flashes of the "present" life of the characters on the island. Ultimately, this technique leads to a chase that parallels some of the jungle chases on the island: The present on the island is trying to catch-up to the flashes forward (Oceanic 6 time) that continue to develop in a forward-moving manner. There are some excellent "12 Monkeys"-esque moments during the season--particularly in "The Constant." This also helps to harp on the "Alice in Wonderland" motif that resurfaces throughout the show.

This shift in story-telling provides a new layer of intrigue and, thus, enjoyment for the audience. We sort of know where things are headed and we sort of know where things are, but we do not really know at all how the two are connected. Or if they are connected.

Terry O'Quinn is still the stand-out performer, and the show is trimming some of the fat (N.B. A reduction of Claire). The writers seems to be tired of the Jack-Kate-Sawyer triangle and have shifted more towards the evolution of their friendships and romances without struggle between the males. I eagerly await how Abrams and co. will handle the explanation of how big Walt has gotten even though not a significant amount of internal time has passed.

With one more season of Netflix watching left, I will soon be caught-up to current "Lost" time...Whatever time that may be: Three out of Five stars


Here are the questions left over from Season 1:

What's the deal with the moving black smoke?
What did the others want with Walt?
What is so special about the numbers?
What illness took Rousseau's people?
Where is this island?
What's with Locke's occasional paralysis and even more occasional feeling in his legs?
What made him move to the box company?
What's with Jack's dad on the island?
What is Walt's super power?
What's the point of Vincent?




Season two left overs:




Why do people see a dripping wet Walt when he's not actually around?
What is he saying in said incidents?
What is the significance of the hatch names?
Why was the electromagnetic facility built?
Why was it well-stocked with weapons?
What's with Kate's black horse?
Was Sawyer really holding the spirit of Kate's dead dad?
Is this all going to be some sort of religious metaphor?
Why didn't the black smoke take Echo?
What was flashing in the black smoke?
What did the blacklit blast door say?
Why did the Dharma Initiative drop more food?
Why does Hurley start seeing Dave again?
Why didn't Ben run away when the blast doors had fallen?
Why was Desmond in prison?
What's with the big freak bird that seems to only show up once a season?
What's with the statue foot with four toes?

And now the slew of questions from the third season:

What's Carl's back story?
Why does Jack hear his dad on the intercom?
Why was Locke on that orchard?
Why can Desmond see the future?
Who is the guy who looks like Echo's brother but says he is not him?
Why was Jack in Phucket?
What is the meaning of Juliette's mark?
Why was Sayid in Paris?
How does Mikhael keep surviving death?
What happens to the gull carrying Claire's message?
What happened to Locke's spot on the weed farm?
How did Locke's dad get on the island?
How did Abrams and Co. get Billy Dee Williams to guest?
What was the point of Nickie and Paulo? ("Who the hell is Nickie?"--Sawyer)
Will those two stay buried? ("Things have a way of not staying buried"--Locke)
Why didn't the monster take Juliette and Kate?
Why can't the monster cross "the others'" fence?
What is the story with Jacob?
Who is the man from Tallahasee?
Why was Desmond at an abbey?
Why do men have higher sperm counts on the island?
Why do "the others" idolize Locke?
Are the people on the island dead? Are these layers of hell?
Why hasn't Richard aged?
Why is Ben in charge?
What does Jacob need Locke's help with?




That brings us to questions about season four:

Why does Hurley see the water of the ocean in the mirror in the police station?
Who pounds on the glass of said mirror?
Who is Matthew Abbaddon?
Why is he visiting Hurley?
Who are the "they" Abbaddon talks about to Hurley?
Why are only some people allowed to see Jacob's cabin?
Who was in Jacob's cabin when Hurley peeked in?
How does the cabin move?
How does Hurley make it disappear?
How does Charlie visit Hurley in the hospital?
How does Hurley make Charlie disappear?
Who needs Hurley--according to Charlie?
Why does the woman who Miles visits have a photo of young Echo?
What's the tool Miles uses?
How can he talk to ghosts?
Why was there a Dharma Initiative polar bear skeleton in the desert?
Why was the "rescue team" of Charlotte, Miles, Farraday, and Lupides put together?
Is Abbaddon Naomi's boss?
Does he work for Widmore?
Why are Widmore and Ben at war?
Where is Mikhail?
Is Locke's tyranny supposed to be a religious zealotry metaphor?
Why didn't Dan's experiment with the "payload" work?
Why was the payload 31 minutes late?
Why does Ben have so many passports?
What's Oceanic 6 Sayid's list?
Why is there only one bearing from the island that works?
Why does Miles want $3.2 million?
Who does Miles actually work for?
Why can't Dan remember the playing cards?
Why do people with radiation/EMP exposure get disoriented going to and from the island?
What triggers the space/time shifts that Des goes through?
What's in the Black Rock journal? Tell us more about Tovard Hensel.
Why is Widmore so fascinated with the Black Rock?
Was that seriously a Christmas episode?!?
Why was Dan pleasantly surprised about Des being a constant?
Does island Dan know Des from Oxford Dan?
What is Harper's deal? How come she can disappear with the whispers?
Who filmed Widmore beating Ben's accomplice?
Who are Zach and Emma?
Why does Michael tell Des and Sayid not to trust the captain when he can, in fact, be trusted?
Who faked the Oceanic 815 deep-ocean recovery? Ben or Widmore? Why?
Why does Ben end up in the Sahara (after turning the island's wheel)?
Why does Sawyer suddenly care so much about Claire?
Is that lame action sequence at "the others" village necessary? Everyone gets shot but Sawyer?
Why does Ben use "Dean Moriarity" as his alias in Tunisia?
Why does he receive a funny look from the hotel clerk?
Who killed Nadia?
How did the Rousseau-Ben love go down to produce Alex?
Ben and Widmore have rules of war?
What's with the door in Ben's house?
What's with the temple?
What's with the hieroglyphics?
Did Ben trigger the black smoke? How? How do the mercenaries survive?
Why does Dan lie about the morse code?
Why can't Ben kill Widmore?
What is Widmore talking about with regards to Ben's origins?
Will Ben kill Penelope? Will Desmond get in the way?
When and how does Jack come around to Kate and Aaron?
Why does Hurley think that the Oceanic 6 are all dead?
What happened to Claire and Jack's dad?
What's Horace's story? Bloody nose?
Why does child Locke draw the smoke monster? Does it come from man-made fire?
Why does child Locke pick the knife? Does that link with his struggle to find Jacob and answers?
Why does the secondary protocol have the Dharma Initiative logo? Was the D.I. Widmore's?
What's with the references to Geronimo Jackson?
What's with the references to Portland?
Why does Abbaddon visit Locke in the hospital?
Who is Abbaddon with? Jacob? Richard? Ben? Widmore?
Is the island in the future or the past?
Why is Claire in the cabin? Jack's dad?
Who is Decker?
What is Charlotte's "getting back to the island" all about? Has she actually been there? Is she time traveling?
Where is Dr. Hallowax?
Why did the final orientation tape auto-rewind before finishing?
What did Sawyer whisper to Kate?
Was Hurley playing chess with Echo?
Did Jeremy Bentham commit suicide?
Did anyone survive the boat explosion?
What is San doing with Widmore?
Where did the island go? How did it go?
What's Claire doing in Kate's house? How'd she get there?
What happens with Dan's raft?
Why is John Locke going around as Jeremy Bentham?
How did he die?

Farewell to brother Desmond.

Last question: Abrams, why bother with the following clips?


Friday

Not Really There?

This will be a short-changing of two reviews--please forgive me for short-changing you by combining two reviews, and please forgive me for doing so in a brief post. I am entertaining and being entertained in Colorado until Sunday, when I will be returning to Ann Arbor.

Though "Shutter Island" and "Coraline" may seem miles apart in nature, subject, and target audience, the common theme of the mind's ability to create and the backfiring of alternative realities courses through both films. Not to mention that both movies have their fair share of terrifying moments.

Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio are dead-on, as per usual. And given the presence of such cinematic Goliaths, Mark Ruffalo fills out the supporting side-kick with aplomb. The film recalled my nostalgia for a one-credit-college course I took called "The History of American Psychiatry in Film." If I could remember some of the psychiatric and psychological terms discussed in that course, I would certainly be able to discuss intricacies of story and character development far better.

A few days after viewing DiCaprio's Teddy Daniels struggle to uncover the mysteries surrounding a missing and reappearing patient on an island mental hospital for the criminally insane, my mom pointed out how effectively and painfully Scorsese paralleled the torture perpetrated during the Holocaust with early psychiatric techniques and experiments. These undertones and flashbacks definitely encourage a sense of discomfort and slight agony while watching; these emotions facilitate the few moments that make a woman a few rows back yelp in fear.

Ultimately, the greatest fear from "Shutter Island" comes with the movie's unresolved moral: the mind is a powerful force that can operate counter to social homeostasis and can disrupt the internal milieu.

This is not the horror conveyed in "Coraline," Henry "Pal o' Burton" Selick's Oscar nominated claymation "children's movie." I say "children's movie" because this PG movie was one of the scarier nail-biters that I have seen in some time. I would argue "Coraline" upset me more than "Shutter Island" whilst watching, though "Shutter," as mentioned before, had a more lasting terror.

Embattled with isolation and parents who care more about their magazine than their only kid, Coraline Jones discovers an alternative world with an "Other Mother" who wants to keep her forever to love her forever and possibly, just maybe, eat her soul. Sounds like a great movie to show kids. Great messages about familial love and finding refuge in your dreams.

And though the movie has haunting elements, "Coraline" retains the color, imagery, and dream-like fantasy that permeates childhood perception. The cooky neighbors and talking cat are pure kiddy--albeit "A Nightmare Before Christmas" kiddy. Ian McShane (a.k.a. Al Swearengen) and John Hodgman bring craft and humor to their respective voiceovers.

Still, "Coraline" had me furrowing my eyebrows in concern. Scary.

I recommend both, though neither for young audiences.

"Shutter Island": Three out of five stars
"Coraline": Two.5 out of five stars

Monday

"Lost" Thoughts: Part III

As I finish season three, I hear stories from original "Lost" fans (i.e. those who have watched the show on TV from the show's conception) that many bail in the fourth and fifth seasons because the show "gets too ridiculous." I am not sure where those people were for the first three seasons: The show has always operated on a premise of being illogical and outlandish. Are we not supposed to feel the confusion but excitement of the characters on the island?

At least, that is one of the draws for me. I have spoken to how I cannot believe the success of the show given its resistance to logic in story, writing, and character development. Yet, I find myself compelled to continue following the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815. The first season, I followed them out of curiosity over the many mysteries and difficulties they encountered trying to just make-do in a survival scenario with a few curve-balls (NB The monster and the polar bears). The second season, I followed them out of piqued interest about the new revelations that the island was host to some sort of technological or scientific experimenting that seemingly antagonized the survivors in every way possible. And the third season, I followed because I finally have a sense that Abrams and Co. have a direction for the show, the survivors, and the island's story.

The writers continue to introduce new characters and occasionally kill old ones off. Unfortunately, some of my favorite characters did not even last half way through the season--don't worry, no spoilers. Just as in life, the birth of a new character necessitates the death of an old one. This sort of poetic balance is not that simple on the island since, in the third season, we experience a ghost of one of the survivors for the first time. Sure we have seen ghosts (e.g. Jack's dad), but this is the first time that Oceanic ghosts are haunting their own people.

The ebb and flow of characters is just one of the many cycles that "Lost" writing goes through. The story also shows hints of inner formula: The survivors struggle through a challenge, just barely eke out a solution only to find a new location and a new challenge, the survivors realize this new location is the key to solving the new challenge, so they just barely find solution as they find a way into the new location only to discover a new character. Shortly thereafter will be an episode with trite character "development" that does not help the show that needs to use all its force just to tread water with all the weights of its subplots pulling it beneath the waves of confusion and disenchantment.

Still, I watch. I suppose I am drawn to the show despite episodes like the one where Hurley finds the van because of episodes like either of the ones where Abrams and Co. finally trick us with a flash forward instead of a flashback. Even though I had heard it was coming, I was still jolted and amused. Well done, sir!

Mostly, I think I am hanging-in with the show because I want to be able to participate in another niche dialogue.

Here are the questions left over from Season 1:


What's the deal with the moving black smoke?
What did the others want with Walt?
Are the others affiliated with the moving black smoke?
What is so special about the numbers?
What's the story behind the Black Rock?
What illness took Rousseau's people?
Where is this island?
What's with Locke's occasional paralysis and even more occasional feeling in his legs?
What made him move to the box company?
What's with Jack's dad on the island?
What is Walt's super power?
What's the point of Vincent?

As you can see, the questions are starting to get answered. It is a gradual process, but the writers seem genuinely capable of answering all the questions. That is promising and reassuring given how many damn questions there still are. Season two left overs:





Why do people see a dripping wet Walt when he's not actually around?
What is he saying in said incidents?
What is the significance of the hatch names?
Why was the electromagnetic facility built?
Why was it well-stocked with weapons?
How do the others know names of Oceanic survivors?
What's with Kate's black horse?
Was Sawyer really holding the spirit of Kate's dead dad?
Is this all going to be some sort of religious metaphor?
Why didn't the black smoke take Echo?
What was flashing in the black smoke?
What did the blacklit blast door say?
Why did the Dharma Initiative drop more food?
Why does Hurley start seeing Dave again?
Why didn't Ben run away when the blast doors had fallen?
Why was Desmond in prison?
What's with the big freak bird that seems to only show up once a season?
What's with the statue foot with four toes?
What's with that EMP detecting squad in the snowy recesses of elsewhere and acting as liaisons to Desmond's ex?

And now the slew of questions from this season:

What's Carl's back story?
Why does Jack hear his dad on the intercom?
How do "the others" have so much information about everything?
Why was Locke on that orchard?
Why can Desmond see the future?
Who is the guy who looks like Echo's brother but says he is not him?
Really? Bear cage sex?
Why was Jack in Phucket?
What is the meaning of Juliette's mark?
Why was Sayid in Paris?
How does Mikhael keep surviving death?
Will Claire and Jack ever realize they are related?
What is Jack's dad's timeline exactly? (Consider Claire's accident, Analucia's bodyguarding, etc)
What happens to the gull carrying Claire's message?
What happened to Locke's spot on the weed farm?
How did Locke's dad get on the island?
How did Abrams and Co. get Billy Dee Williams to guest?
What was the point of Nickie and Paulo? ("Who the hell is Nickie?"--Sawyer)
Will those two stay buried? ("Things have a way of not staying buried"--Locke)
Why didn't the monster take Juliette and Kate?
Why can't the monster cross "the others'" fence?
What is the story with Jacob?
Who is the man from Tallahasee?
Why was Desmond at an abbey?
Why do men have higher sperm counts on the island?
How could the world have "found" flight 815 without survivors?
Why do "the others" idolize Locke?
Will "the others" subvert Ben?
Are the people on the island dead? Are these layers of hell?
Who is Ben's right-hand/the guy that found him as a kid? Why hasn't he aged?
Why is Ben in charge?
What does Jacob need Locke's help with?
Who's dead in Jack's flash forward?
What is Naomi's story?
How does Penelope relate to the island?
Why did Locke knife Naomi?
Why does beardy Jack map all the oceanic stuff?
Who is Kate with that she's not with beardy Jack?

And those are my questions. Here are some features I appreciated this season:

4) The back story on how San may be the reason for all of her and Jin's woes.
3) Favoring Sawyer as a character with genuine development and crafty ways of keeping him conniving yet useful.
2) A sense of story, connectedness, and links that indicate that "Lost" is going somewhere.
1) My favorite moment of the series happened this season when Hurley blurts: "Let's look death in the face and say, 'Whatever, dude.'" It reminded me of Demetri Martin.

I am looking forward to the next two seasons which are both significantly shorter than the 23 episode seasons thus far--courtesy of the writer's strike.

I'm halfway to being able to actually talk about this show in a relevant manner. Isn't that exciting?!? I'm so excited that I am spending time finding obscure and odd "Lost" clips on YouTube!--like this strange ad campaign that looks like it debuted between seasons one and two:


Friday

Riddle: Name a Good Pacino Role In Which He Is Not a Gangster.

Prior to watching "Serpico" (1973), I would have been hard-pressed to summon a movie title that answered that riddle. This made me realize, after watching "Serpico," that "Serpico" falls easily into Al Pacino's top five performances which are (in no particular order):
-"Godfather"
-"Godfather II"
-"Any Given Sunday"
-"Serpico"
-Definitely not "Scarface"

Normally, Pacino so facilely plays a conniving or manipulative anti-hero, that his on-point performance of incorruptible New York City detective Frank Serpico is a pleasant surprise. As Serpico graduates police academy and quickly rises through the ranks of the NYPD, he observes the racketeering and money-skimming widely practiced in the force. As an honest man, he denies participation. This alienates him from his squads who antagonize his benevolence. Transfer after transfer promises a cleaner department but fails to deliver.

Eventually, Serpico has to make decisions that compromise more than his reputation with his peers. Serpico puts his life on the line as he soon realizes he must work with district attorneys and commissioners to bring about an end to police corruption. Yes, Pacino acts in a role that is the antithesis of corruption.

Pacino keeps a suave cool for Serpico, who is stylyish in his undercover street dress (except when he poses as a chassid) and charming in his intellectual pursuits. But when Serpico does crack under the pressure from isolation and from the turmoil of battling corruption while maintaining civility amongst the police force, Pacino adequately releases charged speeches that could easily end with: "...and they pull me back in!"



(N.B. For those of you who are not as up on Puzo, Coppola, or Pacino filmography, that video is not from "Serpico.")

True in story, "Serpico" is a compelling cop-drama with an attractive lead performance. I can see why Max Fischer (6:00) would adapt it to the high school stage: three.5 out of five stars.

Saturday

Dig It: "The Warriors" (1979)

Courtesy of Netflix, I have been able to shed light on my cinematic blind-spots. In other words, I now have regular access to classic films and cult classics. Most recently, I watched 1979's "The Warriors."

Set in an alternative future as read in 1979 (to understand this, think about "Back to the Future II"), "The Warriors" chronicles one of New York City's many small gangs battling cops and other gangs on its way from The Bronx back to Coney Island. The gang who calls Coney Island home is The Warriors, and they are framed for shooting Cyrus, the head honcho of NYC's largest gang and the man who plans on uniting all the gang's in the surprisingly well-networked NYC-underground. The alleged crime occurs at a mass gang meeting attended by nine members of each gang in the city; attendance precludes bringing any form of weapon. With the false charges against them, The Warriors face a long hike back to Coney Island through opposing gangs' turfs right when those opposing gangs are set on hunting down The Warriors.

The story flows much like "Escape from New York" does: Challenge after challenge faces the anti-hero protagonists in such a way that makes the story perfect for the inevitable video game ("The Warriors" video game came out in 2005). The narrative, however, uses comic book animation to segue between acts and contribute to a hip, groovy feel that makes "The Warriors" a fun time-piece despite its intentions of being set in the future. Comic books have long since floated to the periphery of the mass distribution they possessed in the mid-20th century. But, "The Warriors" capitalized on comic book popularity and is still noteworthy today, when many superhero and other graphic novel adaptations flood theaters.

Modern graphic novel adaptations seem to force themselves into using effects and costuming in creative ways to capture the visual tone of their source material; "The Warriors" so facilely captures said tone that the transitions between comic book animation and gritty, pallid screenshot are as close to flawless as can be asked--especially considering the limit of special effects in the late '70's.

The hip comic book narrative compounds the groovy factor of the language ("Be cool, baby" is the mantra), the dress (the shirtless, open leather vests), the hair (long and flowing or large and teased), and the music. The music plays a pivotal part in telling the story; a radio jockey relays messages to the streets with code and track selection--"Nowhere to Run" by Martha and The Vandellas puts the hit-out on The Warriors. For mere appreciation of the late '70's NYC street-cool, "The Warriors" is worth the hour-and-a-half playing time.

Hang in until 2:30 when the superfly synth kicks:



Ultimately, Cyrus's question to the hordes of New York's skeeziest is the question that the dated but time-warp movie asks viewers: "Can you dig it?"

I can dig it: three out of five stars.

Monday

"Lost" Thoughts: Part I

Courtesy of Netflix Instant, I am now able to catch-up on all the pop-culture programming that I missed over the past few years. Sometimes I have elected to miss the shows or movies because they seemed passing fads to me. My free time has been precious and sparse, and I need to know that I am diving into a worthwhile distraction instead of a vacuum of brain cells or a frustration provacateur.

My recent indulgence has been "Lost." So, with only slightly further adieu, my wrap-up of the first season. N.B. There may be some sort of spoiling involved here, though given the premise of the series, one in which questions are the point instead of solved mysteries or grand reveals, I am not too preoccupied with offending anyone. Here we go:

As I come to the close f the first season of JJ Abrams and co.'s "Lost," I am annoyingly filled with questions which I know will not be answered in any of the next few seasons. I know this because the rate at which the show generates mysteries without constructing a realm for resolution seems to be the strong point upon which all the rest of the series is built. While I am sure certain intricacies and nuances will be fleshed out, I am also sure that the writers and producers will gladly throw more complexities, twists, and mysteries at me.

To summarize the season, I believe all the unanswered questions will suffice. I will try to recount all of them, but you should feel free to lambast me for missing a crucial plot point. Remember that this is just the first season:

What's with the polar bears?
What's with the forest whispers?
What's with the monster/"security system"?
Where the hell did Ethan come from?
Who are the "others"?
What did they want with/do to Claire?
What's with the psychic's reading on Claire and her baby?
What's the story behind the Black Rock?
What illness took Rousseau's people?
Where's the radio tower?
What's with the hatch and the light inside?
What's with Hurley's numbers?
Are they a Pandora's box?
Is this some sort of time-space splicing island?
Is this some sort of afterlife island?
Is this some sort of purgatorial state for more than just the viewer who is stuck between intriguing questions and frustratingly banal character development?
What's with the Nigerian priest-pilot and the heroin?
Where is this island?
What's with Locke's dreams?
What's with his legs/nonparalysis/occassional paralysis?
Is Locke's faith in the island dangerous?
How come Locke is so savvy and capable?
Why was he crippled?
What made him move to the box company?
Why was Hurley in a mental hospital?
What's with Jack's dad on the island?
What happened to Jack's marriage?
What's with Jack's tattoos--they seem so uncharacteristic?
What will happen with the raft?
What is Walt's super power all about? Future telling? Telekinetic?
What's the point of Vincent?
What happened to Kate and her husband?
Did she actually murder someone?
Why is she always running?
Did Sawyer ever find the real Sawyer?
What's with Sawyer's vindictive boar?
Who will Kate go for: Jack or Sawyer?
What is on either end of the cable leading to Rousseau's hideout?
What's the deal with the shoddy compasses?
What is up with the black smoke?

I suppose I should give the creators some credit. They have somehow disregarded reasonability and the audience's need for explanation, yet they have manufactured a hit show that captivates me amongst millions of others. That is the greatest mystery of "Lost": How do they make a show so annyoing and rife with shortcomings and yet grip my cynical attention?

My biggest complaints about the show are mostly related to character and dialogue writing. We go through the show only to find that each character brings a crucial element to the tribe's alchemy, but each character ends up type-casting their role in the daily mini-dramas that unfold on the island.

These mini-dramas seem to be time-filling devices demonstrating the shoddier half of the writing. The mini-dramas are thinly veiled depictions of the show-creators' alchemy: Which characters, when paired together, will produce television gold? The characters never seem to learn from their own mistakes or observe the way in which the others (equally stagnant characters) will respond to to certain scenarios. This results in regular disputes that I feel have reached the limit of permutations with regards to who is involved in the dispute. I have to believe that someone on the island would at some point acknowledge the absurdity that they all keep falling into the same roles in these disagreements.

A quick stray complaint: I can never tell if Sayid is being provocative, humorous, playful, sympathetic, or thoughtful. If he's not angry, he employs puppy-dog eyes, a faint smirk, and a patronizing forehead furrow.

Also, "Lost" is far too obvious about which characters the audience should hate:

-The underdeveloped, poorly explained, irrationally-constant-scrooge that is Michael: He's so isolating, angry, consistently stand-offish, and terrible at fathering Walt.
-The underdeveloped, poorly explained, and crudely acted Shannon: She's so oblivious, selfish, and prone to glazing her eyes while cocking her head and leaving her mouth slightly agape.
-The dismissable Jin is so unneccessary that the writers only provide subtitles to his Korean every now and then.

Why are the writers even bothering with the other, non-named characters of the Oceanic flight? And are they really serious about introducing the science teacher in the season finale? That dude is going to get eaten. We all know it. Also, are we really supposed to believe that Walt, Michael, and Sawyer will not be back to the island. Please. Taking note of the questions above, I realize that the show will not leave Walt's super power unexplained or Sawyer's drama with Kate and Jack left unresolved. And if Walt survives the raft, so must Michael--network television is not dark or twisted enough to burden the island or Walt himself with an orphanhood. Stop giving me obvious answers. These are distractions from the ten new mysteries per episode. Oh, and I am not remotely interested in whether Jin survives the raft. He was dead to me ever since he dipped out of the warm meal San made for him.

All in all, season one has been gratifying in its provocativeness and ability to at least begin integrating me into another niche of pop-culture. It has failed to "wow" me with acting, dialogue, or character development. I am definitely impressed with the style that transcends the show's inner time via flashbacks. I am also impressed with the audacity of the looming questions that the show makes glaringly obvious it doesn't have to answer for the audience's sake. They don't pander to me. I like that.

Two.5 out of five stars.