You know that show Lost? Of course you do. Everyone on the entire planet knows it. Well I’m watching it. Quickly. And I’m bringing you along for the ride.
But first, a prelude. Because when can I do anything without an overly long explanation for why I’m doing it? Exactly.
I started watching Lost with the very first broadcast of the very first episode. I actually got into it because I knew that Buffy writing veteran David Fury was on the team. I loved it. I was hooked. I followed the show religiously. Never missed an episode, even through the countless frustrating reruns. Even when things began to stretch a bit thin and get a bit aggravating and Kate was bloody everywhere, I hung in there. Especially since we were promised answers. Some stuff would be answered by the first season finale. Not just little stuff too but big stuff. They promised.
I watched the closing scene of the finale, my brow furrowed and my anger growing as the camera away from Jack and Locke at the mouth of the hatch. “Don’t you end it there,” I growled. “Don’t you dare cut to black and end it there.” Which is, of course, exactly what happened.
The second it did, I stopped my TiVo, went into setup and deleted my Season Pass. My faith in the creative team had plummeted to exactly none. I didn’t trust what they told us, I didn’t trust them not to string me along pointlessly, and perhaps worse of all, I didn’t trust that even they knew what they were doing. I had no confidence that there was a plan at work here, and I wasn’t prepared to devote even a second more to the show.
But still, despite my vitriolic reaction, there was a part of me that held out hope. You really have no idea how damned curious I was about that hatch and those numbers and the monster and the polar bear and whatever the fuck else. So I decided then and there to wait. I’d stay away from spoilers as best I could and wait until it was all over. Then I’d take the temperature. Was it a good ending? Was it satisfying? Or were people screaming and foaming at the mouth like I mostly expected? If the former then I’d just go back and watch it. If the latter then I’d pat myself on the back for my foresight.
You’d be surprised how well it’s worked out so far. In five years I’ve only been spoiled on one major development. Given the nature of television, the Internet and people, that’s pretty amazing.
But as the series draws to a close and the fervor is growing stronger, I’m beginning to have serious doubts at my ability to remain forcibly ignorant — at least not without making lifestyle changes far more dramatic than I’d like. I mean, have you seen what they’re doing for the final episode? It’s up to something like seven hours of programming devoted to the thing, and that’s just on ABC. The day after you won’t be able to go ANYwhere without hearing how the bloody thing ended.
Believe me when I tell you that after five years of purity and avoidance, having the ending spoiled will bring about an apocalypse of my very own design.
So I’m in. Netflix has the first five seasons on Instant Watch and I have BitTorrent to do the rest. I’m in a race. Sunday May 23. Six seasons. (At least) 112 episodes.
These are my thoughts as I do it.