So Close, Yet So Far Away

Well, here we are, reader. Less than a month away from the premier of Lost and as I expected time has slowed to a crawl. It doesn't help that, starting on Sunday during another of the myriad snow storms Rochester has been plagued with over the past two weeks, the love of my life and I started to re-watch Season Five in an effort to jog our collective memories while getting seriously pumped up for the start of the sixth and final season of the best serialized television show on network television. This is one of those rare, TV geek moments that I've only experienced a few times: knowing that a show I've come to love so much is going to end once the next season is over. I dealt with it when The Sopranos stopped believin', I choked back rage fueled tears when Freaks and Geeks was prematurely canceled, and I cried, sadly and forlornly as my beloved Arrested Development was cut down in it's prime. But, at the same time, I'm legitimately stoked for the final season of Lost, if only because some of those lingering, unanswerable questions are (at the very least) going to be addressed if not outright explained. That, my friend, is the ultimate payoff for a show that, since 2004, has done more to confuse, enrage, annoy and entertain than any other "Big 3" network drama I can think of... ever.

Lost is, and always has been, about the characters and what they do when they are put in a certain situation - either of their own free will, or by some act of four-toed god like intervention - whether it is Sawyer's (Josh Holloway) internal battle over what to do when the man he's been seeking to confront his entire life is, almost literally, plopped down in front of him in the most unlikely place he could have imagined, or whether it's Kate's (Evangeline Lilly) less than thoughtful, but oh so right, decision to run as fast as she can when her past transgressions - on and off the island - start to chase her down. Lost is an incredible look into the human condition wrapped inside a science-fiction-philosophy that hasn't been so thoroughly explored since the earliest days of Star Trek, and even the mighty James Tiberius Kirk would be overwhelmed by all riddles the island forces its inhabitants to solve (Spock, on the other hand, would be just fine).

"Did that bird just say 'Hurley?' F_ck it, beam me up, Scotty."

As for myself, I've tried - way too often - to sift through the clues, the folklore and the mythology surrounding Lost and the only conclusion I've been able to come to is this: Dude. Yes, I go full Hurley (Jorge Garcia) whenever I try to sit down and figure out just exactly what the hell is happening, how it happened, where it started, who started it and how it's going to end, because there is (literally) too much happening for me to comprehend all at once, and I fully expect there to be numerous master level courses that pop up around universities the world over that delve into Lost with all the reckless abandon academia has to offer as the full cultural impact of the show will be revealed, sadly, when it's all said and done. Lost is an important and necessary television show in this day and age when far too many people have far too many answers readily available at the push of a button. Where Mad Men is a constant, sullen reminder of the way things "used to be," Lost is that rare show that has the audacity to show it's viewers the way things "aught to be." It's not Walden 2 by any means, and it doesn't dare to imagine itself as a utopia of any sort, but because it dives into the deep end of human relationships and couples it with action, mystery and the all encompassing "science versus faith" debate that rages on in the subtext of every pivotal scene of the show, and does so without abject bias one way or the other, Lost has managed to give us all the gift of contemplation.

We, the viewer, are forced to pay attention and we are forced to (shudder) think for ourselves. That doesn't happen very often anymore. With shows like The Hills and the train wreck that is Jersey Shore becoming ever more popular with not just the youth of current culture, but the adults as well, Lost has veered violently in the other direction. Sure, it has everything any fan of television would find interesting (action, adventure, drama, romance, a smoke monster and Hurley), but that's just on the ground level; which isn't to say you can't get fully engrossed in Lost on a very simple plane, but it's so much better, and so much more entertaining when you actually pay attention, because you pick things up - often times subliminally - and you start to legitimately understand the direction of the show, what it's trying to get across to the audience and where it's headed.

Why does Benjamin Linus (Michael Emerson) do the things he does? Is he just a man living in a fog of ambiguous morality that only acts to serve himself and his desires? Or, is Ben more than that? Is he truly evil, or is he one the good guys? The answer is just as much of a riddle as the character himself, and I don't see how it's possible to enjoy the show the way it's meant to be enjoyed if you don't constantly ask yourself these questions while pondering the impossible to come by solution. The same can be said of any of Lost's main characters, and even it's relatively minor characters are mired by questionable actions and shady intent. The "hero" of the show, Jack Shephard (Matthew Fox) has had his ups and downs and, at times, acted like a petulant little child when he hasn't gotten his way, taken to the bottle and prescription narcotics as a means of coping with his insecurities and sometimes gone off in the wrong direction without ever taking the time to think about it. That's his challenge as a character. When the "hero" is supposed to be a Hero, will he live up to that moniker or will he slink away into some Benzedrine dream, never to be seen or heard from again? Of course, as of the end of season 5, we all know where Jack's loyalties lie and it's not really surprising considering his development. Jack will always be Jack, for better or worse he thinks of himself as the savior of the people on the island he feels duty bound to protect. It's a pro and a con, a positive and a negative, and it is exactly what makes Lost as engrossing an experience as it is. We, the audience, never really know what's happening and we are constantly guessing who is "good" and who is "bad" when we should really be thinking "what's next?"

I remember, a long time ago, reading that the joy of a mystery isn't in the solving but, rather, in the surprise. I know there can be endless amounts of fun trying to figure things out when it comes to Lost, because that's the way the show is designed. It's meant to confuse, annoy and entertain all at the same time, and it does so with such conviction and style that sometimes the impact takes days or weeks to settle in; which is why it must be viewed so often and paid attention to so carefully. As much as I wish I had a Holmesian mind that could detect, deduce and define even the most pithy piece of evidence, I'm glad that I don't, because if I could figure out how Lost was going to end without the benefit of taking the ride, the show in and of itself would cease to be as important as it is and all the wonderful thrills and the hammer to the back of the head like jolts that accompany all of the "big reveals" that have happened in the past and the ones coming on the horizon would have little to no effect, and Lost would be just another TV show. Thankfully, that's not the case. Thankfully I've resigned myself to "just let it go, man" when it comes to figuring out the labyrinthine twists and turns of the plot, and the true nature of the individual characters. I don't want to ruin the last season, not even by mistake, and if a co-worker or friend decides to let slip a spoiler, I will pummel them with all my nerd-rage fueled might!

Just like on the show, my perception of time has become relative to my position on the grid. With Winter rearing it's ugly head in the general direction of my well being, I'm forced to stay indoors and while away the hours wondering "what's next" and "where do we go from here?" As much as I'm enjoying re-watching season 5 of Lost, I'm getting impatient and I'm getting hungry to move forward towards the endgame that is going to (I expect) play out wonderfully over the next few months, and this has made my perception of time slow to a crawl. The anticipation, the quixotic nature of my own mental capacity and my desire to be shocked and awed is starting to take it's toll. I know it's just a TV show, and I'm aware that my pining is something bordering on "too geeky to function properly in society," but I don't really care. 2010 is going to be about embracing your inner nerd, it's going to be about loving the things you love openly and often, and Lost is one of those things. As much as it's going to hurt to see it go, I can't wait to find out what's going to happen.

*A brief note from the author to the reader*
Please, please, please do not spoil anything related to Lost for me as the final season unravels. I won't be reading ahead on any websites that I normally check for updates, and I won't be diving into lostpedia.org like I have in the past to play catch-up when something escapes my understanding. I will not respond with grace, dignity or aplomb and will most like spaz out pretty badly. Take, for example, this line from 30 Rock's Jenna Maroney (Jane Krakowski) which was supposed to be a joke, "I met JJ Abrams once, and I don't know what this means, but he said that the island was just Hurley's dream." I know that was supposed to be funny, but my reaction was not. I was pissed. My jaw dropped and I gasped aloud as I thought of ways to punish Jenna for letting slip something so spoiltastic as that. So, please be kind and don't ruin the surprise. Just, like, you know, let it go, man.

"It's not your fault..."

For an entire decade of my life I was a Robin Williams super-fan. From the ages of 8 to 18 I went to all his movies, saw any appearance he made on T.V shows and watched any episodes of "Mork & Mindy" I could get my hands on. I was, for lack of a better education, addicted to Robin Williams. There was something about his wild, frenetic energy and manic line after line delivery that made the younger me want to be exactly like him, and much to the dismay of my mother I could spout out quotes from "Aladdin" and "Mrs. Doubtfire" so easily and quickly that eventually I was banned from ever saying "Ooooooh, Helloooooo" in a high-pitched, faux British accent ever again.

My R-Dub obsession was so all consuming that I thought "Toys" was one of the best movies I had ever seen and spent several years defending that belief. That's right, "Toys," and no one should defend that movie. I don't even think Robin William's himself would defend "Toys," if only because it gave us L.L Cool J the actor and forever set in motion a string of events that would lead to a surge in rapper/actors like Ice T, Ice Cube, Tupac, Eminem, Ludacris, that guy from "Pimp my Ride" and Lyle Lovett cashing in on various minor and major film roles that through their involvement resulted in at least 1 decent franchise (i.e: "Friday" ) and several terrible franchise (i.e: anything else Ice Cube has been in).

You see, because black people be fixin houses like this... and white people be fixin' houses like this...

I can't honestly blame Robin William's for the boom in rapper/actors, but part of me wishes I could, because there's really nothing Robin William's has done that has made me dislike him the way I do now. Not even "Jack" or "Bicentennial Man" or "Man of The Year" pushed me over the edge. No, it wasn't until I started doing stand-up and started really watching Robin Williams do stand-up that I completely lost all respect for the guy.

My reasons for the about face are still unclear to me. It's not that he's a noted joke stealer , because everyone in stand-up comedy is stealing someone else's material whether they think they are or not, and at least R-Dub pays the comedian when he does it. It's not because whenever he's on stage I wish I could punch him in the face and tell him to "slow the f_ck down." It's because at some point in time he stopped making me laugh and started doing things like the "Meet Robin" ticket package for his stand-up gigs (yes, the prices are very, very high, about $435 last I checked) and naming his tour some trite piece of word-play like "The Weapons of Self-Destruction Tour." The Robin Williams I came to know and love would never have stooped so low... or would he?

B-b-but, pants don't go on your head, Robin... oh I see. Good one.

Before I lay into the man that used to be my idol I want to say that I still believe Robin Williams is one of the best actors of the past 25 years. No, he's not on par with someone like Daniel Day-Lewis or Phillip Seymour Hoffman, but he's a tremendous talent when he works with a director that can harness his energy and put it to good use. Hell, the man has an Oscar for "Good Will Hunting," and should have at least been nominated for his uber creepy, exceptionally well done role in "Insomnia," because he actually out acted none other than Sir Loudy McScreams a lot, Al Pacino. Have you seen "The Fisher King?" If not, I suggest you put it in your Netflix queue and watch the sh_t out of that, because that's how you make the most of Robin Williams' talent, and once again, he outshines a brilliant actor in Jeff Bridges. If it were up to me, R-Dub and Terry Gilliam would do nothing but make movies with each other for the rest of my life and I would die a happy man. Do you have any idea how awesome he would have been as Sancho Panza in "Don Quixote?" No, you don't, because it never got made. But I digress...

I'm not sure but I think 1982's "An Evening With Robin Williams" was the first taste of R-Dub's brand of stand-up comedy that I ever sampled. I saw it at least 10 years after it was released to video when I was a running around acting like the Genie from "Aladdin" half the time (yep, I memorized every single song that Mr. Williams sang in that wonderful movie), so watching him do stand-up was more a retrospective initiation than an actual orientation into the manic genius of Mr. Williams and his style of comedy. As a 10 year old boy with a vivid imagination and an unquenchable hunger for comedy of all kinds, Robin Williams sated my appetite adequately enough for me to mimic his rainbow suspender wearing, Jew-fro having, cocaine snorting ass (minus the suspenders, Jew-fro and cocaine). So, the next day at school I got in trouble for swearing and making a joke about cocaine during recess. Did this deter me from loving Robin Williams? Nope, it made me love him even more, because my 10 year old brain thought it was awesome. Just. Plain. Awesome.

In watching "An Evening With Robin Williams" as an older gentleman it still stands as a great hour of stand-up comedy with everything you would expect from R-Dub. For a while the only way the world was able to watch Mr. Williams perform his stand-up routines was to wait for "Comic Relief" on HBO or a similarly themed show of some kind or re-runs of "An Evening With..." on Comedy Central. It was in that "Comic Relief" atmosphere that Mr. Williams was honestly and truly head and shoulders above the other participating comics. I remember watching the 80's holy trinity of stand-up comedians (Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Crystal and Robin Williams) one night back in the day and thinking to myself "this Billy Crystal and this Whoopi Goldberg kind of suck," and I was no more than 10 years old.

"Will, between you and me, Whoopi is a hack."

Then came the 90's, and the only time we got to see Robin Williams be Robin Williams was when he went on "The Tonight Show" or "Late Night with David Letterman" or made a mad-cap, off the wall comedy like "Hamlet" and just let it all hang out, and this, coincidentally, is when I started to realize the man I grew up worshipping was kind of unhinged and possibly insane. For minutes at a time during these interviews it seemed as if R-Dub had no brain to mouth filter like you and I probably do, so the audience would be treated to a 5 minutes laugh riot, rambling monologue about the intricacies of flatulence.

Perhaps the fault is mine. As I aged my tastes changed and I didn't find "Father's Day" as funny as I did the year before and even "Mrs. Doubtfire" seemed a little too... how do I put this... wacky for my tastes. I was into things like "Seinfeld" and "The Simpsons" and other high brow, artsy comedy fare that would lead me down the path to the comedic stylings of "Monty Python," Richard Pryor, George Carlin and eventually Lenny Bruce, Patton Oswalt, Brian Posehn, David Cross, "Arrested Development" and a bunch of other more adult oriented comedy that played to my ever increasing snobby side. This got so bad that when people brought up Robin Williams I would snort loudly and chortle out some crude remark about how he "just isn't funny," and eventually I would get mean about it and say "listen, if you like Robin Williams you'll love 'According to Jim," or 'Two and a Half Men.' " Let's face it, nobody loves "According to Jim," and the fact that "Two and a Half Men" is still the most watched comedy on American television means way, way too many Americans think Charlie Sheen and Jon Cryer making unintelligent boner jokes is funny and that's just blatantly untrue.

This makes you laugh, America? THIS! Have you even heard of "The Office," America? Have you!?

So, Mr. Williams I want to ask you a direct question: Why, after all those years away from mass consumption stand-up comedy, did you decide to do "Robin Williams: Live on Broadway?" I had heard for months that you would be performing on Broadway in New York and even considered flying down just to see your show until I heard that it would be on HBO at some point. I waited patiently and thoughtfully, hoping that you would regain the form you had when you made "An Evening With Robin Williams" and beofre then when were so f_cking funny Richard Pryor himself thought to put you in his T.V show, but did you deliver? No. No you didn't. I think it was after you used one of your 400 water bottles to simulate male orgasm that I switched off the television and started to softly cry to myself while I wondered what the hell I wasted my childhood idolizing. I needed answers and I needed them sooner than later, so I went to the only person who could answer a question of this depth and meaning: My Father.

Now, I haven't mentioned my father around this blog at all, so I should start by letting you know he doesn't laugh easily, but Robin Williams always seemed to get him going. One night 18 months ago I asked the old man what he thought of R-Dub and he summed it up beautifully, "I think he's great, don't you, you used to love everything he did." I then told my father, "Well, over the past few years I've started to, kind of, hate the guy." At this my father looked me dead in the eye and said "Well, that's because you're an ass." He couldn't have been more right.

Jimmy Carter and my father are giving me the same look right now.