On September 22, 2004, for two breathless and mesmerizing hours, I sat, along with 18.65 million others, utterly gripped and completely astonished in front of a television set. For it was on that day that the passengers of Oceanic Flight 815 crashed onto a mysterious island somewhere between Sydney, Australia and Los Angeles, California and effectively made television history.
A couple days prior to this, I had chanced upon an article in some magazine or other that strongly encouraged me and anyone else who might be reading to tune into ABC on that early fall night in order to watch the series premier of a new show called Lost. An early review promised that it was going to be the most exciting two hours of television ever. Strong words to be sure that most likely couldn’t live up to their own grandiose enthusiasm (readers of this blog no doubt know something about grandiose enthusiasm), but intriguing enough to ensure my presence in front of the TV at 8:00 pm on the night of my 23rd birthday.
The experience is one that I will never forget. For during those two hours, I watched what I every day since then have considered the two most exciting hours of television ever. The pilot episode of Lost didn’t merely live up to the superlative description that I had read in the days leading up to its premier, but soared past it. I had simply never experienced anything like it. For one thing, as soon as Matthew Fox woke up in the jungle and ran out to the beach to discover the wreckage of the plane in which he had minutes before been flying, I completely forgot that I was watching something created for television. The stunning production values, JJ Abrams incredible direction, and the terrific acting across the board all came together to create a thrilling piece of grade-A filmmaking.
For the next six years, Lost provided for its loyal fans a show that was consistently intelligent and endlessly entertaining. This past Sunday, on May 23, 2010, the show that had reestablished the dramatic serial as a successful primetime alternative to the mind-numbingly popular reality TV came to a dramatic conclusion during a two-and-a-half hour series finale. Divisive to the end, Lost’s finale has already inspired millions of written words from tear-wiping, whole-heartedly in love fans alongside their poison-spitting, sick-to-the-stomach with anger counterparts. As the final credits rolled, and I then knew the fate of the characters that I had come to love and root for over the past six years, I found myself faithfully encamped within the former of the two. This was a show that always earned the emotional reaction of its viewers, and the heart-tugging finale was no different. I was and am completely satisfied with the ending.
I will miss the water cooler conversations I had from week to week, season to season, with my coworkers, each of us trying to sway the other with our most recent theories and prognostications. I will miss the anticipation I felt for each new episode, each new season, encouraged by the perfectly constructed and often shocking cliffhangers as well as the show’s enduring mysteries. But most of all I will miss the many wonderful characters, who entered my life for one hour each week and left me happier for their intrusion. Like departing friends, it’s difficult to say goodbye. So instead of that, for the time being, I think I’ll just have to say “See you in another life, brotha.”
Until then, here is my hope that we all find our Shangri-La. Good night.
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