Judge a tree by its fruit, not by its leaves – Euripides
One of the things I like about Lost is the depth of characterization. Just when you think you have someone figured out, a weed from the past sprouts up and strangles their belief system. Some characters, like Jack, have obvious merit and self-worth, but their heroic acts screen hidden stores of conflict. Others, like Kate, are light on details but heavy with admirable traits so that any zingers revealed don’t knock us completely off the love train.
No one, however, took quite as long to evolve as John Locke. He doesn’t speak a word of dialogue until the second hour of the pilot, giving new meaning to the phrase, “strong, silent type.” Despite the lack of verbal discourse, Locke still makes an impact. Let’s take another look at the pilot and shine the spotlight in John Locke’s direction.
Pandemonium prevails after the crash. Jack’s unflinching emergency services take center stage, so we barely register when Locke walks on. He’s one of two men assisting Jack in the rescue of a trapped man. Locke is eager to help, but wastes no energy on idle conversation. Once Jack works his way through the primary wave of injuries, an uneasy cadence settles over the crash site. Alone, Locke sits by the water’s edge, contemplating the vast, empty sea. Dusk trickles ashore. The jungle monster makes its cacophonous debut, trampling palm trees inside the green felt valley adjacent to the beach. Locke is one of many who turn in bewilderment.
Our first preview of Locke comes day two when Kate commandeers a pair of hiking boots from a dead passenger. Regret looms large as she searches for a pair her size. Successful, she catches Locke peering at her. His expression is pinched into a tight-lipped grimace. She stills. Does he know the person whose shoes she’s just pilfered? Guilt inflames remorse. Locke suddenly smiles. His lips strain around an orange slice, obscuring teeth and context. He chomps the wedge like Magilla Gorilla then looks away.
Huh? The moment leaves a strange taste in our mouths. While most main characters are drawn together in communal comfort, Locke isolates himself. An abrupt downpour scatters survivors like ants. Everyone scurries for cover - everyone but Locke. He’s seated amidst a circle of plane debris, drenched to the bone. Glancing skyward, he lifts his arms, a sinner rinsed clean by liquid redemption. A queer duck, to be sure.
His first words do little to dismantle the myth. He unearths a backgammon game and assembles the board. Michael’s ten-year-old son, Walt, wanders by. Is it like Checkers? Locke finally replies, Not really. It’s a better game than Checkers. Locke likes games. We know this is symbolic. Dialogue is never throwaway on this show. Every word counts, especially with a man stingy with them.
Locke asks if Walt plays Checkers with his pop - not father or dad. Pop. Informal, unstuffy. Walt discloses he’s been living with his mom, but she died a couple weeks ago. Locke ponders that. You’re having a bad month. No artifice, just simple sentiment. Michael’s initial forays into parenting have been ham-handed and somewhat patronizing. Walt laps up Locke’s candor like a thirsty puppy. He kneels down. Locke explains the origins of backgammon. Remnants of the game were found as far back as ancient Mesopotamia. Older than Jesus Christ. Dice made of bones. Just the kind of entertainment that captivates a ten-year old. No doubt Walt is mentally adding it to his Christmas list. Locke elaborates: Two players, two sides. One’s light, one’s dark. More symbolism? Oh, I think so. Dualism is sewn into the fabric of the show.
Here’s where it gets dicey. Locke leans in and asks, Walt, do you want to know a secret?
If this were HBO or Showtime, an Amber Alert would surely follow. Fortunately Locke is family-friendly peculiar not serial-killer cuckoo. But the question underscores the struggle and uncertainty that shroud Locke season long. This tiny nibble is all we get in the two hour premiere. It’s not until the next episode, Tabula Rasa, that we witness the compassion that insulates his ideology.
The revealing act involves his new BFF Walt. Michael struggles with Walt’s fascination with Locke. Jealousy tarnishes his efforts to connect with the son he barely knows. Michael asks what he and Locke spoke about. Walt is non-committal. Some of it’s secret. Michael’s paternal hackles go rigid. He tell you not to tell me? No. Walt relents. Mr. Locke said a miracle happened here. Michael shrugs. It’s a miracle any of them survived. He doesn’t want Walt hanging out with Locke anymore. Walt is furious – Mr. Locke’s his friend. I’m your friend, too, Michael reminds him. Walt begs to differ. If you were my friend, you’d find Vincent. Vincent is Walt’s yellow lab, missing since the plane crash.
Michael doesn’t believe Vincent survived, but he issues the standard platitudes – yes, he cares about the dog; of course he’ll do everything he can to find it once the rain stops.
Guess what? The rain stops. God’s own paternal prod. Make good or eat crow, buddy.
Despite giant reservations about entering the forest, Michael tramps in only to get chased out by something he doesn’t stick around long enough to see. Well, he tried, didn’t he? Meanwhile, Locke is whittling a small block of wood into a whistle. The main plot of the episode - the fate of the marshal – straddles these brisk snippets of Locke, Michael, and Walt. By the time Sawyer makes his fateful decision, forcing Jack to act, we’re ready for an emotional pick-me-up.
By dawn the next day, we get it. Locke parks himself on a spit of sand, facing a wall of dense vegetation. He blows into his whistle. The high-pitched frequency softly resonates. In the distance a dog barks in response. Out trots Vincent; happy, hardy and whole. The camp is just stirring when Locke returns. He wakes Michael to tell him he’s found Walt’s dog. Locke points to where he’s tethered Vincent to a tree. I know that Walt lost his mom. I thought you should be the one to bring his dog back to him.
When Walt wakes to see his dad leading Vincent toward him, we are putty in Locke’s hands. Fresh starts abound among the survivors, but only Locke’s gesture make this Hallmark moment possible for father and son. Before we pronounce Locke Santa Claus, though, he logs in a course correction. As Michael and Walt are enmeshed in a euphoric display of fist-bumping, the camera pans to Locke. He scrutinizes their mawkish spectacle with the unsentimental glower of an alpha male forced to watch High School Musical. Is Locke rethinking his generosity? Judging Michael’s parenting skills? Fantastically constipated?
We don’t have enough info to say either way, but the next episode, Walkabout, exposes a startling secret, adding a fascinating layer to the crazy quilt that is Locke’s character.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Fear, Itself: Part Two
The hardest years in life are those between ten and seventy. – Helen Hayes
Previously, on Fear, Itself: the gang has been invited to a haunted house party at Alpha Delt, but a hinky icon painted on the floor infuses the building with serious mojo. Decorations animate and mortal fears manifest. Trapped inside, our crew discovers frat brother Chaz cowering in a closet.
Chaz babbles to himself, rocking frantically. Buffy demands to know what is going on. Chaz flicks a glance at Buffy then screams. The homicidal skeleton looms behind Buffy, stabbing her in the shoulder. She wheels and kicks it in the face. When it lands, it’s a simple dime store skeleton again. Buffy decides she will go upstairs while they find a way out. Willow is astonished: You’re telling us to run away and leave you behind? Buffy yanks a small crossbow from her basket. We need help. We need the only person who can make sense of what’s happening. Giles.
The man of the hour sits alone, deflated by his lack of trick-or-treaters - a ringing metaphor for his diminished role in life. Someone finally knocks on his door. He springs up, poised to launch into a Happy Halloween chorus when Anya bursts in. Xander’s trapped. Giles frowns. Buffy and the others? Oh, they’re trapped too. But we’ve got to save Xander. Giles implores Anya to slow down. She gives him the lowdown on the missing door and disappearing window, leading Giles to hypothesize about matter distortion and summoning spells. Re-energized, he gathers supplies, grateful for a purpose. I shouldn’t worry too much about Xander. At least he’s among friends.
Not for long. Buffy and Willow dispute strategy. Buffy can’t do her job if she has to worry about them. Well, she’s not the only able-bodied person here, is she? Willow can cast a guiding spell to light the way. Let’s be honest, Will. Your basic spells are usually about fifty-fifty. Oops. These high school buddies are experiencing college level friction. Willow huffs off. I’m not your sidekick, she snaps. Buffy stops short while Oz pursues Willow.
Buffy is peeved but also a little dejected. Willow is more independent and self-assured than ever. She loves school, has a steady boyfriend, and a cool developing ability that doesn’t repel men. Slayer strength isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. Academics – not exactly Buffy’s strength. Her father deserted her, Angel dumped her, and Parker disposed of her. Life was a lot easier in high school. If you ignore the vampires and demons and Hellmouth part. And the fact Angel transformed into a murderous psychopath during junior year. Other than that, life was a cake walk. You bet.
Xander tries to smooth things over – we’re all a little spooked. Willow’s upset. And Buffy has been pushing them away recently. Now’s not the time to fight. I’m still with you. Right by your side. Buffy looks straight at him then spins in alarm. Xander? Xander, where are you? Now Xander’s alarmed. What is she talking about? He’s right here. He yells her name. Nothing. She doesn’t see him. This is so typical of him, Buffy grouses. Typical? Xander is wounded. What does that mean? And why is he suddenly invisible? He pats himself down, looks up, and Buffy is gone. He’s alone. Abandoned.
Willow sheds pieces of her costume as she marches down the hallway. She thinks I’m not ready to be a full blown witch - a rye observation given Willow started the episode with this very worry. I can control dark forces just as good as anyone. Oz suspects they’re not thinking clearly, rubbing his hand in a distracted way. Suddenly it’s matted with fur. His fingernails are yellow and claw-like. He’s changing. B-but, you can’t be. There’s no moon tonight, Willow exclaims. He has to get away. He can’t wait for Giles. He has to leave NOW. He pushes her away, accidentally slashing her. She sees the feral light in his eyes, the dread. He bolts. Oz, she cries. Don’t leave me!
Xander wanders until he finds a mirror. His reflection is there. So why can’t his friends see him? He’s fading away, just as he’s feared. College has opened new avenues closed to him. The odd man out.
Willow chants to the goddess of the lost and conjures light, a dancing firefly dot that hovers awaiting instruction. Tickled pink, Willow asks it to lead her to Oz. The firefly darts to the door, then Willow wavers. Reconsiders. No, they should try to find people trapped upstairs. Objective muddled, the unstable firefly divides in two, then four, then eight, replicating at an alarming rate. Suddenly it’s an aggressive swarm buzzing Willow’s head. She swats at it, calling for help. Some zip into her mouth. She coughs and gags, terrified, and charges off.
On the other side of a wall, Buffy hears Willow’s shouts. Frantic, Buffy surveys a door on the opposite wall. She grips the doorknob. Locked. She charges and crashes through, only to fall two stories to the basement floor. She’s knocked out briefly, but comes to and hears a voice: All alone. Josh shuffles into view, his head cocked at a sickening angle. They all ran away from you. They always will. Josh affirms Buffy’s greatest fear. Open your heart to someone and… His smile is maniacal. Hands burst through the ground and lash at Buffy. Several zombies crawl through to ambush her.
Outside, Giles reads from a text and feels the wall where the front door used to be. They must create a new opening. Unexpectedly, he drops the book and hoists a chain saw, carving a hole into the side of the house. Meanwhile, Buffy fights off zombies and escapes through a small door into the party room. Terrified students in costume quiver at her feet. She finds Oz, who looks normal again. Willow races into the room, slapping at fireflies no longer orbiting. Oz calms her. We need to get out of here, Buffy declares. Sitting to the side, Xander offers his opinion, but you jerks aren’t going to hear it anyway. Not that “didn’t go to college boy” is worth listening to. Buffy walks over and asks, What is wrong with you? She can hear him! He’s not invisible anymore.
The house separated us, Oz deduces. It wanted to scare us. Buffy agrees. They were drawn to this room. Why? They glance down, see the symbol painted on the ground. Xander spies the book from which Chaz took the symbol. Willow translates. It’s the Mark of Gachnar. Somehow the summoning spell was triggered. Gachnar is trying to manifest. The demon feeds on fear - they must stop nourishing it. Giles suddenly kicks in the door. The contrast of Giles brandishing a chain saw while Anya bounces harmlessly through the door to hug Xander is priceless.
Giles informs them the hallways have closed behind them. He takes command of the spell book and explains Gachnar’s presence infects the reality of the house. They can’t let it achieve full manifestation. Can’t Buffy fight it? Buffy, this is Gachnar - Giles shows her its picture. A huge, horrid-looking creature stares back. Buffy shudders. Let’s shut it down. Giles recites: The summoning spell for Gachnar can be shut down in one of two ways. Destroying the Mark of Gachnar –
Buffy drops to her knees and punches through the floorboards, mangling the icon.
-- is not one of them and will, in fact, immediately bring forth the Fear Demon. Whoops. Giles glares at Buffy. A terrible roar shakes the room. Gachnar, in all his hideous glory, rises from below. Dead silence ensues as everyone realizes Gachnar is barely six inches tall. His cartoon helium voice threatens: I am the Dark Lord of nightmares, the bringer of terror. Tremble before me! No one is trembling now, except with laughter. Giles reminds Buffy that size doesn’t matter in slaying. She approaches Gachnar, who tries to redirect her: They’re all going to abandon you, you know. Buffy isn’t buying that. Not today. She stomps him like a grape.
The Scooby gang tackles the speed bumps of college just as they did those of high school: at full speed and head-on. Responsibilities double, friends drift, paths diverge. Though college agrees with Willow, she still suffers bouts of her old self-doubts. Xander’s abandonment issues continue to fester like a wound in need of constant dressing. Buffy sprints towards adulthood, but the inevitability of her vocation weighs more heavily, slowly crushing her secret longing to be normal.
Despite the stability friends and family bring her, Buffy resists. Fate challenges her desire for emotional attachments. She’s an anomaly. Slayers are supposed to be lone creatures, hunters who protect and serve in isolation. None fashion everlasting relationships outside of their watcher. Even there, slayers rarely form the paternal bond Buffy enjoys with Giles. She’s bucked the system since day one. She’s only too aware how precarious her position is.
Buffy’s on borrowed time. Cursed with a job she doesn’t want, blessed with friends she shouldn’t have. She’s condemned to this life. They aren’t. It’s only a matter of time before they realize it and jump ship.
But friendship’s a funny thing. Sometimes it withers and dies. Sometimes it sticks like gum to the undercarriage of life - forever. Noble intentions may drive Buffy to push Willow and Xander overboard, but love and affection anchor them to her. Fear is no match for faith and fealty. The Scoobies are determined to stay together. Through dissension, defection, disaster, and desertion. No matter the odds.
Previously, on Fear, Itself: the gang has been invited to a haunted house party at Alpha Delt, but a hinky icon painted on the floor infuses the building with serious mojo. Decorations animate and mortal fears manifest. Trapped inside, our crew discovers frat brother Chaz cowering in a closet.
Chaz babbles to himself, rocking frantically. Buffy demands to know what is going on. Chaz flicks a glance at Buffy then screams. The homicidal skeleton looms behind Buffy, stabbing her in the shoulder. She wheels and kicks it in the face. When it lands, it’s a simple dime store skeleton again. Buffy decides she will go upstairs while they find a way out. Willow is astonished: You’re telling us to run away and leave you behind? Buffy yanks a small crossbow from her basket. We need help. We need the only person who can make sense of what’s happening. Giles.
The man of the hour sits alone, deflated by his lack of trick-or-treaters - a ringing metaphor for his diminished role in life. Someone finally knocks on his door. He springs up, poised to launch into a Happy Halloween chorus when Anya bursts in. Xander’s trapped. Giles frowns. Buffy and the others? Oh, they’re trapped too. But we’ve got to save Xander. Giles implores Anya to slow down. She gives him the lowdown on the missing door and disappearing window, leading Giles to hypothesize about matter distortion and summoning spells. Re-energized, he gathers supplies, grateful for a purpose. I shouldn’t worry too much about Xander. At least he’s among friends.
Not for long. Buffy and Willow dispute strategy. Buffy can’t do her job if she has to worry about them. Well, she’s not the only able-bodied person here, is she? Willow can cast a guiding spell to light the way. Let’s be honest, Will. Your basic spells are usually about fifty-fifty. Oops. These high school buddies are experiencing college level friction. Willow huffs off. I’m not your sidekick, she snaps. Buffy stops short while Oz pursues Willow.
Buffy is peeved but also a little dejected. Willow is more independent and self-assured than ever. She loves school, has a steady boyfriend, and a cool developing ability that doesn’t repel men. Slayer strength isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. Academics – not exactly Buffy’s strength. Her father deserted her, Angel dumped her, and Parker disposed of her. Life was a lot easier in high school. If you ignore the vampires and demons and Hellmouth part. And the fact Angel transformed into a murderous psychopath during junior year. Other than that, life was a cake walk. You bet.
Xander tries to smooth things over – we’re all a little spooked. Willow’s upset. And Buffy has been pushing them away recently. Now’s not the time to fight. I’m still with you. Right by your side. Buffy looks straight at him then spins in alarm. Xander? Xander, where are you? Now Xander’s alarmed. What is she talking about? He’s right here. He yells her name. Nothing. She doesn’t see him. This is so typical of him, Buffy grouses. Typical? Xander is wounded. What does that mean? And why is he suddenly invisible? He pats himself down, looks up, and Buffy is gone. He’s alone. Abandoned.
Willow sheds pieces of her costume as she marches down the hallway. She thinks I’m not ready to be a full blown witch - a rye observation given Willow started the episode with this very worry. I can control dark forces just as good as anyone. Oz suspects they’re not thinking clearly, rubbing his hand in a distracted way. Suddenly it’s matted with fur. His fingernails are yellow and claw-like. He’s changing. B-but, you can’t be. There’s no moon tonight, Willow exclaims. He has to get away. He can’t wait for Giles. He has to leave NOW. He pushes her away, accidentally slashing her. She sees the feral light in his eyes, the dread. He bolts. Oz, she cries. Don’t leave me!
Xander wanders until he finds a mirror. His reflection is there. So why can’t his friends see him? He’s fading away, just as he’s feared. College has opened new avenues closed to him. The odd man out.
Willow chants to the goddess of the lost and conjures light, a dancing firefly dot that hovers awaiting instruction. Tickled pink, Willow asks it to lead her to Oz. The firefly darts to the door, then Willow wavers. Reconsiders. No, they should try to find people trapped upstairs. Objective muddled, the unstable firefly divides in two, then four, then eight, replicating at an alarming rate. Suddenly it’s an aggressive swarm buzzing Willow’s head. She swats at it, calling for help. Some zip into her mouth. She coughs and gags, terrified, and charges off.
On the other side of a wall, Buffy hears Willow’s shouts. Frantic, Buffy surveys a door on the opposite wall. She grips the doorknob. Locked. She charges and crashes through, only to fall two stories to the basement floor. She’s knocked out briefly, but comes to and hears a voice: All alone. Josh shuffles into view, his head cocked at a sickening angle. They all ran away from you. They always will. Josh affirms Buffy’s greatest fear. Open your heart to someone and… His smile is maniacal. Hands burst through the ground and lash at Buffy. Several zombies crawl through to ambush her.
Outside, Giles reads from a text and feels the wall where the front door used to be. They must create a new opening. Unexpectedly, he drops the book and hoists a chain saw, carving a hole into the side of the house. Meanwhile, Buffy fights off zombies and escapes through a small door into the party room. Terrified students in costume quiver at her feet. She finds Oz, who looks normal again. Willow races into the room, slapping at fireflies no longer orbiting. Oz calms her. We need to get out of here, Buffy declares. Sitting to the side, Xander offers his opinion, but you jerks aren’t going to hear it anyway. Not that “didn’t go to college boy” is worth listening to. Buffy walks over and asks, What is wrong with you? She can hear him! He’s not invisible anymore.
The house separated us, Oz deduces. It wanted to scare us. Buffy agrees. They were drawn to this room. Why? They glance down, see the symbol painted on the ground. Xander spies the book from which Chaz took the symbol. Willow translates. It’s the Mark of Gachnar. Somehow the summoning spell was triggered. Gachnar is trying to manifest. The demon feeds on fear - they must stop nourishing it. Giles suddenly kicks in the door. The contrast of Giles brandishing a chain saw while Anya bounces harmlessly through the door to hug Xander is priceless.
Giles informs them the hallways have closed behind them. He takes command of the spell book and explains Gachnar’s presence infects the reality of the house. They can’t let it achieve full manifestation. Can’t Buffy fight it? Buffy, this is Gachnar - Giles shows her its picture. A huge, horrid-looking creature stares back. Buffy shudders. Let’s shut it down. Giles recites: The summoning spell for Gachnar can be shut down in one of two ways. Destroying the Mark of Gachnar –
Buffy drops to her knees and punches through the floorboards, mangling the icon.
-- is not one of them and will, in fact, immediately bring forth the Fear Demon. Whoops. Giles glares at Buffy. A terrible roar shakes the room. Gachnar, in all his hideous glory, rises from below. Dead silence ensues as everyone realizes Gachnar is barely six inches tall. His cartoon helium voice threatens: I am the Dark Lord of nightmares, the bringer of terror. Tremble before me! No one is trembling now, except with laughter. Giles reminds Buffy that size doesn’t matter in slaying. She approaches Gachnar, who tries to redirect her: They’re all going to abandon you, you know. Buffy isn’t buying that. Not today. She stomps him like a grape.
The Scooby gang tackles the speed bumps of college just as they did those of high school: at full speed and head-on. Responsibilities double, friends drift, paths diverge. Though college agrees with Willow, she still suffers bouts of her old self-doubts. Xander’s abandonment issues continue to fester like a wound in need of constant dressing. Buffy sprints towards adulthood, but the inevitability of her vocation weighs more heavily, slowly crushing her secret longing to be normal.
Despite the stability friends and family bring her, Buffy resists. Fate challenges her desire for emotional attachments. She’s an anomaly. Slayers are supposed to be lone creatures, hunters who protect and serve in isolation. None fashion everlasting relationships outside of their watcher. Even there, slayers rarely form the paternal bond Buffy enjoys with Giles. She’s bucked the system since day one. She’s only too aware how precarious her position is.
Buffy’s on borrowed time. Cursed with a job she doesn’t want, blessed with friends she shouldn’t have. She’s condemned to this life. They aren’t. It’s only a matter of time before they realize it and jump ship.
But friendship’s a funny thing. Sometimes it withers and dies. Sometimes it sticks like gum to the undercarriage of life - forever. Noble intentions may drive Buffy to push Willow and Xander overboard, but love and affection anchor them to her. Fear is no match for faith and fealty. The Scoobies are determined to stay together. Through dissension, defection, disaster, and desertion. No matter the odds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)