So instead, the good guys prevailed: The Hurt Locker, taking almost every award possible away from Avatar. It was interesting. James Cameron just sat there, nearly the whole time, with that smug look on his face: a look of arrogant confidence. It was with that expression, that smugness in mind, that it felt so good when Kathryn Bigelow took both Best Director and Best Picture. When she won, she was beside herself and it showed, she could barely stand up to receive her first and then second award. A sharp contrast to Cameron’s demeanor. One would say, just from looking at them, that she deserved it more.

But unfortunately, the movie I would’ve picked for the best out of these three didn’t really have a chance. Precious, in my opinion, was the best film out of the front-runners. I think it was far more impactful and a much more complete film than The Hurt Locker, ditto Avatar. Why it didn’t win is anyone’s guess, but I imagine it got lost in the shuffle. This year’s Academy Awards, wrongfully so, were billed as a battle between former husband and wife. While there was some mention of an African American filmmaker, possibly for the first time, taking home Best Picture, it wasn’t the headline like the Cameron-Bigelow affair was. Sadly, I think the best picture became a casualty of war—a victim of collateral damage.

It was a pretty solid night, though. Some unexpected things, one of which was Avatar winning almost nothing but another was the severe lack of banjo. Before the show, I took a vote with the friends at our Oscar Party, the question was: when do you think Steve Martin’s banjo will make an appearance. If Avatar losing everything was a big shocker, it’s only supplanted by the shock that Martin never had a chance to play us  Camptown Races. I don’t know, but if Hugh Jackman gets to put on his dancing shoes, why doesn’t Steve Martin get to display his musical chops? After all, he does have a Grammy to his name. I would’ve bet good money on a Baldwin-Martin musical duet but instead we get, what, an opening musical number by Neil Patrick Harris? My apologies to N.P.H. fans, but I would’ve preferred to see the hosts perform.

Although the Oscars are over, I’m still getting through reviewing a few more nominated films. While we watched most of them, I couldn’t keep up with writing the reviews too—after all, I do have a day job, and it’s report card season right now. We just watched Up in the Air, The Lovely Bones, and Crazy Heart, so there are still lots more Oscar nominees coming up, stay tuned.

Gosh, I wish I was born in the 60’s.

This week’s episode of LOST, like last week’s trip through the jungle, felt a little bit like old times. Instead of moving forward the theory-based plots and revealing more about the nature of the island or Jacob and his nemesis, the story revolved around action and adventure. Easily the most action-packed episode of the season, it hearkens back to an older kind of LOST, before we got mixed up in all these wild theories and speculations—be that what it may, let’s debrief.

Alternate Timeline

I like how the rug, which is briefly underneath our feet when we start the alternative timeline, is quickly yanked from beneath us by the brilliant writers on LOST. Sayid is returning home after being away on a business trip, returning to his beautiful wife, Nadia, who we met in previous flashbacks, and what appear to be his children. Neat! Seems like a nice enough life for Sayid. Until the children refer to him as “Uncle Sayid” and we realize that Nadia’s his sister-in-law, married to Sayid’s brother, Omer. Ah!

For the better part of the episode, alternate timeline Sayid puzzles us. He seems like a good enough guy. He’s out of the torturing business and, as he explicitly tells Nadia, has spent the last twelve years trying to redeem himself of all the bad things he’s done. He seems genuinely good (interesting juxtaposition). In this reality, it’s Sayid’s brother who seems to be the shady one. After organizing an under-the-table loan to open a new business, Omer finds himself in hot water (pun intended) when his financier wants interest payments he isn’t entitled to. When Omer is “mugged” and lands in the hospital, Sayid’s initial reaction seems to be one of vengence. However, after words with Nadia, he seems to cool down and back off, staying at home to take care of his sister-in-law’s children instead of going after his attackers. Sayid seems to be truly good, wholly redeemed, or so we think. In the end though, Sayid does seek vengence. Interestingly enough it’s Martin Keamy, the mercenary hired by Charles Widmore to capture Ben off the island, who Omer owes money to in the alternate reality. Quick-thinking Sayid manages to disarm Keamy’s henchmen and kill them, along with Keamy, without even batting an eyelash. So Sayid isn’t good after all…

In addition, in good old fashion LOST style, we’re thrown another twist: whatever business Omer was involved with, Jin seems tied up in it too (another pun!). After he “ends” his meeting with Keamy, Sayid finds Jin locked in a walk-in cooler, banging away for help. We knew Jin was involved in some shady business deals after the season premiere but what exactly he’s up to, and how it’s connected to Keamy and (possibly) Omer, who knows.

Back on the Island

Back on the island, life at the Temple is crumbling. Present-timeline Sayid confronts Dogen about torturing him at which time Dogen declares him “evil”. Supposedly, the machine used to torture Sayid can measure evil, and Sayid tipped the scales a bit too far. But our samurai doesn’t stop there, declaring that he tried to poison Sayid because he thought he was better off dead. Better off for who, I wonder. Not to be outdone, Sayid attacks Dogen and a pleasing battle ensues ending in Sayid being banished from the Temple.

Of course, in the midst of all this fun Claire bursts onto the scene, apparently using a door to just waltz into the Temple. She’s sent by Jacob’s nemesis, we see, and it’s clear that he can’t cross the ash barrier. Before being thrown into a pit, to be kept under guard, Claire passes along a message from Jacob’s nemesis: he wants to meet with Dogen, in the jungle. Dogen insists that he’s not a fool and refuses to meet with him. He also changes his mind, unbanishes Sayid, and sends him on a mission, with a ceremonial dagger, to kill the nemesis—to prove he is a “good person” after all.

Sayid’s attempt to kill John Locke/Jacob’s nemesis fails. He stabs him in the chest with no result whatsoever. It’s then that John tells Sayid that Dogen must’ved wanted Sayid dead, again. Dogen would’ve known that stabbing John wouldn’t have worked; he would’ve thought John would, in turn, kill Sayid for the attempt. But John doesn’t kill him and instead tried to strike a deal: the nemesis says he could potentially reunite Sayid with Nadia (his wife, in this timeline) in return for … something…

That something, it seems, turns out to be Sayid going on a murder spree. In cold blood, he kills both Dogen and Lennon, apparently opening the door for the Smoke Monster to attack the Temple. Interestingly enough, with Dogen and Lennon dead, the nemesis, as the Smoke Monster, seems to have been able to cross the ash.

Just about everyone at the Temple is killed or leaves to join the nemesis after being promised a way off the island. Miles escapes with Ilana, Ben, Sun and Lapidus, who arrive just in time and sneak out the same way Hurley and Jack did. And Kate, along with Sayid, join the group with Jacob’s nemesis.

Sayid’s Role on the Island

I think it’s worth exploring, at least briefly, Sayid’s role on the island and his return. Remember, while all the other Oceanic survivors chose to return to the island, Sayid did not. Hurley, remember, was asked, but it was still his free choice to say yes or no. Sayid, though, was captured by Ilana under the auspices of being a bounty hunter, bringing Sayid to some kind of justice. We know that this isn’t true: Ilana was doing Jacob’s bidding. So it was Jacob that wanted Sayid brought back to the island.

What’s more, it was Jacob that wanted Sayid brought back from the dead. Remember, when Jacob, post-death, first appeared to Hurley his instructions were to bring Sayid back to the Temple, to save him. Not only did Jacob want Sayid on the island, enough to bring him back against his will, he also wanted him alive.

What does it mean? I don’t know. Jacob seems to be more of an influence than an actor, so it’s odd, I think, that he would bring someone back to the island like that. Sayid must be important, but in what way?

Dogen, Warrior Princess

Another point worth giving a paragraph to is the fact that the ash barrier, which prevented the Smoke Monster from entering the Temple, was somehow linked to Dogen/Lennon. When the pair is killed, the Smoke Monster can cross the barrier unimpeded. Interesting. Remember, the ash barrier was used before, at “Jacob’s” cabin. The same cabin that John Locke (real, John Locke) first met Christian, who I assume to be a form of Jacob’s nemesis. Some theorize that the nemesis was locked up in this cabin; the ash barrier was there to keep him in. When John walked across it, he broke the ash barrier, therefore allowing the nemesis to escape. The link between the barrier though, and Dogen, is interesting.

Dogen’s role, in general, is interesting. He tells Sayid that he was recruited by Jacob after his son died. Jacob promised him that his son would be OK but he could never see him again; Dogen had to agree to come join Jacob on the island. He wasn’t a samurai after all, he used to be a businessman. Dogen also doesn’t seem to want to get involved directly in people’s lives, much like Jacob and the nemesis. He can manipulate, suggest, and ask but he can’t act himself. This is why he tries to have Sayid killed twice, but can’t do it himself. Interesting.

Final Thoughts

It’s clear that the island is splitting itself along lines again. In the past it’s been Dharma/Others then Survivors/Others and now it seems to be most aptly put as Good/Evil. Hmm. Jacob’s nemesis, and his gang are growing in numbers, after destroying the Temple. And then there’s Jacob’s gang, with an absent leader, hiding out at the Lighthouse, no doubt. Whatever the next episode brings, I can’t even imagine. I suspect though, a parade of previously-dead Survivors. I think the none-too-subtle reminder of Shannon is setting us up for her reappearance, in some form. I’m still betting on Mr. Eko, and Charlie.

Oh, and I just remembered, there’s one more person who didn’t necessarily want to return to the island but, like Sayid, wasn’t given a choice. I think we’ve yet to really understand his purpose, although we know he’s a “candidate”, whatever that means. He’s also a good guy. Mr. Frank Lapidus, pilot.

I’ll make this short and sweet. I think, perhaps, I’m just a grump but I didn’t love the new venture from Disney/Pixar, Up. To boil it down to basics, it’s a great film, a great family film and an incredible accomplishment for Disney/Pixar and animated films in general. It’s definitely the best family film I’ve seen in a long time but it’s still a family film, not too complex or complicated, nothing incredibly deep, but clean, simple and thoughtful fun. If that’s what you’re interested in, then this film’s for you.

Up does follow the same formula that I think all Disney/Pixar films do, the family friendly model of comedy, uncomplicated action, and a satisfying solution. The action sequences are pretty much what you’d expect from a film like this, there’s a lot of slipping and sliding and falling from very high places, but it is fun. Keep in mind the attention span of children, too. The action is a necessity, I’d say. The comedy is also typical Disney/Pixar: you’ll laugh, a lot, and it’s very cute. And the ending is kid-friendly while remaining thought-provoking and sensitive. But it isn’t just a film for kids.

What sets Up apart from other Disney/Pixar films is the topics it explores, which are interesting and cudos to the writers and producers for tackling these kinds of topics. Up deals with aging, death and loss as well as renewal, imagination and exploration. It’s a beautiful, poetic journey that appeals to kids with its light-heartedness and simple plot structure, while still remaining interesting to adults. Like everyone says, you’ll laugh and you’ll cry, over and over again. And it’s true.

Returning to the first thing I said: I didn’t love this film, but that’s because I don’t love family films. But that’s not to say there’s anything wrong with Up. It’s simple, clean, and beautiful and, as Maria reminded me, Best Picture only means that this is the “best picture” in its category. While it probably has the widest audience out of all the Oscar nominations this year—it appeals to kids and adults—I would be surprised if it won. Still, it is good. If you want something easy on the eyes, but still interesting and exciting, something fit for the whole family, Up is it.

Continuing our power walk to the Oscars, Maria and I watched Precious over the weekend and I’d like to share some thoughts.

My initial thought—and it was Maria’s too—was finally. Finally a movie, out of all the Best Picture picks we’ve watched so far, that truly deserves a nomination. Precious deserves the Best Picture nod. Absolutely.

Precious, fully-titled as Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire, isn’t a Hollywood film, and it shows. Adapted from a novel, the movie became somewhat of an underground success last year when Oprah Winfrey jumped on board to help with its promotion. It’s limited release and lack of real star power gave it a certain reputation as an underdog contender in the Best Picture category so we didn’t quite know what to expect. Still, I think whatever expectations we did have, were pretty well blown away when we finally sat down to watch it.

Precious finds its strength, as a film, in two areas: a brutally honest storyline, and acting that will knock your socks off.

First, storyline. The film is set in Harlem in the 1980’s, we learn that right away. It’s a ghetto. It’s complete poverty. And it’s wholly uncensored. The story centers around a young black girl in high school named Precious. She’s had a rough life, as we quickly learn, and it’s only getting rougher. The film follows Precious as she struggles to make sense of it all, and to make it, in general. Life, for her, is incredibly complicated.

The action in the movie is real, more realistic than anything I can remember in a long time, and it’s powerful. Without saying a lot about the plot, just imagine, completely uncensored poverty, front and center. If critics accused Slumdog Millionaire of glorifying or romanticizing poverty in India when it came out, perhaps Precious would be a good example to prove their point. Precious makes Slumdog’s view of India look like Beverly Hills. This is real, shameful poverty.

And the acting, my gosh. Despite some curious casting decisions—Mariah Carey and Lenny Kravitz(?)—the film features, by far, some of the best pieces of acting we’ve seen in probably the last few years. Mo’Nique, for example, is absolutely incredible as the protagonist’s mother. Her character is a mean, vindictive and obscenely complicated person which she portrays with such power and complexity that it just sends shivers up my spine to even think about it. Honestly, even Carey is pretty amazing in her role.

On the whole, I have to say, Precious was very refreshing to watch. So far I’ve been pretty unimpressed with this year’s picks for Best Picture but my faith has been restored. Precious is a captivating film that takes a hard, honest look at poverty and struggle. Its characters are real and powerful and are acted so well you’ll forget that you’re watching acting at all. It’s a difficult film to watch, it tackles some very challenging topics, but if you want to see film-making at its best and actors who are on their game, this is the film to see. So, so good.

Commercials and advertisements for this year’s Academy Awards are billing it as historic. Ten nominations for best picture, they say, because 2009 was such an incredible year for film. It’ll go down in the record books, they say. Monumental. I call shenanigans.

Like District Nine, the latest venture from the brothers Coen, A Serious Man, does not belong on the list of this year’s best films.

Now, ordinarily I’m a Coen brothers fan to a fault. I love most of what they do and fall very hard for their film-making style. I love a good bit of black comedy and quaintness. I love Frances McDormand’s character in Fargo: well casted, well directed, well acted. I love just about everything about O Brother Where Art Thou, a flawless film. No Country for Old Men was incredible in just about every way, too. The tension, the ruthlessness was beyond frightening—I couldn’t watch it alone. The Man Who Wasn’t There was a good, interesting piece of film noir, too. But I’m not on board for A Serious Man. To ride a bit on the back of the Olympics I’ll put it this way: it certainly wasn’t a podium finish.

A Serious Man is a film about life: ordinary, boring, meaningless life and if it were made a few years ago I would’ve given it much higher praise. But it wasn’t. Instead, this film lands squarely in the “it’s been done before” category, and doesn’t really stray very far from there.

Like a Douglas Coupland novel—and I’d compare it most closely to All Families Are Psychotic—it follows a protagonist as he tries to find meaning in a life that’s spiraling out of his control. Like a good Coupland novel, the plot centers around collapsing relationships and stressful work/life situations, punctuated by ironic and unexpected events.

The difference with A Serious Man and everything else out there is its Jewishness. The Coen brothers, obviously drawing on their own background, take the traditional “life is meaningless” film and put a spin on it: life is meaningless, even if you’re Jewish. But, like I said, it’s been done before and despite this spin on the traditional tale, it isn’t enough. It comes up short, and while its billed as film noir or a dark comedy I’d call it, instead, mildly entertaining and slightly misguided.

Well, acted, yes. The characters are so plain, and hilarious, bordering on the kind of surreal characterization that I’d expect more from a film-maker like Wes Anderson, and I like that. Ultimately, though, it’s a film about nothing—it’s a film about how meaningless and mundane life is—and to create a film about nothing, that remains interesting to watch, is difficult. I thought, going into it, that if anyone could do it, it’d be Joel and Ethan Coen, but I was wrong. It drags and drags and I know that that’s partly the point but OK, point taken, it’s still boring to watch. But I do get it; I do get what they were trying to do but is it worth a Best Picture nod? I’d say no. It’s a good film, but not a great film and certainly not their best.

Since pretty early on in the show there’s been a lot of religious and mythological imagery both subtle and overt. Since the end of last season, when the island began to be revealed in a brand new way, it became obvious that there are distinct and clear connections to ancient mythology and, perhaps, ancient civilization. We’ve now seen the Temple, the wheel that moves the island, and the giant statute where Jacob lives. But there are plenty of more subtle nods to mythological ideas or creations, too.

The Phoenix

In Greek mythology, the Phoenix is a bird-like creature renown for burning up in its own fire and ash only to be reborn again. It represents the cycle of life and renewal.

The connection to LOST? I had forgot about this until recently, but back in the earlier seasons we’ve seen a yet-to-be-explained enormous bird-like creature. This bird makes its appearance on two occasions and both times seems to screech the name “Hurley” thus becoming known as the Hurley Bird. Interesting enough, in one of its appearances, it preceded the appearance of the Smoke Monster, who we now know is Jacob’s nemesis.

In Season 5, when we see Jacob, in person-form, visiting the Oceanic survivors earlier in their lives, he’s pictured at one point reading a book. The book, which I’ll mention again later, prominently features a bird on the cover, it’s title: Everything that Rises Must Converge [emphasis mine].

Could Jacob, somehow, be the Phoenix? The other connection is the ashes. We still don’t really know the significance of the ashes or their origin. We do know that it works, somehow, as a deterrent, a barrier which Jacob’s nemesis cannot cross. We’ve seen it used around Jacob’s cottage, in the room underneath the statue, and around the Temple. Could the ash come, somehow, from previous forms of Jacob—is this the barrier that his nemesis cannot pass? All I know is that the Hurley Bird, ashes, Phoenix connection is too strong not to mention.

The Statue

As if LOST wasn’t geeky enough, the following information was revealed by J. J. Abrams himself, through a secret code planted in a magazine he guest edited. The statue under which Jacob lives—or at least does his textile work—is the Taweret, the Egyptian goddess of fertility. What exactly does this mean, and what is this statue doing on the island? We can only speculate. It is interesting, nonetheless, that a statue of the goddess of fertility is found on an island where women most often die in child birth. Not only have pregnancies gone wrong on the island, it seems like baby-stealing is common practice, too. Remember, it was Ben who stole Rousseau’s baby, Alex, and then raised her as an Other. Was it Jacob’s orders that the baby be stolen? When and why did the Others start stealing babies? Whatever the answer(s) to these questions, it’s interesting that those kinds of activities take place on an island bearing a statue to the goddess of fertility.

Perhaps the statue was built, in Egyptian times, when those women were having trouble giving birth on the island. That’s a thought, too.

The Ankh

When Jacob asked Hurley to return to the island, with the other Oceanic Six survivors, he gave him a guitar case. We learned, when Hurley and company are brought to the Temple, that inside of the case was an ankh. The ankh is another Egyptian symbol which, as far as I can tell, represented the notion of eternal life. In Jacob’s ankh though, was a note which seemed to indicate to Dogen, the samurai who lives at the Temple, that if Sayid were to die, they’d be in serious trouble. Does the ankh represent the eternal life that Sayid would receive after being dipped into the well in the Temple? Does it represent Jacob’s eternal life? I don’t want to theorize too much but one thing I’ve just thought of is that the note to Dogen was written before Hurley boarded the plane back to the island, and well before Jacob was killed by his nemesis. Does this mean that Jacob could see the future? He knew he wouldn’t be there to give the instructions about Sayid to the Others himself? I hadn’t thought of that before.

The Lost City of Atlantis

I’ve been thinking about this one for a while, and I almost soiled myself when we first saw Ben descend into the depths of the island and turn that ancient wheel. Atlantis, I used to think, and “Atlantis!” I screamed when we first saw the wheel. There are lots of reasons this mythological connection could be very valid, and very important. First of all, the show is called LOST—could it be, then, that they’ve found the LOST City of Atlantis. That alone is interesting, I think. But there’s more.

Atlantis is fabled, by Plato, to have sunk into the sea after losing a battle to Athens. What if it didn’t sink into the sea? What if I just moved? And isn’t the sunken foot of the Taweret statue that we saw at the beginning of this season perhaps an illusion to Atlantis sinking into the sea? Maybe the explosion of the hydrogen bomb somehow undid the entire history of the island and Atlantis never moved—instead, it sunk, like Plato said. Who knows.

There’s lots of evidence that the island has an ancient history though. From it’s temple, to the wheel, to the well and the Taweret statue itself. The place is ancient, it’s an island, and it can disappear. Seems like a likely possibility then that it might be Atlantis. But there’s even more to this connection.

Poseidon: King of Atlantis

Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea (and earthquakes), is said to have been the ruler of Atlantis. What I find interesting is that, if LOST is Atlantis, then could Jacob be Poseidon, it’s ruler? Perhaps. There are certainly some compelling connections. Not least of all, Poseidon had the ability, so it seems, to cause shipwrecks. In the same way that Jacob can shipwreck people on the island? I also find it interesting that in the first scene we see Jacob in, he’s fishing.

Zeus and the Destruction of Atlantis

In some interpretations, as I understand it, Atlantis fell as a result of a lapse into sin, greed, and ungodly desires. The residents of Atlantis became sinful, fell in upon themselves, and were destroyed. But by whom? A few accounts that I’ve read suggest that the gods themselves became angry at Poseidon, and the people of Atlantis, and thought to destroy it themselves. Why is this important? Well, for a couple of reasons.

First of all, the god responsible for destroying Atlantis was Zeus. Zeus, among other things, had both the ability to control lightning and the ability to take on other forms. Does this sound familiar? Jacob’s nemesis, as we know, can take on the forms of dead people. He also has the ability to take on the form of the Smoke Monster who is made up not only of smoke, but of some kind of lightning as well.

But what of the godless, sinful residents of Atlantis? Well if Jacob can be seen as a Poseidon-like figure, and his nemesis as Zeus then perhaps their negotiations, this calling of people, bringing people to the island, is all some kind of grand contest. Perhaps Jacob needs to prove that people can live on his wonderful island without sin. Perhaps his nemesis—who has been called a protector of the island before—protects the island from sin and greed? Perhaps that was his original role although he has clearly strayed from it, so it seems. And this certainly makes the idea of free choice, that I’ve mentioned before, seem much more important. The book Jacob is reading, in the flashback I mentioned earlier, is very important. It’s Everything That Rises Must Converge, by Flannery O’Connor: a collection of short stories that explore human weakness and moral questions.

How do all these mythological aspects fit together, and what does it all mean? I have pretty much no idea. Is the island Atlantis or, instead, merely an illusion to Atlantis? And the same for all the other aspects? Again, we don’t really know. What we do know for sure is that some of this stuff exists, there are clear illusions and, then again, there are subtle ones. I may be way off base with some of the connections I’m making but, hey, isn’t that what’s so great about this show? That we can think to make these connections at all; that it can leaving us thinking so hard? I love it, personally.

The one loose thread that I can think of is Richard Alpert. He’s clearly works of Jacob in the capacity of an adviser/priest, and he is ageless. Is he an illusion to a mythological character? I don’t know. All of my research here led to dead ends.

Now I don’t claim to have the market cornered on the mythology in LOST, and certainly not on mythology in general. I’m sure I’ve missed things, and misinterpreted things too, so please comment and fill me in. This is a discussion I’d love to open up.

My head is spinning. This week’s episode of LOST was pretty incredible. Lots of questions are being answered, bringing up, of course, lots of more questions but I feel like the story is really moving forward. Let’s break things down.

Alternative Timeline

Wow. So Jack has a kid. He’s been married, but divorced, or perhaps never married and just had a kid on the side. Either way, the question that everyone is asking is: who’s the mother?! Maybe I missed something, but there wasn’t even a hint for us in last night’s episode. The only suggestion indicating a connection to another character we’ve met before is the sheet music which Jack finds in his son David’s bedroom: the same song that we see Daniel Faraday playing in one of his flashbacks. Remember, here Daniel’s mother—who we later learn was an important fixture on the island—discouraged him from playing the piano, insisting that he focus on his gift, which was his sciences.

Interestingly enough, when Jack meets the Samurai Man(!), Dogen, after the recital, Dogen tells him that David has a real “gift”. The language here, and the parallelism is interesting. What, if anything, does it mean? Your guess is as good as mine.

Claire is Rousseau

So we learned a bit more about Claire in this episode. She’s been visited by  Jacob’s nemesis, in the form of her father (and Jack’s father) Christian Sheppard. She’s also been visited, and continues to be visited, by the nemesis in the form of John Locke. She knows it isn’t really John Locke and calls him her “friend”. She doesn’t know that both apparitions are actually the same entity—Jacob’s nemesis—because she refers to them as two different people: her father, and her friend.

Interesting though that Claire is so much like Rousseau. Like I’ve said before, there are strong links between the two, having both given birth on the island although there are distinct and important differences as well. Rousseau’s baby was stolen by the Others. Claire’s baby was taken by her own people, the survivors. Rousseau wasn’t infected (not that we know of) but instead was forced to fight off her shipmates, who became stranded on the island with her, when they became infected. Claire, however, seems to be infected, at least according to the Others. But, what do we really know? She isn’t acting any more strange than Rousseau was acting when we first met her. Perhaps the infection that the Others were referring to when they said a “darkness” was growing inside of Claire was merely the influence of Jacob’s nemesis.

Hurley and Jack at the Lighthouse

I absolutely loved this aspect of the episode and I having a feeling that every LOST fan will agree. Hurley is just such a hilarious and likable character; his attempt at a serious “undercover” voice with Jack was outrageous. His comment that their journey felt “old school” was just brilliant, too. On perhaps a sidenote though, I do think the “old school” sentiment is very important. As far as I can tell, or predict, or hazard a guess, LOST is going to end up being a very circular affair. The sudden appearance of Shannon’s inhaler, the scene at the caves, I think is all pointing the way—reminding the viewers—of events that took place before in order to swing things back around to where and how it all started. I’ve predicted before the return of older characters—namely, Mr. Eko—and I’ll predict it again. I think it would only make sense if someone we came 360, and I think that’s what we’re being set up for, in pieces, starting with this week’s episode.

The Lighthouse itself seems like a very interesting place but I’m torn about it’s purpose. On the one hand, a lighthouse is an indicator of land, a beacon to show sea (and sometimes air) traffic to come here. However, on the other hand, the lighthouse also finds practical application as a warning, an indicator of danger. Don’t come here! While I don’t think Jacob’s Lighthouse is literally used to call people to the island—he lied to Hurley when he told him to adjust the mirrors to help someone find the place—I would venture a guess that it isn’t even metaphorically used in that way. Instead, if you follow my previous theory that Jacob’s nemesis can call people, as well as Jacob, then the Lighthouse could be seen as a warning. After all, it seems like, somehow, through the Lighthouse, Jacob visited and saw the lives of the survivors—the same survivors he warned not to come to the island. We can’t deny that Jacob does call people, we saw this at the end of Season 5, with the Blackrock ship being called to the island. But the Lighthouse, I think, is a tool for warning. How interesting.

Final Thoughts

What I think is emerging in the storyline of LOST is a serious emphasis on the idea of choice. Since the formal introduction of Jacob and his nemesis, the concept of choice—of choosing between options—has figured heavily into the plot. I think this is going to be a very important aspect when all is said and done. Dogen, the samuari, makes an incredible comment when he appears in the alternative reality. Looking at Jack’s son playing piano, and referring to his own son who just finished his own recital, he says something to the effect of, “isn’t it so hard that you can’t help them.” You can only sit back, and watch. I think this is how Jacob and his nemesis work, too.

Jacob and his nemesis, forms of good and evil, or whatever they might be, are bound, I think, by the concept of free will, of choice. They’re able to influence characters, to ask them to do things and, in the case of the nemesis, are able to kill people, but they seem to seriously respect the idea of choice, to emphasize it. Jack, for example, is given a choice to follow Hurley into the jungle. He was given a choice to leave the island. He is given choices and it’s almost all about the results of his choices. This seems to figure pretty huge in the plot these days, and I think it will only get huger. Whatever the island is, whatever the show is all about, the idea of choice is important.

Maria, my brilliant wife, summed up District Nine in this way: there were ten nominations for Best Picture this year at the Oscars. And that pretty much hits the nail right on the head.

District Nine is an interesting film. Set in the style of a documentary, at times, it follows the life of a mid-level bureaucrat in Johannesburg, South Africa charged with resettling an alien race from their slums near the city, to a location farther away. Sounds interesting? Let me elaborate. According to the alternative reality created by the film, in the 1980’s an alien ship appears over Johannesburg. It’s engines are disabled and when humans make contact with the aliens aboard, they find them to be very sickly and weak, apparently unable to get their ship working again. Helpless. So, the aliens are settled, on earth, in a slum town near Johannesburg. The aliens are treated poorly, looked down upon, and seen as a nussiance, a threat to South Africans, and are therefore slated to be resettled into a new slum camp further from the city centre. The resettlement job falls into the hands of Wikus Van De Merwe, a mid-level government paper-pusher.

Like I said, it’s an interesting film. District Nine is a blatant commentary of the South African apartheid. While some might criticize the obvious allegory in the film it didn’t strike me as a heavy-handed piece. The message isn’t “apartheid is bad,” it’s “apartheid is complicated, here is how it affects people.” The message isn’t a political one, it’s a humanist one, which is ironic given that the humans are played by an alien race.

The style of District Nine is interesting in itself. Setting it as both a documentary—these things really happened—and a drama/thriller is a pretty neat choice. At times, it works very well and the use of the documentary, talking head bits, adds a lot to the context of the film—it draws you in to this real world. Sadly, at other times, the transition between documentary-style and dramatic/thriller bits is just jarring. Several times I felt like I was shaken out of the movie’s atmosphere because of these transitions.

The pacing of the movie and the plot are great. It’s a fast-paced movie, once it gets going, and aside from the sometimes distracting transitions, it does draw you in pretty well. It’s interesting. It’s a good story. The main character, our beloved bureaucrat whom the story centers around, is entirely engaging. His character is truly lovable and his wide-eyed and innocent approach to his career and his job lands him in any number of hilarious situations. You’ll laugh. But he’s a complicated character, and that’s a great thing to create in a film: at different times you’ll love him and hate him to death.

All told, I’ll return to the sentiment I opened this review with. There were a total of 10 Oscar nominations this year. If there were, say, 4 or 5, District Nine would not be among them. It’s a good film, truly, a great movie. It’s a realistic commentary on a difficult situation, a hard time in history. It’s well-acted, well-paced and generally well-done. It’s new, and different, a real innovative and original film. But, do these merits warrant an Oscar nomination? Probably, I would say, no.

Maria picked up Bigfoot: The Life and Times of a Legend off the non-fiction new releases rack at our library. She knows me so well.

It was a pretty good read, in a way. Through the course of the book, the author, an “independent scholar” with a fairly strange name, Joshua Blu Buhs, sets out to frame the legend of Bigfoot in terms of its larger societal impact. From the outset, this seemed like a pretty interesting idea. I’ve had an interest in Bigfoot since, I think, I discovered my own big feet (size 12, not bad) so a book about society and the Bigfoot monster seemed like something good to read. But it was, to be sure, a little bit too good to be true.

Now, for those interested in Bigfoot, this book is a great read. In fact, Loren Coleman, a cryptozoologist and the foremost expert on Bigfoot gave this book a decent commendation but, as a view of Bigfoot in the bigger society, it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and certainly isn’t what the author claimed he set out to explore. I mean, it’s good, but it isn’t sociology.

Instead, Blu Buhs takes us on a wild ride through the history of Bigfoot. Beginning with the infamous Yeti—the Abominable Snowman—Blu Buhs traces the history of various sightings and expeditions surrounding these “wild man” creatures. He introduces us to a whole collection of characters, Bigfoot enthusiasts and skeptics alike, who are colourful and wild in their own ways, all of them. (Seriously, what a host of characters.) We follow Blu Buhs through regional expositions, through newspaper archives and delve into aboriginal folklore and myth, and all of this is interesting, for what it’s worth.

But Bigfoot falls apart in two areas, and the first is an absolute deal-breaker.

In its outset, Blu Buhs says that he is setting out to understand the legend of Bigfoot and its impact on society, around the world. Big claim. Interesting goal. But he fails, utterly, to deliver. Instead, Blu Buhs gets lost in the person of Bigfoot, tracing back sightings, following up on leads, and taking us down through a maze of evidence and circumspect. Yes, that’s absolutely interesting, but it isn’t what he said he was going to do. When Blu Buhs does get down to sociological introspect it’s usually tacked onto the end of a chapter, it’s usually wholly half-baked(!) and it’s most certainly absurd. While a few interesting facts remain, like the impact of monster movies on independent cinema in the 1970’s, the large assertions and suggestions made by the author are unforgivable, lame, and seem to lack any real work on his part. And to be fair, I remember the feeling too, of tacking on a swiss cheese conclusion to the end of a term paper while not really believing it at all. Forgive me, Prof. Gorman.

The other major failing of this book is its chronology and immense roster. On the one hand, the number of intriguing personalities in the history of Bigfoot is wonderful. But on the other hand, it’s immense. The sheer number of characters that Blu Buhs is trying to work with makes the book very difficult to follow at times. I found myself constantly trying to remember who was who and, several times, although positive that a person hadn’t been mentioned before, their sudden appearance lacks any perspective or backstory. As if I should know who they were. The other bit is the chronology: the book jumps through time like the survivors from LOST, and while I like LOST, it can be damn confusing. Blu Buhs hovers in 1967 only to jump to 1972 then back to 1965, ad nausem. It’s a bit much.

All told, I liked this book, but probably because I’m a diehard. The history is interesting, engaging even, at times, but it isn’t the sociological investigation it claimed to be. I doubt anyone with a more pedestrian interest in Bigfoot would have the time or patience to sort through this tome at all.