The first Lost Friday of Season 5 is finally upon us. Make with the ha-ha, Joke Monkey!
Before we jump into this week’s episode, two quick thoughts. First off, like most of you, I was worried that this new storytelling element of ‘shattering the laws of logic to pieces and no longer making any sense’ was going to…you know…instantly ruin the show in a hundred different ways at once. But you know what? Screw logic, because Lost is just as good as it’s ever been, only now, the writers have stepped into an even more brilliant gear, actually overlapping old storylines with this cocksure attitude of, “See? See? We knew what we were doing the whole time, you pessimistic, faithless pantloads.” I loved every second of the season premiere, completely understand where they are and where they are headed, love the simultaneous on and off-island plotlines, and absolutely cannot wait for next week, and the next week after that. After years of nervously waiting for the shark-jumping shoe to drop on Lost, I think it’s due time that we just sit back and purely enjoy the greatest Television drama of all-time.
Secondly, I am officially boycotting the Academy Awards due to their Best Picture snub of The Dark Knight. When you make that much money, exceed every one of the already-astronomical expectations, break such new ground and essentially be the sole savior of a faltering Hollywood for 2008, you’d think that you’d receive a Best Picture nod on general principle. Nope. Apart from Heath Ledger’s near-automatic Supporting Actor nomination, The Dark Knight is up for nothing but technical Oscars (deservedly so); not even a Best Director nod for the incomparable Christopher Nolan. This is ridiculous, unacceptable, and indicative of the Academy’s tradition of voting for films that they feel good voting for, in lieu of films that were actually good. Frost/Nixon, Milk and Slumdog Millionaire may have been good films to say the least, but to deny The Dark Knight their due with at least a nomination is unnecessary, elitist bull-rip that flies in the face of anything resembling taste and logic.
Handing an Oscar to Slumdog Millionaire is like putting a ribbon around the neck of a Special Olympics participant. It’s a feel-good moment for the organization, it rewards the tireless efforts and uplifting spirit of the athlete and looks good on the front page of the paper, but we all remember that the poor kid was left in the dust seconds after the gun went off. Remember in 1998 when Shakespeare In Love inexplicably won Best Picture over Saving Private Ryan and Life Is Beautiful, two of the most breathtaking war films ever created? Yeah, and they wonder why fewer and fewer people tune into the Oscars each year. I’m through talking about this nonsense.
(“Okay John, let me bring you up to speed. When Ben went into the Orchid Station, he blew apart the vault that the Dharma Initiative used for time-traveling experiments, and descended into the core of the Island where he found this frozen donkey wheel that pretty much navigates this place through time and space. So anyway, he spun the wheel, warp-whistled himself to the Sahara Desert, and left this place stuttering across the Universe, with us along for the ride. At this point, you’re going to be thrust fairly violently from one date to the next while Ben tries to round up all of your Oceanic 6 buddies for an Island reunion, including your future corpse. Still with me? Good, because Ethan, a guy that Charlie shot to death four months ago, just shot you in the leg and you’re bleeding to death. The next time I see you, I won’t have any idea who you are, so give me this compass and pray that I’m not in a killing mood. Tally-Ho!”)
(“Christ, I didn’t get a word of that. Did he say something about a donkey? Why does my leg hurt?”)
(While Sawyer survived the moving of the Island with relatively minor discomfort, his shirt and pants were tragically blown clear.)
(“Sit tight, you little bastard.”)
(“Hello, I’m Neil. I’m annoying, overbearing and have never been featured on the show until this very moment, which means that I should have a flaming arrow piercing my chest cavity right…about…”)
(Oceanic Six? More like Oceanic Sex if you ask me. Am I right, fellas? High five. Touchdown.)
(“I’m telling you, some day I’ll get everybody in Canned Heat back together and we’re going to tour the World!”)
(After Ben threw Jack’s pills away, Shephard resorted to sucking the embalming fluid out of Locke for a cheap fix.)
(‘Hoffs/Drawlar’ is an anagram for ‘Batcrap Crazy.’)
(“Um, Sun? I don’t really know how to explain this Ultrasound, so I’m just going to show it to you. You haven’t been making love with any pirate ships recently, have you?”)
(The number of times I took solace in the fact that Claire wasn’t in this episode.)
(“I’ll take a coffinload of your best salami.”)
(In a rather unexpected move, Naveen Andrews submitted this episode to the Emmy Nomination Committee.)
(Knowing Shih-Tzu owners, I get the feeling that this was one of the smaller shirts sold that day.)
(“You’re right, you’re totally right; at this point, the fact that I’m still wearing a tie is smug and cocky at best.”)
(“Do you have any idea how drunk you were going back there?”)
(“So that’s it. We’re going to have to lie about everything. The Island, the Dharma Initiative, the survivors, Penelope’s fantastic complimentary continental breakfast, the time I accidentally shot Aaron in the face, that episode where the Harlem Globetrotters showed up and took all the Virgin Mary statues, when we just let Vincent eat Charlie instead of taking the five minutes to bury him, that time I watched Mr. Eko dancing when he didn’t think anyone was around, and the fact that I’m completely nude from the waist-down right now. Everything.”)
Sound off in the comments section, start the discussion and enjoy your day.
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