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The Chronicles of "Lost"
I like Lost. Now, I'm not one of those hardcore fans who replay each episode looking for clues, or who hang out in chat rooms trading theories on how the multiple mysteries will finally be resolved. The mythology of Lost is so convoluted, its various quirks and tics and twists so incomprehensible, that I don't believe there will be or can be any satisfying resolution. There simply isn't any logical way of putting the pieces of this puzzle together. Lost will string along its fans with the promise that all will make sense at the end, but that's a promise it just can't keep. Or so I suspect.
And that's okay with me. I like the show on its own terms, on an episode-by-episode basis. I like the lush Hawaiian scenery, the fine production values, the (usually) sharp writing. And I think Terry O'Quinn, who plays Locke, and Elizabeth Mitchell, who plays Juliet, are some kind of acting savants who can make any scene interesting.
But for those benighted souls who do nurse the hope of unraveling Lost's secrets, tonight's episode gave them still more to work with. The show, you see, has penchant for naming characters after historical figures and famous literary creations. We already had characters named John Locke and Rousseau, none-too-subtle references to 18th century philosophers with dueling visions. We had Sawyer (as in Tom Sawyer) and Juliet (as in Romeo's starcrossed lover - and yes, this was the intent; the producers have copped to it).
Tonight a new character joined the fray. She's British, and her name, we are informed, is Charlotte Staples Lewis.
Hey, wait a minute. Isn't that pretty close to Clive Staples Lewis?
You know, this guy?
Yeah, that's right. It seems C.S. Lewis is now on the island.
But ... why? Is the name a reference to Lewis's religious beliefs? Or to the magical world of Narnia, which could be accessed through the back of a wardrobe? Is the island part of an alternate universe? Are the castaways just an idea in the mind of God?
What does it all mean?
Nothing, I'm pretty sure. Just more misdirection and playing with the fans' heads. If and when the whole thing turns out to be an elaborate shaggy dog story, a lot of loyal longtime viewers are gonna be seriously peeved.
Not me, though. I don't care about the destination. I'm enjoying the ride.
Who knows? Next week some dude named Tolkien may parachute in.
Two minutes and counting
I don’t watch The O'Reilly Factor very much anymore. Like many ego-driven personalities, bloviating Bill has become a caricature of himself. But I had it on last night and happened to catch a story about the Pope's alleged intention to dispatch more exorcists to the field. This story was reported last month and I thought it had been knocked down, but O'Reilly was still reporting on it as if it is true, so maybe it is. Or maybe not. I don’t know and don’t really care.
What did interest me was one particular part of the story, in which O'Reilly interviewed an "expert in demonology and mysticism" who believes that spirit possession is real. The fellow went on briefly about the theology behind spirit possession – fallen angels, a.k.a. demons, who displace the body's rightful soul. O'Reilly, though a Catholic himself, seemed doubtful, and finally challenged the expert to provide some proof of all this. In his inimitable style, Bill said (I quote from memory), "You've got two minutes to convince people you're not a nut."
This gave me pause.
Many of things I believe are roughly as "nutty" as anything stated by the demonologist. In fact, I too think spirit possession can be a real phenomenon, though I would attribute it to earthbound spirits rather than demons.
But if I were given two minutes to "prove," say, that there is an afterlife, what response could I possibly give? None that would be too effective, I'm sure.
One option would be to cite a strongly evidential case, such as the R-101 incident. But any individual case can be dismissed as fraud, exaggeration, mistaken observation, or a fluke. (This, by the way, is the practical defect in the often-cited "white crow" argument – the idea that it takes only one white crow to disprove the contention that all crows are black. Technically this is true, but in practice, scoffers will say that a single, isolated white crow is a freakish mutation or a put-up job, and that it lacks any real significance.)
Another option would be to refer the viewers to an introductory book on the subject – say, Ghost Hunters by Deborah Blum. By mentioning Blum's credentials as a Pulitzer Prize-winning science reporter who was skeptical of afterlife studies but ended up being at least somewhat convinced, I might persuade a few people to take the subject more seriously, even if they didn’t track down the book.
A third option would be to say that if proof could be presented in two minutes, the issue wouldn't be controversial; it is controversial precisely because accumulating and evaluating the relevant evidence requires years of study, an effort which most doubters are unwilling to make.
As a last possible tactic, I could try the Robert Crookall approach, observing that information derived from a variety of sources neatly together, like the pieces of a puzzle. Tribal lore, the Tibetan Book of the Dead, the writings of Emmanuel Swedenborg, the communications of modern mediums, reports of people who've have OBEs and NDEs, accounts of deathbed visions, and even statements by subjects under hypnosis when asked to recall a state between their earthly lives or their manner of death in an earlier incarnation – all these and more are in surprising agreement on many (though not all) details of life after death. Since collusion around the world and across the centuries seems impossible, the general similarities of these reports give us good grounds for thinking they may be true.
The fourth one is probably the approach I would use. It might not convince anyone, and it certainly wouldn't convince Bill O'Reilly, but it would be the best reply I could shoehorn into a two-minute window.
As for the demonologist, he chose the first option – a strong case with which he was acquainted. But I don’t think Bill gave him the promised two minutes; it seemed more like forty seconds.
I doubt any minds were changed.
This is progress?
I haven't watched much sports this years, but with bowl season and the NFL playoffs upon us, I've been watching more. And I've been disappointed in what I've seen.
Not the quality of play. A lot of these games have been fantastic, like the memorable clash between the Giants and the unbeaten Patriots, or last night's battle between the Steelers and Jags.
No, what's disappointing is the picture quality.
Oh, it's fine when the image is static. But when there's movement - and in football there does tend to be movement - the picture will break up into ugly chunks of outsized pixels.
What is this strangeness? In search of an answer, I Googled ... and Googled ... and Googled. It took a while because I didn't know the correct terminology to describe the problem. But eventually I found my answer.
This strange pixellation effect is called macroblocking or, sometimes, mosaicism. There is a similar problem called mosquito noise. As best I can tell, both are compression artifacts of "bit-starved" digital video. In other words, when the video requires more bandwidth than the broadcaster has available, the picture will suffer in unpredictable ways.
I don't have HD TV, just the regular kind. But apparently the networks (or their affiliates), in broadcasting both HD and standard video streams simultaneously, are bit-starving their feeds*. The result is a substandard picture in either format.
Which sucks, really. Who would've thought that the brave new world of HD TV would actually result in worse picture quality than we had before?
Hopefully the problem will be corrected in time. For now, enjoy those hearty chunks of pixels every time Tom Brady chucks the ball.
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*Many factors affect the degree of macroblocking, including signal strength and the peculiarities of your cable box or TV set. But the bottom line is that not enough data are getting through.
A technical discussion of macroblocking and mosquito noise is found here.
Hooray!
Joss Whedon finally comes to his senses and returns to TV, the medium that suits him best.
Whedon created the outstanding TV series Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one of the most original and consistently entertaining shows in television history, as well as its underrated spinoff Angel and the short-lived but first-rate sci-fi show Firefly. After these shows went off the air, Whedon turned his attention to feature films. He directed a Firefly movie, Serenity, which had its moments but did not, in my opinion, equal the best episodes of the TV series. Then he got bogged down in writing a Wonder Woman feature film, which went nowhere, and a project called Goners, which also seems to have stalled.
And all this time, those of us who remember Whedon's glory days in TV were wondering when he would realize that TV, not features, is where he belongs. He's a storyteller, and big-budget feature films nowadays are not about stories; they're about special effects, loud music, raunchy gags, and gore.
Well, he got the message. I hope his new show, which already has a seven-episode commitment from Fox, is a hit (and I hope Fox handles it better than they handled Firefly). In a world of trashy reality TV, we need more Whedon. And the sooner, the better, please.
P.S. Minor synchronicity: Just yesterday I found myself thinking about Whedon and wishing he would come back to TV. It's not like I think about this guy all the time, especially since he's been off the radar screen for the past few years, so it's a bit of a coincidence. Meaningful? Meaningless? Who knows? (I do know what Whedon would say; he's a professed atheist and "absurdist" who claims to find no higher meaning or purpose in life. His work to date somewhat belies this perspective, though.)
Geraldomania!
I received an email informing me that an "investigation" of paranormal researcher Gary Schwartz would be aired on Fox News Channel this weekend. As best I can tell after perusing the FNC schedule, the program in question is Geraldo at Large, which airs tonight (Saturday) at 8 PM Eastern Time. The show re-airs at midnight and at 4 A.M. Sunday. It runs 60 minutes.
Geraldo at Large also airs on Sunday at 8 PM, but I'm not sure if it's a repeat or a whole new show with different subject matter.
According to a capsule description on the FNC Web site, the Saturday show will include a segment on the "real-life woman behind the TV show Medium." That would be Allison DuBois, who was tested by Gary Schwartz but later had a falling-out with him. DuBois has just put out a new book and is presumably on Geraldo's program to promote it.
Ordinarily, nothing would convince me to watch Geraldo, but this segment may - emphasis on may - be interesting, if it sheds any light on Dubois' differences with Schwartz.
Nooooooooooo!!!
I just don't like Janeane Garafolo.
Okay, she was funny in The Cable Guy, for the two seconds she was on screen. ("There were no utensils in medieval times, hence there are no utensils at Medieval Times.")
But I don't want to see her on 24.
On the other hand, if Jack Bauer gets to shoot her, all is forgiven.
A shot in the dark
I've never seen The Sopranos - not a single minute of it - but there's been so much controversy about the final minutes of the series finale that even I, a nonviewer, got caught up in it. Now Bob Harris provides a detailed analysis of this scene, which I found fascinating even though I haven't seen the episode.
Warning: spoilers are found in Harris's post and in what follows below.
The idea of the scene, apparently, is that Mob capo Tony Soprano gets fatally shot. We don't see or hear anything; the screen just cuts to blackness and silence. But as Harris and others have observed, earlier in the series two characters discussed what it would be like to get shot, and they agreed that you would never know it had happened - everything would just go black.
Harris argues that this was the intent of the filmmakers. From what I can judge, he's right.
Of course, many readers of this blog will no doubt quibble with the claim that Tony Soprano would not see or hear anything even in the case of instantaneous death. Personally, I think it is more likely that poor Tony, shocked out of his body, would find himself looking down on his own corpse leaking blood. In frantic confusion he would try to figure out what was happening. At some point, maybe when his mortal remains were zipped into a body bag, he would realize the truth. Then he would be drawn away from the scene and into a Life Review - which, from what little I know of this show, would not be very pleasant for him.
But we'll have to save that for the feature film ...
24
Boy, this season of 24 kinda sucked, huh?
I was so bored during tonight's two-hour finale, I stopped paying attention for a while. Not a good sign.
Here's hoping for better things when the show returns in the spring of 2008.
If I wrote sitcoms
I write suspense novels but watch a lot of sitcoms. What would it be like if I combined my interests?
Hmm ... what would it be like? I wonder ...
Home Improvement. Tim "the Tool Man" Taylor is exposed as notorious serial killer Jigsaw, whose homemade torture machines have subjected dozens of people to agonizing deaths. In a related story, oddball next-door neighbor Wilson lands in hot water when the bodies of 37 schoolchildren are found in his crawlspace.
The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Affable newsman Murray Slaughter lives up to his name when he's unveiled as Minneapolis's dreaded Icepick Gouger.
I Love Lucy. When Lucy's "visit to her mother" lasts a little too long, the Mertzes investigate and find the zany redhead stored in two dozen mason jars under Ricky's bed.
Cheers. Carla's dislike for coworker Diane turns deadly when the overeducated barmaid's headless torso is found floating in Boston Harbor. Comedy ensues when her head ends up in Sam's bowling-ball bag. In a related story, Cliff goes postal and takes out everyone in the bar with an AK-47. He begins a new life in the cartoon voiceover business, where he meets up with Tim "the Tool Man" Taylor, a.k.a. Jigsaw.
Just Shoot Me. Finch picks up a prostitute with a prominent Adam's apple and becomes the latest victim of Manhattan's Crossdressing Killer. Elliott's successful investigation of the crime leads to a new career in law enforcement.
The Andy Griffith Show. When Aunt Bee's "visit to her sister" lasts a little too long, Barney investigates and discovers the lovable matron stored in two dozen mason jars under Andy's bed.
Seinfeld. The Soup Nazi returns from Argentina, ladling out death for Jerry and Elaine. Jerry's last words: "Didja ever notice how soup tastes like strychnine?" In a related development, oddball next-door neighbor Kramer lands in hot water when the bodies of 37 schoolchildren are found in his armoire.
Becker. Instead of flu shots, ditzy assistant Linda administers lethal injections to Becker's patients. She begins a new life as a street junkie, only to fall into the clutches of Tim "the Tool Man" Taylor, a.k.a. Jigsaw.
Everybody Loves Raymond. When Marie's "visit to her cousin" lasts a little too long, Ray investigates and finds the bossy matriarch stored in two dozen mason jars under Frank's bed. Robert moves to the suburbs to start a new life that isn't as funny.
The King of Queens. Father McAndrew is shocked when selfish, manipulative, child-hating Carrie Heffernan is revealed to be, in actuality, the Anti-Christ. In a related story, affable IPS driver Doug Heffernan lands in hot water when the bodies of 37 schoolchildren are found in his stomach.
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