Originally published on TheFactIs.org on June 9, 2005.
Religion's Gone Missing on "Lost"
Moments after enunciating a conflict that will likely figure prominently in the next season of the television series "Lost," one of the show's central characters provides a glaring example of a conflict that figures prominently in viewers' reaction to the show. "You're a man of science," says John Locke, a wheelchair-bound man who found himself able to walk after the cast's plane crashed on an island, to Jack Sheppard, a surgeon turned leader. "I'm a man of faith." When the man of science asks who brought them to the island, the man of faith replies that the island "chose" each of them. "It's destiny."
Even devotees of the show who find it jarring that Locke's answer lacked a "who" could argue that animism isn't beyond believability for his quirky character. But Locke's is the second demurral from the G-word during the two-hour season finale. Asked who she thinks is punishing the castaways for things they've done in the past, a Korean character who had secretly learned English in preparation for escape from her husband and father answers: "Fate."
Theism on "Lost" hasn't always been limited to a three-letter exclamation. Early on, Locke gave more the impression of a prophet than a zealot. A flashback revealed that another character, Charlie (who shares his actor with Merry Brandybuck from The Lord of the Rings), almost allowed morality — fortified in a confessional — to dissuade him from rock stardom.
The twelfth of the season's 24 episodes left Charlie praying with Rose, a character who set off murmurs on the Internet that the island is Purgatory when she suggested that the missing passengers might be elsewhere thinking the survivors "gone." Jack's immediate sighting of his deceased father standing in the underbrush counted as evidence. Rose, however, has not made an appearance since the midseason moment when the writers used her to speak the words "Heavenly Father" sincerely on primetime television.
Except among those who expect mainstream culture to be an oasis of pure secularism in a religious country, the drift away from candid treatment of religiosity must certainly hinder the show's realism for viewers. The world of "Lost" shows signs of becoming one in which "oh my God" and "I swear to God" are conditioned expressions of surprise and vehemence, respectively, but in which thoughts of spiritual punishment and testing leave the characters searching for nondenominational abstractions. It risks becoming, in a word, Hollywood.
The increasing odor of business as usual generates the broader doubt that will linger around fans' thoughts of the show throughout the summer. As the New York Post's John Podhoretz complains on National Review Online, "it appears that the series' creators simply threw all sorts of things out there to tantalize people and then had absolutely no idea where to go with it or what to do."
That may or may not be the case, but among the online murmurs can be heard speculation that the traditional TV drama string-along has begun anew. Having been disappointed by several series in the past, the audience for "Lost" may conclude that its creators will only allow its plot to be as satisfying as ensured contract renewal permits — that the tantalizing things will only multiply, because resolving them might lead to an inexorable conclusion of the storyline.
Similarly, the skeptical "Lost"-fan of faith is compelled to question whether the nondescript spirituality of the season finale isn't an indication that religion's previous cameos were merely devices to capture the now noteworthy "moral values" demographic. Spiritual undertones could be just another gimmick — another mystery — to attract and sustain the broadest possible audience. Indeed, the "clues" are scattered about the episodes like so much shrapnel on the beach. For a few examples: John Locke and Jack Sheppard have among the most obviously significant names. A previously unnamed infant born toward the end of the season is dubbed Aaron as if the name is ordained. And the lapsed Catholic Charlie, who is also a recovering junkie, finds drugs hidden by smugglers in a statue of Mary.
In real life, the search for meaning encompasses all things, words, and people that cross our paths. Art can often provide context, or models, to help us on our way. When it comes to "Lost," however, the audience is beginning to lose faith that it's worth the effort to follow and contemplate all of the mysteries. They may very well be mere crumbs thrown down in a trail of bait leading nowhere but the producers' bank accounts.
Even devotees of the show who find it jarring that Locke's answer lacked a "who" could argue that animism isn't beyond believability for his quirky character. But Locke's is the second demurral from the G-word during the two-hour season finale. Asked who she thinks is punishing the castaways for things they've done in the past, a Korean character who had secretly learned English in preparation for escape from her husband and father answers: "Fate."
Theism on "Lost" hasn't always been limited to a three-letter exclamation. Early on, Locke gave more the impression of a prophet than a zealot. A flashback revealed that another character, Charlie (who shares his actor with Merry Brandybuck from The Lord of the Rings), almost allowed morality — fortified in a confessional — to dissuade him from rock stardom.
The twelfth of the season's 24 episodes left Charlie praying with Rose, a character who set off murmurs on the Internet that the island is Purgatory when she suggested that the missing passengers might be elsewhere thinking the survivors "gone." Jack's immediate sighting of his deceased father standing in the underbrush counted as evidence. Rose, however, has not made an appearance since the midseason moment when the writers used her to speak the words "Heavenly Father" sincerely on primetime television.
Except among those who expect mainstream culture to be an oasis of pure secularism in a religious country, the drift away from candid treatment of religiosity must certainly hinder the show's realism for viewers. The world of "Lost" shows signs of becoming one in which "oh my God" and "I swear to God" are conditioned expressions of surprise and vehemence, respectively, but in which thoughts of spiritual punishment and testing leave the characters searching for nondenominational abstractions. It risks becoming, in a word, Hollywood.
The increasing odor of business as usual generates the broader doubt that will linger around fans' thoughts of the show throughout the summer. As the New York Post's John Podhoretz complains on National Review Online, "it appears that the series' creators simply threw all sorts of things out there to tantalize people and then had absolutely no idea where to go with it or what to do."
That may or may not be the case, but among the online murmurs can be heard speculation that the traditional TV drama string-along has begun anew. Having been disappointed by several series in the past, the audience for "Lost" may conclude that its creators will only allow its plot to be as satisfying as ensured contract renewal permits — that the tantalizing things will only multiply, because resolving them might lead to an inexorable conclusion of the storyline.
Similarly, the skeptical "Lost"-fan of faith is compelled to question whether the nondescript spirituality of the season finale isn't an indication that religion's previous cameos were merely devices to capture the now noteworthy "moral values" demographic. Spiritual undertones could be just another gimmick — another mystery — to attract and sustain the broadest possible audience. Indeed, the "clues" are scattered about the episodes like so much shrapnel on the beach. For a few examples: John Locke and Jack Sheppard have among the most obviously significant names. A previously unnamed infant born toward the end of the season is dubbed Aaron as if the name is ordained. And the lapsed Catholic Charlie, who is also a recovering junkie, finds drugs hidden by smugglers in a statue of Mary.
In real life, the search for meaning encompasses all things, words, and people that cross our paths. Art can often provide context, or models, to help us on our way. When it comes to "Lost," however, the audience is beginning to lose faith that it's worth the effort to follow and contemplate all of the mysteries. They may very well be mere crumbs thrown down in a trail of bait leading nowhere but the producers' bank accounts.