Somewhere in the middle of last night's Lost it all seemed very silly. Do I really care who goes with Locke, and who doesn't? Do I really care if Claire switches sides, or if Sayid gets his soul back? The entire episode was shot in the daylight, which somehow made everything seem less philosophical and ominous, and more like a bunch of people tromping around a jungle waiting for someone to come out of the bushes with a rifle, thereby signaling it's time for a commercial.
I love this show; don't get me wrong. If I watched with a giant flow chart in my lap telling me who hasn't seen who since 1977, I might have enjoyed it more. It was gratifying to learn that Jungle Dead Dad in the first season was, indeed, Smokey, although I suspect the show's writers did not think "we'll explain that six years down the road" at the time. But most of it seemed like the worst sort of soap opera, flat in acting and direction and writing, with characters turning Temporarily Bad, and others simply acting because they have certain adjectives attached to their characters in the show's bible. Imagine my surprise this morning when others called it "Lost at its Best."
I'm getting impatient. When Jack sits down with Smokey-in-Locke-form, and the latter says hey, ask me anything, you'd think Jack might have asked something along the lines of what the hell is happening here? What is this place? Have I always had these colorful tats on my arm? Hello, polar bears? But no.
As for bombing Locke on the beach: way to aim, guys. Next time have Desmond set the coordinates. He has experience with that particular target.
I'll grant you this: Jack's "well, I guess this is my stop" moment was rather amusing.
