I FORGOT TO ADD THE SPOILER WARNING LAST WEEK, BUT I REMEMBERED THIS WEEK

I thought that was a strong episode, a very strong episode in fact. I didn’t see the flashbacks coming at all, and it was a very smart idea, tying these characters back to all they’d lost. Not that they were all note-perfect, mind you–again, we’ve gone to the bottomless grief reservoir quite a few times so seeing Roslin fall apart in a public fountain lacked the impact it might have otherwise; Anders’s ode to physics seemed a bit on the nose, even if it is the kind of thing I can picture a smart jock saying in an interview with a female reporter while reclining naked in a tub. But seeing Roslin with family, and seeing Zack Adama again, and especially seeing Baltar with his father and all the levels of discomfort and embarrassment that that meeting exposed in Gaius and Julius and Six…wonderful stuff.

Speaking of Gaius, his long, weirdly underdeveloped religious-cult storyline finally felt like it had a point, which was that Gaius was spending that time falling bass-ackwards into power once again. He kept it up because it got him laid, it got him attention, he’s good at it, it was some kind of emotional outlet, and Head Six wanted him to, but in the end it was all leading to this pivotal juncture where he ends up basically the most powerful person in the fleet as everyone else goes off on the rescue mission. Callis, who over the years became one of the show’s great pleasures, played the entire episode with a look of “what the fuck, man?” in his eyes. I’m a little concerned that without an antagonist still in the fleet his storyline might feel flat, but we’ll see.

Which leads us to what will apparently be the series finale’s big leap of faith, which is that the Admiral and President and stand-in President of the fleet would allow however many hundreds of key military and political personnel to take however many military assets they need and fly off on a suicide mission into Cylon Central in the middle of an asteroid field right next to a black hole. On a narrative level, this is Gandalf’s gambit at the end of The Lord of the Rings, where he, and all the surviving members of the Fellowship who could give the game away if captured and tortured, and the King of Gondor and the King of Rohan and most of the leadership class, strolled up to the Black Gates to be slaughtered because they believed that something very important and transcendent required them to do so. The thing is, that’s a lot easier for the characters and the audience alike to swallow in a fantasy narrative than it is in a science fiction allegory where people drive cars and smoke cigarettes and pretty much behave like normal people except for a few fantastic elements. What the story is asking us to do is believe that at this point, the fantastic elements in these characters’ lives are, perhaps, all they have left to cling to, that all these hundreds of people are going to risk it all because to not do so will just mean floating around aimlessly in space for a few more decades until they die out. If Hera means something, they mean something, so they’re going for broke. It’s a gamble on the show’s part, and if I were coming to it cold I don’t know if I’d buy it, but the show has earned a lot of goodwill from me by being one of the highlights of my life for a few years now, so gods-speed, gang.

* Grant Morrison & Frank Quitely are doing a new series called Batman and Robin, have you heard? “It’s like David Lynch doing the Batman TV show,” says Morrison, which phrase is, I think, to the Internet what “ZUR-EN-ARRH” was to Bruce Wayne.

* Look, normally I wouldn’t mind if They remade Stephen King’s It, because Tim Curry’s performance and make-up as Pennywise was literally the only thing the 1990 TV miniseries version got right. But then you hear that the new movie version is going to consolidate the 1958-to-1985 flashback/flashforward structure and all the ensuing and awesome period detail into the present day, and it’s like, fuck, why not just remake Killer Klowns from Outer Space instead? One day someone’s gonna take one of Stephen King’s really good books and make an HBO maxiseries out of it, complete with subterranean tween gangbang, and we can all be happy. Until then I’m going to want to throw my computer through the window on a regular basis.

* Mickey Rourke and Scarlett Johansson as some Russian villain and the Black Widow in Iron Man 2? Well done, Marvel Studios. Everyone try not to stare at ScarJo’s Russian accent.

* Jog reviews Cold Heat #5/6.

* Jason’s Low Moon looks fantastic.

* John Hankiewicz can draw the bloody bejesus out of a sewing machine case.

* Spurge:

But yeah, if you liked Watchmen, you might want to try some of the books that are like whatever the heck you liked about Watchmen, and DC has certainly published some of those books.

LOL

* In light of the Battlestar Galactica series finale, part one of which airs tonight, this has got to be the quote of the day:

On March 17, there will be a “Battlestar” retrospective at the U.N. in New York and a panel discussion of how the show examined issues such as “human rights, children and armed conflict, terrorism, human rights and reconciliation and dialogue among civilizations and faith,” according to Sci Fi.

Actually, no, wait: This is the quote of the day:

The panel will be moderated by “Battlestar” fan Whoopi Goldberg.

(Via the utterly gobsmacked Topless Robot.)

* I’m sick of Photobucket’s bullshit. Can anyone recommend a better image-hosting site that won’t yank Jim Rugg drawings of Doctor Manhattan because you can see his genitals? (Doc’s, not Rugg’s.) I don’t want to use my Flickr account as a random image depository.

* A few residual Watchmen review links first:

* Jim Emerson compares and contrasts the film with The Dark Knight, which in restrospect is the “visually realistic take on superheroes” film that a Watchmen adaptation had the potential to be in other hands but ended up emphatically not being; Emerson argues that that’s to Watchmen‘s betterment.

* Adrian de la Touche at The House Next Door praises the movie for aspects other critics have used to lambaste it–the on-the-nose music choices, that sex scene–and refers to Zack Snyder as “a talented—fuck it, I’ll bite—visionary filmmaker.” I kind of think so too! The Paul Verhoeven of the ’00s?

* And now some MMORPG geekiness:

* Man, is this ever right up my alley: Here’s a firsthand account of how the game Tabula Rasa used its real-world cancellation as grounds for an in-game apocalypse.

* On a similar note, Ta-Nehisi Coates wonders how player vs. player combat could be employed to affect the World of Warcraft storyline.

* Cold Heat #5/6 is out! I have a copy and hope to review it shortly.

* “Tom Neely sure can draw” update: Tom Neely sure can draw.

* Todd VanDerWerff’s review of last week’s lackluster Battlestar Galactica focuses on how difficult it is to properly evaluate individual episodes of a plot-heavy series, particularly toward the end of its run, without the context provided by the plot’s yet-to-be-aired resolution.

* The remake of Let the Right One In is in fact going to be called Let the Right One In, thank god.

The new U2 album, No Line on the Horizon, is pretty good I guess. It’s okay. My first-listen reaction is that it’s better than How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and much better than career-worst All That You Can’t Leave Behind. The lyrics get pretty dire, as you’d expect these days–Bono needs to ban the word “beautiful” from his repertoire for a while, just like there was a period where the band agreed they weren’t allowed to use “streets”–and the Edge’s rockin’-out riffs are kind of forced and gutless. Regardless, “Get On Your Boots” is stuck in my head pretty frequently.

Anyway I write this because I have a bad feeling that some people are going to refer to certain tracks on the record as “experimental,” particularly in light of the comparatively straightforward songs on the past two albums. Let’s not forget that we know what actually experimental U2 actually sounds like, from back when the lead singer of the biggest band in the world dressed in platform heels, gold lamé suits, devil horns, and kabuki make-up and called himself “MacPhisto.”

“Lemon” is my favorite U2 song. Interestingly, I really loved it and the rest of Zooropa from the moment it came out, way before I listened to electronic or dance music generally. I think that even then I was excited to see the band try something so very different, and even then I was excited to see them do it well. I also contextualized Zooropa as the Magical Mystery Tour to Achtung Baby‘s Sgt. Pepper–a denser, deeper, weirder, braver exploration of the territory they’d just opened up an album ago.

As a song, with its techno shimmer (when I first started hearing electronic dance music I called all of it “techno” and it’s tough to shake) and falsetto vocals that most rock fans instantly associate with disco, “Lemon” is superficially quite confrontational versus the rest of the band’s catalog–the aural equivalent of what the names Pop and “Discoteque” and the Village People costumes they wore in the video were a few years later. But like all the best of their ’90s material, “Lemon”‘s addresses the same kind of spiritual, capital-R Romantic yearning that the band’s big rock hits did, only fed through filters of uncertainty and self-consciousness. So, the lemon itself, the symbol that represents the magical mystery woman du jour, is big and bright and juicy and natural as one might expect, but it’s also sour and maybe a little blinding and associated with the sterile advert artifice of “lemon fresh” sloganeering.

The song describes man’s attempts to create art as guilelessly self-obsessed, his attempts at transcendence ultimately self-reflexive and driven by the usual preoccupations:

A man makes a picture

A moving picture

Through the light projected

He can see himself up close

A man captures colour

A man likes to stare

He turns his money into light to look for her

The motif is repeated:

A man builds a city

With banks and cathedrals

A man melts the sand so he can

See the world outside

A man makes a car

And builds roads to run them on

A man dreams of leaving

But he always stays behind

In both cases, the question seems to be whether the creative act is even necessary, whether we’re introducing unnecessary intermediaries into an observational process that’s really as simple as opening our eyes.

Meanwhile, despair (“I feel like I’m drifting, drifting, drifting from the shore”; “these are the days when our world has come asunder”) yields to hope of respite (“I feel like I’m swimming out to her”; “these are the days when we look for something other”); indeed, the latter is not possible without the former. This is perhaps best expressed by the epigrammatic “chorus” of the song: “Midnight is where the day begins.” The music itself ebbs and flows in a similar fashion, with the uplift of the chorus’s piano-plunking drifting back down into melancholy cello. But our final glimpse of the enigmatic “she” reveals that “she is the dreamer, she’s imagination/She had heaven, she wore lemon,” so maybe we’re right to try; maybe everything doesn’t collapse in upon itself, and there is something great out there waiting to be captured.

* I thought it might be nice to round up some of the Watchmen reviews I’ve gotten something out of, both positive and negative ones. This gives me an excuse to pointedly ignore the critics who used the film as an occasion to flaunt their ignorance of and antipathy toward “graphic novels.” (To quote Trent Reznor, you know who you fucking are.)

* For starters, here’s my review, if you missed it or avoided it before seeing the movie yourself.

* Of all the major critics, Roger Ebert is the most unabashedly bullish about the film. He’s followed up his initial review with a second, lengthier one based on a second, IMAX-derived screening. The latter is less a review than a rumination on Dr. Manhattan and a life lived by way of quantum physics. The pure geekiness of that, the “half-stoned and chugging Diet Coke at 3 in the morning debating the ending of Lost Highway with your college roommates”ness of it, is really delightful, and precisely the kind of response I was hoping a Watchmen movie would be capable of provoking. In terms of Watchmen‘s eventual status in the pantheon, which I care a whole lot less about, Ebert’s imprimatur is interesting in that he’s become sort of a patron saint of film fans who come at the medium from either a geek or buff perspective, rather than a cineaste/scholar perspective, if you will.

* Even more effusive than Ebert is the young-ish liberal national-security blogger Spencer Ackerman. “Watchmen is a great film,” he says, which is not a statement I’m seeing made that straightforwardly even in receptive quarters (like this blog, for example). However, he serves up three quibbles involving three characters that I for one agree with: Ozymandias is too obviously sinister and his twisted altruism is too insufficiently developed; Laurie’s backstory is truncated and de-complicated, right down to the disappearance of her real, ethnic last name; Rorschach’s rightist, or perhaps fascist, politics are downplayed, except as the tics of a sociopath. I think Ackerman’s perspective is worth taking a gander at in that he represents a pretty common breed of geek: A guy who’s extremely smart, savvy, well-read, and cutting-edge in a variety of areas (politics, punk rock) but is pretty strictly superhero-based when it comes to comics.

* I haven’t been tracking the conservative political blogs for their responses, nor have I kept an eye out for which critic, Right or Left, comes up with the most hamfisted allegorical read regarding the film (“Obama and Ozymandias–they’re both effete liberals whose names start with an O, and they’re both destroying the world in order to rebuild it in their egomaniacal image,” that sort of thing. I’m sure Dana Stevens managed to compare the Comedian to Dick Cheney or something equally revelatory). But Andrew Sullivan says he thoroughly enjoyed the movie and I for one hope he posts about why. I guarantee you the letters he gets in response will be just as entertaining, no matter what he says.

* My longtime companion Jason Adams says something I’ve been thinking to myself while reading several negative reviews of the movie, which is that the massive planned Director’s Cut will likely fill out a lot of lacunae that people who didn’t like the film have been calling out; for Jason, this means giving fleshing out the vox populi in the persons of the newsstand owner and his comics-reading hanger-on. I also like Jason’s review because he says Rorschach’s last stand tugged a tear out of him even where the book itself didn’t–it did, for me, during my last read–and because he makes fun of the critics who didn’t grok that the airship sex scene was cheesy on purpose.

* Tim O’Neil basically calls it a bad movie he enjoyed. He echoes the pretty oft-voiced problem with the development of Ozymandias, says that the film’s Laurie Jupiter “looks like she’s made out of the same plastic as her costume” (killer line), and beefs with the super-ness of the non-super characters’ action scenes.

* Contra critics like Tim, who reference the film’s extraordinary fealty to Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons’ original comics (whether for good or ill), Joe “Jog” McCulloch, who did not care for the film at all, argues that the movie is in fact nothing like the comic, particularly in how it translates Gibbons’s visuals, character design, and grid-based pacing. I think he makes some rock-solid points in his treatment of such diverse “lost in translation” moments as the bloodstain on the Comedian’s smiley-face button, the damage incurred by the Comedian during his murder, and (most especially) the way the film reverse’s the book’s juxtaposition of largely bloodless run-up to extraordinarily splatteriffic climax; I don’t think that I’d even noticed the lack of bodies in the streets at the end until reading Jog’s review. (Elsewhere, he imagines Watchmen: A Film by Peter Greenaway.)

* Tom Spurgeon, the Perry Cox to my John Dorian, disliked the movie too. I really enjoy the way he calls out the lack of cohesion among the performances; how the increased violence in the “Dan & Laurie vs. knot-top muggers” kneecaps our ability to see Rorschach as uniquely dangerous and crazy; and the glossed-over fact that the climax’s megadeaths were caused by an American weapon. On the flipside, he also tips his hat insightfully, if that can be done, to the acting choices of Billy Crudup and Jeffrey Dean Morgan.

* In his pan, Leigh Walton, my editor at Top Shelf, has a great line: “Snyder et al adapted Watchmen more or less exactly as they would have adapted Kraven’s Last Hunt or Emerald Twilight or Secret Wars II. ‘Here’s a great comic book story, and we’ll bring it to life on the big screen.'” The thing is, I really like Kraven’s Last Hunt.

* Over at Not Coming to a Theater Near You, one of my favorite (if in this case inaccurately named) film blogs, Victoria Large calls Watchmen an “intoxicating, messy, tough-to-shake movie. It’s a film to think about, worry about, fight about, and I’m grateful for that. So love it. Or hate it. Or do a little bit of both. But please don’t dismiss it.” I’m not quite on board with the last few bits, but I have to say that otherwise this tracks pretty closely to my own level of appreciation for the flick. In a waym this doesn’t surprise me. My favorite film of 2008 was Rambo. Granted, I didn’t see any of the Oscar-bait efforts that year, and very few of the more legit critical darlings (Let the Right One In is probably the big exception). And granted, Rambo is in some ways a deeply stupid movie, and in others a deeply problematic, even troubling one. But it surprised, entertained, thrilled, horrified, and haunted me. I think Watchmen is Rambo with costumes.

Dick Hyacinth and I continue our discussion of Charles Burns’s masterpiece Black Hole over at The Savage Critic(s). Check it out!

(Via Pterodactyls)

Recently I decided to steal an idea from my pal Matthew Perpetua and upload an occasional mix for your listening pleasure. First up is this assortment of some of my favorite Nine Inch Nails songs.

Leaving Hope: A Personal Best of Nine Inch Nails

Pinion / 2 Ghosts I / Wish / 12 Ghosts II / 13 Ghosts II / The Fragile / Just Like You Imagined / The Becoming / Happiness in Slavery / Something I Can Never Have [edited and extended] / 10 Miles High (Version) / Burn / In This Twilight / 36 Ghosts IV / The Fragile [Still] / The Becoming [Still] / Gave Up / In This Twilight (Fennesz Remix) / Leaving Hope

DOWNLOAD IT HERE

This particular mix leans heavily on textured instrumentals, quiet haunted-house piano, abrasive guitars, and alternately melancholy or nihilistic lyrics–occasionally all at the same time. These happen to be among my favorite NIN songs, so that’s the main reason I selected them, but Trent Reznor is a pretty deeply unfashionable character at this point among smart-music circles, so I wanted to put together a mix that displayed some of his ambition, range, and skill as a composer and arranger. There’s another mix coming that showcases a completely different side of the band, so please stay tuned.

* Not a whole lot to recommend this episode, I don’t think. That’s unfortunate. There aren’t a lot to go!

* Things I liked: Fine little acting moments from actors that the show has pretty much abandoned, Jamie Bamber, Tamoh Penikett, and the still prominent but underused James Callis. Apollo shouting “Gaius Baltar?!?” in disbelief when one of the members of the new quorum asks what everyone’s favorite former scientific genius and collaborationist president turned sex-cult leader and paramilitary commander (?!?) thought of the potential abandonment of the Galactica was a hilarious moment of exasperation, not least because it mirrors my own at the notion that anyone cares what Baltar thinks in the world of the show.

* Penikett played Helo’s begging for permission to search for his daughter with just the right mix of sorrow, desperation, hope, and barely concealed rage at Adama’s obstinacy (and hypocrisy–he’s the admiral of the fleet and he abandoned everyone so he could sit around in a raptor and wait for the President to show up, remember?). And

* Baltar’s brief encounter with Caprica Six was one of the few emotionally true moments that character’s been granted in quite some time, since it sidestepped the season-long guessing game regarding his sincerity about his religious proclamations and dove right into something we know to be legit, his ever-present emotional turmoil regarding what happened between him and Caprica Six before the Cylon attack.

* I did wish that Head Baltar showed up for Six, though–was the implication that he doesn’t do so anymore?

* And since Baltar’s thought process during his cult-leader storyline has been opaque, it was impossible to figure out just why the fuck he outed Starbuck as some kind of revenant in front of the whole frakking fleet. Is it because he really believes what he’s saying about angels and wants to prove it to the world? Is it because he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying about angels and wants to convince himself that he’s not crazy or the victim of a Cylon brain-implant? Is it because he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying, and doesn’t want to convince himself, and simply wants to increase his sway over the hoi polloi for his own selfish reasons? We have very little way of knowing.

* I did like that he didn’t even remember who Starbuck was despite fooling around with her a few years back. That’s the Baltar we know!

* We’ve seen Adama start doing something, then get more and more frantic about it, then totally flip out, then crash and cry, a few too many times for it to retain much power.

* I kind of liked turning Sam into a hybrid. Led to some nice visuals at any rate.

* The thing about the show’s shift of focus from “life during wartime” to “what’s up with the Cylons” is that it went from, well, a show about life during wartime to the kind of “sci-fi musings on the nature of consciousness and life and mortality and what makes us human and so on” that we’ve been seeing for nearly a century now. This morning when I woke up I flipped on the TV and there was an episode of The Twilight Zone on involving Jack Klugman as the captain of a spaceship that lands on some planet and finds the crashed remains of his own spaceship, and he and the crew start wondering whether they’re already dead or what. Sound familiar? Don’t get me wrong, that kind of thing can be very appealing, but it would have been just as easy for Battlestar Galactica never to go down that route, and since its execution of that kind of material has on the whole been less successful than its execution of the war material, there’s a bit of a let-down inherent in having the final episodes focus on that.

* At the Partyka site, Matt Wiegle draws a zombie attack!

And oh yeah, Dustin Harbin is this month’s Partyka guest artist.

* Paul Hornschemeier’s got an odds ‘n’ sods collection called All and Sundry in the pipeline.

* What we talk about when we talk about Dr. Manhattan’s dick.

* Speaking of, dig Rickey Purdin’s Watchmen sketchbook.

The mere act of naming this song “Marriott Cock Squat” alone is a stroke of genius. (Via Topless Robot.)

* My pal Zach Oat at Television Without Pity is the reason why I was able to see Watchmen the other night in the first place, and many of the points I make in my review were first aired in conversation with him after the screening, so perhaps it’s no surprise that his review of the film is my favorite so far. I thought this was a clever point:

…while many reviewers might disagree with me, the film version of Watchmen is not your standard superhero movie. True, it has guys in costumes fighting street-level thugs — and, later, other costume types — with the same martial-arts moves you’d see in any of the Batman flicks. But the big difference is that this isn’t an origin tale, like Batman Begins or Iron Man or most other superhero films. It’s the opposite of an origin, where the heroes are out of the spotlight on the other side, slowly dying and being forgotten about as they reflect on their lives.

* Meanwhile, Frank Santoro’s read of Watchmen over at Jeet Heer’s blog is so good, and so in sync with what I’ve been trying to get across about the movie and the book and Moore’s superhero/superhero-ish work generally, that I’m going to quote it in its entirety:

Watchmen is a Lutheran reformation text knocking on the door of the Catholic establishment by a devout believer. Or something like that. And why I think scholars of comics don’t really enjoy it because they aren’t superhero fans. The text is an indictment of the form, the laws, by a believer in the form. I don’t know if anyone who wasn’t a “true believer” to start with really “gets” the full impact of the text. It’s like a Muslim saying he doesn’t enjoy the New Testament.

That’s exactly right, and exactly what I’ve been saying: No matter what Moore himself says today, Watchmen is not Eightball #23.

* When my former boss Gareb Shamus wasn’t busy firing everyone who works for him who isn’t his brother Stephen, he apparently collected all 12 original Watchmen covers. I had no idea! That’s a pretty terrific collection.

* Closed Caption Comics member Ryan Cecil sings the praises of the Wachowski Brothers’ stunning Speed Racer. Man, is that movie ever a grower. Actually, thinking about my experience watching Watchmen, Speed Racer is the film I think it’s the closest to. Some kind of cross between Speed Racer and Rambo, which is a pretty heady brew.

* Another altcomic bites the dust: Tom Spurgeon reports that Ted May is canceling the completed Injury #3 until further notice. That’s a travesty, because look at the goddamn cover. That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen him draw. Damn.

* Speaking of May, sorta, USS Catastrophe has reopened and is selling Rumbling a new Kevin Huizenga mini containing the continuation of a story from the now-defunct Or Else. (Via Tom Spurgeon.)

* Also via Spurge, Jeffrey Brown has a blog! And he’s drawing G.I. Joe. Sheeeeeeeeeeit.

* Scott Tobias’s New Cult Canon column returns with a look at Femme Fatale, a film best described as Brian DePalma’s tribute to Brian DePalma. That’s no faint praise, I assure you.

* Matt Maxwell Shelf Porn!

* Paging Bryan Alexander! If Charlie Parker Was a Gunslinger, There’d Be a Whole Lot of Dead Copycats begins a new photo series: Abandoned Places.

Todd VanDerWerff’s latest weekly Lost review is just lousy with insights, so I’m just going to spend a whole post quoting and agreeing with it if you don’t mind. On Josh Holloway:

This dude should be a movie star.

Agreed! And I’m the last kind of person to say that because I tend not to really care about the devil-may-care badasses with the hearts of gold. I love Han Solo like I love all Star Wars characters, but I’m not a “HAN ROOLZ LUKE DROOLZ” type. Ditto Batman and Superman. Megaditto Jack and Sawyer. But something about the way Sawyer is written, and about the way Holloway portrays him, imbues him with an approachability that many such stock characters lack. It’s perfectly believable that he’d be friends with Hurley, for example, you know? He wouldn’t be posing during the times they hang out, either, he’d just wanna have a nice time with him. That’s what I like about the character, and Holloway.

After the [love] triangle resolved itself, though, he retreated into the background simply because the show wasn’t quite sure what to do with him anymore. He was too much a leader now to simply go back to playing a foil to Jack, but he also didn’t really have a credible idea of what the castaways should DO to counterpoint Jack’s fervor to get off the Island and Locke’s fervor to stay on.

Yep. That’s why it’s so much fun to see him come into his own, and why it’s disheartening to see Kate and Jack come back and start the love quadrangle dynamics up again.

Lost, of course, makes a big deal out of names….A lot of this is just silly spot-the-reference gaming, like you might see on, say, Family Guy, but Sawyer’s voyage has had as much to do with the idea that he takes on different names to suit different occasions as anything else. When he was just Sawyer, the agreeably Han Solo-esque rapscallion, he was a pretty basic riff on the con man with a heart of gold. Once his real name came out as James Ford, however, the show felt safe in giving him a few inches of vulnerability. And now he’s Jim LaFleur, and he’s essentially become a respected member of society. He’s got a stable relationship with a loving live-in girlfriend and a great job (head of security for DHARMA).

Totally, and wow. Well done. (BTW, I couldn’t help but think that his pseudonymous surname is a relatively meaningless reference to Myron LaFleur from The Mist by Lost-writer fave Stephen King.)

While I thought “The Life and Death of Jeremy Bentham” was one of the series’ better efforts, the last two episodes have both had a crippling failing in doling out lots of exposition in the clumsiest way possible (i.e., just handing giant speeches to people pretty good with exposition and hoping for the best). “LaFleur,” written by Elizabeth Sarnoff and Kyle Pennington and directed by Mark Goldman, however, handled exposition in the best way possible: It dropped the characters right in the middle of it.

Matthew Perpetua, call your lawyer.

DHARMA (or, as I like to call it, the Television Character Actor Economic Recovery Plan) has always been one of the bigger mysteries on Lost (somewhere up there with questions on the Island itself, the smoke monster and the Others), and its abandoned facilities lent a nice haunted house quality to much of season two, which is easily the show’s SPOOKIEST season, if nothing else. There’s something about out-of-date technology and abandoned research facilities wasting away in the middle of a tropical paradise that gives the show that extra level of intrigue (think of those oddly unsettling training films, for instance)…

Agreed on all counts. That’s one aspect of the show I really miss. Remember when the countdown clock revealed those hieroglyphics? Remember when you first heard “SYSTEM FAILURE”? Remember when “Walt” said hello on that ancient computer?

Sawyer and the others have gone through a lot of pain in the past while, so to see him having a moment of happiness at the successful delivery of Amy’s (Reiko Aylesworth, late and much-lamented of 24) child by Juliet, who had to overcome her professional jitters, was nice…

And the show obviously knew it, which is why they risked the loss of a cliffhanger or a big dramatic moment by cutting to commercial on Sawyer’s grin. It was worth it.

I figured pairing off Sawyer and Juliet was inevitable, but I didn’t think it would work as well as it did here. Their relationship has a maturity that Sawyer’s pairing with Kate (based as it is on adolescent crush-level dramatics) just DOESN’T have. This being TV, where adolescent crush-level dramatics hold sway, I expect this will turn into a wacky love quadrangle, but I also sort of hope Sawyer and Juliet just jilt Jack and Kate and say, “Thanks, but we’re much happier now.”

Oh, indeed! In fact I think that the show has painted itself into a bit of a corner here, since Jack and Kate have been shown to be such selfish sad-sacks while Sawyer and Juliet are running around rescuing people and caring about people and saving babies and drunks and creating a happy life for themselves. The show needs to hope that the collective energy of Skater and Jacket shippers formed over the course of three to five seasons can overwhelm the goodwill engendered by whatever they’re calling the Juliet/Sawyer pairing in the space of one episode. As far as I’m concerned that’s an uphill climb!

Really liked that scene where those left behind anxiously discussed their fates around the small table in DHARMA village, particularly the way the image of young Charlotte disappearing off into the darkness with her mother was shot. That whole moment could have been unbearable, but it just wasn’t, thanks to some interesting directorial choices.

That scene was really well done, wasn’t it? The sandwiches and milk, the outdoor lights illuminating the early summer evening as children run inside–really evocative of eating dinner on your porch on a lovely summer night. They didn’t have to set the scene in that environment, but they did, and it made it all the stronger.

The word “regret” implies several things: pain over your past, contrition over your role in it, and the wish that you could go back and make sure it never happened. As a vocalist, as a melodist, as a lyricist, Brian Molko’s gift is conveying a kind of “regret,” or maybe a whole new word is needed, where you feel that pain and contrition but just can’t bring yourself to want to have done things any differently. In some ways that’s even sadder.

This video, which I hadn’t seen before now, takes a lovely, sexy idea and executes it beautifully, and Molko never looked better. Pretty perfect.

* Look, I’m a person who likes Lost a whole lot, I think I’ve been up front about that. And I liked this episode a whole hell of a lot. Several moments had me laughing and cheering with delight, sitting there on my couch with my cat: The glimpse of the Statue, the revelation that Sawyer is a Dharma Initiative bigwig, and of course the Sawyer/Juliet hook-up. Woo!

* On that last point, I can’t stress enough how happy hooking Juliet and Sawyer up makes me. That’s a goddamn stroke of genius is what that is: “Hey, how about we take the two romantic leads you could actually stand to be around for longer than 30 seconds and put them together?” By all means, Lost writers! I have a bad, bad feeling that Sawyer’s 100 Days in Heaven with Kate are going to trump his three years with Juliet, unfortunately, but I’ll take what I can get. (Particularly if it means we get to watch Elizabeth Mitchell lazily roll around in bed with her shirt off. Sigh.)

* So for that reason, and just the kick of seeing our heroes in Dharma jumpsuits rubbing elbows with poor doomed Horace and the rest of the gang, I really like how this three-year jump has been handled. Plus, as my pal Matthew Perpetua pointed out to me, this was a way to invest the Dharma/Others War backstory with a sense of urgency, instead of relegating it to flashbacks or infodumps.

* That said, my big concern about this move is something that always happens on TV, especially on Lost, which is that the writers and audience alike tend to conflate screen time with actual time. So while Sawyer’s relationships with Juliet, Miles, Daniel, Jin, and even some Dharma people should probably be more intense and important to him than his relationships with Hurley, Jack, Sun, and even Kate, they’re not going to be treated that way because those years together happened off screen, while his 100 days with the castaways took place over the space of four seasons in the real, non-fictional world. It’s a bit like how the characters rarely seem to think about the deaths of Boone or Shannon or Ana-Lucia or Libby (let alone Nikki, Paulo, or any of the redshirts) even though they happened just a few weeks ago in screen time, because those episodes were written, shot, and aired years ago in some cases in actual time. (Though it seems to me that Terry O’Quinn seems to keep Boone in mind when appropriate even though it’s not explicitly called for in the script, simply because he’s a talented and intelligent actor.) I mean, this whole thing is sort of a quibble, and I admit it’s entirely possible for brief but intense relationships to trump long-term but less traumatically engendered ones, but it’s still gonna irk me a bit.

* But who knows, maybe Sawyer will be like “hey, nice to see you, but don’t fuck things up for my pal Horace.” Maybe someone will have gone native, so to speak, and genuinely feel allegiance to and affinity for Dharma. It’s a surprising show, and stranger things have happened.

* I’m glad to see more Dharma stuff in general. I’d always felt like they’d ended up getting short shrift–having the origin of their use of the Numbers and our only solid glimpse of Alvar Hanso relegated to the not-quite-canon Lost Experience ARG, having Ben and the Others kill them and take their shit D&D-style, simply revealing that they had little or nothing to do with anything that was happening to the castaways. But I was always still interested in who they were and how they came to be, to quote Batman–how did they find the Island? What were they really trying to achieve there? Were they the hippie-science commune they seemed to be, or were they sinister in some way, as implied by the deception in many of “Dr. Marvin Candle”‘s orientation films? How do they tie in to Widmore and/or Paik? What’s the source of their conflict with the Others? Is it merely their presence on the Island, or something more? What happened during Ben’s years with them that we haven’t seen? What caused characters like Charlotte’s mother and Annie to leave? I’m hoping we see a lot of this go down.

* Speaking of Ben, where are he and his dad during Sawyer et al’s sojourn among Dharma? Are they there yet? Have they already left? Are Sawyer and the gang simply ignoring them? Surely it’d be tempting for Sawyer just to wring the little bastard’s neck, no? Does Daniel persuade him not to? Whatever happened, happened, right?

* This show is uniformly great at casting villains. Terry O’Quinn initially, William Mapother, M.C. Gainey, Michael Emerson, Alan Dale, Elizabeth Mitchell initially, Andrew Divoff, Lance Reddick, and most notably in this episode, Nestor Carbonell. God, what an unnerving guy. And a handsome devil! Just a quiet, sensual menace. I’m glad he became a big deal and didn’t get dropped after one episode like Diana Scarwid’s Isabel.

* Unrelated theory I’ve been mulling over for the past week and that other, smarter people already probably beat me to long ago: I think Libby worked for Charles Widmore. I didn’t put it together until after Matthew Abaddon told Locke that his job was to get people where they needed to be, but of course that’s exactly what Libby did with Desmond, and presumably that’s why she was watching Hurley inside the asylum.

* I wonder if the presence of various ’04 castaways back here in the ’70s is what gave rise to the various “lists” that the Others referenced a couple seasons back. Perhaps they were on the lookout for these specific people to come back.

* Who do you think Amy and Horace’s baby is? Anyone we know? If he was born in ’77 or so, that would make him a little older than me–who matches that description? Charlie, Boone? Maybe Hurley (too young?) or Daniel (too old? already has a mother but she could have adopted him?)? And of course time travel complicates things further. I wonder.

Best known as a hidden track on Nine Inch Nails’ Broken EP, “Suck” actually started life, sounding very differently, on the debut album from Martin Atkins’s industrial supergroup Pigface; here’s Trent Reznor singing the song with Skinny Puppy’s Nivek Ogre during a P-face tour. The arrangement is basically the NIN version, though, complete with “Funky Stuff” bassline. Happier times for the industrial world, that’s for sure. Two of the band members you see here, Killing Joke bassist Paul Raven and Ministry guitarist William Tucker, are now dead.