Lost 1.21: "The Greater Good"

Written by Leonard Dick
Directed by David Grossman

In which Shannon asks Sayid to find out the truth from Locke and exact due vengeance, prompting Sayid to remember the events that brought him to the island…


Status Report

After a hiatus that felt like forever, the series finally returns for the last batch of episodes. This episode arrives just in time to face a fandom that seems driven by equal parts anticipation and skepticism. Despite several assurances to the contrary (and evidence in this episode that it is absolutely the case), fans seem to question whether or not the writers and producers have a clue where they are going. Part of this is a matter of expectation; part of it is unrealistic and inconsistent desire.

When the writers and producers claim that they have answers to all of the questions and a basic plan for how things should pan out, a lot of people interpret that as meaning that every detail is set in stone and that the content of every episode is absolutely planned out. This is a serious misconception. Even a series like “Babylon 5”, which had a very tightly controlled plan for the progression of several plot and character arcs over a theoretical five-season timeline, didn’t meet that expectation of absolutes.

The usual comparisons are made to “Twin Peaks” and “X-Files”, as if the two series were victims of the same phenomenon. In fact, that’s not true. Both serve as cautionary tales, but it’s not the writers and producers who were solely responsible for learning the lessons. The audience also had a part in it, since they were essentially asking a committee to read the collective wishes of millions years in advance.

In the case of “Twin Peaks”, the series was a victim of network pressures and an audience that made the series popular for reasons that didn’t match what the writers and producers were hoping for. “Twin Peaks” was never supposed to be solely focused on the murder of Laura Palmer, other than as a vehicle for telling stories about quirky people in a bizarre town. It was a soap opera bathed in darkness and affectation. The investigation into Laura’s death was supposed to be the door into character study, not the driving force behind the entire series that it became.

Instead, the mass audience became so focused on the murder of Laura Palmer that they never invested in the concept of the series as envisioned by the creators. Because the story didn’t immediately answer questions, and then did so in a way that many simply didn’t understand or accept, the audience abandoned the series in droves once the murder was solved. If one takes a look back at the second season (where many felt the series went wrong), there’s a definitive plot arc, and most of the characters undergo major changes in their lives. The sin of “Twin Peaks” is that the writers weren’t trying to put together a consistent murder mystery; they were trying to introduce strange characters in a strange universe, and the audience didn’t want that.

In terms of “Lost”, the difference between audience expectation and creative concept is similar. Many in the audience are so focused on the mysteries that the main point of the series, the characters themselves, are often overlooked. The series is not about the “monster”, the hatch, the “numbers”, or the Black Rock. It’s about how the character dynamics and transformations are triggered by the discovery of these unusual objects and situations. (Note how more people focused on the meaning of the “numbers” than the fact that the episode dealing with them said a lot about Hurley and his psychology; the intent, from a writers’ perspective, was clearly more balanced.)

“X-Files” had a far more complex history than “Twin Peaks”, if only because of how long it ran in comparison. It’s easy to say, looking back, that the creators had no plan for the series’ mythology and thus messed with the fans’ heads for nine seasons, always aware that the answers they promised didn’t exist. In a sense, that’s very true, but a lot of people are ignoring some fairly public information that sheds light on why it was true.

Chris Carter didn’t go into “X-Files” with a planned story arc. He had a basic set of character motivations, no desire to engage in character growth, and every intention to make an anthology series with only the two main characters as a common thread. The “conspiracy” was supposed to be a plot device, a convenient menace to “the truth”. Anyone watching the first season can see that there was no series bible and no guideline.

All of that changed when Gillian Anderson became pregnant and Carter conceded that the easiest way to explain it would be to create a story arc around it. This led to a definition of the “conspiracy” that demanded further exploration. But the fact is, as the second season demonstrates, Carter still wanted to keep his options open and avoid one set of facts or explanations. With the popularity of the series came more demand for a grand design, and reluctantly, Carter relented. Yet the third season alone demonstrates a limited scope for the mythology, even as it became more defined.

The studio executives saw the possibility of a film franchise by the end of the third season. It was at that point that Carter buckled down and came up with the explanation for Samantha’s abduction and the existence of the “conspiracy”. The fourth and fifth seasons were conceived as the time for parceling out the pieces of the puzzle that would come together in the first feature film. At several points in the fourth and early fifth season, those elements are clearly in place. If the audience came to the collective conclusion that there was a grand design, it’s because now there was one, where there hadn’t been in the beginning. When details didn’t mesh, fans began to cry foul; they didn’t take into account that order had been imposed on intentional chaos.

Carter, however, was operating under the impression that the series would be ending by the fifth season, based on the natural evolution of a series and its typical downfall. That didn’t happen, and the demand was there for more seasons. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the improvised plan beyond the film, so Carter was caught in an impossible situation: he needed to keep the story moving, but he had no idea where to go next, having already worked everything out to seeming satisfaction.

So late in the fifth season, and then for every season thereafter, Carter introduced more and more to the mythology, hoping that the writing staff would be able to take those seeds and expand the “conspiracy” beyond its artificially determined lifespan. The audience immediately got the impression that things weren’t as solid as they had assumed. Indeed, it wasn’t…but that’s because the series was never supposed to have a definitive mythology in the first place. By trying to create something to satisfy the desires of the audience for something more than he was originally willing to offer, Carter ultimately left the fans with the feeling that they had been betrayed.

“Lost”, on the other hand, was put together with a basic roadmap, closer to the methods used by Joss Whedon in putting together the seasons for “Buffy” and “Angel”. Whedon would intentionally develop a theme and basic plot progression for each season, with the intention of bringing those plot elements to a close by that season, but he would also introduce plot and character elements that could be explored in later seasons. Looking back on the first seasons of “Buffy” and “Angel”, they are typically short on answers, since the plot and character elements are meant to be given more emphasis in later seasons (assuming renewal).

The point of this long discussion on the topic is this: it’s not very fair to the writers and producers to claim a lack of forethought if there are a number of open mysteries at the end of one season. This first season is an introduction at best, and one shouldn’t expect a roadmap this complex to be resolved in one season. There’s a ton of main characters to be introduced and developed, and at least as many open questions regarding the plot elements.

Compare this first season of “Lost” to the first season of “Babylon 5”. That series had an ultra-detailed plan, and yet at the end of the first season, the lead character was dropped, the scope dramatically increased, and the main thrust of the story was barely on the table. Yet two seasons later, it was incredibly obvious that the series had been following a roadmap, even if major revisions to the roadmap were made along the way. By the end of the fourth season, a massive number of plot and character arcs had been resolved, largely to satisfaction. But none of that was completely apparent in the first season; look at an episode like “Babylon Squared”, for instance, which took place late in the season and dropped tons of open plot elements into the audience’s lap.

“Lost” is not “X-Files”; the writers have always claimed that they have a pretty good idea where they are going, even if revisions to the original outline have taken place. They expected that; very few writers adhere, over the space of years, to the entire content of an outline. Chris Carter openly admitted that he never had that level of foresight. If the “Twin Peaks” analogy is correct, it’s in the sense that the audience is trying to make this series something that it’s not intended to be.

The problem is, the shows with a structure closest to “Lost” have been cult favorites more than popular successes. Despite the critical acclaim of “Buffy”, “Angel”, or “Babylon 5”, they are still largely dismissed by the widespread populace based on what people think those shows must have been like. “Lost” is therefore privy to criticism by those with less patience than the fans of similar shows have learned to employ.

Take, for instance, how Sayid’s character development advances in this episode. One could say that this episode doesn’t really advance the plot or move the series forward at all, since none of the major mysteries are resolved. The one open question related to plot (who prevented Sayid from finding the source of the French signal) only confirms what the audience already knew about the character responsible. But looking back at Sayid’s choices, this episode places them in context and gives them deeper meaning.

This episode answers nearly every question related to Sayid: why he wanted to get off the island so badly, what happened to Nadia, what he was doing to find Nadia, why he was on the plane, and what kind of redemption the island offers him. Sayid’s basic integrity is at the heart of this episode, and he is revealed as a good man with a set of realistic flaws. It was clear that his relationship with Shannon was reflective of his eventual acceptance that escaping the island was not a viable option, but now it’s a lot more easily understood.

Sayid repeats his past history in this episode, and it destroys yet another chance at happiness. Looking back on his days before boarding Oceanic 815, Sayid was dedicated to finding Nadia, wherever they might take him. In the process, he was offered everything he wanted, if only he betrayed the confidence of a friend. As a result, his guilt and rage compels him to postpone his reunion with Nadia by a day, placing him on the fateful flight.

To convince his friend to be a martyr and kill for all the wrong reasons, Sayid claims that it is the only way to show how much they cared for their lost loved ones. In truth, Sayid believes the total opposite: that only through mercy and eventual forgiveness can the dead be honored. To cause more death and pain in the name of a loved one is to stain their memory forever, at least when the target of vengeance did not intend harm.

But what is the price that a person should be willing to pay? For Sayid, he has lost potential love and happiness in the name of preventing wrongful vengeance. He didn’t want to believe that a plane crash could render the sacrifice of his friend, the stain of betrayal, utterly moot. He was willing to torture Sawyer, but how much of that was self-loathing over that recent betrayal? The fact that he does not torture Locke, despite not trusting him and wanting answers, speaks to his growth. He understands that Locke might have a deeper understanding of what people need to do to survive, physically and spiritually, but he’s intelligent enough to suspect that Locke may be claiming to honor a “greater good” that might not exist.

Sayid could not let Shannon kill Locke, and thus he loses Shannon’s trust and love in the process. But he has also made the choice not to let his love for a woman dictate his morality. If he had been solely concerned with his relationship to Shannon, as he was with his potential relationship to Nadia, he would have killed Locke for her (or at least let her kill Locke herself). Sayid acts instead out of his understanding of “the greater good” for the other survivors. In that respect, ironically enough, he’s doing exactly what Locke always claims to be doing.

Jack spends most of this episode recovering from his attempt to save Boone, physically and emotionally, and as a result, it demonstrates to the rest of the survivors what can happen if he gives in to his personal flaws. By extending himself too far, he left himself vulnerable when the survivors needed a strong leader. More than that, but the safety of the survivors is now suspect, because Jack allowed Shannon to get her hands on the weapons cache. One has to wonder if anyone in the camp is questioning Jack’s role as de facto sheriff.

Kate needs to explain how it is that Shannon got her hands on that key when she was supposedly keeping watch over Jack the entire time he was sleeping. (It’s also worth asking how she knew what dosage of sleeping pills to give Jack, since he could have reacted very badly to a normal dose given his lack of blood and dehydrated state.) It’s unlikely that she gave Shannon the key herself, based on her reaction, but was she really by his side the entire time? Beyond that, she definitely cares for Jack, because while everyone else was advising rest, she was the only one willing to force him into it.

It would have been expected for Sawyer to involve himself in any situation where Jack is at his weakest and there’s an opportunity at hand, but the writers wisely divert him into different territory. The implication is that his focus is on staying close to the raft, so he can be ready to go whenever it sets sail. The concerns of those remaining behind are no longer his business. One would expect him to be far more present when the decisions are made about the raft’s occupants in the next episode. (Both Kate and Sawyer ought to see their character development come to a head as that plot element comes to fruition, since the main thrust of their character evolution has been a resistance to redemption.)

For now, though, Sawyer gets to provide some much needed comic relief, as the one person with the voice that helps Charlie keep Claire’s baby happy. As any parent knows, most babies seem to latch on to one person’s voice as a point of fascination, and a lot of the time, it’s not one of the parents, oddly enough. Charlie finds a solution to the problem of Claire’s health and the baby’s agitation with his usual force of will. It’s almost as if he was intent on showing Claire how much she means to him by making damn sure that baby was happy! But with the prominent mentions of the heroin from that plane, the writers seem to be hinting that he could be tempted back into addiction.

Shannon’s reaction to Locke is understandable, though it’s hard to tell how she’s going to progress from here. Certainly her relationship with Sayid is all but over, but that relationship was key to her own redemption. Without Boone, however, she can hardly regress, so she could be quite the wild card. Then again, she was defined by her past relationships with men; perhaps the key to her redemption is finding a way to survive on her own, without attaching herself to a man in the process.

Like Sawyer’s story, everyone related to the raft (Michael, Walt, and Jin) gets minimal screen time. Sun’s absence is telling, however, because it suggests that she doesn’t trust Jack quite as much as she used to. Locke, on the other hand, continues to be the character around which everyone else orbits. Locke knows Sayid is a master interrogator, and yet he still has the balls to lie and think he’s getting away with it. As convinced as he was that his visions of “the greater good” were true, Locke’s moment of self-doubt leading to Boone’s death seems short-lived. Now that his secrets are slowly being revealed, it would be unfortunate if his experience with the “monster” remained unexplained.

It wouldn’t be “Lost” without ongoing reconsideration of information, and with all the repeats of Boone’s scene with the radio, something has come to light. When Boone mentions that he’s one of the survivors of Oceanic 815, it initially sounds as if the reply states, “there were no survivors”. But it’s also possible to interpret the reply as, “we’re the survivors”. Taken by itself, that’s hard to reconcile. However, there’s also Rose, who held the firm belief that her husband was alive, since the tail section of the plane was never found. What if Boone picked up a transmission from another group of survivors from Oceanic 815?

If that’s possible, then one can make an interesting prediction regarding the cliffhanger for this first season. Apparently the raft is going to set sail, but chances are, something will go wrong. Could the occupants of the raft end up on another (part of the) island, where the other survivors have been struggling to survive for just as long? That would be a stunning revelation, especially if those survivors were also linked to Black Rock and/or Ethan. It would be a major plot twist, especially since the symbolism of the white/black stones (two camps of survivors with two very different agendas) could finally be addressed.

Whatever the case, this episode was a powerful and logical exploration of Sayid’s psychology, and even if only a handful of minor mysteries were resolved, that’s entirely the point of the episode. It wasn’t meant to be anything more. There’s every reason to believe that the writers have every intention of resolving the dangling plot threads; the real question is whether or not the audience will remain large enough to keep the series on the air long enough. One thing is very clear: had the writers been forced to answer all the questions by the end of the season, none of the depth of character development like found in this episode would have been possible.


Final Analysis

Overall, this episode did much to flesh out Sayid’s history and psychology. The writers drew a neatly complicated parallel between Sayid’s activities before the crash and the current situation, leading him closer to a sense of personal redemption. Events are certainly converging as secrets are laid bare, but it’s also clear that some mysteries are best left to deepen before they are resolved.

Writing: 2/2
Acting: 2/2
Direction: 2/2
Style: 2/4

Final Rating: 8/10

Season Average (as of 1.21): 8.0