Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Thursday, January 31, 2008
I openly admit I watch Lost. It came along at a time when (un)reality TV was at it’s peak of raging its war on American intelligence. It was different. Clever. Thought was given to the words in the script. Thought was given to the plot. Obvious thought was given to the characters…the casting…set…the camera angles…the production technique. And even the acting showed signs of actual trained actors with true talent. At the time of its debut those were rare qualities in a television show. Especially on network television.
ABC! ABC for crying out loud! Why I watched it and why I’ve hung in there (even through the abysmal and heavily repeated second season) is as much about supporting the creative effort involved as it is about my interest in the actual show.
And the marketing, o glorious happy day, the marketing. It’s genius. Truly brilliant. Sure, they’re using some of the oldest tricks in the book, but they’re putting their wacky Lost spin on them. Bravo, boys, bravo. Take that and shove up your phony faux reality formulaic formatted musical diarrhea ass, American Idol. One of the things I love about Lost is their “product placement.” They use the gimmick of product placement as clues, but I think, I hope, it’s also a bit of a joke. A wink wink joke about the overbranding so ubiquitous on “reality” television. I could make Orwellian parallels about the societal message behind the Dharma products and their placement shots all over The Island(s). The cult/communistic overtones of the Dharma products (Dharma food, Dharma shampoo, Dharma jumpsuits for the drones…) shown in reality television product placement format could be seen as a warning. It makes us flinch when we see it on Lost, we don’t know who or what this whole Dharma thing is, exactly, but we know it can’t be good. It has serious cult/communism benchmarks. But yet when we see Coca-Cola logo-ed cups strategically placed in front of the judges on American Idol most people don’t flinch. Scarier to me is that a lot of people don’t even “notice” the cups, or that the Coca-Cola logo on all the cups is always, always completely visible. It’s hardly subliminal, but it’s become such a normal and accepted occurrence that a lot of people don’t notice. Which is sad. They’re being accosted with marketing and they’re unaware, at least on a conscious level. Is it subversive? No. But it’s invasive. And it’s expensive. If even a small percentage of the money Coca-Cola has spent on making sure Simon, Randy and even Paula’s liquor spiked cups are front and center were given to charity the world would be a better place. I’d like to teach the world to sing that song. That’s the real thing.
But if I go off all "Lost is deep, socially significant, smart and relevant," that makes me one of Them. The people who spend a lot of time thinking and speculating about the show. The people who spend as much time as they can poring over every detail, freeze framing each second of every episode, and spending time on Lost themed message boards, blogs and chat rooms. You know, Lost geeks.
I’m not one of Them.
I’m just along for the ride. I tune in every week. Well. When possible. I admit, I’ve missed a few episodes, I’m not among the faithful who arrange their social and professional lives around Lost or any other television show for that matter. (Well, except for Flight of the Conchords equally brilliant for entirely different reasons.) I’ve only randomly looked at online forums, and then only because a reader or friend sends me a link to something I might find humorous or interesting. I like the parodies and jokes as much as I love the actual show. (Jim Meddick did a great Monty series, culminating with the Lost island being Gilligan’s Island. I think he was the first to make this joke. If not the first, certainly the best I’ve seen. Sorry, I can't find that particular story thread online. But in general Monty is pretty darned funny.)
And sure, the eye candy for the women is certainly a draw. Finally someone in casting realized nerdy girls like men, too. Sawyer, Desmond, Jin and lately, Sayid, have been “doing it” for me. I’m not hot for Jack or Charlie. Though, I was very sad to see Charlie (presumably) die. I liked his character and I thought Dominic Monaghan did a bang up acting job in making Charlie, the heroine addicted rock star has been desperately wanting a come-back, stupid enough to provide comic relief, smart enough to know he has some redemption to do (read: Liam Gallagher) believable. Shy of actually getting Liam Gallagher to "act" that role, Dominic Monaghan did the best job possible to make Charlie's character ring true. Yes, okay? Yes! It’s a weekly visual feast for us geeky girls whose libidos engage when our brains are tickled. Make us keep up and think about what’s happening on screen and throw in some really good looking men, and, well. It’s must see TV for us lonely single dork girls who can’t find dates or anything better to do with our evenings. And the chicks aren’t bad, either. The same nerd mentality applies to the men in the audience. There’s something for everyone.
I digress. My mind wanders a lot lately. Typically it wanders to men. Pent up frustration and loneliness for $500, please.
Right. So. The long awaited return of Lost is coming up and I’m glad. Not excited, not anxious, not in rapt anticipation, but glad. Glad to have a diversion from my weary life, glad to have an hour of watching a truly creative process. Glad that in spite of the writer’s strike several episodes will offer a respite from the ho hum tediousness and insult of “reality” television. (Seriously, do we really care about Brett Michaels "choosing" a date from a group of skanky women half his age? Really? Wasn't one round of this bad enough? Did we really need Rock of Love II? Haven't we suffered enough?) Do I expect to find out who’s in the coffin? No. Do I care? No. The thing with Lost is that almost everything means something, and eventually it becomes apparent. Tune in next week, or the week after, eventually a hint or clue becomes apparent. We will find out who’s in the coffin. Probably not in the first episode, probably not next week, and probably not even in this season. Does that bother me? No. It does not. Do I spend that time speculating about it? No, not really. Maybe a little when I’m watching the show, but not much of my cognitive time is spent on Lost when it’s not actually playing on the television screen in front of me.
I’m satisfied with the story arc thus far. I’m content knowing I don’t know. They’ve established trust and I feel secure in the knowledge that they’ll let us know when they want us to know. This is careful storytelling. Let ‘em craft their plot on their terms and just sit back and let it unfold in front of us. This is entertainment, after all. Sit back and enjoy the show. Then resume your regularly scheduled life. We’ve been promised the end will in fact come in 2010. (More brilliant planning and marketing.) All will probably not be revealed in the show finale. And I’m okay with that, too. Not all stories are wrapped up in a tidy package in the last chapter. In fact many great stories leave you asking questions, pondering, putting the whole thing together in your own mind, using your own intelligence to sort out what’s meaningful or significant to you.
The writers of The Twilight Zone knew this theory and consequently Twilight Zone stands up to the test of time. We all have a favorite episode. We all come away with our own ideas, wisdom, insight and intrigue from each episode. Why? Because more often then not we're left kind of hanging on the precipice of conclusion. Our intelligence (and sometimes morality) was given enough respect that we were left to sort it out on our own. Presumably we could handle that responsibility.
Life doesn’t get wrapped up in a tidy package. It usually ends abruptly with characters left to sort out their situations and some unanswered questions. So in that sense, Lostis reality television. Thankfully most of us don’t survive horrific plane crashes only to be stranded on a creepy island with a cult of inbred freaks with weapons. (Though there are days my workplace parallels that scenario…minus the eye candy) But we’re all lost in respect to the fact that we don’t know what’s going to happen next. Sure, some of us lead predictable lives, routines and all that, our lives have a formulaic story arc, but all it takes is one deviation from what we expect to happen and blam! we’re as lost as the survivors of Oceanic flight 815.
