Anyone who’s ever been a teenager knows that those years are full of awkward changes, and not just in a “Peter on The Brady Bunch” way. You’re starting to become an adult, but you’re not there yet. Your relationship with your family starts to warp dramatically. You have a really tough time figuring out what you do and don’t want.

Some of us have even more drastic changes that we go through. In Bait and Switch, our protagonist Fenton Cobbler has to cope with the fact that he’s turning into a cartoon fox.

This isn’t your typical furry book set in a world populated by animal-human hybrids; instead, this is a world where humans live alongside actual cartoons (picture Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and you have exactly the right idea). The twist: the whole toon thing is a fairly recent development, and the toons themselves don’t just spring out of nowhere—regular people turn into them.

The whole toon thing is the story’s obvious LGBT parallel (and admittedly so). A few years back, Fenton’s best friend Benny turned into a cartoon rabbit, and while the rest of their crowd all turned their backs on him, he and Fenton are still good friends. There’s the worry, of course, that continuing to hang around with Benny will cause him to turn into a toon, as well, leading into the societal debate as to whether becoming a toon is something that’s an innate part of you, or just a choice that you make.

To further complicate things, Fenton’s father is spearheading the anti-toon movement. A whole lot of people are riled up by toons flaunting their antics in public (and, much like the real world anti-gay movement, most of the reasons they cite are unfounded B.S.), whereas other people find the whole toon thing charming and harmless. There’s even a subculture of people called “painters,” who paint themselves up to look like cartoons and hang with the toon crowd, resulting in something that’s equal part fursuiter and fag-hag.

The story itself is fairly straightforward coming-out material: Fenton in slowly becoming a fox, he’s in denial about how much he truly wants it, and he’s afraid of disappointing his anti-toon father. A small number of friends try to convince him to just give in and be himself, while the rest adopt an attitude of, “It’s cool if you are, but it still weirds me out.” Also, a close family friend runs a program that attempts to “Realize” toons back into humans, though the results are less than reassuring.

For the most part, the whole “toon” thing works pretty well from a narrative standpoint, though the analogy isn’t a perfect one, and the way it fits in with the setting isn’t completely flawless. Even as far as a third of the way into the book, the details on how Toon and Real interact are still subject to further explanation, and in the end, it’s still not completely clear if the toon world exists alongside the real world, or in its own pocket dimension, or possibly both. It is pretty fun, however, and it’s clear that the author has a lot of passion for “old-fashioned” cartooning, which isn’t something that you see much anymore.

Perhaps the most glaring thing is the way that toon antics are handled. The book makes it blatantly clear that toon-style “gags” are both their equivalent and substitute for sex. Sometimes it’s played off innocently, but even the characters still maintain that that’s what it is. This leads to the occasional disconnect, such as in one scene where two toons force each other to (harmlessly) swallow grenades in the living room in front of their human friend, and are then completely surprised by his shocked and disgusted reaction at their having effectively having had sex right in front of him, after it’s already been established that that’s basically what they just did. Also, the main point raised by the anti-toon brigade isn’t that they want to ban toons altogether, just that they don’t want them to be performing gags in public—I still can’t tell if that’s an unflattering portrayal of gay pride, or a brilliant bit of social satire about homophobic fears.

(Also, for some reason, whenever an example of a gag is brought up, nine times out of ten, it involves grenades, which makes me wonder if there are people with a grenade fetish out there.)

Still, in the end, the narrative is a solid one, and the logical inconsistencies that are bound to arise from such a fantastical premise don’t detract much from a pretty poignant story. In particular, the resolution of the main plot is quite satisfying in its non-cheesiness. Folks looking for a unique take on a coming-out story could do worse than to pick up Bait and Switch, especially anyone who might currently be dealing with sexuality or gender-identity issues in their own life.

Even by themselves, the terms “amateur,” “adult,” and “furry” can all give one pause when it comes to fiction; when all three apply to the same work, there can be even more reason for hesitation. Still, when it’s only a mere ten bucks to see whether someone’s debut novella is any good, it can be worth it to gamble from time to time, and in this case, for the most part, that gamble has paid off.

Basecraft Cirrostratus tells the story of Elor Kaya, an esteemed professor who is wanted for sedition and indoctrination against a totalitarian regime. Fleeing the country with the secret police hot on his tail, he escapes into self-imposed exile aboard the titular Basecraft Cirrostratus, a massive flying machine that operates in international airspace. Once there, he seeks out the only connection he has left: Vinz, his ex-lover from a decade prior.

Problem is, Vinz doesn’t want anything to do with Elor anymore, having moved on both personally as well as romantically. Instead, Elor is forced to turn to the organized crime syndicate that acts as the true power within the decks of the Basecraft Cirrostratus, which, as it turns out, is home to many a political refugee aside from Elor.

The plot itself is actually quite solid and very breezy. The pacing is good, with events never dragging and the story never going off the rails. Lamar clearly has a good handle on the setting, and the political backdrop and behind-the-scenes machinations play very well into the events of the book as they unfold. Things get a little heavy-handed at some points, but only very occasionally, and it’s never bad enough to induce eye-rolling. The ending lacks some emotional punch simply because the emotional framework didn’t have time to develop thoroughly enough during the course of the plot, but the plot itself does have an arc (as do the characters, to be fair). On two notable instances, dumb luck sees things through where it would have been preferable to have direct action on the characters’ part, but for the most part, the plot itself stays together fairly well.

When it comes to amateur writers, one of the biggest pitfalls one usually comes across is the author belaboring points too much, or taking too long to say what needs to be said. Here, though, I had the opposite problem: much of the time, I wanted the author to slow down and take some more time to build on things, especially as they related to the characters and their relationships. For example, there’s a love triangle that serves as an emotional focus for much of the story; I definitely bought into one of the relationships, but not the other—we’re told that they’re in love, but it never really comes across on the page. A bit of a textbook example for the caution of “show, don’t tell,” which might have been avoided if more time were taken to develop things.

This is also an adult story, with the erotic aspects being entirely male/male. Sex, though, happens on page as something that’s important between the characters, and (with one marked exception near the very end) it’s never gratuitous, and it serves itself as part of the story and not a goal of it. Most of the sex scenes are actually pretty tasteful, and, like much of the rest of the book, never slow things down at the expense of the plot.

The best thing I can say about the book is that it’s very cinematic. With the right special effects (and maybe a little less on-screen sex), this would actually make a fairly decent action thriller flick, the kind you watch with a big tub of popcorn without needing the story to shatter and rewrite your world.

In the end, Basecraft Cirrostratus bears some hallmarks of amateur writing, but when taken as a whole, it does more things right than it does wrong. It’s good—not great, but certainly not bad, and Lamar certainly shows promise for future offerings. If it were maybe half again as long, with some more time spent making some of the character relationships a little more believable, and if the point of view were a bit tighter (it gets kind of loose in some points), Basecraft Cirrostratus could have been better. Still, as-is, if you’re the kind of person looking for a dieselpunk action thriller and don’t mind some gay sex and relationship drama thrown in along the way, you could do worse than check this book out.

Rikoshi
Toy Story 3 tries to do something pretty brave: it attempts to age in real time, with as much time passing in-universe since the previous film as has passed in real life. Something similar was tried with the Harry Potter books, but while that mostly resulted in the books getting overlong and less well edited, with Toy Story 3, it actually succeeds. The result: a movie that’s good for kids, yet which is also very enjoyable for adults (whether they brought kids to see it or not).

All around, the voice performances are up to snuff. Newcomer Ned Beatty does a good job as a sympathetic-yet-not antagonist, and Timothy Dalton is particularly hilarious in his bit role as a stuffed hedgehog thespian (in lederhosen). On the whole, the humor is pretty fresh, and the movie only very sparingly looks to its previous installments to make its gags.

The core themes of the movie are actually very existential, focusing mainly on finding a purpose in life after one has lost it. While that sounds like something out of some pretentious literary novel, here it’s presented in the simplest and most relatable of terms: what good is a toy if nobody plays with it? This bleeds over into sub-themes, such as what it means to be loved, and how to let go of the past, but the movie is never a bleak and joyless look at these things—it remains a fun and active not-just-kid’s movie, but an intelligent one, one with depth.

There’s a real sense of closure to the trilogy, here, and the ending is legitimately heartfelt. My only honest complaint was with the 3D; after the (excellent) “Day & Night” short, I never noticed the 3D at all during the movie itself.

Lovejoy
I wasn’t really excited about Toy Story 3 prior to its release, but I trust Pixar enough to see the film without question, and my loyalty paid off.

It sounds super cheesy, but it’s nice to see old friends again. The first Toy Story came out when I was 10 years old, and was a large part of my childhood, so I have some major nostalgia for it. So it’s really cool to see the third film treated so well, and given the proper sendoff it deserves.

The writing is an amazingly well balanced mix. It’s part family comedy, part prison escape adventure, and part emotional journey about moving on. But in addition to that, Toy Story 3 is well balanced as a film that stands alone, and as a final chapter in a fantastic trilogy.

In the past Pixar has felt a little in your face with the emotions (in particular Wall-E and Up), but everything comes off as heartfelt and genuine here. These aren’t just Andy’s toys, they’re the writer’s toys, the director’s toys, our toys.

On top of everything I really enjoyed the new additions to the cast. Emily Hahn as the triceratops Bonnie and Michael Keaton as the way-past-metrosexual Ken doll give the film a much more modern and hilarious vibe.

Let’s address one of the big points that I’m sure a lot of people have thought at some point: did the creators of Lost have all of this planned from the beginning?  Given how TV series are produced, I’m guessing the answer is ‘probably not,’ but if nothing else, I’d believe that they had the general arc for the last three seasons in mind when they started Season Four.  Heck, I’m even willing to believe that they had some ideas for potential conclusions even earlier.

That all being the case, I personally like the way the series wrapped up.  There are still some questions left, yes, but that was always going to be the case.  The important things are resolved, though, more so than a lot of fans will probably give credit for.

Really, despite how complicated the story for Lost got at some points, the finale wraps the big points up fairly succinctly, when it comes down to it.

• The Man in Black is defeated, preventing his escape into the outside world.
• A replacement for Jacob is found to continue to protect the Island.
• As many castaways as possible finally make their escape.

And really, that’s the main thrust of what had been going on for so long.  At this point, wondering things like, “What exactly do the different numbers mean?” and “What exactly is the Smoke Monster?” and  “Why is Miles’ last name Straume instead of Chang?” isn’t really anything to be concerned with.

One major thing they admittedly don’t answer is: What does the Island do?  And honestly, I’m kind of glad they left that as-is.   We know what we need to know: the Island is a source of some incredible power, one that we have seen people are willing to fight over (from Mother versus the Man in Black, to Jacob and his brother, the DHARMA Initiative, and Charles Widmore).  We also get enough of a sense that, yes, it’s a special place that needs protecting in the name of Good versus Evil.  Trying to exploit it ends badly.  Trying to control it ends badly.  Even Jacob, with his game and his rules, is revealed to be petty and petulant in what he was doing with it, using his power for selfish reasons.

It’s a very simple line from Ben to Hurley, about how maybe Hurley could do things a little differently, that really sets it off.  It leaves a real impression that the Island could finally be the wonderful place it should if someone benevolent and unselfish were in charge, which is something the Island has probably never seen.

So yes, from a narrative standpoint, I feel that the saga of the Island is resolved nicely.  The good guys make sacrifices, the bad guy loses, and the world is probably going to be a slightly better place.

The other core matter at the heart of Lost was (and always was) the characters, their lives, and their respective issues and crises, and the way that the flash-sideways storyline handled all that was beautiful.

Let’s look at Jack as the prime example: he was the Man of Science to Locke’s Man of Faith.  In the end, it was faith that enabled Jack to save the day and rescue his friends.  It was something he died for, and it was something Locke himself had already died for.  But we know that Jack never got a chance to tell Locke that he was sorry, that Locke was right, and that things could have been better between them.

And so there’s this purgatory where they get to reconcile.  Jack literally gets to patch things up between Locke and himself.  This is something that would have probably haunted Jack for the rest of his life, had he survived, and it was something so strong that, even in death, he had to put it aside before moving on.

We get a lot of that in the flash-sideways.  People finally getting to forgive each other.  People who were robbed of the chance to be together getting to be together.  Old wounds and grievances, finally patched up.

And you know what?  These characters deserved that.  Their experiences on the Island made it a sort of figurative “living purgatory” unto itself.   Jacob brought them there because they were flawed people with issues, and they either worked those out in a trial by fire, or they died trying.  In the case of Ben, arguably the biggest sinner of them all, he’s forced to stay in that purgatory, willing to strive for redemption but knowing that it will take time and effort to repent.

That’s why it’s so important that we had to have characters escape the Island, as well.  You have characters like Sawyer and Kate who finally did get over the issues they had in life, and could now move on to live the rest.  You have Richard, who for centuries punished himself, finally deciding that he wanted a life, and who now gets one.  And you have people like Frank, who never wanted anything to do with the Island and who will probably never look back, good riddance.

(Speaking of which, I so totally called Lapidus surviving the submarine bombing so that he could fly everyone to safety on the Ajira plane.  You’re welcome.)

There are a lot of things about the finale, and the series as a whole, that are pretty overt and blatant and even anvilicious (as Kate herself points out, “‘Christian Shephard?’  Really?”).  But the real thematic gems are the more subtle ones, things like the aforementioned simple comment from Ben to Hurley about being able to do things a better way, things like Richard’s self-absolution, things like Jack becoming the literal embodiment of the show’s maxim, “live together, die alone.”

I can see a lot of people being very unsatisfied with the finale.  I can see folks watching it and thinking that the whole show just boils down to some inane spiritual allegory, but I think those people are missing the point on several different levels.  First off, the spiritual closure that the characters get is addressed only by part of the story of the show’s final season; nothing in it negates the very real things that the characters go through in life, or the story of anything that happens on the Island.  Also, saying that the show “didn’t answer anything” indicates more of a fixation on the minor mysteries than the major ones.  A lot goes unsaid and unstated, sure, but it’s all there, and it’s not necessarily hidden, as it relates to the show’s core mythology: the Source is something beyond human understanding, something very precious that needs protection, and now it’s going to get that.

All in all, then, how does it all feel now that it’s done?  How do I rate the series and the finale?

Honestly, I’m very pleased.  I enjoyed the show thoroughly, with my only real complaints being the slow love-triangle bits back in Season Three.  I’ve otherwise really enjoyed all of it, and I never felt like I was just being jerked around.  I was engaged with the story, I was engaged with the characters, and I like how they told the tale they had.

A lot of people are already saying that, now that Lost is over, it’s just going to be another irrelevant TV show that aired at some point.  I could not disagree more.  Whether you watched it or didn’t, whether you loved it or hated it, you can’t deny that Lost was a landmark series that did things no other TV series did before, that had a major impact on television even before its run was finished, that was a cultural phenomenon.  People will be talking about this show for years: fans, critics, writers and more.

I said at one point that I thought the show would end with Lapidus and Miles making a daring and awesome helicopter escape.  I just had the mode of transportation wrong.

Once again I need to congratulate the decision for the first half of Season Six to focus on small groups of people at a time in setting up the elements of the endgame.  There was a lot of deliberate precision and focus put on each piece, strengthening things in the viewers’ mind so that everything would stick and not get lost or jumbled.  Now that the pieces are in place, though, after a little backstory, they show is able to set everything in motion at once, and we’re all the more able to follow it now, despite the complexities that still remain.

Last week’s episode, “Across the Sea,” shows just how important it is, in retrospect, in that it explains a lot of how a lot of the elements of the show’s mythology are going to work as the resolution comes.  We see that Jacob has powers, yes, but that he was once a normal man, just like Jack, his new inheritor.  Likewise, the origins of the Man in Black, while still clouded in some mystery, at least show us and reinforce that he too was once human, and while he may be evil now (and while we may hate him for killing characters that we’ve grown to know and love), he’s not just mindlessly malevolent, and he too once had human reasons that have since faded over the centuries.  Neither of these people were inherently supernatural beings; that aspect of them is something that was granted to them later in life.

And that means there’s a whole lot of potential brewing for everyone who’s still on the Island.

After what feels like far too long, we finally get to see Benjamin Linus and his crew again.  An otherwise very serious episode gets some helpful levity from both Ben and Miles, but things never get silly; the tone remains solemn throughout, certainly in the original timeline.  It feels like we have characters that are finally being pushed to the very edge, and there’s some good drama that comes out of that.

I am a bit surprised that Widmore didn’t live to make it to the finale.  Not so much with Zoe.  Both deaths, however, had a narrative elegance to them, with the Man in Black offing Zoe with casual disregard to call out Widmore’s bravado, and Ben’s absolutely chilling declaration that Widmore “doesn’t get to save his daughter.”  I had thought that Widmore would be the last big wild card in the final battle between Jacob and the Man in Black, but it looks like that role rests with Desmond now.

Really, Desmond is the wild card in both universes, at this point.  In the flash-sideways timeline, he’s almost like a prophet, acting on divine inspiration to do… well, something.  Everyone from that universe is all converging on the same spot now, however, so whatever it is, it’s sure going to be big.

The part of me that loves fanservice was delighted to see Rousseau appear again, even if it was just a quick and minor role (though the scene between her and flash-sideways Dr. Linus, where the latter begins to cry, was quite touching).  To a lesser extent, seeing Ana Lucia again was fun, too (she always was my favorite bitch), especially in regards to her interaction with Hurley.  Desmond’s remark that she’s not ready “yet” makes me wonder if she’ll not be back in the finale, too.  Also, with all of the other reveals being what they are, I’ve got my fingers crossed (and should probably put down $20 or so) on David Shephard’s mother being Juliet.

In retrospect, there are a lot of subtle things about the episode that I really liked.  Jacob’s line to Kate about her name being crossed off the list just being a line of chalk in a cave grounds things slightly more in reality (as opposed to immutable cosmic forces), and adds to Jacob’s fallibility as demonstrated last week.  Jacob also refers to the Man in Black exclusively as a “monster” when talking about him to the candidates.  The nature of Jack and Locke’s argument about fate versus coincidence in the flash-sideways timeline has very strong echoes of their opposition in the original timeline, but it’s polite and civil and comes to an agreeable conclusion.  Hurley’s “reluctant leader” position finally shows how reluctant it truly is when he states outright that he doesn’t want to take over for Jacob.

Questions of fate on a smaller scale still exist.  Is Richard still alive after being attacked by the Monster? (Probably.)  Is Lapidus still alive? (Yes.) Will Miles get his hilarious-yet-cowardly ass killed this Sunday? (Sadly, probably so.)

And the big question is: will the finale wrap everything up satisfactorily?  I’m leaning towards yes.  I’m sure there’ll be some unanswered questions, sure, but on the whole, it feels like, since Season Four, the show’s known what it’s been building towards, and after this week’s episode, it feels like we’re ready for a finale.  Actually, I’m anticipating the show doing something ballsy with its final resolution, akin to the finale of Life on Mars (the U.K. version, mind, not the rubbish finale they had for the U.S. version).

Either way, I’ll be there, and unless they cock up the last two and a half hours something fierce, I think I’ll be able to look back on most of Lost with happy and fond memories.

First, I’ll admit it: Jacob and the Man in Black being brothers is probably the most obvious thing ever, and I totally did not see it coming at all.  They say the best kind of plot twist is one where you look back afterwards and think, “Yeah, I should have known that all along.”  Or maybe I’m just slow.

The addition of Mother to the Lost core mythology provides some interesting questions.  Who is she?  Where did she come from?  Is she some kind of supernatural being?  Was she the Smoke Monster before the Man in Black inherited that mantle (how did she destroy the entire village, eh)?  What’s the deal with “the Source” and what does it mean that it got nuked into oblivion in the flash-sideways timeline?  Despite coming in late in the game, these are all fundamental questions for the show on the whole, and I’m betting that the majority of them will be answered before the end, actually.

There are some interesting parallels between the relationship between Jacob and Mother and the relationship between Ben and Jacob.  There’s a certain petulance in both cases, a kind of despair at the, “Why do you need me to do this and why don’t I get a say in it?” that they share in common.  That casts the rules—and the very nature—of Jacob’s game further down the line into question.

Also, after the previous episode pretty much definitively vilified the Man in Black for us, this one portrays him much more sympathetically.  Granted, this is the Man in Black when he was, well, a man, and before his own ambitions and ends turned him into whatever he is now, so maybe that’s okay.  I just hope we get a name for him at some point.  For some reason, that’s one of the big things I really want to get closure on (that, and who did Juliet shoot on the boat back when peeps were time-skipping?).

All in all, I think that this episode added a lot of texture to the conflict between Jacob and the Man in Black, and it did a lot to humanize both of them.  It’s comforting to know that they were both born human, even if they were raised in really awkward circumstances by a woman who didn’t even let them know that there existed people beyond the three of them.  That’s gotta mess someone up.

In the end, the game does come down to what happens between Jacob and the Man in Black, and what Widmore can do to foul things up while the Oceanic survivors (including Frank) get their last licks in.

I predict awesomeness.

Now, let’s break form and get right to talking about the end of this episode, because that’s what’s on everyone’s mind.  Given the structure and pacing of the season so far, I was expecting an important character to die this week.  I was not expecting three (possibly four) to die.  It was rough and brutal, it was sad and heartbreaking, and it did two very important things: it raised the stakes for the viewer, and it finally drew the line in the sand that the Man in Black is evil, evil, evil.  Heck, he’s Evil with a capital E.

“It makes Hurley cry” can probably be used as a new litmus test.

After taking years to finally reunite, Desmond and Penny got their happy ending (albeit temporarily).  Jin and Sun, also apart for years, finally reunite as well, but their happiness is cut tragically short.  This was like Juliet all over again, times two, with a dash of worse thrown in as well.  It was a legitimately sad ending for two very likable characters who had gone through such hardships to be with each other again, and it was handled beautifully.

As quick and sudden as it was, I think Sayid’s death was handled well, too.  Martyrdom was pretty much the only logical way for his character arc to end, and given the tension going on with the episode, it felt very fitting that, in the midst of Jack and Sawyer’s rivalry and bickering, someone else would need to make the snap decision to save the day.  Or, well, to salvage what could possibly be salvaged of the worst day ever.  Also: “It’s going to be you, Jack.”  Excellent and ominous last words.

Lapidus is still unaccounted for.  But hey, Jin survived an exploding freighter, so I think Lapidus can survive a bulkhead to the face.  But I’ll get more into my theory on that later.

There was a lot of action in this episode, especially in the final scenes.  If I have one complaint, it’s that Kate seemed like she got shot pretty bad, and then didn’t even get any first aid, but in the aftermath of everyone else dying, her gunshot wound got turned almost instantly into an afterthought.  Don’t get me wrong; I’m all about not overloading the audience with tension, but her actually getting shot and the moments after were done so well that I thought that was going to be the episode’s main “Oh Shit!” moment.  You’d think that escaping from a sinking submarine and having to share oxygen with someone while getting inundated with seawater would make things worse after getting shot in the torso.

Honestly, though, that’s little more than a nitpick.  Just about everything else about this episode put it on par with Season Finale quality drama and suspense.  There were some awesome character moments, especially from Jack, Sawyer, and the Man in Black (I’m glad to see, in this episode especially, Terry O’Quinn’s diverging take on both the Man and Black and John Locke).

Over in flash-sideways land, Jack is still in his literal “I want to fix people” state that he was stuck in before, pretty much up to the point when he got Juliet killed.  This is Classic Jack at his refreshed peak, and the juxtaposition between him and Locke in the old days of the original timeline (as well as him and Not!Locke in the original timeline) is actually kind of poetic.

Of course, now the characters in the flash-sideways timeline are starting to see and recognize all the weird life-altering coincidences surrounding Oceanic 815.  What does all that portend in a universe without the Island?  Hard to say, but clearly it’s going to mean something.

And speaking of things with greater meaning, this is why I don’t think Frank Lapidus is dead: with Widmore’s submarine well and sunk, the only real way for the characters to escape the Island is the Ajira plane.  I expect we’ll see Mr. Lapidus rising from the briny deep to save our castaways sooner than you can say, “Screw you, Man in Black, for killing off half the main cast, you dick.”

I’ve really been very pleased (as I’ve said in earlier reviews) with Season Six’s episodic focus on very narrow segments of a sprawling and complex story.  It made arc development a bit slow, but I think the trade-off was certainly worth it (especially if it meant not confusing the hell out of everyone who was watching).  With the painstaking setup done, it’s now time to tip something and let the whole row of dominoes fall.

There are actually quite a lot of long-term payoffs that come in this episode, some of which have been building for the course of the whole series.  We get confirmation that the Man in Black was, in fact, the one masquerading as Christian Shephard.  Jack and Claire have an awkward family reunion.  Jin and Sun finally reunite after three years (even if Lapidus’ little comment kind of ruins the moment; seriously, who let that past editing?).  For many of these characters, it’s clear that they’re not going to get another break between now and the end of the show’s run.

Flash-sideways Desmond continues to be delightfully creepy.  His scene with Claire bordered on terrifying, even though it turned out, in the end, that he was being legit.  I want to know what his plan is, how much he knows, and what he hopes to do with his knowledge.  I mean, sure, I know of plenty of people who would cheerfully run over John Locke while wearing a smile on their face, but there’s something up there.

Ilana appears for the first time in the flash-sideways timeline, right on the heels of her death in the other timeline.  I noticed that Zuleikha Robinson is still part of the main cast, so presumably the show isn’t just “done with her” like the previous episode might have made it seem.  Her buildup has always seemed way too deliberate to me, and I can’t imagine that they’d get this far without something planned for her, so I’m expecting the show to still answer the unknowns about her. Heck, even the fact that she speaks with a different accent in the new timeline is kind of telling, just by virtue of being weird.

The portions of this episode surrounding Jake, Kate, and Sawyer planning in secret against “Locke” felt a lot like “classic” LOST, and in a good way.  We had multiple opportunities for Kate do to that thing where she somehow ruins everything, but she didn’t, and that was nice (same can be said for Claire, really).  Of course, the tension in the ranks finally does break when it comes to Jack vs. Sawyer, again, but at least Sawyer’s able to keep Kate from throwing a hissy-fit about it.  And now Jack is stuck with the Man in Black, which I’m sure won’t lead to anything dire and terrible.

I’m waiting to see what else in the way of epic badassery Zoe can pull off before she dies.  It’s only a matter of time, now, before someone kills her, but she’s got that cool, kick-assedness to her that makes her fun to watch, and I hope we get to see her do a few more cool things before her fuse runs out.

The flash-sideways timeline itself feels like it’s reaching some ultimate purpose and culmination, as well.  When Sun freaked out upon seeing Locke while on the stretcher, I initially thought that perhaps the two Suns had had their consciousnesses switched, but then I remembered that the Sun in the original timeline is still very clearly “that” Sun, so that busted that theory.  The “walls” between the two realities are definitely breaking down, though, and it’s still mostly a one-way deal.  And really, as much as stuff kind of sucks in the flash-sideways timeline, in a lot of ways, it sort of feels like the best of all possible worlds.

Also, I’m still totally waiting for the reveal that Juliet is David Shephard’s mother.

One of the things that fans had been wondering for years was whether or not Cynthia Watros would ever return to reprise her role as Libby and tie up one of the show’s major unresolved plot points.  Sure, she had a brief reappearance as an apparition to Michael back in Season Four, but that hardly counted.  We wanted to know what was up with Libby and Hurley, and now we finally got that.

What I don’t think anyone was expecting, though, was that the show would find a way to make this reconnection so integral to one of the larger plot points of the show—namely, the mystery behind the connection between the flash-sideways timeline and the original one.

Libby’s semi-delusion reunion with a despondent Hurley in the restaurant was a great scene, including a special sort of awkwardness that was simultaneously endearing and uncomfortable—both things that really made the moment work, for the viewer.  It’s probably a bit of storyline that doesn’t work if you’re a newer viewer to the show, but then, if you’re watching the final season without seeing the build-up, you’re probably missing out on a lot more, anyway.

As far as the episode itself goes, though, rather than risk a single plotline that hinges solely on having seen other episodes from years ago, this time, we’re given an episode that has a lot more subplots than the typical Season Six episode has had.  Pretty much every character group was touched up on, and some major events have gone up.

For one, out of nowhere, Ilana got blown the fuck up.  Like, out of nowhere.  I don’t think the show has startled me like that in a long, long time.  I mean, okay, I was expecting Ilana to die eventually, and probably suddenly, but not now, and not by getting Arzt’d.  In fact, it’s so shocking that it’s almost hard to process it on any other emotional level.  We also didn’t know Ilana well, but that just kind of adds to the shock, because the viewers were expecting to know her more, and now she’s just gone in an instant, and that’s how you pull off an effective shock moment.

Though okay, I’ll admit that Jack’s line after the fact was pretty amazing: “Maybe she died to show us to stay the hell away from dynamite.”  Oh, Jack.  When did you grow a kernel of common sense?

Speaking of common sense, Frank Lapidus remains one of the most grounded people on the Island.  He’s totally had enough of all of this bullshit, and he doesn’t even care about the greater meaning of it; he just wants off, and you know, I can’t really blame him.  Hell, he’s at the point where he doesn’t even need to say anything to convey how fed up he is.  That’s hardcore.

Richard has become an emotional wreck.  The loss of Jacob has really done a number on him, and the Island’s current “activities” seem to have done a number on driving off his remaining faith (for lack of a better term).  And of all people to be his Number Two, Benjamin Linus?  They are all so dead.

So, a lot of stuff blows up (literally and figuratively, and also Ilana).  Groups schism further, and while agendas are getting more clear, the ultimate result of any one group’s actions is still clouded.  Also, I think some bitch-fights are about to break out, but possibly the good kind.  And by “good” I mean “entertaining to watch.”

But yes, Hurley and Libby discover, at Desmond’s secret urgings, that the emotional bonds between people do span the two universes.  The ramifications of this aren’t yet fully clear, but it’s at least been demonstrated that people can tell who they were in the previous universe—and I say “were” and “previous” because there has only been an indication that the “new” universe is aware of the older one, but not vice-versa.

How does this all play back into the Island, and the struggle with the Man in Black, if it does at all?  It’s going somewhere, and it’s starting to go there faster.

At the very end, we get another moment that rivals Ilana’s sudden death: Desmond, after successfully showing the “truth” to Libby and Hurley, tracks down the crippled John Locke and runs him the fuck over.  Like, with an entire car.  With Locke in a wheelchair.  It’s hard to say whether I felt schadenfreude or not.

The flash-sideways Desmond does seem to have rather ambiguous motives.  Why do something positive for Libby and Hurley and then something vicious to Locke?  Is it part of his larger scheme?  Or does Desmond know that other-universe Locke threw him down a fucking well and now he just wants simple revenge?

One thing’s for sure: having the terrifying Willy Wonka tunnel scene as the promo for the next episode?  Fuck.

After being gone almost all season, Desmond finally wakes up on the Island.  Upon realizing where he is, the first thing he tries to do is beat Widmore to death with whatever happens to be handy (in this case, his own IV stand).  Desmond is soon restrained after that brief bout of epic fan-service, and then Zoe, the lovechild of Liz Lemon and President Roslin, is ordered by Widmore to power up the latest of the show’s freaky experiments, because apparently, Desmond is either a badass or a freak who can survive massive electromagnetic events.  Oh, and somewhere in there, a redshirt gets horribly killed due to professional negligence.   Team morale among Widmore’s crew can’t possibly be very high about now.

Desmond is zapped with the big ol’ DHARMA-magnet, as is his lot in life, and his brain gets sent across the dimensional barrier to his new life as Widmore’s right-hand man and BFF.  This show pulls a lot of freaky shit, but few things freaked me out more than seeing Widmore and Desmond laugh and smile and hug each other.  Damn, that flash-sideways world really is topsy-turvy!  Hell, Desmond even finally gets to try some of the 60-year MacCutcheon, which officially means I will be forever jealous of him.

The main narrative is actually remarkably straightforward, though still very Lost-ish.  The entire episode, barring the bookends, takes place in a single, contiguous story within the new universe, not unlike Richard’s episode-spanning flashback in “Ab Aeterno” a couple weeks back.  That’s not to say that the story itself doesn’t dig pretty deep into the very fundamental core of the show’s mythology, though, because by the end, something major has definitely happened (even if the viewers aren’t 100% sure what that is, yet).

Charles Widmore and Eloise Hawking are still together, and their marriage seems at least somewhat stable.  One wonders whether they met on the Island in this timeline, or whether they were ever there at all.  Their son, Daniel, has fulfilled his dream of becoming a musician instead of going down the path of a psychicist—but that’s okay, because in a pinch, it seems that his brain in the original universe can still contact him and convey what he knows.

The real trick to contacting the other universe, though, seems to be the near-death experience: both a suicidal Charlie and a drowning Desmond see visions of their other lives—as they relate to Claire and Penny, respectively—when death is on the line.  The electromagnetic goodness of an MRI seems to give Desmond an even fuller, clearer vision, though, and one that drives him understandably loopy as it forces him to confront the happiness he fought so hard to win in the original timeline, compared to his soulless, workaday complacency working for Widmore.

There’s still some ambiguity to what actually triggers the flashes to the original timeline.  Daniel apparently has one just from seeing Charlotte from a distance, but Sawyer and Kate don’t seem affected when they run into each other multiple times, and Jin and Sun seem no worse for the wear (well, on that front; last we see them, they’re both pretty screwed, actually).

It’s upon meeting the flash-sideways version of Penelope in the flesh that things really finally gel together.  Both she and Desmond seem to recognize each other in that weird, indefinable way, and upon touching her, Desmond blacks out and his brain goes back to the Island.  At that point, he cheerfully agrees (or seems to agree) to help Widmore, and Zoe calls bullshit.   Then Sayid shows up, performs some neck-snapping awesomeness, and tells Desmond to follow him, instead—to which also Desmond cheerfully seems to agree.  By this point, Desmond seems to “know” something, and appears keen on acting on it.

Back in the flash-sideways universe, Desmond comes to, sets up a hot, late-night date with Penny, and then asks Minkowski (the best driver in the world) for the Oceanic 815 manifest, because he needs to “show them something.”  Ominous!  He’s like a serial killer, and we, the viewers, already have preemptive Stockholm Syndrome.

The very integrity of the new universe is called into question.  Daniel (still adorable and very much not dead) somehow recognizes that reality, as he knows it, exists mostly just as a side-effect of his having done something else—naming, setting off a nuke (which was really all Juliet, but hey, he gets credit for the idea).  Charlie also makes a statement to the effect of none of “this” mattering, as if he somehow knows that whatever was really supposed to be going on was already doing so someplace else.

Eloise, who already seemed to be acting like a temporal policewoman, appears to have been upgraded to transdimensional policewoman, which is kind of badass and really kind of scary.  If she’s not a member of the Others in the new universe, what is she?   How does she know all this stuff?  Does she exist outside the normal flow of events?

In the end, it’s made pretty clear that the flash-sideways universe has something major going on with itself, and the years-long epic of the original timeline is coming to a head, as well.  Now we just need Lapidus and Miles to get their rocket launchers and their escape helicopter, and I think we’ll be all set.