McFarlane's Jin Skates Through His Troubles

When I saw that McFarlane would be coming out with a second series of LOST figures in July of last year, I was excited. Though it was a bit of a let-down to discover that series two included only four figures and no diorama, I was still tickled to have the chance to own four terrific characters. One of these was Jin, whose character I’ve grown to like more and more since the beginning of the series, when he didn’t make such a great first impression. He went from distant and domineering to warm and gentle, making it very easy to understand how his wife Sun fell in love with him in the first place. Their relationship has been full of complications, but it’s remained one of the most positive examples on television of a marriage enduring through a variety of pitfalls.

Sun and Jin are so much a part of one another that it almost seems they might have been released as a pair with an extra-large landscape and a scene capturing a moment of tenderness between them. Instead, Sun’s figure is a snapshot of defiance against her husband, while Jin is caught in an instant of extreme distress. On the one hand, his figure is probably the most action-packed of ten that have been released thus far, but it doesn’t seem quite right to immortalize Jin as a man in bondage, restrained not only by the handcuff that remains as a reminder of his unfortunate confrontation with Michael early in the series but, more substantially, by the stick and ropes used by the paranoid survivors of the tail section.

Jin’s head is lowered, but if you look at his face, his mouth is open in a scream of petrified warning, while his cheek bears a bloody scar. There are three small holes in his brown pants, and his off-white shirt is torn and dirty. Jin’s been through a really tough time, and it’s not over yet. Like Sun, Jin has a sandy base, though his is rockier than hers. Still, the bases could almost match up, but it would be hard to make a romantic moment with him in such an unpleasant situation. One possibility: if you ignore his face and binding and gaze at him from a distance, Jin looks like he’s figure skating, so you could remove both figures from their bases and put them on a mirror, perhaps surrounded with bits of cotton for snow. Instant Olympians!

If I had to point to a favorite Jin moment early in the series, I think I would have to go with his role in the birth of Aaron, during which he manages to be very helpful despite the language barrier. His emotion as Claire delivers her son, meanwhile, prefigures his exhilaration at learning that he will be a father. It might have been nice if one of Jin’s quotes could have reflected that, but the only thing that would have been remotely quotable, I suppose, would have been “Jack. Doctor.” Out of context, that wouldn’t have made much sense, but it would’ve been about as good as “Bahlie!”, which is Korean for “Hurry!”, but I can’t for the life of me recall when he said it.

Jin actually has more sound clips than any other character thus far, and the others are more memorable, particularly “Others! Others! Others! Others!”, which is the frenzied warning to Michael and Sawyer that accompanies his mad dash away from the Tailies, though if you don’t know what he’s supposed to be saying, it sounds quite a lot like a violent sneezing attack. Also included are “I… love… you,” spoken to Sun and even more romantic than usual under the circumstances; “I can't talk to anyone. I can't understand them. I need you, Sun,” which is in Korean; and my favorite, the accentless “Everything is going to change,” from Hurley’s trippy dream in Everybody Hates Hugo. The voice box is at the bottom of the base and takes two AAA batteries, and it’s activated by pressing a large rock toward the front of the base. For some reason, when I press the rock, it doesn’t always seem to catch; sometimes it takes two or three tries before I get the sound clip. Aside from this, however, the base is quite satisfactory, and because Jin only has one shoe attached to it, he fits into his constraint much more readily than most of the other figures do.

Finally, there’s the fun prop of two pages from Sun’s translation book that show Jin how to say “aft,” “stern,” “wind,” “current,” “hurry,” “help,” “ship,” “crash,” “island,” “you are welcome,” “survivors,” “flare,” “conserve,” “danger,” “silence” and “sleep.” This provides interesting insight into Sun’s psyche, as it shows what words she thinks will be important, and it’s very cool-looking, with several lines of Korean characters. Though I really like this particular prop, I find it a little disappointing that all of the season two props are essentially two-dimensional products: two slides, a boarding pass sleeve, a letter and two pages from a translation book. What’s more, because there is no backdrop to the series two figures, there’s no good place to keep these pages. I’ve settled on sticking mine in a notebook between protective sleeves, where I know I won’t lose them.

Jin has arrived at a very interesting place on the show, and I’m anxious to see where the rest of the season will take him when we get back to new episodes in a month. Until then, I have this figure to tide me over. Long live Jin!

McFarlane's Slightly Softened Sawyer Is Ready to Sail

From the beginning, one of the LOST characters who has intrigued me most is surly, sarcastic sweetheart Sawyer. He starts off his run on the island by antagonizing everyone in sight, but gradually, though he never quite loses his edge, he evolves into a useful part of the survivor pack and forms genuine relationships with the other survivors: fiery Kate, who he’s had his eye on since day one; heroic Jack, with whom he’s butted heads but whose friendship he reluctantly values; vulnerable Charlie, who ends up his co-conspirator in season two; gentle Hurley, who rises above his insults to become both pal and mentor.

The sad thing about Sawyer is that he is on a path to redemption that is consistently hampered by his lust for revenge, which is embodied in the note that serves as his prop. Sawyer winds up on the island because of a misguided attempt at revenge, and since arriving his “overdeveloped sense of vengeance,” as the Six-Fingered Man in The Princess Bride put it, has led him to kill two more people, which has only gnawed away at his soul more. Yet in the most recent episode, he implies that he has a new target for his vengeful impulses. Will he ever learn?

The note is something of a curiosity to me. I’m not at all surprised that it was chosen for his prop, since it’s by far the most iconic object the show has introduced in connection with him. However, I find it quite strange that the wording of the note was altered. Instead of “You had sex with my mother,” the note reads, “You slept with my mother.” Presumably this was changed because these figures are sold at Toys R Us and are in some way considered potential toys for children. Clearly, however, the main market is adults. These are more collectibles than action figures, and while there undoubtedly are some children who watch LOST, I’m guessing a very small percentage of these figures are sold to kids. Moreover, if the kids like the show and Sawyer enough to get the replica, then they almost certainly have heard the note in its entirety before. Finally, doesn’t it seem a little silly to try to soften the phrasing of an adulterous act when the next part of the letter references murder without flinching? Doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.

The figure of Sawyer is pretty nice. He stands in a pair of fading jeans, one hand on his hip and the other leaning against the side of the raft whose construction he’s been supervising. His blue shirt is torn. His muscles ripple. His wavy hair flaps in the wind, as much as plastic can seem to, and his face wears an appropriately cocky expression. It’s a reasonable likeness, though still not as precise as Charlie, which remains my favorite figure. The troublesome thing is that his feet don’t want to fit into their assigned pegs, and one of my pegs actually broke off as I tried to position him. His hand is almost as resistant to resting properly on the raft rigging.

But I just love his base, which is definitely my favorite of the series two offerings. The raft is a very important element in the end of the first season and beginning of the second, and here it is recreated in all its glory, from all the sticks that make up the floor to the metallic underpinnings. It’s a gorgeous vessel, considering that it was handmade, and it rests atop a sandy stretch of beach. Underneath the raft is a little knob that triggers the sound clips, the battery compartment for which is located at the bottom of the base and takes two AAA batteries. Sawyer is almost certainly the most quotable character on the show, since hardly a sentence escapes his mouth that doesn’t have some witty edge to it, so selecting the clips for him must have been especially difficult. I don’t know that I have a favorite Sawyer quote, at least from the first two seasons; I am partial to his lame “I don’t like blankets” comment to Claire in Left Behind, but that’s both too recent and inconsequential to be included here. I also love his speech to Jack about Christian in season one's Exodus: Part 1, but I’m not sure if that could be effectively whittled down to just a sentence or two. So I’m fine with the included clips:

* “I'm a complex guy, sweetheart.”

* “There are nicer ways to wake a man up, Freckles.”

* “Fun time is over, Bongo. Why don't you go hit the buffet.”

* “There's a new sheriff in town boys, y'all best get used to it.”

Of these, I’d say the last is the most iconic, though the first may be my favorite, since he sounds ever so much like Han Solo in that clip, and I’m always up for any excuse to compare the two characters.

And besides, Sawyer is a complex guy, no doubt about it. He’s one of the hardest characters to figure out, and I just hope that by the end of the show, his too-often submerged decency will overpower his misdeeds. Other fans who are just as fascinated by him as I am will want to snag Sawyer for themselves while he’s still on store shelves.

Here Comes the Sun in McFarlane's Second LOST Series

One of the most pressing questions that season three of LOST left fans with was the issue of whether or not Sun Kwon would survive her pregnancy and successfully give birth. I didn’t expect an answer so soon, but through the use of flash-forwards, LOST has provided key insight into her fate. That’s not to say that mysteries don’t still swirl around her character, and one can only hope that the writers will decide to showcase her more often than they have.

When I first started watching LOST, it took me a while to connect with Sun and Jin. They were so cut off from the others, separated by a language barrier and Jin’s stubbornness. The Sun figure from the second series of McFarlane figures inspired by the show captures the young Korean wife in a moment of defiance, exhibiting an independent streak that would eventually allow both her and her husband to be fully integrated into the group of crash survivors.

It’s a little strange to see Sun in a skimpy, two-piece sky blue bathing suit with striped accents, since throughout most of the show, her clothes are quite modest. Here, she dares to leave herself exposed, disregarding her husband’s stern reproofs. A midnight blue blanket whips in the wind behind her shoulders. In terms of the figure, this blanket is problematic; it stubbornly resists being placed into her hands in such a way that it will stay put, almost as if to emphasize her desire to be free from unwanted coverings. Maybe it was intentional on the part of the sculptors. More likely it was just imprecise design; it’s frustrating to have an object that clearly belongs at a certain spot within this little diorama and be unable to place it there.

Sun’s feet, like most of her body, are bare, and they stand on a sandy expanse that probably is uncomfortably hot. The expression of her face is mostly one of serenity, with a flash of anger. Unlike the series one figures, there is no specific backdrop for Sun; instead, there’s a generic green, vaguely leafy-looking piece of cardboard included with all the series two figures. Also included is the life-size sleeve of her Oceanic boarding pass.

As with the other series two figures, the black box containing sound clips from the show is integrated within the stand rather than attached to a backdrop. Though the second is the only one of the English clips directed at Jin, all of Sun’s quotes involve him in some way:

* "Have you never lied to a man you've loved?"

* "I was going to leave you... I was going to get away"

* "My wedding ring ... it's gone!"

The final quote is in Korean, which is a nice touch, and translates as “I'm not saying you should go alone. I'm coming with you,” which is, of course, spoken to Jin. The black box takes two AAA batteries, and the clips are accessed by pressing down on one of the rocks on the beach.

The focus of this figure in Sun’s relationship with Jin, which makes sense, but it would have been nice to see something that featured her working in her garden, which both provided her some relief from her initially aggravating husband and gave her a purpose, allowing her to help her fellow castaways even though most of them did not yet know she spoke English. Probably my favorite season one Sun moment occurs when she finds some eucalyptus and uses it to help the asthmatic Shannon breathe. Later, she stands by Jack in her tireless effort to aid the injured Boone. I think the figure’s creators might have done well to incorporate her role as a nurturer.

Still, Sun is a very nice figure for fans of one of television’s most complex couples, and the fact that she has been cast in plastic is an acknowledgment of the value she brings to the show. Here’s hoping the writers agree!

Number 1600: There's Really Something There in Beauty and the Beast

I’ve never been very good at picking favorites, but if someone were to ask me who my favorite Disney heroine is, I wouldn’t even have to think about it. Brave, bookish, compassionate Belle from Beauty and the Beast is the best of the best, and her role in that powerful story of redemption and inner beauty is magical in every sense of the word. She is housed within an utter masterpiece, and one of its most noteworthy aspects is its fantastic soundtrack filled with songs through which characters are expertly revealed. It’s one of my all-time favorite movie soundtracks and a worthy subject for my 1600th post on Epinions.

It begins with the solemn prologue, with all its austere overtones indicative of a fairy tale setting. The haunting melody seems to breathe sylvan antiquity and somber royalty. Ebbing and flowing with David Ogden Stiers’ masterful narration, the music, with its deep, resonant notes and occasional sprightly hints of enchantment, sounds lovely but distant; the beast is not a real character to us yet. He’s an arrogant young man in stained glass, a mere two-dimensional representation of the living, breathing prince he truly is.

This opening track is probably the most memorable of the instrumental offerings, but woodwind-heavy To the Fair, which alternates between quick, lively runs and moments of wistful melancholy with some terrific percussion scattered here and there, is fun and West Wing, whose tone swerves dramatically from melodiously enchanting to dire and dangerous, is fantastic. The Beast Lets Belle Go, which carries hints of Beauty and the Beast theme music, is perhaps the most melancholy of the tracks, an achingly tender moment of farewell full of searing strings, while Battle on the Tower is the most fun, at least to begin with, when it is largely a faster, more orchestral version of Be Our Guest as the Beast’s servants find creative ways to guard their castle, though the tone turns dark and urgent as it follows Gaston’s pursuit of the Beast. Transformation, meanwhile, is simply gorgeous, beginning soft and gentle and taking on a majestic quality as the song slowly builds to the Beast’s long-awaited return to humanity, all the more miraculous given his near-death state a moment before. Both intimate and triumphal and culminating in a final chorus Beauty and the Beast, it’s the perfect way to end the film, and nearly end the soundtrack.

The final track is the phenomenally popular radio version of the title song, as performed by Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson. This is the first time I remember Disney releasing a different version of a song more suitable for the airwaves than the one included in the film. Perhaps it even influenced later songwriting choices, since the next few films all include songs that work equally well when taken out of context. This is a lovely duet that introduced the world to Celine Dion, and Angela Lansbury’s film version makes a gentle, melodic backdrop to Belle and the Beast’s big ballroom scene, encapsulating the theme of the movie in a few well-chosen words. It’s all about forgiveness, redemption, striving to become a better person, and the movie’s beautiful exploration of these topics is something to love indeed. But it’s always been my least favorite of the movie’s songs, partly because both the spinning of the room and the phrase “tale as old as time” give me vertigo and partly because it’s so detached. All of the other songs reveal the personalities of those singing, and with the exception of the short but spirited soliloquy of Belle (Reprise), they all involve several different characters. Next to those action-packed numbers, this legato ballad just seems a little too sedate.

Not so Be Our Guest, which Disney has often used as its theme music since the movie came out. This whirlwind of a flashy show, a spur-of-the-moment offering by castle workers who are desperate for someone to entertain, is a showcase mostly for the talents of Jerry Orbach as the seductive, hospitable Lumiere and Angela Lansbury as grandmotherly Mrs. Potts. The choreography of this scene is so clever that you’re missing half the fun if you’re only listening to the album, but it’s still one of the highlights. Orbach and Potts come together again and are joined by David Ogden Stiers for Something There, a sweet, reflective song that basically does the job of Beauty and the Beast but captures the transformation of the Beast’s personality and his relationship with Belle as it happens. Paige O’Hara and Robby Benson’s observations of each other are especially telling, and it’s nice because this is the last time we hear Belle sing and the only time the Beast sings at all.

Richard White, whose bombastic baritone voice is a joy to listen to, gets to do more singing as the nefariously narcissistic Gaston than just about any Disney villain I can think of. He has a starring role in four different tracks, most notably Gaston, a rousing, hilarious song in which his right-hand man LeFou (Jesse Corti) leads his buddies at the bar in an ode of appreciation to the most popular muscle-bound hunter in town. It doesn’t take long to improve his spirits, and soon he’s back to his smarmy, boastful self, perfectly capable of coming up with a dastardly plan in the quieter Gaston (Reprise). The whole rowdy bar scene reminds me of I Saw a Dragon in Pete’s Dragon, particularly once the seemingly delirious Maurice bursts through the door and is treated as a blathering idiot. I can’t help but wonder if this alcohol-drenched scene would fly in a G-rated movie today, but I love it.

The menacing The Mob Song is also terrific and much more of a traditional villain song. Gaston has gone from being an obnoxious annoyance to Belle beloved by the rest of the town to an indisputably cruel rabble-rouser bent on revenge for a dream that was never really in his grasp. His goal is no longer to marry Belle; it’s to kill the one who managed to claim her restless heart. This is a terrifying moment in the film, but it’s brilliant.

My favorite track, however, is the exceptional opening number, into which the prologue segues. It begins with the soft trilling of woodwinds meant to evoke birdsong, and we meet Belle with O’Hara’s soft but gorgeous voice beckoning us into her “little town full of little people.” She complains of sameness and boredom, but there sure is a lot happening in Belle, where the whole village turns out to weigh in on the problem of this unusual girl. Rather like The Sound of Music’s How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? but more frenetic and mean-spirited, it becomes deliciously complicated as all the townspeople chatter at once as an oblivious Belle moves dreamily through the streets and a determined Gaston goes to impressive lengths to pursue her. The song serves as a wonderful introduction to Belle, Gaston, LeFou and the town in general, and I consider it the real masterpiece of the movie.

Alan Menken and Howard Ashman created a work of enduring brilliance in this soundtrack, and it makes me sad to realize how early Ashman’s outstanding career was cut short. Meanwhile, Menken continues to produce excellent songs, but I think this album will always stand as my favorite of his achievements.

Beauty and the Beast. Pure enchantment.