Little Athens Is Irritating and Tedious

I tend to veer away from R-rated movies, but I’ve found some very enriching films that just happen to have filthy language, or sometimes more than their share of violence, so once in a while, I’ll disregard the rating and give such a movie a shot. Especially if I’m a fan of one of the actors involved. That’s how I ended up watching Little Athens, the 2005 indie flick written and directed by Tom Zuber.

I was drawn in because of Jorge Garcia, who so lovingly portrays one of my all-time favorite characters on LOST and who has demonstrated, via his blog, podcast and a wide variety of interactions with fans, that he is a man most deserving of the adjective Awesome. So I figured that if nothing else, his part in this movie would be worth watching. Sadly, even he, playing Pedro, a down-on-his-luck pool boy trying to scrape together enough money to pay his rent, failed to engage me, as did fellow LOST alum DJ Qualls as Pedro‘s buddy Corey.

Like LOST, Little Athens features a large cast of characters, many of whom are connected in various ways. Unlike the show, however, the movie never makes any of them very compelling or sympathetic. By the end of the movie, I still had trouble telling many of them apart. Aside from Pedro and Corey, I was most interested in Jessica (Jill Ritchie), who is sweet enough when interacting with her young babysittee Katie (Jasmine Jessica Anthony) but who ditches her to deal with the fallout of her abusive boyfriend contracting an STD.

The movie reminded me of The Chumscrubber, which similarly deals with aimless youth, though the main characters there are slightly younger, and the older generation is more visible. Here, it’s just a bunch of 20-somethings dealing drugs, cheating on each other, stealing from each other, getting into violent skirmishes, spewing as many profanities as they possibly can and sinking in a sea of apathy. I kept waiting for the movie to get more interesting, for it to start going somewhere, but I felt as bewildered and bored at the end as I did at the beginning.

I really hate to pan a movie involving one of my favorite actors. But Mom and I spent the whole film exchanging unimpressed glances, and Dad gave up on it entirely. Dull characters. Little plot. Crude dialogue. An exceptionally annoying series of four notes on what I think is a cello, repeated far too often. These are the components that make up Little Athens. I didn’t laugh, I didn’t cry, it didn’t move me, and I can’t recommend it to anybody else. I think I’ll just stick with LOST...

Don't Suffer Through the Shoddy Sarah and the Squirrel

Last month, I celebrated Squirrel Appreciation Day for the first time by reviewing as many squirrel-related products as I could find. I also found myself at the website of my local library putting more squirrel books on hold, and I ventured over to Netflix to see if I might stumble upon anything there. I came up with one title: Sarah and the Squirrel. I’d never heard of it, but I figured it was worth giving it a whirl. Next time, I might have to think about being a little more discriminating.

The Holocaust has been the subject of many powerful movies, particularly Schindler’s List and Life Is Beautiful, and I’ve sometimes had the impression that it’s hard to mess up a movie that delves into such compelling subject matter. Boy, was I wrong.

In this hour-long movie from the early 1980s, Sarah is a young girl when her family goes into hiding in the woods to escape the Nazis. They live in an underground shelter and urge Sarah to keep quiet and not to let anyone see her. But they let her go out in the woods on berry-collecting missions, and on one such occasion, the rest of her family gets rounded up. She tearfully watches as they’re carted away, then struggles to survive on her own.

Her life in hiding gains a greater purpose when she sees some men trying to bring down the bridge over which a Nazi train rumbles, bringing supplies for their army. They fail, but she sees a chance for her to make a difference. If she loosens the stones one at a time, perhaps she will eventually undermine its stability, and boom! Nazi Bridge is Falling Down!

This semi-animated film is the brainchild of writer-director Yoram Gross, with dialogue by Elizabeth Kata. Mia Farrow, who provides an introduction and conclusion while wandering in the woods that supposedly housed Sarah, seems to suggest that this is a true story, but I can’t find anything elsewhere to corroborate that. So I’m thinking it’s just true in the context of the movie. Which isn’t saying much.

Assuming this didn’t actually happen, Sarah’s own personal resistance is pretty hard to believe. Not that she would attempt it, because it’s a brave, clever plan in theory, but in practice, I just can’t imagine how she could remove enough stones to make a difference while not arousing the suspicions of the soldiers on patrol on top of the bridge. Of course, the point of the movie seems to be that even though she somehow succeeded, the war raged on. So... Don’t try to make a difference, kids, ‘cause there’s really no point.

That’s the message I got from this movie, in the rare event that I even understood what was going on. The film is a bizarre blend of animation and actual footage somewhat akin to Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings. I found that weird and creepy, and this even more so. It flashes between real footage and animation so often that it’s totally disorienting.

Then there’s the sound quality, which is horrendous. The music meant to be representative of Sarah’s tranquil pre-war family life is so shrill that I muted it during the opening credits. Even worse is the dialogue, which almost all comes down to Sarah, who is voiced by Farrow. The trouble is that she whispers pretty much everything she says, so even with the volume way up, she’s very difficult to understand. Not that her dialogue is anything all that illuminating. Still, I found myself wishing that subtitles were an option.

And then there’s the title, the whole reason I ended up with this movie in the first place. The squirrel is barely in the movie. It does one interesting thing; otherwise, it just occasionally appears so that Sarah has someone to mumble to, though she also talks to rabbits, wolves and other animals.

I found the look of the film quite unattractive; the only portion whose animation I really enjoyed was a sequence involving all of the woodland creatures. I liked it because it reminded me of Bambi. But then it reminded me too much of Bambi, as the forest inexplicably burst into flames. And after what felt like about ten minutes, it finally became clear that it was all a nightmare, and on some level a metaphor for the war. So maybe there was some point to it, but they let it go on way too long.

Sarah and the Squirrel is a movie that I’m sure was made with good intentions. I imagine the thought was that this could introduce children to the horrors of the Holocaust without explicitly showing very much. But I can’t imagine many kids being able to sit through this trippy barrage of sounds and images, and I can’t imagine many adults putting up with it either. (My mom declared that it was like The Swans, a Hans Christian Andersen adaptation I abhor, only worse.  Read my review of that, and you'll see that's really saying something.) It’s a shame because it’s an interesting premise, and I’m sure that there could have been a way to do it well. But whatever that method was, Gross didn’t find it.

Chris Seay and Scott Erickson Explore Saintly Sinners in The Gospel According to LOST

When I was in high school, I took a course having to do with expressions of faith found in many facets of everyday life. Our teacher urged us to seek out forms of entertainment that were “spiritually stimulating,” and that phrase has stuck with me ever since. It’s a phrase I can readily apply to my most cherished stories, the ones I consider true epics of our time. Lord of the Rings. The Chronicles of Narnia. Harry Potter. And now, LOST. All use fantastical elements to explore deep theological themes, and they seem to come to many of the same conclusions - though, of course, with one season left to go, my favorite television show could throw me for a loop and end in a manner entirely inconsistent with my worldview. But given the journey thus far, I find that unlikely, and in any event, the questions the show generates may turn out to be just as important as the answers it provides.

That’s the view taken by Pastor Chris Seay, the author of The Gospel According to LOST. Seay is not the first to write a book on these lines; What Can Be Found in LOST is written from a comparable perspective but covers only the first three seasons. Frankly, I’m a little surprised it’s taken so long for someone to lay claim to this particular title, as similar tomes on the convergence pop culture and Christianity have filled shelves since Robert Short started the trend in 1965 with The Gospel According to Peanuts. I’m guessing that others may have held off in hopes of discussing the series as a whole; I wouldn’t be surprised if Seay released a new edition in a year or two taking the final season into account. But it makes sense for him to have published it now, when LOST frenzy is at such a high point and when there’s still so much room for speculation.

While What Can Be Found in LOST is very concerned with how Christianity and various other religions are presented in the show and lists dozens of specific references to particular theological themes, The Gospel According to LOST, like Short’s classic work on the lessons to be found in the comic strips of Charles Schulz, takes a more character-driven approach. LOST has introduced dozens of compelling characters; Seay puts most of his focus on 14 of them, assigning each individual (or, in two cases, couple) a patron saint status (usually tongue-in-cheek). To emphasize this portrayal, each of the featured castaways is depicted as a saint in a series of full-color paintings printed on glossy paper in the middle of the book. Black-and-white reproductions of these images herald most of the book’s chapters.

Though my brother, an art major, immediately proclaimed them “kitschy,” I think that these portraits, created by Scott Erickson (www.thetranspireproject.com), add a very cool visual element to the book. Each character is painted in the style of a religious icon, with a large yellow circle around the head serving as a halo. At the top is a Latin word, which fits with the Others’ reverence for that ancient language. Unfortunately, my Latin is pretty rusty, but I have a pretty good idea of what many of them mean. “Felix” is a nod to Hurley’s luck; “Pater” refers to the idea that Jacob is, in a sense, the father figure that most of the castaways so sadly lack. A little note in the back with translations might have been nice, but perhaps part of their purpose is to get us to do a little digging for the meaning on our own.

Each painting has a different background filled with objects relevant to that particular character. John, for instance, holds a knife, while a small wheelchair sits near the top of the paintings and the Smoke Monster looms in the background. Sayid gazes dolefully out from in front of an Iraqi flag, while a chicken is perched atop his halo as a reminder of his willingness to kill from an early age. Several other paintings contain an element indicative of violence, lest we forget that these “saints” have the capacity to destroy. A good example is Erickson’s painting of Charlie, not found in the book but viewable on his website; he holds Aaron in one hand and a Virgin Mary statue in the other, as if weighing whether he is more committed to Claire and her son or to his addiction. In the background, a fire blazes on the beach, a nod to a moment when, in an effort to do what he believes is right, Charlie resorts to an act that endangers many. His label reads “Quadrivium,” which as best as I can determine means “crossroads” each major character comes to at least one critical crossroads, but Charlie’s choices are presented in a particularly dramatic manner.

Charlie doesn’t get a chapter to himself in Seay’s book, but he is lumped together with Hurley in the “Blessed Losers” category. Both come to feel that they are cursed, though Seay suggests that their reactions are just as potent as the circumstances that seemingly bind them. Like many, he seems to suspect that Charlie put a little too much stock in Desmond’s predictions, leading him to doom himself instead of taking advantage of the tiny window of opportunity for escape that presented itself after he fulfilled his mission in the season three finale. Meanwhile, rather than believing that the Numbers have caused his troubles, he blames Hurley’s father for setting little Hugo down a path of self-loathing. He compares him to the Biblical Ishmael, saying both were essentially ditched by their fathers; it’s among the more tenuous connections he makes in the book, but it’s interesting nonetheless. I also appreciate that he passes along Damon Lindelof’s assertion that Hurley is the most “morally grounded” character on the show, citing as a prime example the fact that, unlike so many other castaways, when presented with a compelling reason for revenge, he refuses to resort to violence.

That’s certainly not the case for Kate, Patron Saint of Beautiful Killers; Sawyer (Kindhearted Con Men); Sayid (Tormented Humanitarians); or Ben (Dutiful Tyrants). In each of these chapters, Seay raises questions about the circumstances in which violence might be permissible, and about whether the killer alone should bear responsibility for actions that have communal consequences. He often reminds us that the castaways, as a group, are equally guilty of the crimes of which they accuse the Others. I can think of many examples beyond the ones he cites for such instances of violence (so frustrating, in part, because I thought it so likely that they would ultimately end up as allies); among the most troubling for me are Jack’s plan to blast as many Others into oblivion as possible before leaving the Island and Sun’s total lack of remorse over killing the Other holding her captive. In these and the cases Seay cites, there is always some justification for the violence. But he encourages readers to think deeply about the ramifications of such actions. At the same time, he stresses again and again that LOST is largely about redemption and shares his conviction that there’s hope for even those as murderous as Ben and Sayid.

Of course, I’ve always had a mildly alarming soft spot for Ben, so I was particularly interested in what Seay would have to say about him. I disagree slightly that Ben willingly swapped his daughter’s life for his own; in his convoluted mind, I believe that he really thought reverse psychology was the most likely road to saving Alex’s life, and that if he gave himself up Keamy would simply gun down everyone on the Island, including her. And it seems worth noting that Ben had been urging Alex to make for the Temple for days, and that if she’d listened to him the first time, the scenario might have played out much differently. I wouldn’t say that Ben is a man incapable of love. But I agree that he has formed very few genuine connections to other people in his life. In the aftermath of the Purge, Ben seems to feel genuine regret only for the death of Horace, who invited his father and him to the Island. In the wake of the Oceanic 815 crash, he bonds most closely with John, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to kill him - twice!

Ben is one of three characters Seay plugs into the Parable of the Prodigal Son. He discusses it, along with the parables of the missing coin and sheep, in a chapter entitled Jesus Wrote a Best-Seller, which comes in the middle of the book but feels more like an introductory chapter, as it has to do with Jesus’ use of stories to illustrate important concepts. He particularly focuses on these three tales found in Luke 15, as “Jesus seems to be the first storyteller to captivate large audiences... with a series of stories all about this abject quality of being missing or adrift or just plain lost.” In a general sense, one could argue that each of the castaways is like the Prodigal Son, walking a long, broken road to redemption. But he specifically focuses on Jack, the Man of Science (or Patron Saint of Wounded Healers), who flees the Island and his so-called “destiny” only to take a leap of faith and return “home,” where Seay speculates he will ultimately find a welcome akin to that in the parable. I hadn’t made that particular connection before, but like Seay, I compared Ben to the jealous brother in the story, who feels he has been a faithful, hardworking son for years and has never been properly acknowledged. I was delighted to see him also draw the comparison between the father in the story and Mr. Kwon, a truly exemplary father (a real rarity on LOST) and quite possibly my favorite flashback character.

Seay focuses very little attention on the religious background of most characters. While What Can Be Found in LOST includes a fairly exhaustive list of different religions and how they come into play on the show - a list that would be significantly expanded in light of the last two seasons - Seay rarely gets into the specifics of religious beliefs, with the exception of Eko (Patron Saint of Warlord Priests). Here, the two books have the most in common, as both mention Eko’s erroneous interpretation of the Biblical passage describing the Baptism of Jesus and both list the writings on his “Jesus Stick” and provide probable context. Many of Seay’s thoughts on Sayid’s violent streak apply to Eko, and while he maintains that the murder that led to Eko’s life of crime was an evil act, he admits that the situation is muddied since his actions likely saved his younger brother Yemi’s life, or by another token, allowed Yemi’s young soul to remain untained by such grievous sin. Here, Seay shares some startling facts about the conditions in many countries, including Eko’s homeland of Nigeria, that turn children into hard laborers, slaves or soldiers.

John Locke (Patron Saint of the Fatherless) essentially gets two extra chapters to himself; one focuses on the philosopher for whom he is named and another on the dichotomy between the Man of Science and the Man of Faith, but both ultimately focus on our favorite knife-wielding castaway and point out that his faith is not really as strong as one might think. Seay details some of John’s darkest moments while also illustrating that at times, his faith has been misplaced. I would agree with most of what he says about John in these extra chapters. I’m not so sure about his actual centric chapter, in which Seay first overstates his notion that John was initially untrustworthy and then seems to forget that for the second half of the fifth season, the confident leader who appears to be John is merely an imitator - and a very sinister one at that. In light of what the season five finale revealed, it seems inaccurate to talk of John finally stepping into a longed-for leadership position, and rather startling to compare his journey with that of Jesus (though, prior to the finale, seeing him as a Christ figure wasn’t as much of a stretch). I would argue that John is much too damaged a character to truly mirror Christ, but he does powerfully demonstrate the sorts of struggles many “Men of Faith” endure. Striking a balance between pragmatic Jack and meaning-starved John is gentle, tormented Daniel (Patron Saint of Mystic Scientists), who possesses a brilliant scientific mind but still concedes that, as Seay puts it, “at the limits of our understanding there must be something much greater at work.” It seems fitting to end the book with him in an effort to resolve this dichotomy at the heart of LOST - and it’s a nice bookend for me since he is my favorite character introduced in the second half of the series.

Seay shows different examples of love via Sun and Jin (Patron Saints of Discontented Fishermen) and Desmond and Penny (the Lovers). The former, he argues, are representative of the struggles most married couples face, albeit on a grander scale. Meanwhile, he compares Penny’s steadfast love for Desmond, despite his missteps, to God’s love for each “lost sheep.” Desmond, meanwhile, is the man struggling to come to grips with a love that he feels he does not deserve. They are, he says, “the truest example of love on LOST (aside from Rose and Bernard),” and he sees their story as comparable to the Biblical account of Hosea and Gomer. Incidentally, I loved the little shout-out to Rose but wish she had gotten more attention; she’s always struck me as an especially benevolent character, not to mention a woman of deep Christian faith, and her belief that Bernard was alive, despite all evidence to the contrary, is just as remarkable as Penny’s.

The enigmatic Jacob (Patron Saint of Fathers) gets a chapter to himself despite the fact that, up until the season five finale, it was by no means clear if he even existed. Nonetheless, it’s clear now that he’s been woven into the fabric of the show from the beginning. The question remains whether he is as good as he appears; after all, the Biblical Jacob may have received the blessing of his father and gone on to produce the 12 Tribes of Israel, but he was also a tricksy fellow who was as fallen as any of LOST’s castaways. Seay addresses these similarities while also speculating as to the true nature of Jacob based on what we’ve learned about him: that he has an enemy and many devotees; that he is apparently ageless; that people heed his lists; that he has guided the destinies of various castaways but believes in free will; and that he views history as moving toward something greater rather than simply repeating in cycles. As for me, I fervently hope that this final season will cement my affection for Jacob rather than undercutting it.

Seay’s book is a fairly slim volume; with fewer than 200 pages, it can be easily read in one sitting if you’re inclined to spend an afternoon poring over the mysteries of LOST. If you’re a devoted fan of the show, you’ve probably drawn a lot of these parallels before, especially if you’re approaching it from a Christian perspective. Still, Seay has compiled a commentary that is accessible and intriguing, and quotes at the beginning of the chapters and anecdotes sprinkled throughout the pages add something new to the conversation. While I think he could have gone into greater depth with his examples and perhaps included a few more characters - Claire, Boone, Shannon, Michael, Walt, AnaLucia, Libby, Frank, Charlotte and Miles are among those who barely rate a mention - there’s something to be said for keeping it short and sweet, and for limiting character studies to a dozen archetypes.

The Biblical quotes come from a new translation called The Voice, which seems to be along the lines of The Message, using extremely contemporary language in order to appeal to a modern readership. It’s certainly not as poetic as the King James, which is particularly noticeable in Psalm 23, but it is easily comprehensible. The book is mostly free of typographical errors, though one rather amusing one remains; an endnote explains that the quotes from the show “are taken from the author’s transcription of Seasons 1 through 7 of the LOST DVD series.” Perhaps he knows a little more than he’s letting on...

Seay has an engaging writing style, and he infuses his observations with humor that usually elicited a chuckle from me. Once in a while he indulges in hyperbole to make a point - every man who watches the show is in love with Kate; none of the castaways prefer John to Jack in season one - and some of his jokes fall a little flat, especially since he has a tendency to repeat himself in the context of a different chapter (okay, we get it; the female castaways wear a disproportionate number of tank tops). But the humor clearly comes out of a deep familiarity with the show, and most of it is genuinely funny.

Similarly, while I don’t always agree with every aspect of his character analyses, he makes many points that come from a true love of this ragtag band of flawed individuals. Some of his observations, such as singling out Sawyer getting glasses as a critical step toward his seeing himself as part of a group, struck me as especially astute. He maintains a light tone throughout the book, and while he holds up certain behaviors and attitudes as worthier than others and clearly is working from a Christian viewpoint, he rarely comes across as preachy. Ideal for church study groups or individual LOST fans who frequently mull over these topics on their own, The Gospel According to LOST is a great book to read in order to prepare for a deeper engagement with this fascinating show in its final season.

Michael Giacchino Brings His Brilliance to LOST's Shortened Season Four

Only eight hours to go until season six of LOST begins. I’ve run out of soundtracks to listen to and wish that season five were out already. But since it’s not, I’ll stop here with season four, an excellent collection featuring music from all but three of the fourteen episodes. Considering how short the season was, I’m a little surprised that all of the episodes weren’t represented, but what’s here is wonderful. While my previous soundtrack reviews have grouped tracks by theme or character, I’m discussing the tracks in order this time; this was a tighter season than any of the others, and I think the soundtrack therefore has a more straightforward narrative quality to it. As before, I’ll be discussing plot elements as I proceed, so be warned...

One of the things in the forefront of my mind between the third and fourth seasons of LOST was how those closest to Charlie would react to his death. I guessed that we would get some kind of powerful response from Desmond, Claire and Hurley. The latter delivered especially well, and in Giving Up the Ghost, spooky chimes give way to violins and harp as the Hurley of the future receives a ghostly visit from Charlie. One of the sweetest scenes in the season, and a wonderful way to start off the album. This leads directly into Locke-ing Horns, another variation on Life and Death, in which the mournful cello and the plaintive violins play beautifully against the piano as Hurley speaks back on the Island. Poor Hurley has a difficult time of it in the fourth season; the gloom of this loss hangs over him throughout the season, and we never get one of the playful tunes for him that so delighted me in the first three soundtracks. Nonetheless, these two tracks are gorgeous.

Sayid and Desmond are up next with Lost Away - Or Is It?, which, with its swooping strings, wonderfully captures the sensation of flight and the exhilaration that both must be feeling as they leave the Island for the first time in ages. In short, tense bursts, Backgammon Gambit emphasizes the anxiety in the moment when Kate’s liberation of Miles is discovered. I’m a little disappointed that there’s nothing from Confirmed Dead, since that introduces four important characters; surely there must have been some accompanying theme music for them. Then again, I can’t recall any at the moment.

At least Daniel gets some recognition Time and Time Again, which starts off suspenseful before turning more action-oriented and then majestic, with impressive drums and cellos. Many different emotions are captured in this track, which is fitting considering how many different directions Desmond is pulled in. From the same episode, The Constant accompanies one of my all-time favorite LOST scenes, and the score is one reason why it affected me so deeply. Hesitant harp and strings come together for a most tender recurrence of the love theme that gradually increases in intensity before petering out again as the telephone connecting Desmond and Penny cuts out. An absolutely gorgeous piece of music, even with the creepy-sounding ending accompanying the revelation that Daniel has selected Desmond as his Constant.

Maternity H*** mostly has a playful, albeit slightly panicky, tone to it. As a swift beat plays on what sound like bongos and the piano repeats a mysterious quick progression of single notes, it’s easy to envision Jin’s strangely comical ordeal with the giant stuffed panda in Ji Yeon. Karma Jin-itiative begins with the harp before moving on to the piano, eventually joined by strings in a lovely riff on Rose and Bernard’s theme as, in another of my favorite season four scenes, Bernard talks love and karma with Jin in the quiet of a tranquil fishing trip. Life and Death returns for Ji Yeon, which finds Sun and Hurley visiting Jin’s grave. Very slow piano with cellos occasionally chiming in for emphasis and eventually taking on a melody of their own.

Michael’s Right to Remain Wrong, from Meet Kevin Johnson, starts out quite lovely before becoming alarming. Harps are prominent throughout the track, first giving it a peaceful feel, then adding to the swirling chaos as Michael, in the midst of a suicide attempt, is confronted by Tom Friendly. From there, it’s on to The Shape of Things to Come, my least favorite episode of the season but certainly one of the most memorable.

In Bodies and Bungalows, percussion builds, growing faster and louder as the mercenaries open fire on the Barracks. Benundrum also has a very threatening feel to it, but the string basses and trombones are the instruments increasing in speed and intensity here. A few short piano runs seem to represent Ben’s scattered thought process, while the percussive bursts toward the end seem to foreshadow the emergence of the Smoke Monster. Hostile Negotiations begins just as tense as the others. Midway through, creeping trombones build up to what feels like an explosion of grief; one can almost hear the violins at the end methodically screaming, “Alex, Alex!” A shattering moment.

Locke-about begins gently, but harps soon give way to the ominous beat and the ethereal squeal indicative of the Smoke Monster. Locke’s enigmatic connection to the Island is emphasized here through a variety of mysterious motifs and the patter of percussion. One of the most instrumentally varied tracks, it is the only representative of Cabin Fever, my second-favorite episode of the season.

Nearly half of the tracks on this album are drawn from the two-part (really, three-part, but aired on two nights) finale, There’s No Place Like Home. The track that shares the episode’s name is a lovely, soaring melody on which violins predominate as the Oceanic Six are reunited with their families after being rescued. Nadia on Your Life is also pretty, though tinged with sadness as we already know, even as Sayid joyfully reunites with long-lost love Nadia, that she will soon be killed. Wistful piano gives way to urgent strings as the scene shifts to Sayid returning to the Island from the freighter with a grim warning.

C4-titude is tense as well, with strangely discordant notes here and there to remind us of the Island’s mysterious properties. Strings again serve as sirens of warning. In Of Mice and Ben, the tone is threatening, but underneath the danger is a stirring melody capturing the importance of what is to follow and the sense of respect between Ben and John despite their often adversarial relationship.

Keamy Away From Him maintains a mysterious tone, with strings and drums creating the illusion of swift footsteps as the Others, in a reversal of the season three finale, attack the mercenaries. Some really neat percussion in this first track from the second part of the finale. Timecrunch is tense, with its increasing tempo a reminder that time is running out. The epic strings-driven walking music makes its only appearance on the album as the track ends.

Can’t Kill Keamy is strangely pretty amidst the panic, with a stirring melody that kicks in halfway through, reprising the main theme from There’s No Place Like Home as Frank pilots the helicopter away from the Island with the Oceanic Six plus Desmond in tow. Low, ominous beats and hints of cacophony abound in Bobbing for Freighters, with swift cello progressions signaling that the time for the helicopter to leave the freighter is five minutes ago. Multiple forms of percussion come in toward the end as Jin races toward the deck.

Locke of the Island is the longest track on this or any other LOST soundtrack to date. Various mysterious themes resurface as Locke finds himself in a leadership position he expects to lead him to the answers he craves. Spooky but also largely pretty, especially during the majestic rendition of one of the show’s most iconic themes. Lying for the Island starts off ominous as Jack instructs the others to cover up the truth about their stay on the Island. The tone shifts about two minutes in when Desmond realizes that Penny is their rescuer. The tender melody from The Constant returns as they finally reunite.

Landing Party is one of the loveliest tracks as it accompanies the Oceanic Six’s journey to the small island where they will be officially rescued. Strings mostly have this track to themselves as the There’s No Place Like Home theme is reprised once again. Mostly uplifting, though the slow, trickling piano melody at the end is an elegiac hint of all that these survivors are leaving behind. That sort of melodious track seems more fitting for the end of the album, but the soundtrack concludes the same way the season does, with the creepy Hoffs-Drawlar. Mysterious sounds abound as we draw near the final revelation of just who is in that coffin, which is punctuated with the resounding end-of-the-show boom. Startling but impressive.

As with the other soundtracks, this comes with a booklet containing several high-quality photographs, along with a track listing and a list of episodes, with corresponding track numbers in parentheses. There’s also a lengthy note from Robert Townson praising Michael Giacchino as well as discussing the concert of LOST music performed by the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra in September of 2007. (My dad was actually in town for the event, which was hosted by Terry O’Quinn, but he didn’t find out about it until afterward. He did, however, bring me home a newspaper featuring extensive coverage of the concert.) The season four soundtrack is a thrilling musical experience, and listening to it simply increases my anticipation for the way the score will enhance the final season of this epic drama.

The Season Three LOST Soundtrack Gives You Double the Listening Pleasure

Tomorrow, the final season of LOST begins. ABC has finally released official clips of new material, and in an effort to avoid glancing at them, I am instead immersing myself in previous seasons. One way in which I’m doing that is revisiting the soundtracks, particularly for season three, the longest of the four thus far released. Spoilers ahead for those who have not yet seen those episodes...

Season three signaled a major turning point for LOST. That was the last year when it aired in the fall, the last year when there was still a slight possibility that the show might end before it could be wrapped up properly. Announcing an end date shortly before the season three finale was a real game-changer, and Through the Looking Glass, while my least favorite of the finales, opened up a whole new dimension of possibilities for the show. It also saw the departure of one of LOST‘s most beloved characters. I imagine that all of these factors contributed to the decision to make the season three soundtrack a double disc. While the main disc features music from 16 different episodes (with four episodes unrepresented), the second, just as lengthy, disc is limited exclusively to music from Greatest Hits, the second-to-last episode, and Through the Looking Glass.

Suspense is never in short supply on LOST, and this soundtrack reflects that, starting things off with In With a KABOOM!, which accompanies the opening moments of season three as the Others witness the crash of Flight 815. Unusual metallic-sounding percussion amplifies the sense of danger. The piano drives the sense of anxiety in Awed and Shocked, while Fool Me Twice uses the steady beat of a drum to imitate sneaking footsteps. Steel drums accompany The Island, giving it an appropriately tropical sound, while other percussion approximates the sound of running to give a sense of panic.

Under the Knife also conveys a sense of danger, incorporating a suspense theme that has been used throughout the show. Rather surprisingly, however, the suspense ebbs away as strings play the Life and Death theme before returning to more threatening territory. Teaser Time captures the sense of pursuit as Kate and Sawyer flee, while Here Today, Gone to Maui, after a soothing start, prickles with danger as bows slide menacingly back and forth across strings. This, too, eventually leads to Life and Death; in this case, the piano takes the bulk of the melody, with the strings providing understated backup.

Once Kate and Sawyer escape their captivity, the first disc switches focus, for the most part, from action to character. There are three major exceptions to this, all involving running through the jungle. The strings give us a sense of pulse-pounding pursuit in Sweet Exposé as Nikki flees the spiders, stopping to bury the diamonds that would be her undoing. Trombones give an unusual flavor to Storming the Monster, while ominous, occasionally screechy strings give us a sense of menace. The very brief Rushin’ the Russian is more percussion-driven at first, before returning to the string-heavy motif that is often heard on the show when a character is in danger of being captured.

Many individuals have a moment in the spotlight on the remaining tracks, but Eko has three before he bows out. Eko of the Past has a spooky sound to it as the delirious priest sees his brother and makes an escape from camp after his tent burns down. The swift percussion feels like foreshadowing of his encounter with the smoke monster. Church of Eko’s, by contrast, is soft and delicate, though also very short as piano and strings come together to accompany Eko’s decision to truly step into the role of priest. Lego My Eko is one of the most startling tracks, with the strings capturing the Smoke Monster in hot pursuit before quieting down for a slow, lovely melody that seems to suggest peace and possible redemption.

Sun also fares pretty well, with two centric tracks. Pagoda of Shame is a slow and sad backdrop to Jae Lee’s funeral. It starts in familiar territory before branching off in a new direction for the midsection, then returning to the first tentative melody with some very quiet piano. This track is about the same length as Deadly Fertility, which also unfolds slowly as strings play, only to be replaced with very gradual percussion reminiscent of Fool Me Twice.

Of course, as Jack is arguably the show’s central character, the soundtrack often highlights him. Achara, Glad to See Me? has a fairly tender tone to it, with the gentle strings suggesting more depth to his relationship with this mysterious woman in his most-maligned flashback. A Touching Moment finds him back with Kate for a moment, as the mournful tones of a cello convey a sense that things between them have changed irreparably. Beach Blanket Bonding accompanies Jack with yet another woman, this time Juliet, with the cello coming across as tender rather than regretful. A lovely track until, in the final seconds, it dissolves into cacophony.

Kate and Sawyer are nearly as important to the show as Jack and certainly drive many of his decisions. Ocean’s Apart is one of the prettiest tracks, a strings-driven melody with the emotions of at least five different characters - Kate, Sawyer, Jack, Alex and Karl - wrapped up in it. The majestic tone toward the end, with its rich percussive underpinnings, seems optimistic, supporting the Somewhere Out There feel to this gorgeous scene in which distances (and bodies of water) separate loved ones from each other. In Ain’t Talkin’ ‘Bout Nothin’, the hesitant piano speaks for Kate as she gives Sawyer the cold shoulder, while the strings betray his affection toward her.

All of the trauma Desmond endures in the epic Flashes Before Your Eyes is distilled down into Distraught Desmond, which has a very creepy sound to it that allows us to experience the implosion of the hatch along with him. The tone turns romantic and regretful about a minute and a half in as he reflects on his lost opportunity with Penny. With the help of the harp, Claire-a Culpa gently resurrects the show’s friendship theme. The melody proceeds very slowly, and the cello kicks in as a reminder of the troubles that have passed between them, but the overall tone is one of reconciliation. Another of the loveliest tracks, despite the spooky last minute that doesn’t seem to fit what precedes it.

Juliet’s ordeal in first coming to the Island comes across in Juliet Is Lost, notable for the spooky-sounding chimes accentuating the sense of mystery and the swelling strings that accompany her first sight of the Island itself, a magnificent but ominous vision. Dharmacide is a downer of a track to end the disc on. Dark and suspenseful, it is the backdrop for Ben’s murder of his father. After the intense first minute and a half, the piano comes in to suggest a tinge of regret in a melody later taken up by the strings. By the end of the track, however, the tone has shifted again as Ben hardens his heart against any tender feelings toward his father that might lie submerged.

I’m saving Hurley’s tracks for last because, with the exception of the various renditions of Life and Death, his themes tend to be my favorites. The Lone Hugo accompanies the beautifully elegiac moment when Hurley, in a move very reminiscent of Forrest Gump, stands by Libbie’s grave and pours out his sorrow to her. Very sad, with the plucks of the harp strings falling like teardrops against the more prominent strings. Fetch Your Arm is mysterious but with a playful bent as Vincent leads Hurley to the Dharma van.

Shambala is much more easily recognizable as a Hurley track than the first two. Harp and guitar work together with the violins to make this gently jubilant tribute to Three-Dog Night one of my favorite tracks. But my hands-down favorite is Heart of Thawyer, which I still consider a Hurley track, since his influence is what inspires Sawyer’s generosity in this scene. The guitars double as ukeleles and mandolins, giving it a wonderful Island sound. Mellow, warm, friendly... All the things I love most about Hurley come across in this track that accompanies the luau where the castaways on the beach are allowed a brief reprieve from panic.

There are even more tracks on the second disc, which is well over an hour long. As on the first disc, there are many suspenseful tracks, and with all the death and destruction in Through the Looking Glass, there’s plenty of flat-out action too. But when it comes to plot-oriented tracks, what I like best are those that primarily convey a sense of adventure. These are fairly rare on the soundtracks in general, but we get five of them here, all from the finale, which goes to show how much is going on in that episode.

The cellos come right in with the iconic “walking music” in The Good Shepherd as Jack leads his followers up toward the tower. It’s a short track, but it’s very effective in demonstrating the sense of excitement in the air as the castaways journey toward what they believe will be the last stop before rescue. The walking music returns for the more ominous, and even shorter, An Other Dark Agenda, in which Ben and Alex set out on their journey to meet Jack. Kate Makes a Splash is even shorter, by a few seconds, and the melody is never fully realized as she has paused in her journey to worry about those left on the beach. The walking music is back full force in The Only Pebble in the Jungle, to be quickly followed by a hesitant harp leading into a more romantic theme as Jack confesses his love for Kate. Finally, the walking theme makes a dramatic reappearance in Jack FM, where excitement is mingled with fear as Jack reaches the radio tower.

While Greatest Hits is a lead-in to all of the grand plans executed in the finale, it’s first and foremost a showcase for Charlie. Charlie’s Fate is pretty to begin with, but tense, percussive strings come in to accompany Desmond’s revelation to Charlie that he’s had another vision, and this time, he isn’t going to save him from death. The friendship theme returns in Ta-Ta Charlie as Charlie bids a tender farewell to Hurley. Fairly short, but one of my favorite tracks. Similarly, Heirloom Holiday accompanies a tender moment with Liam. Very different melodically, but the sense of brotherly love is just as apparent.

Finally, the track Greatest Hits underscores Charlie’s friendship with both Claire and Desmond and is very similar melodically to Ta-Ta Charlie but more drawn out and even more delicate. As the harps fade away, the piano comes in for a very slow unfolding of a related melody as Charlie explains to Desmond what he is writing and each offers to take the other’s place. The track, and the episode, ends on a mingled note of panic and surprise as Charlie undertakes his task and receives an unexpected greeting. Other tracks from this episode include the suspenseful Paddle Jumper and its reprise and She’s Dynamite, along with the more tender The Good, the Bad and the Ominous.

The most troubling aspect of the finale for me, surpassing even the death of Charlie (which, at least at the time, seemed to have been for an important purpose), was the complete breakdown of Jack’s character. Unlike many, I wasn’t blind-sided by the big reveal that the presumed flashbacks we’d been seeing were, in fact, flashforwards, since I couldn’t imagine Jack having been in such a dark place prior to the Island - but I could easily see how regretful despair might tie him up in such knots if he’d managed to get off the Island and discovered that he never should have left after all. Many of the Greatest Hits tracks explore Jack’s psyche in various ways.

Flying High is one of the prettier tracks, accompanying the first moments of the finale as we see the stark contrast between the shattered Jack in L. A. and the confident Jack on the Island. Mostly fairly slow and emotional, it takes on a sense of urgency toward the end. Ex Marks the Jack finds Future Jack in an uncomfortable reunion with his ex-wife, while in the short and ominous The Fallen Hero, he comes to terms with the disconnect between his heroic portrayal in the media and reality. Early Mourning Mystery is delicately elegiac, stopping just short of reprising Life and Death before launching into a piano-driven version of the walking theme.

All Jacked Up, the shortest track by far, has no time for anything more than a few suspenseful shrieks of the strings as Jack tries to refill his prescription. Act Now, Regret Later is slow and troubled, with ominous beats emphasizing the underlying fear that Jack’s actions have caused his friends at the beach to be killed. Just What the Doctor Ordered has a threatening tone to it as Jack confronts his doctor. The walking theme also turns up again as Jack heads off in a huff. Finally, Flash Forward Flashback, the final track aside from the ending theme, has an enigmatic feel to it, then the slow dawning of an epiphany as the show reveals that bearded Jack is in the future. The first half of the track is panicked and suspenseful, before Life and Death makes its last of many appearances on the soundtrack in one of its most mournful incarnations, followed by the walking theme, an indication of the journey to come.

The important counterpoint to Jack here is Ben, whose plan to kidnap the women on the beach precipitates Jack’s plan to blow up the Others. Meanwhile, his primary preoccupation in this episode is stopping Jack from making contact with the freighter. Six of the finale tracks underscore important scenes dealing with his response to the building crisis.

The Looking Glass Ceiling is a suspenseful track accompanying Ben finding out that Charlie has breached the Looking Glass. Meanwhile, trombone blasts fall like heavy footsteps as the shootout begins at the beach. Another tense track, Jintimidating Bernard (perhaps the punniest title on a track listing full of wordplay), is driven by percussion of various kinds that beat like the hearts of captors and captives as Jin’s life hangs in the balance. Suspenseful beats also abound in the brief Benomination of the Temple, which has Ben telling Richard to lead the Others to the Temple.

In Torture Me Not, violins creep underneath a hushed conversation as Ben orders Mikhail to attack those he has found in the Looking Glass, including his fellow Others. A very ominous track that finds resolution four tracks later with Patchy at Best, in which the piano provides the sound of pounding footsteps as Mikhail carries out his orders and, back on the Island, Ben tries to convince Jack that the freighter is bad news. Their confrontation is heightened in Hold the Phone as Ben and Jack fight for the mobile phone to the accompaniment of suspenseful strings.

Desmond and Mikhail share a brief, tense moment in Diving Desmond, as the Scotsman dives to safety from the rogue Russian. In Sticking to Their Guns, we have Sawyer and Juliet breaking away from the pack to head back to camp. Hints of the romance to follow two seasons later can be found in the soft melody, though the sense of stealth predominates. Through the Locke-ing Glass is another ominous track. Some interesting percussion accompanies Walt’s sudden appearance that pulls John from the brink of suicide (one of three instances of such intervention, intentional of not, in John’s hours of deepest despair).

The brief but beautiful Hurley’s Helping Hand includes gently swelling strings and hints of the friendship theme as Hurley announces to Jack over the phone that Bernard, Jin and Sayid are alive and out of danger. Naomi Phone Home gets off to a creepy start as the audience weighs what dire consequences this contact might have for the castaways in light of Ben and John’s misgivings. Finally, however, more than three minutes in, the dark strains melt away into the bliss of an impending rescue. It takes a long time to get to this point, but the gorgeous final minute or so makes it worth the wait.

It’s only fitting for me to save the tracks about Charlie for last; he was one of my favorite characters from day one, and his sacrificial death remains one of the most poignant scenes in the series. In Manifesting Destiny, piano and strings emphasize the danger of his situation as he is interrogated by Bonnie and Greta. The suspense continues with Weapon of Mass Distraction, a very similar-sounding track. Code of Conduct starts off with a similarly ominous feel but becomes somewhat playful as Charlie learns what he must do to fulfill his mission.

Finally, Looking Glass Half Full serves as a powerful farewell to this washed-up rock star-turned-hero. First come the notes of danger as we realize that Desmond’s vision is about to come true after all. Panic ensues as Charlie scrambles to keep Desmond out of the control room in an effort to save his life. Around the two-minute mark, resignation sets in, and harps and strings take up the all-too-familiar mournful refrain that mingles with Charlie’s addiction theme from season one to form one of the most stirring renditions of Life and Death yet. The tempo gradually slows as Charlie’s lungs fill with water, until the track and his life end together.

This is an epic undertaking of a soundtrack, with Michael Giacchino and the Hollywood Studio Symphony creating an audio representation of so many iconic moments. As you listen, you can remind yourself of some of the scenes corresponding to the music, thanks to the CD booklet, which consists mostly of high-quality stills from the season. There are more than two dozen of these; my favorite is probably the shot of Hurley looking startled as John’s knife lands in the middle of his canteen. Also included is a track listing, a list of episodes with the corresponding tracks in parentheses, and notes from Darlton (writer-producers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse) and Giacchino. Of course, if you can only get one thing from season three, I’d recommend the DVD boxed set. But if you’ve been impressed with the music from LOST, it’s hard to go wrong with the season three soundtrack, in which, as indicated by Darlton’s note, Giacchino “has taken the themes he’s developed for all the main characters... turned them, deepened them, and found new ways to express the emotions of the show.” Truly a marvel of television music.