You're a Good Man, Charlie Pace

This was a very LOST Christmas for me. Not only did season one mysteriously materialize on the shelf atop our television as we gazed at the screen later in the day, but there were several gifts with my name on it directly relating to the hit TV show. There was the pair of "Mystery of the Island" puzzles, which I'm eager to delve into once the tree comes down. There was the homemade shirt, tan to match the island sand with an arresting head shot of Charlie Pace against a crisp blue sky, augmented by wooden gulls and shells and bearing the words "I'm LOST Without Charlie." I wore it to two subsequent family gatherings, where I was treated to puzzled choruses of "Who's Charlie?" and the occasional "I thought he was still on the show..." Well, yes... But I'm not, am I? Anyway, in addition to all that, there was the beautiful action figure, in a line that I didn't even know existed. The character? Why, Charlie, of course - though I'm tempted to go out and nab Hurley and Locke too, but I really need to curtail my spending since I only have another month of guaranteed steady employment...

When I first began seeing advertisements for LOST, the whole stranded-on-a-tropical-island premise - a scenario I've rather enjoyed daydreaming about, actually, particularly if it was a Swiss Family Robinson situation - caught my attention immediately. But I was equally drawn to it because of one very familiar face: Dom Monaghan. Ever since Fellowship of the Ring, the inclusion of any of LotR's dozen-plus principle cast members has been enough to make me interested in a movie - except, of course, for Seed of Chucky... oh, Billy, how could you? Ahem. Anyway, the prospect of getting to see that jovial hobbit week after week, and in lush, epic surroundings to boot, was too good to resist.

And then, after weeks of anticipation, I missed the first episode. And the second. And my recording devices failed me. So I gave up on watching season one in prime time and resigned myself to the DVD, but I watch ABC enough that I kept seeing previews, and in particular it seemed as though I saw previews for The Moth about a hundred times. In that episode, Locke tries to help Charlie break his heroin habit. In the previews, we were treated, over and over, to Charlie demanding, "I want m'drugs back!" I began to worry that I might not like Charlie. He was a hopeless druggie, and probably just an all-around un-Erinish character. But I held out hope, and when I finally did see the series premiere, I stopped worrying.

No, he's not quite Meriadoc Brandybuck, but actually there are several similarities in their personalities. There's the drug thing, of course, though pipeweed is considerably more benign than heroin, and even so Merry chides Pippin on smoking too much. Charlie isn't what you would call a crucial character. His only real purpose so far has been to look after Claire, and for half the series so far he hasn't even been able to do that. Like Merry, he's caught up in this massive struggle and not entirely sure how to contribute. And while he's not a good two or three feet shorter than most folks, he is a wisp of a man, not very burly, probably weakened by several years of hard living on the road with Drive Shaft. And he's not very clever either, not practical and resourceful like Hurley, whose positive impact on the castaways' experience has been subtle but steady from day one. As someone who has struggled quite a bit with feelings of ineffectiveness, I feel Charlie's pain. He's got himself a nasty temper and an unflattering inferiority complex, but I love him.

Why? Well, there is the whole hobbit thing. And that accent that makes me almost as tingly as Billy Boyd's - with a matching vocabulary that has awakened in me the inappropriate desire to incorporate the word "sodding" into as many of my conversations as possible. There's his musicianship. Even if You All Everybody is one of the most inane songs I've ever heard, you've got to admit it's catchy. And that one he was working out on his piano really was a keeper. I wish Charlie would have more opportunity on the island to make use of his guitar. Every once in a while we see him noodling around with it on the beach, but I'd like a more concrete assurance that he's doing some composing. I would think this situation would be ripe with inspiration, and since he generally doesn't take a very active role in the island affairs, that entails plenty of time for observation. Maybe when (if?) they get rescued, Charlie can release an album of songs written from that beach. I'd snatch that up in a minute.

Beyond that, Charlie is one of the most religious characters on the show. His Catholic upbringing is clearly very important to him. I think his faith fell by the wayside somewhat after he spiraled into his drug addiction, but once he emerged from the haze of that last batch of heroin, theological thoughts always seem to be rolling around in his head. He doesn't have all the answers, but he's searching, and that draws me to him. Moreover, he is thoroughly devoted to his brother, entailing extensive self-sacrifice. Family is of the utmost importance to him, which is something I can appreciate and relate to. It's interesting that he chooses for his mentors first Locke and then Eko, both of whom have endured great hardship as a result of their efforts to protect a close relative.

So yes, I like Charlie. A lot. And it's a pleasure to have such a stunning likeness of him perched on my piano; once the Christmas decorations are down, I hope to make him the centerpiece of my little musicians' corner atop the piano that includes a singing John Denver ornament, a Schroeder figurine and a headshot of Art Garfunkel. Charlie is one in a series of six in McFarlane's first line of LOST figures. Each six-inch representation comes in a sturdy package with a photographic backdrop and a detailed base capturing a particular location and moment in the featured character's island experience.

Charlie's moment comes very early in the series, before we've had the chance to learn much of anything about him. He's sitting hunched on a large piece of debris from the airplane; wires and bits of iron spill out both sides, and pieces of wreckage are scattered in the sand around his feet, which are clad in checkered slip-on shoes much like the Land's End clogs I practically live in. His jeans are faded toward the center and bristling with the look of real denim, with its panoply of wrinkles and creases, while his stormy gray hoodie matches the sky, caught in the splendor of the tail end of a spectacular sunset.

Charlie's right hand boasts his trademark Drive Shaft ring, which is also included separately so a squealing fan like me - a silly sort who just put You All Everybody on her MySpace profile page - can wear it. Except that Charlie, for as puny as he seems to be, apparently has enormous hands; his ring is built for a finger easily twice as big as mine, so if I do decide to wear it, I'll have to string it on a chain and stick it around my neck. Perched between his thumb and index finger is a black marker, with which he is meticulously tracing one of the letters in the word "FATE," spelled out across four fingers on pieces of tape. Both arms are moveable, which is especially nifty for making the right hand write.

His hood flaps slightly in the wind, leaving a gap between the material and his face, and he certainly looks like he's brooding, but at this early point in the series his thoughts are likely more vacuous than bitter. You have to tilt the base upward a bit in order to get a good look at his face, but gazing at him head-on he seems clouded by confusion rather than feelings of worthlessness. He's still wandering about in a haze of post-traumatic shock and heroin withdrawal. He doesn't have a clue what's going on, and he's darn lucky he didn't get sucked into one of the plane's propellers while he was stumbling about aimlessly. So are we.

The packaging is pretty but rather hard to get into; I wanted to keep the box in pristine condition but it wound up getting torn as I tried to open it, and extracting Charlie was even more complicated. Then once he was out I had to affix Charlie to the base - not a problem, with those handy-dandy pegs - and the base and backdrop to the voice box with the aid of four black plastic poles whose purpose was not immediately apparent. I also had to toss in a couple of double-A batteries. So there was a bit of assembly required, but nothing major, and with that box we can hear Charlie spit out three illuminating lines: the explosive "You don't know me! I'm a bloody rock god!"; the ominous "Guys... where are we?" and of course, a squealy rendition of that ever-so-stirring chorus, "You all everybody... you all everybody!"

The craftsmanship on this figure is astonishing, and I fear for my self-control. Say it: I will not buy every figure in this series. I will not buy every figure in this series. Repeat. We'll see how that goes... But whether or not I get my hands on any other castaways, I've got Charlie. And that is a beautiful thing indeed.