Go On Safari With Tompkinson and Company in Wild at Heart

Back in March, I discovered Ballykissangel, a series set in Ireland and on the air for the second half of the 90s. The only English character is Father Peter Clifford (Stephen Tompkinson), around whom the first three seasons revolve. I've now moved into the post-Peter era on Ballykissangel, but I was curious to see whether Tompkinson had been in any other series that I could nab through Netflix. Checking out his IMDb page, I zeroed in on Wild at Heart, a current show that debuted in 2006.

The premise, involving a veterinarian setting up shop in a lodge in South Africa with his blended family, struck me as very familiar. I soon realized that was because I'd seen the pilot of Life Is Wild, an American remake that lasted only one season. Danny Trevanian (Thompkinson) is the vet in the British version. His wife Sarah (Amanda Holden) comes up with the idea of going to South Africa for a trip after Danny revives a monkey brought into his practice. The idea is that they will rehabilitate him and release him into the wild, getting in some much-needed family bonding at the same time.

Danny is a widower, and his teenage daughter Rosie (Lucy-Jo Hudson) hasn't taken very kindly to her stepmother. Meanwhile, Sarah's son Evan (Luke Ward-Wilkinson) has a knack for attracting trouble, making his relationship with Danny strained even though he admires his stepfather very much. The only member of the family who seems to get along with everyone else swimmingly is Sarah's sweet daughter Olivia (Rafaella Hutchinson), who younger than Evan and insists on politely calling her stepfather "Mr. Trevanian". (I don't recall that the show specifies their ages, but when the series started airing, Ward-Wilkinson was 14, and Hutchinson was 11.)

Upon their arrival in South Africa, the Travanians meet eccentric, crusty Anders Du Plessis (Deon Stewardson) and gentle Nomsa Nguni (Nomsa Xaba), who reside together at a tumble-down nature lodge. When a miscalculation by Evan forces Danny to demonstrate his veterinary prowess, Du Plessis (as everyone calls him) offers a life-changing proposition. Why don't the Trevanians stick around and help him get his preserve into working order? It seems ridiculous at first, but Danny and Sarah both find themselves drawn to the outlandish possibility, especially when they see the wonder in the eyes of their children, even snitty Rosie, as they get up-close and personal with the native wildlife. For better or worse, they will stay.

And there's plenty of both. Each episode is about an hour long, and while there are many light-hearted moments, peril is plenteous. Danny has to charge in and save the day time and again when his family members are threatened by rhinos, lions, poisonous snakes and deadly diseases. Beyond that, he must deal with injured animals, and even with his considerable skill he can't save them all of the time. There are also pesky tourists and unsavory neighbors to contend with, and the new surroundings don't automatically smooth out the dynamics of his family.

This is a beautiful show to look at, with lots of fantastic footage of giraffes, elephants, wildcats and other animals. African chanting enhances the action, though at times it comes across as a bit overbearing. Both beatific Olivia and impish Evan are adorable, as are the various pets they take on, particularly a lion cub named Miranda. Rosie starts off pretty obnoxious, but as the first season progresses, she softens, both out of concern for her imperiled stepsiblings and starry-eyed euphoria that romance has begun to blossom with handsome, helpful local Themba Khumalo (Siyabonga Melongisi Shibe).

Tompkinson is noticeably older here, though only it's only eight years between the end of his run on Ballykissangel and the beginning of this series. There's a certain heaviness about his eyes that often makes him seem exhausted and exasperated. He's a good guy, to be sure, and as a vet, he becomes almost as integral to his little corner of the continent as the gregarious Peter is to his congregants. I like him, but I don't find myself quite as drawn to him as I expected. Conversely, I generally prefer the supportive Sarah to the saucy Assumpta, Peter's love interest. Sarah is a strong, determined woman, but she seems much more willing to compromise. What the central love story in this series lacks in intensity, it makes up in maturity. Nomsa doesn't have a lot to do in the first season but is a constant supportive presence. My favorite character aside from the kids is probably Du Plessis, who is so lovably cantankerous and unpredictable. He's not used to sharing his home with a lot of people, which leads to some awkward situations, but he serves as an indispensable guide to this new life, particularly for Danny and Evan.

Season one of Life Is Wild has six episodes, during which we see the greatest changes occurring in Evan and Rosie, accelerated by the arrivals of Evan's dad midway through the season and Rosie's best friend in the last episode. For the most part, I'd say the series is appropriate for children, who might be drawn in by the animals and the presence of Evan and Olivia, though a few scenes, mostly involving the adults' romantic entanglements, are pretty adult in nature, and some of the life-or-death moments get quite intense. On the whole, though, the family-centric storylines and the wonderful animal footage make this a good show for parents and older kids to watch together. Give it a chance, and you might just find yourself wild about Wild at Heart.

Get to Know a Lighter Version of the 4077th with M*A*S*H - Season 1

I grew up on M*A*S*H. It's been one of my favorite TV shows for as long as I can remember. It used to be in reruns almost constantly, so I watched quite a bit of it, though I don't think it was until high school that I got to know the first wave of M*A*S*H characters, the folks who preceded a sort of changing of the guard midway through the series. I had some recollection of pesky Frank Burns (Larry Linville), who was always trying to lord his authority over pranksters Benjamin "Hawkeye" Pierce (Alan Alda) and B. J. Hunnicut (Mike Farrell), but then he stuck around two years longer than Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson), the colonel initially in charge of the 4077th, and John "Trapper" McIntyre (Wayne Rogers), Hawkeye's first partner in crime. These were certainly characters worth getting to know.

M*A*S*H, of course, is the long-running sit-com about a group of doctors and other personnel living and working at the 4077th M*A*S*H unit in Korea during the Korean War. M*A*S*H stands for Mobile Army Surgical Hospital; they must be prepared to pick up and leave at any time, so the accommodations aren't exactly cushy. As for the medical part, the wounded come in bursts, with the distant sound of an approaching helicopter the tip-off that it's time for another marathon session in the O.R. This particular group has a remarkably high success rate with its patients. Even so, there are some who don't make it, and being surrounded by young injured soldiers takes its toll on each of the doctors, particularly star surgeon Hawkeye. He also is the camp's head jokester, as he has discovered that laughter is the only thing that can stave off despair in situations like this.

It's pretty heavy stuff for a sit-com, serious enough that I have a hard time sticking this in the same genre with the likes of The Monkees and The Brady Bunch. Nonetheless, the show is funny, more consistently entertaining than just about any show I can think of, so the comedy label is not applied inappropriately, and in its first few seasons, the focus is definitely on the lighter side of life at the 4077th. That's not to say that the darkness doesn't intrude, but there's so much silly stuff happening early on that it almost reminds me of Hogan's Heroes.

That has a lot to do with the characters featured here but not in later seasons. Frank is a sniveling stick-in-the-mud whom nearly no one respects. He's whiny and petty, easily duped and not much of a doctor. In season one, he's firmly in league with Head Nurse Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan (Loretta Swit), the show's only really prominent female character; the only one who comes close is Kellye Yamato (Kellye Nakahara), a nurse who's in about half the episodes but rarely in the foreground. Frank is married, but he and Margaret have a torrid affair going on. They'd like to think it's clandestine, but everyone in camp knows about it. As the series progresses, Margaret becomes much more sympathetic, but in season one, she's a shrill tattletale and a self-righteous hypocrite. When she and Frank aren't busy making each other's nostrils flare, they're plotting ways to dispose of Hawkeye and Trapper, who get away with their shenanigans in part because they're a lot more likable than Frank and Margaret, but more importantly because as surgeons, they are indispensable.

It also helps that Hawkeye and Trapper pretty much have Colonel Blake in their pocket, thanks largely to their alliance with sweet but shrewd company clerk Walter "Radar" O'Reilly (Gary Burghoff). Blake is a skilled doctor and a heck of a nice guy, but he's fairly oblivious about the intricate workings of his camp, and Radar has a knack for tricking him into signing everything from requisitions forms to permissions for leave in Seoul, everyone's favorite (well, pretty much only) vacation destination. The bespectacled young man has a strange clairvoyant streak that allows him to predict exactly what the colonel is about to tell him, and this flusters Blake so much that it makes it even easier to pull the wool over his eyes.

Blake is as different from seasoned, efficient season-four replacement Sherman Potter (Harry Morgan) as Frank is from his eventual replacement, Charles Winchester (David Ogden Stiers), who is uppity and cosseted but also a brilliant doctor and ultimately a pretty good guy underneath all of his pretension. The Trapper-Hawkeye dynamic is extremely similar to the B. J.-Hawkeye dynamic, but while B. J. is pretty clean-cut and constantly thinking about his family back home, Trapper doesn't let the fact that he's married stop him from being as shameless a philanderer as Hawkeye. He's more sarcastic than B. J., and as Hawkeye's sidekick, he lives in his shadow much more than B. J. does.

A couple of years ago, my brother bought me the first two seasons of M*A*S*H for my birthday, so whenever I watch the show, I find myself thinking of him, especially when Hawkeye, with whom he shares a first name, is on screen - which is most of the time. This frisky, wise-cracking, incredibly dedicated doctor is one of only four main characters to last the run of the series, and from the beginning, the show tends to focus on him more than anyone else. Though it's an ensemble comedy, Hawkeye is the star.

The only other major players are Max Klinger (Jamie Farr), a corporal most notable for his persistent attempts to get out of the army by convincing his superiors he's insane, and Father Francis Mulcahy (William Christopher), a humble priest who really has his hands full as the camp's chaplain. Neither is given terribly much to do in the first season, but Klinger is more noticeable because he's always parading around in stylish women's clothing. Minor recurring characters this season include African-American doctor Oliver "Spearchucker" Jones (Timothy Brown), part of Hawkeye and Trapper's posse; Australian anesthesiologist "Ugly John" Black (John Orchard) and Korean houseboy Ho-Jon (Patrick Adiarte), who Hawkeye helps send to medical school at his alma mater.

While my favorite seasons of M*A*S*H are probably four through seven, I still love the early seasons, and the first one has many stand-out moments. For instance, there are episodes with notable guest stars. Leslie Nielsen turns up as reckless Colonel Buzz Brighton in The Ringbanger; his disregard for the safety of the troops under his command is such that Hawkeye and Trapper plot to put him out of commission. Ron Howard plays underage soldier Walter Wendell in Sometimes You Hear the Bullet, the most moving episode of the season, in which Hawkeye takes one death especially hard and receives the following solemn pep talk from Blake in an unusually sage moment: "Look, all I know is what they taught me at command school. There are certain rules about a war. And rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is, doctors can't change rule number one." Although I wasn't familiar with his name, I was tickled to recognize Alex Henteloff - who had a brief but very memorable role as the scientist Scotty and Bones visit in Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home - in Dear Dad, Again, in which he plays a genius who takes on a number of careers without going through the proper certification process. This episode also includes one of the season's funniest and most cleverly shot scenes, in which Hawkeye walks across camp naked to try to prove to Trapper that no one will even notice.

Romance is always in the air at the 4077th, and two stand-out episodes revolve around unlikely pairings. In Edwina, Hawkeye is elected to go woo the lovable nurse of the title (Arlene Golonka), whose accident-prone nature has caused the men of the camp to avoid close contact with her. In Love Story, Hawkeye and Trapper help hook Radar up with an erudite new camp arrival; this is fun to watch, but what really got my attention here was the revelation that Radar had once been engaged. He's my favorite character, but I had no idea!

My two favorite episodes of the season both involve a ridiculous chain of events. In The Longjohn Flap, Hawkeye receives an extraordinarily warm set of long underwear from his father. The weather in camp is frigid, so this is a highly coveted prize, and before the episode is over, just about every major character has managed to get his or her hands on it. Watching the longjohns pass from person to person via every method from gambling to extortion is a hoot, as is Hawkeye's agonized reaction.

My other favorite is Tuttle, in which Hawkeye modestly gives credit for his charitable donation to an orphanage to a captain by the name of Tuttle. They say that no good deed goes unpunished, and Hawkeye learns this the hard way when news of this noble, nonexistent captain gets around and he, Trapper and Radar must scramble to maintain the illusion. By the time the episode ends with Hawkeye killing the captain off before the situation spirals completely out of control, everyone has grown thoroughly attached to him; indeed, both Frank and Blake are convinced that they had meaningful relationships with Tuttle. It's an audacious con, but in the end, everyone wins.

It's not vitally important to start from season one and work your way through the series in the proper order. But if you want the real scope of M*A*S*H as a show, you'll want to start off here. It isn't the best of the seasons, but it's a wonderful introduction to one of the finest television shows ever created.

Before Lord of the Rings and LOST, There Was Hetty Wainthropp Investigates...

Like most people in the U.S., I'd never heard of Dominic Monaghan before Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy. After playing valiant hobbit Merry, he went on to portray Charlie Pace on LOST, which cemented him as one of my favorite actors. While several of his co-stars from both ventures have appeared in films and on television recently, I had to content myself with a single guest appearance on Chuck and the promise that eventually, I could see him in Wolverine and the zombie flick I Sell the Dead, if I thought I could stomach it. Then I discovered that Dom had a whole series predating both LotR and LOST.

Hetty Wainthropp Investigates is a BBC mystery series that ran from 1996 to 1998. Created by John Bowen and David Cook, it follows the adventures of plucky Hetty Wainthropp (Patricia Routledge), who decides to open up a detective agency to bring in some extra money and help exercise her "gray cells" after her husband Robert (Derek Benfield) retires. She can't do it on her own, though; she'll need an assistant, and she finds one in Geoffrey Shawcross (Monaghan), a lovable imp of a teen she catches shoplifting in the first episode, The Bearded Lady. He's all too glad to hang up his grocery store apron in favor of more exciting work, so their partnership begins.

Aside from the fact that every episode revolves around a missing or deceased person, the show is fairly light-hearted. Routledge and Monaghan have a wonderful rapport. Hetty has clearly earned Geoffrey's respect, and he treats her accordingly - though the affection between them is such that he also feels secure in poking fun at some of her idiosyncrasies. And he's useful, too, always knowing people who might provide pertinent information for their current case ad willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, whether it involves taking painstaking notes or going undercover. Meanwhile, he's unafraid to speak up if he feels that to pursue an assignment would challenge his integrity. Hetty serves as his mentor, but sometimes he needs to rein her in a bit and remind her of what's really important.

Routledge looks about the same to me as she does on Keeping Up Appearances, a BBC series that I've caught on PBS before, but a couple of years make a big difference at Dom's young age. He was 20 when the series first aired, but he looks about 15, with a boyish haircut and lanky frame. He certainly carries himself like a teenager, a down-on-his-luck urchin with a heart of gold. Like Charlie and Merry, Geoffrey is mischievous but good-hearted, and as a wingman, he's hard to beat. In the first season, there are no opportunities for him to sing; I'm hoping those might turn up later in the series. Interestingly, in the episode A High Profile, Geoffrey enters the room of a young man who has disappeared, and hanging on the wall is a poster of Lord of the Rings; I did a double-take when I saw it and had to rewind it to be sure, but I have that very poster hanging on my wall. I doubt that he knew yet at the point when this was filmed that he would be playing Merry; if he didn't, it's a nifty coincidence, but if he did, I presume it was planted there intentionally as an Easter egg.

As is typical of a procedural series like this, most of the characters come and go, but Robert is a constant presence, and I enjoy the banter between him and his wife. He's a long-suffering fellow, and while Hetty is very likable, poor Robert does come across as a bit hen-pecked. He doesn't necessarily hold with all of her ideas, but she always seems to get her way in the end. In this season, he has the most to do in Widdershins, an episode that takes him back to the tiny town where his beloved but long-estranged uncle recently died. This allows for considerable character development as he works through his grief and guilt over how he handled their relationship, ultimately leading him to take on a more paternal role in the life of Geoffrey, whom he initially distrusts. The other recurring character at this point is D. C. I. Adams (John Graham-Davies), a police detective who is simultaneously amused, impressed and exasperated with Hetty's independent efforts. He pops in occasionally to offer advice or warnings and mostly serves as an ally and a bit of comic relief.

The first season has only six episodes; four of them are about an hour and a half long, while the other two clock in at about 50 minutes each. The mysteries are satisfying, often with a twist or two, though the show sometimes leaves a few more loose ends than I'd like. Though there is at least one death in every episode, not every death is a murder; uncovering the reasons behind these occurrences is intriguing regardless of how they happened. In the course of their investigations, Hetty and Geoffrey stumble into some unusual territory. They infiltrate a gathering of witches and get tangled up with the Mafia, and at one point, Geoffrey dresses in drag to provoke a reaction from a suspect. The show also broaches serious subjects such as elder abuse, the foster case system and the treatment of the mentally challenged. Each episode has a good balance of character and plot.

Of course, I watched primarily for the characters, and I'm glad I have three more seasons in which to get to know Geoffrey, Hetty and Robert. Maybe I won't have to resort to I Sell the Dead after all...

Good Twins Prevail Over Impracticalities in The Parent Trap

Yesterday, I finished reading the LOST tie-in novel Bad Twin, so I have had twins on the brain, which led me naturally to The Parent Trap, the Nancy Meyers-directed Disney remake I saw for the first time a few weeks back. I was familiar with the basic story, though as far as I can recall I'd never seen the Hayley Mills version either. Two girls meet at summer camp and discover that they are identical twins who have been separated at birth. Having found that long-lost connection, they endeavor to reunite their parents.

In the 1998 version, the twins are played by a pre-scandal Lindsay Lohan in her first movie role(s). Hallie Parker is a spunky American who lives with her vineyard-owning father Nick (Dennis Quaid). Annie James is a posh young sophisticate who lives in England with her mother Elizabeth (Natasha Richardson), a famous designer. The girls meet and, after a couple of unfortunate run-ins, declare themselves rivals, each launching a war on the other that lands them in solitary confinement - with each other. It's at this point that they really take note of their physical similarities as well as their complementary backgrounds. Before camp is over, they've figured things out and hatched a plan that, if nothing else, will allow each to spend time with her long-dreamed-of other parent.

The rivalry portion of the movie is silly and slapsticky, and the length of the girls' imprisonment is a little ridiculous, as is the entire premise of each parent being willing to act as though the other daughter doesn't exist for ten years and of these girls living on different continents happening to go to the same summer camp. I've heard of cases of identical twins reuniting after many years, but these particular circumstances seem very suspect. There are other absurd plot points as well, including a nasty trick that the girls play on Nick's frosty, gold-digging fiancee Meredith (Elaine Hendrix) that is downright dangerous. But some suspension of disbelief has generally been a given in Disney movies, and I'm willing to overlook certain oddities if the movie is enjoyable enough. For me, this one is.

The mid-section of the movie, in which the bulk of the action takes place, involves Hallie and Annie adjusting each other's way of life. Initially, there's the joy of reunion with the parent, though both girls must hold their euphoria in check somewhat to avoid arousing suspicion. Their new surroundings, and the cast of characters that come with them, soon come to feel almost homelike. Annie quickly bonds with Chessy (Lisa Ann Walter), a faithful housekeeper rather like Alice on The Brady Bunch; Hallie gets to know Martin (Simon Kunz), the emotionally open butler with whom Annie shares a secret handshake. Hallie also meets her doting grandfather for the first time, while Annie must deal with the unwelcome development of Meredith, who came into the picture after camp started. In both cases, the actual parents have no inkling that they are being duped by their daughters, but others catch on more quickly; Hallie's dog, for instance, isn't fooled for a minute.

It's fun to watch these girls try to pretend to be each other, a task made more difficult by the fact that they must always remember to put on a phony accent. While they manage that remarkably well, it's a bit more difficult to avoid slipping unlikely terms into conversation. Watching their struggles is entertaining, while watching them fall in love with their families is heartwarming. Richardson is especially radiant in this, the first of her movies that I saw after her death, while Quaid brings his usual likability to his role. There's never any question that the two will wind up together by film's end, despite the logistical problems with this scenario. Though the two have very little actual screen time together, they manage to sell me on the relationship, convincing me it could work out even though it didn't the first time.

The Parent Trap is a fun, frothy film about a family reconnecting despite numerous obstacles. It's squeaky clean Disney fun and a chance to see Richardson in full bloom and Lohan at her adorable, pre-adolescent best, interacting with herself so convincingly that I half-wondered if there was a twin Lohan we weren't aware of. With appealing secondary characters along with a hiss-worthy villainess, this might not be a necessary adaptation, but it certainly is an enjoyable one.

Bats at the Library Offers a New Perspective on Classic Literature

Three years ago, my dad bought me Brian Lies' Bats at the Beach, a delightful picture book he'd heard discussed on National Public Radio. Last week, while perusing the gift shop at the Tom Ridge Environmental Center here in Erie, PA, I discovered that Lies had written a sequel entitled Bats at the Library. Considering how much I'd loved his first bat book - and that I'm a frequenter of the library - I expected something delightful, and I was not disappointed.

In Bats at the Library, the same benevolent nocturnal creatures who flocked to the beach for some nighttime frolicking decide that their next field trip will be to the library. The bats serve as the collective narrators in this rhyming tale, and they explain the inspiration for their excursion: an open window. Someone - probably inadvertently - has left the bats an entry. There's a sense that they've done this before but that it's a very rare treat, and for some among them, it's entirely novel. One youngster in particular is featured on nearly every page; he appears to be wearing water wings, perhaps an indication that the bats had been planning yet another beach party until they got wind of the library's availability.

As with the first book, Lies does a marvelous job of making the bats endearing, showing us the world from a slightly skewed but still very appealing perspective. (For instance, the first page is upside-down, as evidenced by the chimney hanging down from the roof at the top of the page; the bats, meanwhile, appear to be standing up, when they're actually dangling from a branch.) The bats are brown and furry, resembling mice aside from the distinctive wings. For the most part, they fly about proudly unadorned, though one bat - a tattered-looking fellow with damaged wings and ears, which makes me suspect he's an elder statesman who's been through quite a lot in his life - cheerfully sports a pair of spectacles.

I love the poetic narration, which has a lovely cadence to it. This pair of verses toward the middle best sums up the magic of their outing: "And if we listen, we will hear / some distant voices drawing near - / louder, louder, louder still, / they coax and pull us in, until... / everyone - old bat or pup - / has been completely swallowed up / and lives inside a book instead / of simply hearing something read." Its initial echoes of The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere are a tip-off to the homages that will follow, though these are found not in the text but in the outstanding acrylic illustrations, which really tell most of the story.

This was the case in Bats at the Beach as well, but it's even more pronounced here. While the words and pictures work together for such activities as the bats duplicating themselves on the copier, swimming in the water fountain and playing inside a pop-up house, the most exhilarating details, particularly for bibliophiles, are collected in two two-page spreads, accompanied my a mere two lines of text. I rather wish that Lies had included, in the back of the book, a list of all of the books to which he alludes in his illustrations; there are about 20, most of which incorporate bats in some manner as the eager readers imagine themselves as such characters as Pippi Longstocking, Aladdin, Winnie the Pooh, Peter Rabbit, Arthur Pendragon and Mr. Toad. One of the few book references without a corresponding bat is The Hobbit, though I like to imagine a Bilbo bat just on the other side of that attractive green door in the hillside, eating a leisurely second breakfast.

The book is veritable treasure trove for book-lovers simple because of these four pages alone, but the rest of Bats at the Library is also quite charming. If you want to appreciate literacy from an unusual angle, take flight with Brian Lies' bats and prepare for adventure.

LOST's First Casualty Speaks, Sort Of, in Bad Twin

On May 13, season five of LOST came to a spectacular conclusion, leaving all of its devoted fans with about eight months stretching before us before we can get any real answers. An apparent Alternate Reality Game rooted in Twitter may drop a hint or two but probably will mostly serve to intensify speculation and confuse us even further. Before I found out about that, however, I planned another way of satiating my hunger for LOST. The prudent thing would have been to wait a month or two, thus drawing it out longer, but as one of the characters in LOST's fourth and most famous tie-in novel says, I'm not very prudent. At least when it comes to putting a leash on my obsessions.

Bad Twin is a novel written by one Laurence Shames, though his name never appears on the book. That's because the mystery is attributed to Oceanic 815 passenger Gary Troup, eventually revealed in an interview with head writers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse to be the man who gets sucked into the airplane turbine in LOST's pilot episode. While he doesn't survive his first day on the Island, his manuscript does, becoming reading material for both Hurley and Sawyer before a temperamental Jack burns the last few pages. (Maybe, once he decided to return to the Island, Jack ought to have gotten his hands on a copy of the published book to present to Sawyer as a peace offering...)

Bad Twin is fundamentally different from the other tie-in novels because it is meta-fictional. As such, it doesn't concern the goings-on of the castaways, which works both for it and against it. Against it, because the main thing drawing me to the other novels was the opportunity to visit with familiar characters from the show. For it, because the main thing annoying me about the other novels, or two of them anyway, was how poorly those people were characterized. There are LOST connections in the novel, but most of them seem to function primarily as Easter eggs, aside from broader themes like redemption, family issues and good and evil that run throughout both the series and the book.

Small references include the Hanso Foundation, Paik Industries, Oceanic Airlines, John Locke (the philosopher, not the Island's wannabe king) and Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack. The passing reference to Cindy Chandler as a stewardess admired by the main character is significant mainly because Troup and Chandler were evidently an item, so she was written into the novel as a cameo. The book is dedicated to her as well, and the publisher's notes mention her. In her few appearances on the show, however, she has never mentioned the author at all, so it's not clear how canonical their relationship is. The numbers also turn up in a few places, particularly 8, 15 and 16, though all make an appearance at some point. The cover, in which the words of the title are etched into the sand on a beach with a stick, is also most likely a nod to the show.

The main connection is with the Widmore family. Paul Artisan, a detective with a deep-seated longing for truth, is hired to find a missing member of this dynasty and soon finds himself confused and endangered as his assumptions about his client and his relatives are challenged and his contacts keep turning up dead. These Widmores are Americans, but they have Scottish roots, and like Charles on the show, they are sailing enthusiasts, enjoy whisky and are filthy rich. Arthur is the patriarch, while his twin sons are Clifford (the client) and Alexander (the missing person). I'm not sure how much information about future developments Shames was given; Widmore Industries had been mentioned briefly on the show before, but Charles wasn't introduced as a character until the season two finale, which I'm pretty sure aired after this was published.

I don't know if Shames took what he thought was an extremely minor character and built his story about him or if we're supposed to think there's some kind of connection between the fictional Charles and the meta-fictional Arthur. I also wonder if other elements of the book, such as a brief retelling of the Biblical story of Jacob and Esau, are supposed to foreshadow later events in the show; I'm not certain how much of the show's overall arc was planned at this point, though, or if Shames was privy to this sort of information. If it was deliberate foreshadowing, the novel might just hold a clue to the sixth season. Most famously, this book seems to hold a clue as to the nature of the Island, as Gary Troup is an anagram for Purgatory, which is mentioned several times in the book. The writers have debunked the idea that the Island is literally Purgatory, though it seems silly to deny that it works very well on a figurative level.

LOST connections aside, however, is this an engaging story? I'm not really much of a mystery reader, though there are several detective shows I find enjoyable (most recently, Hetty Wainthropp Investigates, co-starring LOST alum Dom Monaghan). It's always fun to see if I can solve the mystery before they do. (Usually I can't.) There are some interesting twists and turns in this book, and the characters are fairly interesting. The most compelling element of the mystery concerns the true nature of the twin brothers, which Paul is convinced he cannot begin to discern until he finds Arthur's prodigal son.

Paul is a likable enough fellow. When we first meet him, he's spending most of his time trying to prove people are cheating on their spouses or their insurance claims. It's rather seedy work, and it doesn't feel satisfying for him. He'd rather pursue mysteries that allow him to be a champion for those who need help. This sentence seems especially telling: "He believed - or desperately wanted to believe, which is nearly the same thing - that things made sense..." What a perfect description, too, of viewers of LOST! Paul feeds his hunger for meaning with deep conversations with his best friend, retired college professor Manny Weissman. Paul's affection for this sage mentor and for Argos, the dog whose custody they share, is perhaps his most endearing quality. Meanwhile, through Manny, the reader gets a less organic but still extensive series of literary and cultural references. The show just slips them in everywhere, whereas Manny hits readers over the head with them. It's a little clunky, but mostly it works.

Less endearing is Paul's tendency to have lascivious thoughts about every woman he encounters. He doesn't generally come across as a very lewd guy, but whenever he comes into contact with a woman, he stares at her chest or fantasizes about trysting with her. In one case, he follows through on his urges. This relationship, with an Aussie named Prudence, reminded me of a doomed relationship shown in LOST's fourth season, which didn't give me great hopes that they would have a promising future together, though I won't say whether my concerns were justified. I also wasn't crazy about the occasional dropping of "f-bombs"; if the show doesn't do it, I don't see why the tie-in novel needs to. It certainly doesn't add anything, especially since most of the strong profanity comes from Cliff, who I would think would keep a more professional tongue in meetings with a private investigator. Finally, there is a reference to an event occurring in November of 2004, two months after the crash of Oceanic 815.

Bad Twin is not the most riveting book I've ever read, and I only picked it up for the LOST connections. You're not likely to get too many great insights into the show by reading it, but it might encourage you to reconsider a few things, and it at the least you'll have fun scouring the pages for references to the show. It's not great literature, but it's considerably better than the tie-in novels Signs of Life and Endangered Species. If you're looking for a bit of LOST to get you through the hiatus, Bad Twin isn't a bad choice.

The 2009 LOST Calendar is Rather Generic But Lovely Nonetheless

The first time the television show LOST released a calendar, it was a Big Deal at the kiosk where I worked. Every year there seems to be a calendar or two that just flies off the shelves, and in 2005, that was it. I was glad, as I had a gut feeling that LOST was a Very Erin Sort of Show, but as I hadn't yet managed to get caught up on it - and refused to start watching partway in - I didn't nab the calendar. The following year, I managed to get myself up to speed, but by the time I finished with season two, which was depicted in the calendar, we were all sold out. So it wasn't until post-season three that I first bought a LOST calendar for myself. I don't know if they'll continue making them beyond the conclusion of the series, but I'll certainly be snagging the ones for season five and six.

I say the 2009 LOST calendar is a reflection of season four, though that's not entirely accurate. The main photos on the top page are publicity shots for the fourth season, I think; With the exception of Sun, each character is set against a leafy jungle background; trees are prominent in Sun's picture as well, but at more of a distance, as she is situated in across from a tree-lined beach, with water behind her. I'm having trouble putting my finger on just where she's standing; it seems like some kind of lagoon. The smaller photos mostly depict scenes from the fourth season, I think, though the moments are generally not as iconic as they could be. And none of the season's new characters make an appearance at all. Perhaps the calendar creators wanted to avoid spoilers; I was rather annoyed when a glance at the 2007 calendar tipped me off that Hurley and Libby had a relationship. But I wouldn't think they'd completely disregard all of the newbies just for that reason. I suppose they just weren't considered important enough.

The calendar is set up in homage to the Pearl station, whose occupants are tasked with the job of monitoring those in other stations. Each month features three rounded television screens in the style of those seen in the Pearl. The top page is entirely taken up by one screen with an upper-body shot of a particular character; nobody doubles up this time, even Sun and Jin. On the bottom page, the top half is occupied by two television screens. The left shows a scene from the series featuring the character of the month, while the right lists that person's name atop five blank lines to be used "to track character developments". This is according to a note at the very beginning of the calendar, in which the top page shows all twelve characters together against a stormy background and the bottom has two screens full of blank lines atop four mini-pages listing the months from September to December 2008.

It's nice to have an ample amount of room for pictures, but this leaves the actual calendar space for each month quite limited, restricted to a mere half a page. The rectangular boxes are still big enough to write in, but only just; I'm really not much for writing on wall calendars, but those who are may well find this an annoyance. Also, though I don't think previous calendars have done this either - and with the limited space it's probably not such a good idea - I think it would be fun to list significant dates in the LOST timeline on the calendar. Designate December 19th as Ben Linus's birthday and September 22nd as the date of the Oceanic 815 crash and March 22nd as the date the Black Rock set sail from Portsmouth, that sort of thing. I do like the design of the calendar portion, though; the grainy whitish-gray background and stocky black letters are very Dharma-esque.

January is Jack Shephard's month, and the bottom shot is of him standing, hands on hips, next to Sayid, probably in Confirmed Dead or The Economist. February is Kate Austen, and the bottom has her talking to Jack, her hands locked together. I'd put this one in The Beginning of the End, around the time of "Are we really going home?", though again I'm not positive. Her evasive stance in the main picture seems appropriate for her wishy-washy nature at this point on the Island, flitting between Jack and Sawyer and between wanting to leave and fearing what will happen if she does.

I like that on the main James "Sawyer" Ford shot for March, there's a bright gleam of sunlight peeking through the clouds, as if to indicate Sawyer's impending march toward redemption. He made fairly steady progress through the first three seasons but often backtracked; season four marks the true beginning of his leap from anti-hero to hero. I think the smaller picture, in which he stands near Sayid against a dark backdrop sprinkled with torches, is from The Beginning of the End, around the moment when, apparently swayed by Hurley's speech, he decides to join Team John. Sayid Jarrah, in April, is essentially by himself in his smaller picture; there's someone on either side of him, but I can't make out their identities or pinpoint the scene, in which part of the plane seems to be in the background.

May is Ben Linus, who looks shifty as always, and the smaller picture shows him and Sawyer sharing a not-so-cordial conversation in Confirmed Dead. June is Juliet Burke, who is shown in the smaller picture with Sayid covering Jack's back with guns, also in Confirmed Dead. July is Claire Littleton, and there's not much to go on in the smaller picture, except that someone wearing a watch is standing nearby. I'm guessing it's from The Beginning of the End when she's looking for Charlie as the survivors reunite. I think the smaller picture in August, Hurley Reyes's page, is from around the same moment; it's night, and he stands (sporting his thankfully misleading red shirt) with Sawyer and Sayid, with the cuff of Desmond's blue shirt just slightly visible. I would've preferred Hurley and Ben Share a Candy Bar from Cabin Fever, but this is fine.

September is Desmond Hume, standing with his hand reaching up to a tree branch, exposing his bicep. In the smaller picture, he's sitting in a kumbaya sort of pose near the plane; it looks more like a shot from season three's Left Behind, but I'm not sure. Desmond of all people ought to have something more iconic, since as far as I'm concerned - and I know many fans agree with me - The Constant was the best episode of season four. Couldn't we have had a shot of him with a phone in his hand, grinning from ear to ear? Jin Kwon, in October, also seems like it could be a season three shot; it looks like him enjoying a beer in the Dharma van in Tricia Tanaka Is Dead. But maybe this is him in the medical station or something.

Sun Kwon is November, so she and her husband are only separated by a month. In the smaller picture, she stands with Claire, Kate, Desmond and Sawyer; this, too, is most likely from season three, probably Greatest Hits, since Claire and Desmond are never in a scene together during the day in season four. The calendar wraps up with John Locke, looking determined with his arms crossed and the knife on his belt clearly visible. The smaller shot is of him lying on the ground bloody and bewildered, apparently in season three's The Man Behind the Curtain or Through the Looking Glass after he finds himself in a ditch full of Dharma purge victims.

This is a good calendar, though I'm not sure if I like it quite as much as the 2008 one. For one thing, I liked that season three included quotes by the characters. For another, each character got several photos, though they were smaller than the ones here. Also, it just seems a little lousy that none of the supporting players from this season turn up at all. I suppose maybe everyone who appears in the calendar has to get paid for it, so whoever put this together didn't want to include any more than 12 characters if it could be avoided. But Daniel Faraday, Miles Straume, Charlotte Lewis and Frank Lapidus all deserve a little time in the spotlight, to say nothing of "Kevin Johnson," Captain Gault, Penny Widmore and Martin Keamy and the ever-neglected Danielle Rousseau, Alex Linus, Rose Henderson and Bernard Nadler. Another dozen characters right there, and that's just a start.

You won't get much of an idea of what season four is about by studying this calendar - and as much as I like the Pearl convention, it would be more appropriate for season two or three. Still, if you want a daily reminder of this fascinating show and some large shots of its stars, the 2009 LOST calendar is nice to have hanging around.

Celebrate Star Trek With Bobblehead Spock

Last week, Star Trek, probably the one movie this year I was most looking forward to, came out in theaters. I've been a Star Trek fan for as long as I can remember and have always been especially fond of logical, selfless Spock. I made the trip to Burger King last week hoping to nab a Spock glass and kids' meal toy; neither was available at the time, so my quest continues. But on Friday, I stumbled upon a Star Trek display in Hollywood Video and discovered an even cooler trinket: a talking Spock bobblehead.

We have a couple of bobbleheads scattered across various shelves in our house. Former Governor Tom Ridge sits cheerfully near the computer, the result of a peculiar baseball game giveaway. Davy Jones, rescued from the Spencer's bargain bin, grins over my desk, tambourine in hand. It's probably no big loss that Ridge comes unequipped with a sound chip, though I'd love to hear Davy burst randomly into Daydream Believer. Alas, he's perfectly silent, but not chatty Spock. This half-Vulcan Starfleet officer has plenty to say.

Spock comes in an attractive cardboard box that discusses his character traits. The bobblehead itself is mounted on a light brown plastic platform on the front of which "SPOCK" written on a small plaque, next to a Starfleet insignia. Spock is made of sturdy plastic, with black shoes and pants and his blue uniform shirt. His right hand is molded into the "Live Long and Prosper" gesture, while his left is balled into a fist. Both of his hands are articulated at the shoulders. The serene face with the jet-black hair and arched eyebrows bears more than a passing resemblance to Leonard Nimoy, whose voice emanates from the figure, and the ears are appropriately pointed.

Spock has three phrases in rotation: "Fascinating," "Live long and prosper" and "You are, after all, essentially irrational." Three seems like a good number; it's also how many phrases most of McFarlane's LOST figures have. (I can't understand why they waited until after the line was cancelled to heavily promote the figures via the oddball LOST Untangled mini-films in season five...) As with most of the LOST figures, I think one of the quotes is less iconic than others. The "irrational" quote is the longest, and it sums up Spock's attitude well, but as a catch-phrase I would be more inclined to expect "illogical". Still, minor quibble.

The idea with this bobblehead is that you set him down and give him a few taps on the head to set him bobbling, which triggers the sound chip. There's no set-up involved, which is a relief after all the annoyances I went through with the LOST figures. But you also can't just press a button to get Spock going, and just because his head is bobbing, it doesn't necessarily mean he'll talk. More notably, he has a habit of piping up at the most unexpected of times. For a couple of days, we had him sitting on the microwave, and almost every time we closed the door, we could count on commentary from him. Now, he's migrated to a less sensitive location, but every once in a while, completely out of the blue, we'll hear "Fascinating" or "Live long and prosper". I find the randomness hilarious, but if you like absolute control over your talking toys, you may not be so amused.

Online, seven-inch-tall Spock, weighing in at about a pound, goes for twelve dollars; I bought him for ten. As far as I can tell, there are four Wacky Wobblers in this series: Captain Kirk, which is certainly expected, but also, as another testament to these toys' randomness, the reptilian Gorn and blue-faced Andorian. Both are among the most identifiable aliens in the original series, but they're not exactly significant characters, and they don't have anything to say either. Perhaps this is an ongoing line, and there will be more; otherwise, I can't understand why Funko didn't make Scotty and Bones instead. And if they're going to have those four, why not go all the way and include Uhura, Sulu and Chekov? It's probably just as well for me, though, if they stop the line where it is; I can resist Kirk, the Gorn and the Andorian, but I don't know if I could say no to the rest of the crew. I'm already in trouble since my trip to Amazon revealed that this summer, a deluxe electronic Kirk-in-the-command-chair-surrounded-by-tribbles action set will be released. Curse you, Amazon, and your dangerous suggestions! Must... not... buy.

But I did spring for Spock, who is both much cheaper and much more compact. And given the laughs he's provided in just a week, I'd say it was well worth it. This bobblehead might not be logical... but it certainly is fascinating.

Beam Aboard the Starship Enterprise With Zachary Quinto and Company

This weekend, two of my all-time favorite televisions shows are united on the big screen. LOST creator J. J. Abrams helmed the 2009 theatrical reboot of Star Trek, perhaps my most anticipated film of the year, bringing with him fellow LOST head honchos Damon Lindelof and Bryan Burk, along with composer Michael Giacchino and Greg Grunberg, whose part in the film, while even tinier than his brief turn as the doomed pilot of Oceanic 815, is certainly memorable, though you'll probably have to consult the credits to figure out who he is. I watched Star Trek regularly with my family when I was growing up, and Spock was one of the first fictional characters I came to adore whole-heartedly. No matter who was involved in this movie, I would have been standing in line on opening night, but the LOST connections sweetened the deal.

From the time I first heard about this new Star Trek, I was pleased by all the attention being lavished upon Spock but slightly nervous about the casting, since Zachary Quinto also plays Sylar, who sadistically sliced open many an unsuspecting head on Heroes before I gave up on the series. I imagine the reason for Quinto getting so much of the spotlight is two-fold: in full regalia (including, of course, the pointy ears), he bears an extraordinary resemblance to the original Spock, and the logical half-Vulcan - the only holdover from the show's first pilot - really is the glue that holds Star Trek together. The more I saw of Quinto's Spock in magazines and late-night interviews, the more I embraced him as Leonard Nimoy's successor, so that by the time my latest issue of Entertainment Weekly arrived with a cover bearing a crystal-clear headshot of New Spock, I could gaze at it enthralled and not be remotely reminded of the hated Heroes villain.

Still, looking the part and acting it are two different things, so I reserved total acceptance until the movie, in which Spock is every bit as central a character as I'd hoped. Quinto's Spock has slightly less control over his emotions than Nimoy's; for the most part, he is the same calmly detached officer, a cool voice of reason rising above the flaring tempers among his crewmates. But there is conflict within him, and never are his human emotions so strongly roused as in matters concerning his mother. The tender relationship the film presents feels like one of many throwbacks to Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. Spock, it transpires, is a bit of a mama's boy, but that doesn't stop him from being one of the most brilliant minds Starfleet has ever known.

Quinto conveys each subtle inflection of his genius masterfully while keeping us aware that Spock's feelings are submerged rather than nonexistent. Speaking in a gentle but authoritative tone, he is polite and precise and, when the occasion calls for it, droll. And thankfully, writers Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman give him plenty of compelling material, not to mention opportunities to whip out many Spock trademarks, including the Vulcan salute, nerve pinch and mind meld and the acknowledgement that something is "fascinating".

Spock also lifts quotes from specific moments in the series and subsequent movies, my favorite of which is the touching "I have been, and always shall be, your friend." This line is uttered not by Quinto but by Nimoy, whose appearance midway through the film is the audacious anchor upon which the plot rests, allowing Abrams wide creative license as he proceeds with the series. The movie is loaded with references meant to appease long-time fans, but Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan offers especially integral inspiration for the plot, from the revenge-driven crusade of tattooed Romulan Nero (Eric Bana) to the unpleasant interrogation method he uses. The nod that excited me the most involves a cocky young James Kirk (Chris Pine) taking a casual bite out of an apple as he takes the Academy's no-win scenario test for the third time.

The movie is hardly a collection of catch-phrases, but each of the major seven characters gets some time in the limelight, and there were cheers in my showing each time the officers uttered a familiar command or exclamation. Keep an ear out for Kirk saying, "Beam me up"; communications officer Uhura (Zoe Saldana) opening hailing frequencies; helmsman Sulu (John Cho) putting the ship into warp speed; ensign Chekov (Anton Yelchin) talking about "wessels" and "Wulcans"; engineer Scotty (Simon Pegg) bellowing, "I'm givin' it all she's got!" and Dr. McCoy (Karl Urban) snapping, "I'm a doctor, not a physicist!" Keep an eye out, meanwhile, for a man of little consequence dressed all in red and a surprising song credit rewarding longtime fans who stick around after the movie is over. Even with my eyes peeled, I missed the cameo of late Last Lecture author Randy Pausch, an avowed Trekker, early in the film; I'm sure that the next time I watch it, I'll catch plenty of other Easter eggs too.

Fans should be pleased with all of these opportunities to prove their prowess, and newcomers aren't likely to be distracted by them. While they miss the fun of the in-jokes, they have the advantage of not constantly comparing new with old and wondering whether these incarnations are betrayals. I have little issue with the acting in terms of these characterizations. More eyebrow-raising are some of the details written into these characters' histories and personalities. The aforementioned critical plot point explains some of the discrepancies, but there's also an extent to which these characters are being reinvented.

This is most evident in the cases of Uhura, Sulu and Chekov, whose personalities were always less developed than the other four. Saldana, who I first saw as an unabashed Trekker in The Terminal, makes sweet Uhura quite a bit feistier, especially in run-ins with Kirk. I appreciate the emphasis on her smarts but found it annoying that demure Uhura evidently wasn't good enough the 21st century. However, I like her much better once she gets on the ship, at which point another surprising aspect of her character emerges. It gels more with the tender, compassionate woman Nichelle Nichols played, and mostly I'm okay with it, though it strikes me as a controversial direction to take. Cho lacks the vocal gravitas to have me entirely convinced that he's Sulu; of the main seven, he's the only one whose casting I question. His role is mostly light, and while he does contribute in important ways on a couple of occasions (I especially like the way his established fondness for fencing is integrated), he seems a little greener to me than he should. Chekov, meanwhile, doesn't seem green enough. In the original series, I tended to think of him as capable but ultimately little more than comical eye candy. This time around, he's a Wesley Crusher-esque wunderkind, just as funny and adorable as always but considerably more indispensable. Of the three second-tier characters, he is my favorite, both then and now.

I had doubts about Karl Urban as the irascible Bones, since I previously knew him as Eomer, who I found just about the most boring character in Lord of the Rings. Then again, he didn't make much of an impression on me in the book, either, so I wasn't sure if that was really the actor's fault. Bones gets almost as much screen time as Kirk does, particularly toward the beginning, and thankfully, my worries were unfounded; he absolutely nails the good doctor's drawl and good-natured crankiness and gets many of the movie's biggest laughs. Particularly funny, especially considering classic Kirk's unending aversion to Sickbay, is the sequence in which he chases Jim around the ship, attempting to administer a series of unwanted treatments. It feels most appropriate that the film establishes the two as firm friends long before they serve together on the Enterprise.

Hot-headed, libidinous Jim Kirk was always my least favorite of the Enterprise Seven. He may have been brave and heroic, but his lack of respect for authority and his arrogance always got on my nerves. Unsurprisingly, the early-twenties version is even more obnoxious. Like everyone else besides Quinto, Pine bears no especially striking physical resemblance to his predecessor, but he captures his mannerisms well. I also have to offer kudos to the writers and young actors alike on the scenes depicting Kirk and Spock in childhood. Rabble-rousing Kirk's (Jimmy Bennett) is hilarious, exhilarating and the first of several action sequences that seem inspired more by Star Wars than Star Trek. Contemplative Spock's (Jacob Kogan) stands in stark contrast, though it also demonstrates the half-Vulcan's struggle to come to terms with his opposing natures, exemplified by an amusing exchange with some older students causing my brother to exclaim, "Spock's bullies would get beat up by the bullies on any other planet in the universe!" Instrumental to Kirk's development this time around is Captain Christopher Pike (Bruce Greenwood), whose stern but kind mentorly role I love. Greenwood seems a little on the old side to be playing this captain who was in command in the show's original pilot, but the relationship feels believable.

That just leaves Pegg's Scotty, who takes so long to turn up I started to half-wonder if we were going to see him at all. Our introduction to him is a comical highlight, and he continues to steal the screen whenever he pipes up, usually with a cheerful assertion of some sort. I would speculate that of the seven, Pegg had the most fun; the Scottish engineer seems positively giddy throughout most of his all-too-brief appearances. I also like his interaction with one of the movie's few non-humanoid aliens. Few fans would argue with the statement that in the battle of Star Trek versus Star Wars, the latter has the coolest aliens. Abrams and his team seem determined to amend that, or at least remain open to the idea of a more diverse Federation. My favorite example of this is the disgruntled creature who finds himself lodged between Kirk and Uhura in the disastrous bar scene reminiscent of Top Gun in which he meets and puts the moves on her.

Giacchino's stirring score blends neatly with the action most of the time, with some of the more emotional moments containing hints of music we've heard on LOST. The special effects are impeccable, aside from a few moments that seem to be overdoing it just a little. I'm not too used to Jedi-style sword fights and escape from enormous hostile creatures on this series. Those new to the franchise at least aren't likely to complain that the movie lacks action. The movie offers something to love for viewers at any point along the previous Star Trek experience spectrum; as for me, I'm already looking forward to the sequel.

Michael Giacchino Scores a Hit With LOST's Season One Soundrack

I don't usually pay great deal of attention to music on television shows. Aside from a catchy theme song (increasingly rare these days) or a well-placed pop song that captures the mood of an especially powerful scene, the score tends not to be a big focus for me. But from the beginning, it was clear that LOST's approach to music was every bit as carefully crafted as every aspect of the show. I soon began making comparisons with Lord of the Rings, another epic adventure whose score was so richly evocative; I find the soundtracks quite complementary in many ways, exploring much of the same thematic territory with compositions that cut right to the heart of certain characters and situations.

We've had the soundtracks for the first two seasons of LOST floating around the house for quite a while, but I never really sat myself down and listened to them straight through, partly because some of the tracks are just plain creepy. But I figured it was high time I did that instead of just running to YouTube whenever I need my Michael Giacchino fix. Any fan as moved by his score as I have been ought to consider laying hands on these albums as well. While you won't find any of the previously written songs incorporated into the show with such intentionality - my favorite season-one example is probably Willy Nelson's contemplative "Are You Sure?", as heard by Hurley on his walkman, which poses a question that has only grown more relevant to LOST as the show goes on - you will get some of the most haunting music ever to have been written to support a story.

Season one has 27 tracks, and if you're only going to buy one of the albums, this is probably the one to get since it sets the stage for the rest, introducing themes that will resurface again and again. (Alas, the bouncy DriveShaft hit You All Everybody doesn't turn up, but that would have been rather out of place...) The liner notes helpfully indicate which episode each track belongs to, though there is no description beyond that; to help you get your bearings if you can't put your finger on which scene goes with each composition, I highly recommend the Lostpedia.com entry on the soundtracks. The article about the show's musical themes is also illuminating, albeit slightly more geared toward those with some background in musical theory.

LOST is an intense series, so it's no great surprise that much of the soundtrack focuses on feelings of urgency and distress. The monster, or at least the threat of the monster, seems to turn up a lot, most impressively in Run Like, Um... H***?, which has low pounding percussion to signify Smokey and a swift, panicky melody representing Kate, Jack and Charlie's frantic escape, and Run Away! Run Away!, a similar but considerably shorter track in which the monster pursues Boone and Shannon. Lostpedia identifies five tracks as "action"-oriented and another four as "suspense," but I would say notes of peril creep their way into at least half of the tracks, sometimes blasting in out of the blue at the conclusion of an especially stirring reverie. Percussion (often incorporating unusual objects) and bass trombones are the instruments most frequently used in association with the direst moments, though shrieking strings also come into play quite a bit as well.

I don't know what went into the naming of the tracks, but I get a chuckle out of perusing the list, which is full of punny titles such as The Eyeland (Jack waking up disoriented in the jungle - the first track aside from the whooshing 16-second main title); Crocodile Locke (establishing John's wilder side); Thinking Clairely (a refreshing piano-driven melody that reflects the character's innocent tenderness, and one of only two unabashedly cheerful tunes on this album); Locke'd Out Again (capturing John's anguish at his lack of success with the hatch, followed by euphoria as he seems to receive divine affirmation); and Booneral and Shannonigans (which flow neatly into each other as Shannon comes to terms with the consequences of Boone's alliance with Locke).

I love the action-packed tracks, which so wonderfully illustrate the idea of pursuit, mystery and danger, but I'm rather inclined to copy the emotionally-heavy tracks onto a separate CD so I can listen to them as I fall asleep without running a high risk of nightmares. The most lullaby-like tracks include the gorgeous Credit Where Credit Is Due, in which post-hero-mode Jack wanders among his fellow passengers after the most immediate danger is over; Just Die Already, which elegiacally accompanies the slow decline of Jack's first on-Island hopeless case; Departing Sun, which has Sun, in a flashback, torn between desire for a new life and the love that first drew her to her husband; We're Friends, which gently conveys a confused Claire's blossoming trust of Charlie, the newfound friend she doesn't remember; and Parting Words, the second-to-last and second-longest track, in which violin and piano alternate as the castaways give the voyagers on the raft a heartfelt send-off rather reminiscent of Lord of the Rings' The Grey Havens.

Speaking of Howard Shore's score, though, the top reason this is a must-own album is because it contains what I would consider the show's main theme, the one melody that invariably provokes a strong emotional reaction and that is all but guaranteed to resurface dramatically in the series finale. Lord of the Rings had many evocative motifs, but the one that seemed to me the strongest was In Dreams, given end-credits lyrics in Fellowship of the Ring but generally expressing itself instrumentally in moments of deepest grief or most heartfelt friendship. Life and Death is Giacchino's crowning LOST achievement, so deceptively simple but so incredibly powerful. Achingly tender and wistful, it has a tendency to turn up in the show's most emotionally gripping moments.

The theme appears twice on this soundtrack before its most famous incarnation in track twenty, the one that gives it its name, as it accompanies the long-awaited birth of Claire's baby and the simultaneous first death of a major character on the show. It's a very slow, basic melody with great potential for subtle variations. Piano and violin, complementing one another and alternating in prominence, are the piece's main instruments, but there's a hint of guitar in Win One for the Reaper, which introduces the theme as Jack stumbles upon the caves, wherein lie the remains of the Island's "Adam and Eve," who seem more and more likely to be characters we've met. I was pleasantly startled by the presence of the harp in Charlie Hangs Around, in which the young rocker's apparent death gives way to celestial euphoria as tenacious Jack yanks him back from the brink, and was impressed by the way the violins in the final and longest track, Oceanic 815 (in which the passengers board the plane and glance around them, not realizing they will soon know these people intimately), take the melody in a different direction while the piano underpinnings keep us grounded in the now-familiar theme.

Giacchino certainly knows both how to tug at our heartstrings and get our adrenaline pumping. With just about every track on this album inspiring grief or fear, then, I've Got a Plane to Catch is a giddy surprise. I laughed aloud when it started playing because it's just so different from everything else, so unexpected. It's a groovy guitar jam that's billed on Lostpedia as an "adventure" track; there's a sense of urgency, but it's peppy and light as Hurley goes to Herculean efforts to overcome all obstacles and ensure he's on Flight 815 so he can get back to Los Angeles in time for his mom's birthday. This is not a life-or-death situation, and it's an awfully nice change to have someone running to something he thinks is good instead of running from something he's sure is bad. There's a tropical flavor to this track reminding me that LOST is filmed in Hawaii, while the prominence of guitar seems to foreshadow Hurley's deep friendship with Charlie. And when the accordion gleefully kicked in, perhaps in homage to Hurley's association with Mr. Cluck's Chicken Shack (Chicken Dance, anybody?), I dissolved into giggles.

So I'll leave it on that happy note, even though it's atypical. If you can't get enough of this show, invest in the first soundtrack and go from there. Thanks to Giacchino's genius, it's very easy to get LOST in this music.

Get LOST on Gilligan's Island with Season One

One of the fun things about LOST is the rich array of influences that can be identified throughout the series. The drama has made reference to everything from Watership Down and The Chronicles of Narnia to Ulysses and A Brief History of Time. But before any of us knew how diligently Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse would try to expand our bookshelves and DVD collections, back when our only inkling of the mystery to follow was Dom Monaghan's enigmatic "Guys... Where are we?" whispering its way out of the television screen, one pop culture icon stood out above all others as the most obvious basis for comparison. I'm talking, of course, about Gilligan's Island.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I spent many happy hours with Gilligan and his merry little band of castaways when it ran in syndication on an available channel. I particularly remember when Weird Al's Amish Paradise renewed my interest by quoting the part of the end-credits lyrics, inspiring me to commit the famous theme song to memory. I suspect I can trace my obsession with stranded-on-an-island stories back to Swiss Family Robinson, but Gilligan's Island certainly helped to feed my fascination. So I was tickled when I received season one on DVD for my birthday this year, along with a note from my dad assuring me he would be LOST without me and speculating as to the possibility of the time-jumping survivors of Oceanic 815 encountering the passengers and crew of the Minnow.

Gilligan's Island, created by Sherwood Schwartz, is one of the silliest shows ever to hit the airwaves. In nearly every episode, you can count Skipper or Gilligan suffering bodily injury, an outlandish plan for rescue or a perilous situation presenting itself and Gilligan either ruining or fixing everything at the last minute. There are plenty of pratfalls, and although each of the seven main characters - paternal, short-fused Skipper Jonas Grumby (Alan Hale, Jr.); hapless, guileless first mate Willie Gilligan (Bob Denver); aristocratic Thurston Howell III (Jim Backus) and his daffy wife Lovey (Natalie Schafer); seductive movie star Ginger Grant (Tina Louise); sweet Mary Ann Summers (Dawn Wells) and brilliant Professor Roy Hinkley (Russell Johnson) - seems anxious to get back home, their Island lives couldn't be cozier. It seems you can make just about anything out of palm branches and coconuts if you've got a genius living with you, and whatever he can't make, the Howells brought, since they are apparently accustomed to packing a year's worth of supplies for a three-hour trip. Ridiculous mishaps are always occurring, but none of them have any consequences. By the next episode, everything is idyllic again.

Before receiving this DVD, it had been several years since I'd watched Gilligan's Island, so I went into it this time with the fresh eyes of a LOST fan, looking for parallels. Naturally, given the specificity of the situation, there were many. There's an attempt to build a raft, though this comes at the beginning of the first season rather than the end as it did on LOST. The S.O.S. signal on the beach comes earlier in the sit-com too - and is built not out of rocks but out of dead fish (one of which, incidentally, previously swallowed the castaways' radio). The all-important radio is much more omnipresent on Gilligan's Island and much more cooperative, allowing the survivors unlimited access to news (and, in Mary Ann's case, soap operas) from the mainland.

Among the more particular parallels are the fact that on both shows, a small plane is found in the jungle; an attempt is made to contact civilization by tying a message to a migratory bird; the government tests a dangerous weapon on the Island; the castaways set up their own golf course for leisure purposes; the de facto leader gives a "live together, die alone"-style speech; and running throughout the series is a fundamental man of science / man of faith debate, in this case between Professor and Skipper. Gilligan's Island has a much smaller cast than LOST - so small I can't imagine what Schwartz was thinking when he relegated the Professor and Mary Ann to "the rest" in the first-season version of the theme song - which means everyone knows each other right off the bat, and we never have the sort of fracturing that must be dealt with on the drama, though the castaways tend to somewhat divide themselves into three groups: the Howells; Skipper, Gilligan and Professor; and Mary Ann and Ginger.

As leader, Skipper has some qualities in common with Jack, though I would more readily compare him with season four addition Frank Lapidus, a crusty but highly capable pilot. Professor, meanwhile, bears some resemblance to Sayid, whose expertise as a communications officer comes in so handy when there's need to get a radio or transmitter working, but he's equally akin to twitchy physicist Daniel Faraday, another season four addition who is in the habit of saying things that go way over the heads of nearly everyone around him. I would compare Ginger to Kate, as they've both spent so much time using their feminine wiles to manipulate people, while wholesome Mary Ann is more like the innocent Claire. Rose and Bernard, like the Howells, are married and older than most of the castaways, and they appear to be fairly well-off, but there's certainly little in their dispositions that would be considered similar. The readiest comparison I tend to make is between Gilligan and Hurley; both are bumbling, honest to a fault, extremely devoted to their friends and much more interested in sharing wealth than possessing it. Of course, Hurley never makes nearly the mess of things that Gilligan does, thank goodness; LOST's castaways have enough problems to deal with already! But each of them, it could be argued, is the heart of his show.

Season one of Gilligan's Island contains 36 episodes - all, sadly, in black and white. But watching the show as a quaint precursor to LOST, I found the lack of color appropriately antiquated. I was a bit surprised to realize that at least in this season, Gilligan's Island doesn't get nearly as much traffic as I thought it did. When people laugh about how ridiculous the show is, one thing they cite is the steady parade of visitors that always manage to get away within the space of an episode when the septet from the Minnow still can't manage it after months. Granted, even one such visitor is cause for a raised eyebrow; nonetheless, it was interesting to me that only a few of these episodes feature more than just the main seven. My favorite of the visitors were a young Kurt Russell as a jungle boy whose presence is never explained and Hans Conried, who I know primarily as the voice of Thorin Oakenshield in Rankin and Bass's The Hobbit, as Wrongway Feldman, a loony pilot who manages to wind up on the island twice. A few memorable nonhuman co-stars also surface, including a chimpanzee, a frog and a duck. Some guests, meanwhile, are a tad cringe-worthy, including a very phony-looking gorilla played by Janos Prohaska and a Japanese soldier who thinks it's still World War II, portrayed in two episodes with embarrassingly stereotypical overtones by Vitto Scotti.

Getting off the Island is not always the primary preoccupation of the episode. Mr. Howell directs a play for the purpose of giving Ginger an ego-boosting starring role. The Howells adopt Gilligan in one episode and try to fix him up with Mary Ann in another. The revelation that Gilligan keeps a diary has all the castaways burning to know what he wrote about them. Skipper and Mr. Howell race tortoises for fun and profit. The castaways hold an election, with surprising results. A desperate search for fresh water ensues when Gilligan accidentally empties the current supply. While the basic arc of each episode tends to be pretty similar - Gilligan accidentally thwarts rescue or Gilligan accidentally averts disaster - there's plenty of room for variation, and it's always fun to see the different ways in which these characters adapt to island life. There's quite a bit of bickering that goes on, but one reason this show is such a pleasure to watch is that these people so clearly care about each other. That includes Mr. Howell, who likes to lord his status over everybody but is a pussycat of a man deep down.

Season one is the longest of the show's three seasons by a few episodes, and the DVD includes a number of fun features, most notably the unaired pilot, Marooned, featuring John Gabriel as the Professor and Kit Smythe and Nancy McCarthy as secretaries Ginger and Bunny. It also has a completely different theme song with a bouncy calypso beat, sung with a goofy accent and including such verses as these: "Two secretaries from U.S.A. / Sail on the Minnow this lovely day. / A high school teacher is next aboard; / All taking trip that they cannot afford. / The next two people are millionaires; / They got no worries, they got no cares. / They climb aboard, and they step inside, / With just enough bags for a 6-hour ride." If you're not too keen on buying a whole season of Gilligan's Island, I recommend looking up this original theme song on YouTube; it's a hoot! But if you've ever dreamed of putting down roots in a hut neighboring Gilligan's - or wanted to wash up on LOST Island but don't fancy dealing with the monsters, polar bears and artillery-laden natives and invaders - sit right back and enjoy season one of Gilligan's Island.