Party Down (Starz) Starring Adam Scott; Ryan Hansen; Lizzy Caplan; Ken Marino; Martin Starr; Jane Lynch; Jennifer Coolidge; Ken Jeong

Now available on DVD, season 1 of Party Down, a Starz original comedy series from Veronica Mars creator Rob Thomas and several other Mars writer/producers (the team also includes Fred Savage and Paul Rudd). The show is based on a group of aspiring Hollywood types who work for the Party Down catering company and shares tonal similarities with programs like The Office and Freaks and Geeks (on which several Party cast members appeared). Though clunky in places from a production standpoint, Party Down is well cast, written, and acted. Adam Scott stars as Henry, who, within the reality og the show,  is well known for appearing in a series of beer commercials in which he uttered a famous catch phrase. Having recently decided to quit acting, he is depressed and disaffected, trying to quell his pain with booze, prescription meds, and cigarettes. Hired as a bartender by old friend Ron (Ken Marino), the ineffectual manager of the operation, he takes an instant liking to co-worker Casey (Lizzy Caplan), a struggling comedien. The other staffers include nerdy would-be screenwriter Roman (Martin Starr); vacuous actor Kyle (Ryan Hansen); and rommates Constance (Jane Lynch) and Bobbie (Jennifer Coolidge), two washed up. middle-aged actresses who can’t let go. Ken Jeong plays owner Alan Duk. Jeong; Lynch; Coolidge; and Starr are well-known to TV and film comedy fans. Fans of Veronica Mars too will recognize many of these actors from the show, and Kristen Bell even shows up in one episode, playing a Nazi-like boss of a rival company. The show is not laugh out loud funny, and there is nothing groundbreaking here, but this is easily as good or better than most of the so-called comedies on network TV, and in the same ballpark as some of the better offerings on Showtime and HBO.

Let’s Get Lost (USA) (DOC) Directed by Bruce Weber

Bruce Weber’s films have a signature look - lush, high contrast black and white with scenes that sometimes seem as if they’re solely comprised of a series of expertly posed still shots. No surprise perhaps as Weber is best known as a fashion photographer. As he did with Oregon boxer (and Calvin Klein model) Andy Minsker in Broken Noses (made the year before), here he focuses on a single individual - jazz trumpeter Chet Baker, and poses him in a series of locations (driving in a convertible; at the beach; at an amusement park; at The 1987 Cannes Film Festival), weaving them with voice over, photographs (including the famous William Claxton ones) interviews, and music (much of it Baker’s) to great effect.

Baker was fifty six when Weber began making the film in 1987, and by 1989 he’d be dead. His middle-aged, wrinkled, sunken, hard-luck face is juxtaposed throughout the film with clips and photos of his fresh-scrubbed, high cheek-boned, youthful self. Imbued with Baker’s smooth though mournful music and haunting tenor vocals there is an air of sadness permeating the film. For all his professional achievement, this is not a life lived well or happily, and the regrets are inextricably linked with the main subject’s recollections of his own past.

Chesney Baker was born in Oklahoma in 1929. His family moved to California when he was ten years old. His father, who he describes as distant and cold, was a country western musician. He bought young Chet a trumpbone, which was too big for him to play, and then a trumpet, and within days the boy with a natural ear was playing his instrument with the skill of someone who’d had years of lessons.

Baker was a heroin addict for the majority of his adult years, a fact that is openly discussed in the film. As the film goes on it becomes evident that Baker is still an active addict, and there is more than one interview where he slurs his words or nods out. At one point Weber asks him about the best time of his life and Baker goes on to describe getting high by mixing heroin and cocaine. Like most addicts, Baker inflicted more than his share of pain on those who loved him, including his mother (who admits, with great difficulty, that he has been a disappointment as a son), his past loves, and four children.

It is to Weber’s credit that he doesn’t shy away from allowing those in Baker’s life to share in the telling. He is described by still bitter ex girlfriend, singer Ruth Young (herself a long time drug abuser), as being a manipulator and con man whose story about himself is always self-aggrandizing, and thus circumspect. She talks about an incident when Baker had his teeth knocked out, and says the real story is that Baker owed drug dealers and was beaten up because of it (Baker claims he was simply robbed while going to buy drugs). His second wife, British native Carol, the mother of three of his children (Paul; Missy; and Dean), talk about him blowing in and out of their lives whenever he felt like it, never telling them when he was coming or going.

Long time girlfriend Diane Vavre is in many of the scenes with Baker, but even she describes him as being untrustworthy, manipulative, and abusive, stating at one point that as long as you understand Chet’s a junkie you’re okay. Paul, Missy, and Dean (in their twenties at the time of filming), speak about living in small town Oklahoma, and seeing their father only on rare occasions. At one point one of them jokes that someone should tell their father they need money. We never hear from his oldest child, son Chesney Aftab, with second wife Halima, though Carol and his other children talk about Chesney coming to visit them and always managing to miss Chet’s visits, a fact they say upsets the young man who hadn’t had much contact with his biological father.

Though he died tragically in Amsterdam, having fallen from a hotel window, Baker survived longer than many of his fellow drug-addicted Jazz contemporaries, undergoing the loss of his teeth, which cost him years of playing trumpet (he eventually re-learned to play with dentures), failed marriages, and various drug related arrests. His professional life included playing with Charlie Parker, who had a hand in discovering him, being part of the Gerry Mulligan Quartet, with whom he made some of his most famous recordings (including My Funny Valentine); being named top performer of the year in the fifties; long stints in Paris, and other cities across Europe, where he was wildly popular; and even an acting appearance in an Italian film (he was also jailed in Italy for possession). He was too the basis for the lead character Chad Bixby in the 1960 filmThe Fine Young Cannibals (directed by Michael Anderson), played by Robert Wagner.

Although opinions on the measure of Baker’s talent vary, he is at least in the discussion by most experts as one of the greatest jazz trumpeters who ever lived. His style was an embodiment of the cool, California sound, a fluid style thought to have arisen in relation to the temperate climate. Though Baker did not read music, or at least only had a rudimentary understanding of it, and though he did not compose, he had a tremendous ear for music, and a knack for being able to pick up nearly anything after listening to it once. His underrated voice had a kind of singular quality, mirroring a mellifluous instrument in some ways as he extended certain notes.

Though Weber, an openly gay man, is clearly objectifying Baker to some extent, admittedly having been initially drawn to a photo of him (as he likely was with boxer Minsker), there is perhaps something fitting about the treatment. Long after his death, Baker continues to enjoy iconographic stature, a fact that is likely attributable to several factors (including his race and talent), not the least of which being the way he looked. It is slightly odd though to see Minsker, Baker, and singer Chris Isaak (a Baker enthusiast) at a restaurant table in Cannes, looking a bit like the same person at three different ages.

The Academy Award nominated Let’s Get Lost has long been unavailable on DVD, although it has recently appeared on The Sundance Channel on cable.

Entourage (HBO) Sunday Nights, 10pm; and on Comcast HBO on Demand

This past Sunday saw the return of Entourage, a show that has already baffled some with its longevity; and while it’s definitely an example of a program that hasn’t taken many chances throughout its first 5 seasons, perhaps the main reason is because from the beginning its formula was strong - a group of young wannabees from New York who surround a big Hollywood movie star. There was always no small degree of wish fulfillment at play, and the show’s celebrity quotient has, from the get-go, been satisfyingly high.

Entourage has taken us through some of the ups and downs of the career of Vincent Chase (Adrien Grenier) - Vince on top; Vince on bottom; Vince in no man’s land, but the real draw and the heart of the show is the interaction between the guys. The obvious runaway character from the start was Ari Gold (Jeremy Piven), an example of an actor finding his perfect role at the right time. Piven, who has won three Emmys for his portrayal of the weasely uber-agent, brought his natural manic energy to a character whose naked ambition and greed knows no bounds.

The appearance of Ari’s assistant Llloyd (Rex Lee) in season 2 re-energized the show, providing a fitting foyle for Ari, as well a target for his non-stop abuse. Lloyd puts up with Ari’s shit, his ethnic and gay slurs, showing him nothing but loyalty and dedication (if occasional attitude) in return, but since his introduction it has been clear to those paying attention that Lloyd was biding his time, learning the business, making connections, and lying in wait till the moment was right to make his move. Episode one has Lloyd presenting Ari with an ultimatum - a promotion or he walks. It will be interesting to see what happens with Ari’s long suffering man servant.

This season will no doubt be about growing up. In Episode One Sloan (Emmanuelle Chriqui) convinces Eric (Kevin Connolly) that he should consider subletting her girlfriend’s house for a year while said friend is out of the country. Eric is conflicted because he knows that abandoning their latest frat-like mansion will upset the balance of cash cow Vince’s life (which is, after all, all of their concern). Meanwhile, Turtle (Jerry Ferrara) has a real live girlfriend, Jamie Lynn Sigler - playing a version of herself (the two are also dating in real life), with whom he now spends much of his time. With the Scorcese film (Gatsby) under his belt, and another big one on its way, Vince’s career is back on track, but once again he’s minus a committed relationship. Can a pretty young thing he likes who is either too busy with her career, or suddenly has to move away, or must go back to her fiancee be far off on the horizon?

We can expect more celeb cameos (including Zak Effron; Tom Brady; Matt Damon), which will inevitably either click (like Gary Busey; Saigon; Seth Green; Val Kilmer) or fall a bit short, but mostly Doug Ellin and friends have the right idea. Ellin gently prods the Hollywood establishment, but never really rips into it, for he, and the  actors in the show, are now all members of the A/B-list party they portray and they are well aware of where their bread is buttered. The aim is to slightly skewer instead of roast.

One thing that is mostly dead on, however, is the soundtrack, a usually interesting and eclectic mix of classic and new rock and hip hop. The opening chapter in season six is no different, as it features a diverse mix of songs from artists like The Cure; Easy E; and The Verve. The show isn’t always as cutting edge and up to date as the music though, as a reference to Greg Garcia and the dearly departed My Name is Earl  in show 1 demonstrates, but that’s the price you pay from peppering your plots with pop references. After all, they do have to film these things in advance.

Will Lloyd quit and work for someone else (studio chief Dana Gordon (Constance Zimmer) maybe)? Will Ari once again remind Dana during a phone conversation that they once slept together? Will Ari’s buddy Andrew Klein (Gary Cole) turn out to be a drunk and cost him clients, thus forcing him to eat crow and apologize to Babs (Beverly De’Angelo)? Will Eric continue to grow, obtaining other clients and separating his personal life from Vince? Will Eric get back with Sloan? Will Vince stay on top? Will bad actor Drama (Kevin Dillon) win a People’s Choice Award? Will Turtle blow it with his famous, way too hot girlfriend? Will Turtle smoke weed and play video games? Will Ari piss off the wife (Perrey Reeves) he really loves and be forced to buy her a jet to make it up to her? Will Shauna (Debbie Mazar) suggest one of the guys go fuck themselves?

Entourage has never put itself out there as being a show dedicated to examining world problems, politics, or pressing emotional and psychological issues, and it doesn’t. What it does, better than most shows in TV history, in fact, is show how a group of guys (albeit in extraordinary circumstances) behaves around one another, how hierarchy and roles are defined and re-enforced within the group, how loyalty is tested in variety of ways, and how ball busting is one hobby that never goes out of style, at least amongst male friends. The show might be repetitive, it might have a story arc that goes in more circles than a merry-go-round, but it’s usually a fun ride, and watching it is as comfortable and casual an experience as having a few beers with some old friends at your favorite local bar.

Pushing Daisies (ABC)

Though this is a week or so belated, it seems only right to wish a fond farewell to the ABC series Pushing Daisies, which will not be returning for a second season. The whimsical, fantastical, and colorful series, which went off the air for good recently (the show had previously stopped airing, but ABC ran three final episodes to cap the 22 show run), was a welcome change of pace on network television - currently dominated by reality and police procedural programs (just how many CSI and CSI clones are there anyway?).

Pushing Daisies had a nice start, one that relied on a solid cast led by Lee Pace as Ned The Piemaker, the man in charge of The Pie Hole, a restaurant exclusively dedicated to the making and selling of his fresh, wonderfully inventive and classic pies; Chi McBride as grizzled detective Emerson Cod; Brit Anna Friel as Charlotte “Chuck” Charles, Ned’s childhood neighbor and back-from-the-dead girlfriend; Kristin Chenowith as waitress Olive Snook; and Swoosie Kurtz and Ellen Green as Charlotte’s eccentric, ex-Aqua-gymnastic performing aunts (The Darling Mermaid Darlings), Lily and Vivian Charles.

Right from the beginning (the pilot was directed by Barry Sonnefeld) the show had a kind of ethereal, fairy-tale quality to it - with a deep-voiced, witticism spouting narrator (Jim Dale), bizarre costumes, and rich, multi-colored set design that consistently took us to never-never-land (not the ranch). The show was blessed with the eye-winking humor of a Fractured Fairytales cartoon from the 1960s, with visuals like an hour long Starburst commercial, and often boasted surrealistic fantasy sequences, the likes of which Syd and Marty Croft would have been proud. Show producers labeled it a “forensic fairytale,” and it was intended from the start to look like a storybook. The CGI aided visuals drew favorable comparisons to the work of director Tim Burton.

Created by Bryan Fuller, the scripts were full of double entendres and in-jokes, with mischievousness sometimes bordering on the naughty (starting with little ball of energy Olive’s low cut skirts and tops), like live action animation without the animation. The show felt like some kind of bizarre combination of The Wizard of Oz, Pee Wee’s Playhouse, and Alice and Wonderland with mile-a-minute, pun-filled dialogue straight of a 1930s screwball comedy or a 1940s detective noir. The inclusion of vintage automobiles and the distinct lack of modern technology contributed to creating an off kilter reality happening in a kind of nebulous semi-retro time period.

At it’s essence, it was a detective dramedy of sorts, with a touch of the supernatural (bringing back the recently murdered in order to ascertain clues to solve the crime), even if the end result, to whit, the solving of the mystery/crime, often seemed somewhat beside the point. The chemistry between the main players was good. Olive (Emerson Cod called her “Itty-Bitty”), pining over her beloved piemaker, but begrudgingly befriending his beloved, the kind-hearted Charlotte. Ned, he of the unhappy childhood, possessing a gift that was also a curse (and in the beginning also a secret about what he, as a child, had done to Charlotte’s Dad) and Charlotte, the undead - two fated lovers desperately wanting one another, but unable to touch because it would kill Charlotte… again. The Aunts, nursing lifetimes of hurt and disappointment, and mourning the death of their dear niece (we would find out later the relationship ran deeper, or perhaps more dear?). Finally, the grumpy, curmudgeonly, money hungry detective Emerson Cod, the pop-out children’s book hobbyist, who we would discover wanted more than anything to see his long lost daughter again.

There were also a slew of notable recurring characters and guest spots filled by veteran actors like Stephen Root, David Arquette, and, fittingly, Paul Ruebens - each new episode unveiling additional, more absurdly wacky characters then the next. Along the way a bevy of unfortunate victims were decapitated, buried in cement, burned, suffocated, drowned, and thrown in pots of boiling substances, but somehow it was all accomplished with a feathery touch and just the right amount of camp to make it go down easy. Perhaps it was the very juxtaposition of the darkness looming behind all that joviality, color splashes, and smiles that made it work. The stories and the alliteratively named characters always verged on utter nonsense, but mostly things were kept in the realm of the believably unbelievable with a solid cast, enough heartfelt emotion, and that dose of underlying pain and despair, to keep us coming back.

By the end of the season the show did, unfortunately, run out of a bit of dramatic steam, and even before the cancellation became official it felt at times that the storyline would’ve needed to veer into a slightly different direction in order to stay vibrant and avoid the repetition it may have been experiencing. The final episode felt like what it has been reported to be - a rushed attempt to put some kind of capper on the limited run. Pushing Daisies deserved a better farewell, and probably at least another season to see if they could do a bit of re-invention and breathe new life into the proceedings, but we will never discover whether or not that would have happened. Death can, after all, come when we least expect it.

Breaking Bad (AMC) Starring Bryan Cranston; Anna Gunn; Aaron Paul; Dean Norris; Betsy Brandt; RJ Mitte

Pre-Malcom in the Middle, Bryan Cranston was probably best known as Dr. Tim Watley, the re-gifting dentist from Seinfeld. For seven seasons (2000-2006), he was Hal in Malcolm, but from 1992 until that time, Cranston appeared in numerous walk-on television roles - a resume that includes credits on Chips; Hill Street Blues; Falcon Crest; Baywatch; LA Law; Murder She Wrote; and Sabrina: The Teenage Witch). With Malcolm came occasional movie appearances in quality films like Saving Private Ryan; Seeing Other People; and Little Miss Sunshine, but until his major break Cranston was nothing more than a television character actor. Even post-Malcolm, there is nothing in his CV that could have prepared anyone for his role as Walter White Sr. in AMC’s Breaking Bad.

With his shaved head, specs, and permanently depressed mien, Cranston owns his role as meth- dealing, Cancer suffering father, husband, and high school chemistry teacher Walter White. For his work on season one Cranston earned himself a best actor Emmy, beating out stiff competition (James Spader; Hugh Laurie; Gabriel Byrne) in the category. For a show little hailed prior to its debut, one playing on AMC - a cable station not exactly historically known for its original programming, this is nothing short of a major accomplishment. Of course, Breaking Bad, and especially the juggernaut Mad Men have done wonders in putting AMC on the map. 

Creator Vince Gilligan was an executive producer for the X Files so it’s not as if the team behind Breaking Bad was unaware as to the methodology behind breaking a show on a non-big-three-network station. Originally, last years’ season one was slated for thirteen episodes, but the writers strike led to an abbreviated seven show output. Season two picked up the momentum from that shortened initial spate, however, and the show demonstrates no sign of slowing its roll.

Breaking Bad is an odd show, principally because its lead character is so full of morally ambiguities and complexities. While Tony Soprano; Vic Mackey; and Morgan Dexter are all clearly sociopaths, Walt was, seemingly, a regular guy living his suburban New Mexico existence, who suddenly faced some serious health and financial challenges, and began making and dealing drugs as a solution. From there things simply began to happen. Yes, he has made some decisions that might be seen as morally reprehensible, and undoubtedly has demonstrated a certain chilling coldness when making some very tough life and death choices, but in context there are always practicalities behind his moves. Walt may be amoral, but he is not frivolous or cavalier about the dirty business he is mixed up in - he is, however, a pragmatist.

Last night Season Two came to a close, leaving more up in the air than resolved - which gives us plenty to look forward to in the already approved season three. If nothing else, season two demonstrated further that Walt’s family life is not exactly roses. Walt’s son, Walt Jr. (RJ Mitte) has CP. Walt continues to struggle with his disease. Pregnant wife Skyler (Anna Gunn) has major issues with Walt’s secrecy, and one wonders whether this will contribute to her eventually cheating. Walt and Skyler’s relationship has a kind of wonderfully portrayed underlying resentment and detachment to it that seems to mark some real-life marriages. There are moments of tenderness between them, but it’s as if there have been too many past unresolved conflicts, too many small disagreements that went unattended. Often it feels as if each is biting their lip when in the others presence, a condition which provides ongoing tension in the show. 

Hank and Jesse Pinkman (Aaron Paul), his weasely former student and drug partner, are confronted with a number of challenges in the course of operating their fledgling business venture. Early on they are forced to deal with Tuco (Raymond Cruz), a raging Latino psychopath meth distributor. Later, they make a decision to cook a new batch of “the blue stuff”, and then distribute the product on their own, forcing Jesse to take on a tough guy persona to keep his recruited troops in line. 

Walt’s new illegal sideline career is, of course, that much more precarious because his brother in law is Hank (Dean Norris), a drug enforcement officer who is assigned to (what else?) combating the local meth problem. Hank faces his own demons in work, getting a promotion, but dealing with anxiety issues, and finding himself in the middle of a wildly violent scene. Skyler has ongoing issues with her shoplifting sister Marie (Betsy Brandt), Hank’s wife, and the conflict within the families always feels like it has the potential to expose Walt and his dirty deeds.

Walt’s choice of drug user Jesse as partner obviously originally arose due to necessity, although Jesse’s stupidity consistently threatens to undermine their business. Because Jesse walks around in the low life world of degenerates, however, he provides Walt with an entrance he would have otherwise been without. In the process, Walt feels loyalty to Jesse, and though his immaturity and false bravado constantly aggravates and annoys, he also feels protective of him. Walt is always lying to his family, but there is something that smacks of honesty in Walt and Jesse’s dysfunctional relationship.

Several new additions to the cast brought much to dance. Jane Margolis, the attractive, dark-haired neighbor and daughter of Jesse’s new landlord, is played by Krysten Ritter. Jesse is immediately smitten by this alluring female tattoo artist, and the two develop a sexual relationship. Gianncarlo Esposito plays Gus Frings, a secretive major meth distributor and fast food chain owner. Gus becomes connected to Walt through fast-talking attorney Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk). Saul is initially enlisted by Walt and Jesse to defend an underling, but in a short period of time comes to play a pivotal role as advisor, confidante, and fixer.     

With no one in his family circle privy to the enormous amount of money he is making, Walt continues to try to cover his disappearances and occasionally odd behavior with a progressive series of lies. Skyler goes back to work for Ted (Christopher Beneke) at her old accounting job to help out with the financial crisis. Walt Jr. starts a fund on the internet asking for donations. Brother-in-law Hank even puts out a collection container at his DEA office. Skyler throws Hank a party to celebrate some good news on the health front, bringing over their friends to celebrate, although Hank remains distracted and petulant. Through it all Walt has to create fictional sources for the money flow that is paying for his care, which leads us to a finale in which some of his lies are finally exposed.  

The season’s final episode ends with a random event that is actually not so random. And therein, perhaps, lies the message of season two, if not the entire show. Even if our actions might be motivated by a desire for self-preservation, self-defense, and a need to protect and take care of our loved ones, nothing we do is without consequence, and each of our decisions have moral implications that reach beyond our own narrow existence, affecting those close to us, and strangers alike.

Kobe: Doin’ Work (USA) (ESPN) Directed by Spike Lee. 

This particular review comes with a major caveat: you don’t have to be a fan of Kobe Bryant or the LA Lakers to enjoy this film (The Cinema Guy is most definitely not), but if you’re not a hardcore NBA fan, you might not want to bother. This is not a traditional documentary, and that is both the bad news if you are not basketball obsessed, and the good news if you are. What separates this from most sports docs (it’s similar to the one on French soccer star Zinedine Zidane) is an almost complete lack of fluff. There’s no back story, stats, footage of Bryant outside the arena, talk of his place in history, additional interviews, clips, or discussion about his relationship with Shaq or the rape trial. However, if you’re a student of basketball you will definitely appreciate this Spike Lee production. It’s austere approach gives us crystalline visuals (30 cameras) and sound of Bryant throughout the course of one game against the San Antonio Spurs (and specifically, the defensive minded Bruce Bowen). Accompanying the in-game and images and sound is the taped commentary Bryant did months later. We hear him talk about his pre and in-game thought process, his role in, and the overall philosophy of, the triangle offense, and the responsibility he feels as a leader. He instructs his teammates, talks during timeouts, works the refs, and generally does what NBA superstars do - tries every method possible to influence the outcome of the game. Listening to him, there’s a lot of fascinating insider information to be gleaned about what goes into a superior athlete’s psyche. It becomes obvious as one goes along how well Bryant knows the Lakers system, and how comfortable he is with Phil Jackson. One realizes that, taking Bryant’s incredible athletic ability as a given, his game approach at this point in his career is really like plotting strategic moves in a giant chess match. If they do this, I do that, if they take away this, we counter with that. His analysis breaks the game down in a really cogent and interesting way. Hard to know if he was playing to the cameras or not (it’d be hard for anyone not to), but it’s still as close as anyone has gotten to getting inside the head of an athlete while competing. Though not yet available on DVD, this an currently be seen on ESPN and ESPN 2.

Last night, an easygoing Alabama cattle rancher James Thomas Jr., aka “JT”, 24, beat out his long-time ally on the show, Yale graduate and corporate consultant Stephen Fishback, 29, to win the 18th season of Survivor and its accompanying 1 million dollar prize. Despite being one of the best athletes/physical competitors in the show’s history, and consistently winning immunity idols (including the last two), JT didn’t receive a single ejection vote throughout his forty days in Tocantins, located in the Brazilian highlands 

Along with JT and Stephen, the merged tribe included Ben Wade, 37, a  pony-tailed girls soccer coach from Missouri who referred to himself throughout as “Coach”, told wild stories of his own world adventure travels and derring-do (including a convoluted tale about being captured by natives in The Amazon while setting a solo-kayaking world record), and constantly blathered on about his own bravery, strength, leadership abilities and his idea of a “warrior ethos” and a “warrior alliance” that likely existed only in his mind. The kayaking record has been checked, and is unconfirmed by any legitimate body. In addition, further questions have come up about some of “Coach’s” other outrageous claims on a website he maintains. 

Early on “Coach” was partnered with Tyson Apostol, 29, a pro-cyclist mormon from Utah, his smarmy, equally self-absorbed right-hand man who at one point said he enjoyed seeing people cry. “Coach” himself, however, has to rank as one of the most memorably reviled contestants in show history. Finishing in fourth place was ex singing group En Vogue member Taj Johnson George, 37, a mother of two married to ex NFL running back Eddie George. Taj was popular among most of her island mates, and actually originally brokered the exile island alliance with Steven, later joining with JT to create what would become the dominant group in the game. Taj had been aligned with JT and Steven for a number of weeks before being blindsided by the two in favor of the weaker Erinn Lobdell, 26, a talkative Wisconsin hairdresser who wound up finishing third. Once enmeshed in Coach’s unsuccessful warrior alliance, Alabama middle-school school principal Debbie Beebe, 46, finished in sixth place.   

At the final tribal council, JT argued that the fact that he’d stayed loyal to strong strategic player Fishback by choosing to face him in the final as opposed to selecting the weaker Erinn demonstrated his sense of honor and loyalty. Fishback argued that playing the game in the shadows, in part relying on JT’s physical capabilities and likeability was a legitimate strategy. When pressed though, he also admitted that if given the option he likely would’ve broken his promise to JT and chosen Erinn to face in the finals. JT expressed anger and hurt at this revelation, though after the vote, on the live show, admitted he had been acting for the benefit of the jury in order to garner sympathy votes, and in reality understood why Fishback might’ve made that decision. 

JT was announced as the winner by Probst in front of his 15 fellow contestants and a live studio audience populated with their family and friends. His soft-spoken, Southern accented Mom was interviewed by Probst, and she said she’d been telling her son for three years he could win on the show.  JT was brought to tears upon learning he had won the vote (4-0 with the remaining three votes unread), saying it was “the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, obviously.”  JT also won the Sprint vote for most popular/best player, and said he planned to go into business with Fishman, saying he was obligated.

“Coach” provided some entertainment toward the end of the broadcast, bringing with him a sealed envelope from a lie detector administrator attesting to the validity of his kidnapping in the Amazon story, or at least part of it. Earlier in the show, Probst revealed that he had previously offered “Coach” a chance to take a lie detector test, but the offer was refused. Despite the test results confirming “Coach’s” probity, the contestants and audience seemed less than convinced.

Okay, I admit, I was not on board from the beginning. Perhaps that disqualifies me from commentary altogether. In fact, I have still never even seen a number of the episodes from the first few seasons so my perspective is forever that of an outsider, completely baffled as to the root of some of the shenanigans and contretemps that seem to unfold on that crazy, cursed island. Maybe it is merely that keeping me from taking the goings-on very seriously.

I am entertained by the show, at least enough to keep watching - I like the fast-paced nature of the constantly shifting, multi-character plot-line, which has no real regard for time or continent, and likes to keep upping the ante by piling plot twist upon plot twist upon red herring upon plot twist; I like the array of interesting and different characters; I enjoy the colorful photography playing on my widescreen HDTV. I’m just honestly not sure what it all means. Although, that’s probably partly the point, right? Perhaps the show is just an elaborate allegory for the randomness of human existence? Perhaps the show’s ethos is something like this - “life plays games with our minds, dude - just like the show, so take the good with the bad, roll with the punches, and make the best out of it.” I feel like one needs to take a zen approach to watching Lost - don’t sweat the small stuff; take pleasure in the details; go with the flow and be one with the Island… I don’t know. Maybe that isn’t it at all.

Lost confuses me, and it isn’t just the plot. While JJ Adams’ showrunners Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof are clearly smart, hip people, who like to name (drop?) characters after famous thinkers and pepper the show with literary references, and while the show itself obviously has a kind of post-modern sensibility demonstrated by the ever present inclusion of pop references and wry comebacks in the dialogue, there is also this earnest, and at times, frankly, poorly written and acted, melodrama, that intrudes on each and every episode. I get that this is an inherent part of the fabric of the show - what confuses me is whether or not these cheesy spots are intentional? Are we, as audience members, supposed to laugh or think it’s ironic when Kate (Evangeline Lilly) pauses for long seconds with a well-placed tear in her eye to stare longingly at the rugged, Fabio look-alike Sawyer (Josh Holloway), or when Jack (Matthew Fox) punctuates a point by looking vaguely (but meaningfully) at Kate, letting us know there’s a raging current of emotion and pain behind his weary-thousand mile stare? This seems to me to be the kind of writing and acting that goes on in soap operas, and in some ways Lost is one giant violent, time-warpy soap.

I am not, a literalist per say, although I have always struggled to connect to comic books (or graphic novels or whatever), as well as certain sci-fi, horror, and action related material. Put it this way - I’d rather watch a Daisy of Love marathon than try to discover what that gosh darn anime is all about. While I understand the deep attachment some develop with mythological franchises, and sympathize with individuals who separate themselves by acquiring detailed knowledge of their intricate workings; and while I get it that fantasy and role playing is inherently tied into these strong connections people feel, I simply have never felt a kinship with this type of stuff. I guess I’m forced to come clean and admit to being a film nerd who doesn’t play video games or like comic books. There - I said it. Also, while I appreciate the stylings of, say, a David Lynch, or a classic surrealist like Bunuel, I almost always feel manipulated by their more avant garde work and wind up resentful because of it. I understand the general intent (if not always all the symbolism in the details) - which is to provoke, to prod, to play with the conventions of narrative filmmaking, to promote visual metaphor and defy the limits of tightly structured plot, to… well, lets’ just say it - to fuck with the audience. I’m all for that. Huzzah. It goes on all over the world in art schools and in modern art galleries and museums. It’s a good thing. I will go so far as to acknowledge that those who adore Lynch and his like are probably right - but for me it’s like Max Ophuls - I know the films are great, I appreciate their artistry and construction - they just don’t hit me on an emotional level.

Despite my lack of Sci-Fi pedigree, I do like Kurt Vonnegut and Phillip K Dick and Harlen Ellison. I like 2001; Stalker; Solaris and a host of other films about space. I like a bunch of post-apocalyptic, dystopic, and time travel films too, like A Boy and His Dog; Blade Runner; The Terminator; Minority Report; Gattaca; Twelve Monkees; Last Night; Time of the Wolf; and The Stand. I like it best when films like these remain in the realm of the plausibly possible, and when it involves real people experiencing incredible things. I like when Hurley is confused and questioning his own sanity, and better yet when physicist time traveler Daniel Farraday is clueless, because, well, they should be - I mean, the shit is weird, dude.

Lost is fun. It’s entertaining. And while obviously there is an epic struggle between good and evil infusing every aspect of the show, it’s ultimately the character’s story-lines, more than anything, that make it interesting for the likes of me. This season we learned more about Kate’s fierce devotion to Aaron; Jack and his demanding doctor father, as well as his abiding love for Kate; Sun’s loyalty to Jin; Juliet and Sawyer’s relationship; Miles and his scientist father; young Ben Linus and his Dad; Ben and his daughter; Desmond and his fierce connection with wife Penny Widmore and their child, and of course, the various machinations of her meglomaniac Dad, Charles; Hurley and his Dad; Locke battling his own self-hatred and his destiny; Saheed’s tie in with Ben and his dead girlfriend and his revenge bent activities; Charles Widmore’s connections to Farraday and his Mom Eloise; Jacob and his history with some of the Oceanic survivors; Locke coming back from the dead; Nestor Carbonell’s Richard Alpert never aging.

Questions about the hatch and swan station have been answered, although others remain. I’m still not completely clear about that crazy ball of energy that is the smoke monster and its relation to the shifting time periods or the disappearing island, but so it goes. Our heroes had to get in a plane again and re-crash (or re-something) in order to return to the island - some of them were eventually thrust back in time to join the Dharma people, but in 1977. There are the others; and there are, seemingly, other-others; there are french people; there are the people from the tanker; there are new plane crash survivors; and many of the main characters now have younger versions of themselves - which confuses things when Daniel meets a younger version of his Mom and a child Charlotte; or when Miles (Ken Leung) meets his long dead Dad and his young self. One things for sure, that shifting island can cause a mean nosebleed. Just ask adult Charlotte (Rebecca Mater).

There seems to be a lot of family dysfunction in Lost - especially when it comes to troubled relationships between parents and their kids, and even more specifically fathers and sons, which maybe isn’t so surprising given that is created and mostly written by men. I’d love to know how many of the writers/ producers/show- runners are products of broken families. Is this whole thing about Daddy issues?

There’s one season left. I’ll keep watching and not understanding much. Maybe at some point I’ll get the lead out and go back and watch those episodes I missed and maybe then it will all make sense. I don’t know; I kind of doubt it, but so what - I’m breathing in and out, remaining calm, and allowing myself to experience the series in a no judgement zone. I am one with the island. Namaste.