Spoilers … spoilers … spoilers … Go away if you haven’t seen the finale yet …
I was enjoying it well enough, until Christian told Jack that they were all dead.
No, no, no, no, no! That’s not the ending I wanted. It doesn’t even make any sense. If they are were in heaven or wherever, why did they all have the same shared experience — or maybe I should say seemed to have the same shared experience — of being on Flight 815, landing in L.A., and having these alternate lives?
And they never did explain the Island light — and I had been sure that they would. Okay, I can live with that — thinking of it as just something that has to be in place to keep the Island afloat. Maybe that stone that Desmond removed was the Island equivalent of duct tape, holding it all together (great line from Miles, btw) — but I had really been hoping, and expecting, a coherent explanation of the sideways world.
I can see where the Island stories presented unsolvable problems for the writers. But why would they actually introduce the whole idea of the sideways worlds unless they had somewhere specific they were going with it?
Am I perhaps missing something? These are just my first thoughts — it’s less than 20 minutes now since the show ended.
I mean, it’s nice that they all love each other, and that they all got together in the end. There will several spots in the finale where I did cry. But does it really come down to they will all meet in heaven? That’s almost as bad an ending as saying it was all a dream.
I guess it’s not heaven, exactly. Or at least not the angels and harps in the clouds version. Christian said it was the space they carved out to meet each other again.
And what’s with the light at the end? And all their talk of leaving, and then Christian said they weren’t leaving, but moving on? Were they in limbo? Sigh.
Well, one thing’s for sure — there will be millions of words poured out, in pixels and in print, on the ending. If I did, in fact, miss something, I’ll find out soon enough.
Great show, LOST — up until the last ten minutes. Well six good years, ten disappointing minutes — balanced on the scale, the white stone weighs much more than the black.