Myriad Universes: Divided Light Part 1: Companionship

In the first part of our Exegesis of Solitary, we explored the mirror-twinning of Sayid and Danielle, the meaning of do-overs or “mulligans” in golf, and the principle that “names are important” when it comes to decoding LOST in our discussion of Nadia. We now enter the second part of theses essays, an Intermission where we dive deep into the intertextuality of the show.
With the introduction of Danielle Rousseau, we get our second invocation (after John Locke) to another Enlightenment-era philosopher. Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712 – 1778) was born in Geneva, Switzerland, and his mother died nine days later due to complications from the childbirth. His personal life was, frankly, a mess. With his semi-literate seamstress, Thérèse Levasseur, he sired five children, all of whom were deposited at a foundling hospital soon after birth, which Rousseau later regretted. His early writings on music were published in an early Encyclopedia, and he even invented a new system of musical notation based on numbers, but those works were never considered very important. He alienated every colleague he ever worked with, from Diderot to Hume, and his antagonistic writings against religion forced him to flee arrest in both France and Geneva. Later in life he became paranoid with delusions of plots conspired against him, as detailed in his Reveries of a Solitary Walker. He died a recluse, but by no means a hermit, as he still held his wife and a few friends dear.
Rousseau’s writings had a tremendous impact on Western culture. To him the idea of the “noble savage” is usually attributed; Rousseau imagined that man in his “natural state” – before society – was naturally good, in that such a self-sufficient man was not subject to the vices of politics and government. As such, things like his Discourse on Inequality have relevance to our Losties, stranded in the middle of nowhere and essentially forced to create a society all on their own. Indeed, the text of LOST seems to confirm Rousseau’s rebuttal of Hobbes’s contention that in the state of nature, with no civilization, all was “continual fear and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short”:
“There is another principle which has escaped Hobbes; which, having been bestowed on mankind, to moderate, on certain occasions, the impetuosity of egoism, or, before its birth, the desire of self-preservation, tempers the ardour with which he pursues his own welfare, by an innate repugnance at seeing a fellow-creature suffer. I think I need not fear contradiction in holding man to be possessed of the only natural virtue, which could not be denied him by the most violent detractor of human virtue. I am speaking of compassion…”
Our Losties have not been at each others’ throats since returning to a state of nature. Indeed, they’re pulled together remarkably well to live together (so as to avoid dying alone), despite the fact they’ve hived off into two camps at the Beach and at the Caves. …
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At last, Jon Snow’s four-season long constipation lets up. |
State of Play
The choir goes off. The board is laid out thusly.
Direwolves of the Wall: Jon Snow
Archers of the Wall: Samwell Tarly
Flowers of the Wall: Gilly
Bows of the Wall: Ygritte
Paws of the Wall: Tormund Giantsbane
King’s Landing, Moat Cailin, Winterfell, Braavos, and Meereen are abandoned.
The episode is in one part running forty-seven minutes and set at the Wall; it is divided into sections. The first section is four minutes long; the opening image is of torches atop the wall. The second section is two minutes long; the transition is by image, from an owl to the warg controlling it. The third is fifteen minutes long; the transition is by image, from the fires at Tormund and Ygritte’s camp to the candle by which Samwell is reading. The fourth is two minutes long; the transition is by hard cut, from Jon to Ygritte. The fifth is four minutes long; the transition is by hard cut, from a random guy dying to a giant on a mammoth. The fifth is one minute long; the transition is by hard cut, from Janos Slynt and Gilly staring at each other to Sam and Pyp running through the courtyard. It features the death of Pyp, shot through the neck by Ygritte. The sixth is two minutes long; the transition is by hard cut, from Sam cradling Pip’s corpse to the Wildlings charging the Wall. The seventh is three minutes long; the transition is by hard cut, from Dolorous Edd to Ser Allister fighting in the courtyard. The eighth is three minutes long; the transition is by hard cut, from the bow that Olly finds to the giant trying to break through the gate. The ninth is five minutes long; the transition is by hard cut, from Grenn to Jon and Sam riding down to the courtyard. It features the death of the Magnar of Thenn, hit in the head with an axe by Jon Snow, and Ygritte, shot through the heart by Olly. The eighth is one minute long; the transition is by hard cut, from Jon cradling Ygritte’s body to Wildlings climbing the Wall. The ninth is one minute long; the transition is by hard cut, from Edd on the Wall to Jon walking through the courtyard. The last is four minutes long The transition is by hard cut, from Jon walking away from Tormund to Gilly. The final image is of Jon walking out the gate, with ambiguity as to whether he’s landed on a snake or a ladder.
Analysis
In a very odd way, form follows function: “The Watchers on the Wall” is incredibly brave and incredibly stupid all at once. The plan is straightforward: hire Neil Marshall, director of “Blackwater,” to do another single-location battle episode as the ninth episode showpiece. But this is in no way an automatic recipe for success. “Blackwater” is a heavy-hitter of an episode that’s easy to straight-facedly call the show’s greatest triumph, but much of why it worked was that it was unprecedented.…
In what is as close to a hot take as Oi! Spaceman is ever likely to get, this week we actually covered a still-in-theaters film, rather than a sixty-five year old piece of film noir history. Shana was still out of town (but she’ll be back next week), so I was joined by friend of the show Jessica from The Web of Queer (which is a show more people should know about, so go click that link) to discuss the Paul Feig re-imagining of Ghostbusters. The film is largely just a pleasing bit of comedy and eye candy, so Jessica and I mostly just had a fun conversation about the things the film does regarding representation of women, queer characters, and queer characters who happen to be women. Also, I make a firm anti-Nazi stance and swoon over Kate McKinnon.
Over on They Must Be Destroyed on Sight, we’re still doing sex comedies for another couple of weeks. This time we looked at one of the worst films of the genre, Summer Job (1989) and Bikini Drive-In (1995), which is one of Lee’s favorites. I also happened to do a bit of research on one of the films we covered last week, and explore some information about the song we went out on in that episode.
And in case you missed it Friday, Jane and I had a casual conversation about Steven Moffat, Series Six, and feminism that is already one of our most-listened-to episodes. Jack described it as “the audio equivalent of relaxing into a huge comfy armchair with a steaming mug of cocoa,” which I think is a compliment. Hopefully Jane will come back and school us all on our rabid Moffat hate sometime in the near future.
…
I was supposed to write an essay for you guys this week, hypothetically on de-normalizing the nuclear family, but I sort of fell into the RNC k-hole for a couple of days and found myself much less productive while staring into the gaping maw of that Nuremberg Rally/reality show blend as put on by some third-rate high school AV Club. That’s the official version I’m presenting to the public, at least.
Anyway, Shana was out of town this week so I didn’t get the chance to record anything with her, but when Jane co-hosted a couple of weeks back on The Time Monster, she and I had a couple of hours of chatting casually after the end of the official recording. Because I have a Nixon-like paranoia about keeping all my interpersonal conversations on public record, I had a tape, and with her permission (and some edits) I’ve decided to share that with you this week.
Please note, neither of us prepared ahead of time to discuss these topics and so we both feel this doesn’t quite get at the core of some issues, but I think Jane’s going to come back on sometime soon and set Shana and myself straight on this whole Moffat issue. Until then, enjoy the chat while I go back to not-so-silently observing the rise of open fascism in America. …
I’m sorry, but I have nothing substantive for you this week. I have several things half-finished, but that’s obviously not good enough.
There was going to be a Shabcast this week, but the recording fell through. My fault. I’ve been crazy busy in my offline life lately. Also, I’ve been melting.
Anyway, in order to fulfill my contractural obligation and actually provide some content for Phil and yourselves, I will fob you all off with the first chapter of a fiction project I started last year, tentatively called The Abandoned Line. Let me know what you think… unless you hate it, in which case please be tactfully silent. I honestly wouldn’t be doing this to you if I had anything else ready.
(By the way, I know the use of the word ‘very’ in the first sentence is less then ideal, but don’t know how else to make the rhythm work. Suggestions for how to get rid of it would be appreciated.)
*
When Iza Park found out that her sister Ria was real, they were both very surprised about it.
“Is that me?” asked Ria.
Iza jumped so hard she dropped the book and the photo.
“Where did you come from?” she hissed, twisting around.
“Don’t ask me,” said Ria, who was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen table, “I don’t get any say in it. You’re the one who sends me away when you don’t need me and brings me back when you want something.”
They stared at each other for a moment. Iza waited.
Come on then, she thought, do the next bit. The bit designed to make me feel guilty. The bit you say like you’re talking to yourself, but loud enough so I can hear it.
“Not that you’ve brought me back much lately,” added Ria in an audible mumble.
“I was getting a bit too old to have an imaginary friend,” said Iza.
“I’m your sister, not your friend,” said Ria, “and if I’m imaginary,” she continued, pointing at the photo on the floor, “how come I’m in there?”
Iza bent down and picked up both the photo and the book in which she’d found it. The book had arrived that morning in the post.
Iza recognised herself in the picture, looking about three or four years old. It was the first photo of herself at that age – or any age younger than five – that she had ever seen. But it was definitely her. Little Iza was looking at the camera and smiling. The girl sat next to her was doing neither. She seemed happy enough to be sat next to Iza, but less than thrilled with anything else that was going on. She looked a little older. The girls’ faces had many things in common – same eyes, same nose – but in Iza’s case those things were set into happy surroundings, whereas in Ria’s the surroundings were sad. Both faces were lit from below, golden with candlelight.
“Yes,” said Iza to Ria, who was now standing just behind her, peering at the photo over her shoulder, “it’s you.”…
From worst to best, with things I didn’t buy marked with a *. If you want me to review something that’s not on my “next week” list, you can either send me a copy or Paypal me/send me a Comixology gift card for the cover price with a note as to what you want me to read. That’s snowspinner; a gmail account.
The Hunt #1
I’m trying all new Image #1s, just because it seems like where things I’m going to be interested in comics-wise are going on. This… is not a recommendation for that plan. A muddled book of the sort that one usually associates with Vertigo after the period where they were meaningfully creator-owned and were thus no longer the first choice of actually good creators. Generic horror tropes, muddy storytelling, and, for good measure, utterly irritating “let’s try to capture an Irish accent” dialogue. A complete mess of a book. The art is pretty, but this is pretty classic “artist decides that he should write his own material when that’s not where his strengths are” comics. Which makes it oddly appropriate for an Image book, if not quite in the right decade.
Spider-Woman #9*
The stuff about Wendigos is smart and funny, and Hopeless’s “Spider-Woman as mom” characterization is as delightful as it was in Spider-Women. Pity Civil War II comes crashing through the door halfway through to be stupid all over the place. I’d probably enjoy an extended run of this where Hopeless was doing his own stories, and may well check it out again if such a thing ever exists, but man, Civil War II is a fucking disaster.
Kim and Kim #1*
Much to love about the aesthetic here; queer punk space bounty hunters yes. But it doesn’t quite click together – it’s very “standard tropes made more diverse,” which is good and valuable, but my interest in standard tropes is a bit low. It fails at one of those crucial first issue tasks of making me care about the characters and concepts. Very pretty, though, and if you want a by-the-numbers queer punk space bounty hunters comic, this is absolutely the one for you.
The Ultimates #9
Some good bits here and there, but even Ewing is having trouble rescuing one of the biggest problems with Civil War II, at least based on its tie-ins, which is that Captain Marvel’s role in it seems to be to just act like a completely unreasonable jerk at all times. Her side is self-evidently the wrong one, and everyone writing the books recognizes that. Her big interaction with Adam in this issue is just awful, hinging on her being horrible to him with no justification whatsoever. Add to that a super rough stitch job between two artists of very different styles and skill levels and you have a weak filler issue. Alas.
Chew #56
Only four more issues of this! Woo! Obviously from it’s ranking it’s not that bad, but man, I am 100% just slogging through to the end of this out of some horrible sunk costs fallacy and not actually caring.…
We now begin what I consider to be the second act of LOST’s first season. The basic tenor of the show has now been laid out – our principal characters have been introduced in some detail, as has the mysteriousness of the Island, and the general tenor of the show’s approach to episodic serialization has been established. Overall, it’s been a story of how these survivors of a plane crash have adapted to living on an island in the South Pacific, touching on issues of social organization through intense characterization. Now the show begins to shift focus, adding new dimensions: not only will some of the mysteries introduced early on be revealed, but it starts exploring the implication of the fact that our survivors are not alone.
Which is ironic, given the title of the episode. And yet, in some ways the title of this episode is perfectly chosen, given the extent to which it explores the various connotations of the word and some of its metaphorical implications. We have Sayid, of course, who has shunned his fellow survivors out of his own shame; we have Rousseau, who lives the life of a hermit; we have Nadia, who experiences solitary confinement; we have Sawyer, a self-described outcast; we have Walt, estranged from his father; we even have the game of golf, which is most typically (though not exclusively) played as individuals competing against others or themselves, unlike most sports, which are team affairs. And, of course, there’s the fact that our Losties are literally lost on an Island, itself a solitary and unique place.
Let’s start with Sayid. It’s interesting that we begin this episode right where the previous one left off – indeed, the end of Confidence Man is prophetic, with Sayid heading off to ostensibly “map the Island,” which is practically what we get in Solitary. We haven’t had this much continuity between episodes since Pilot Part 1 and Pilot Part 2, with a dash of Tabula Rasa thrown in. We also haven’t had a character who blatantly represents a major component of the audience’s desire regarding the show’s mysteries. Jack is concerned with leading the group, Charlie with facing his demons, Kate with proving she’s a good person, Sawyer with proving he’s not, and all the rest with their own interpersonal relationships. Locke comes close, but he’s already had his revelation, an experience not shared by the audience. Sayid, on the other hand, has already tried to triangulate the source of the Frenchwoman’s transmission, and now he’s actively exploring the Island. He is now, at least here, our proxy for trying to divine the Island’s mysteries – especially once he finds a mysterious cord laid out across the beach, leading at once out to sea and deep into the jungle.
As such, I find it very interesting that Sayid eventually finds himself in a position that evokes a couple of mythological connotations when he ends up caught in Rousseau’s trap, hanging upside down with his leg briefly impaled by a pointy stick. …
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If this were Doctor Who, we’d call it the pizza-faced Oberyn. |
State of Play
The choir goes off. The board is laid out thusly:
Lions of King’s Landing: Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Cersei Lannister, 2Tywin Lannister
Dragons of Meereen: Daenerys Targaryen
Direwolves of the Wall: Jon Snow
The Mockingbird, Petyr Baelish
Kraken of Moat Cailin: Theon Greyjoy
Archers of the Wall: Samwell Tarly
The Direwolves, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark
Bows of the Wall: Ygritte
Paws of the Wall: Tormund Giantsbane
Flowers of the Wall: Gilly
Flayed Men of Moat Cailin: Ramsay Snow
Spiders of King’s Landing: Varys
The Dogs, Sandor Clegane
With the Bear of Meereen, Jorah Mormont
Winterfell is abandoned and in ruins, Braavos is empty.
The episode is in eight parts. The first runs six minutes and is in two sections; it is set in and around the Wall. The first section is four minutes long; the opening image is of a thatched hut. The second section is two minutes long; the transition is by dialogue, from Gilly to Samwell talking about how she’s probably dead.
The second part runs five minutes and is set in Meereen. The transition is by hard cut, from Jon Snow drinking morosely to an underwater shot of Grey Worm, and indirectly by family, with Daenerys showing up shortly.
The third runs five minutes and is set in Moat Cailin. The transition is by hard cut, from Grey Worm to an establishing shot of the Bolton camp.
The fourth runs eight minutes and is set in the Eyrie. The transition is by hard cut, from Theon to a slow pan up Littlefinger’s coat.
The fifth runs six minutes and is set in Meereen. The transition is by hard cut, from Littlefinger and company in the Eyrie to the masters being (rather belatedly) removed from their crosses.
The sixth runs three minutes and is set at Moat Cailin. The transition is by image, from a wide shot of Meereen to one of the Bolton forces.
The seventh runs five minutes and is in three sections; it is set in the Eyrie. The first section is one minute long; the transition is by hard cut, from a wide shot of the Boltons riding to Sansa in her chambers. The second section is two minutes long; the transition is by family, from Sansa to Arya Stark. The third section is one minute long; the transition is by dialogue, from Arya laughing at Lyssa Arryn’s death to Robyn and Littlefinger talking about her.
The last part runs eleven minutes and is set in King’s Landing. The transition is by family, from Sansa to Tyrion. The final image is of Tyrion having landed on a snake and been sentenced to death.
Analysis
As with “The Prince of Winterfell” two years prior, the decision to make the ninth episode a single location battle benefits the eighth episode, into which a number of climaxes are shifted. But with the increased number of plots in progress compared to two years ago, this means that two-and-a-half plots resolve outright in this episode, their handling comprising the majority of the episode.…