If I ententendido well (I think it does), and as much as, according to his comments yesterday, I censure the delusional, I have no gloss for the final episode of Lost my unconditional admiration.
course, if I have come to dwell, would probably care to emphasize how come my judgments rendered by a court reading emotional, alien, of course, to narratology and semiotics. Many chapters have been , many evenings, nearly four years of varying fidelity, from the childlike enthusiasm of the early seasons (the high point it was, and still doing, the splendid end of the third) to the penultimate condescending tolerance (the fourth and fifth), along which not infrequently came to feel the edge of disbelief, about to lose faith.
In this sense, the sixth managed almost from the outset return some of that illusion first pregnancy, child of that fascination with which they consumed (back in 2007) to four and five chapters in one sitting, happily enrolled in this whirlwind of hypotheses , mysteries, flashbacks and downtime whose delicate, almost mathematical combinations, should the series hordes of followers who then have seen their flojedades strains, improbabilities (yes, improbabilities) willing to forgive everything. Perhaps it was the imminence of the end (before the very end, by following Aristotle) \u200b\u200bthat has given this last cluster of chapters, now, that particular strain that could be called narrative joy, a state of grace that sometimes access the great stories, and thus drag their consumers a deal of happiness in which the trial is obsolete aesthetic or intellectual weight.
Still, many are the artistic values \u200b\u200band narrative of the final chapter, is especially exciting in this sense, the use of parallelism with the pilot and achieving thus a perfect circular closure. It will be easy as pie in the paper, and perhaps reprehensible in the analysis, but such a rhyme, which installs a delicate metaphor while the parallel work of the spectator who has remained faithful to the series since that distant chapter zero (the eye is opened, the eye that is closed with a satisfied smile and a touch of sadness ...) is permítanmelo, an almost unbearable beauty on the screen. Not to be outdone, the season closes with the ultimate optical illusion of many: what we thought, for sixteen chapters, a possible world for the reunion, the wound closure and a commitment to a future free from post-traumatic stress the years on the island, finally reveals his status uncertain limbo almost thereafter, that echoes the phenomenological effectiveness of everything we refuse to believe: the death of many, ending with Jack himself (of justice if, as I read once there, it was expected that his character died ... nothing less than the pilot), these deaths have not been a dream, an illusion amendable by the magic of fiction. Interestingly, Lost a series ends and realistic: there is the possibility of a final thaumaturgical gesture, a flattering but very expensive happy ending that circumvented the inevitable.
lighting, in my case, is given a sentence of Kate, when he tells Jack (the Jack who is about to understand it all) "how much I've missed." And I, who both got angry when bundled with Kate Sawyer, and many times I waited to hear them say what they finally say before leaving the island, I, I begin to tremble or that there was no possible reunion, or whether that love you, always dilated because of the islands and the plans and the happy habit of wanting to fix everything Jack ("to fix" is the main verb), found no place or time as possible to succeed, life went on, and not There are parallel realities or facile switching of fantastic story romantic comedy. Only, yes, the final possibility of a bounce in the waiting room beyond, before the last flight of the Oceanic. That is the only fantasy, really, the end of the series. Because
, nor could it be otherwise, this final is a long goodbye, again parallel with the task of the viewer simultaneously forced, like it or not, to say farewell to the troubled digital family we have been fortunate to enjoy many years. And yes, there are slow motion, and sentimentalona music, and what: it works, and like to drop tears and patting us also the Sawyer's shoulder, back, Hugo Reyes, sit a little longer with them before crossing the aisle and out the door into the light ... Before the cast blank before "move on", as she tells her father Jack, the series tells us all. There
I myself, at least, still sitting before the TV off, with the eye of memory are still open to the memorable final plans, refusing to say goodbye.
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