Monsters of Television

“But you. You ain’t scared.”

John Locke was always scared when he was on the Island, scared that it would always go away: his ability to walk, the connection he felt, scared he’d go back to his old life with boxes and phone sex operators. As a result, Locke was always driven to solve any possible puzzle the Island laid out at his feet (or that he assumed the Island laid out at his feet). It would keep him there, safe and in control. Destiny may’ve brought John Locke there, but John Locke would do everything within his power not to leave.

But then there’s Smocke (apologies to readers of Maureen Ryan’s blog but Flocke just isn’t good enough for me, and Locke-ness Monster is too much to type every time). Here’s a…an entity with all the answers (or we assume has all the answers). There’s no mystery to the Island for him, and there’s no desire to stay. But Sawyer’s wrong about Smocke. There’s one thing that Smocke is afraid of and that’s Jacob.

These flash-sideways find Locke in a better place than he was when he left for Australia in the main timeline. His marriage to Helen is happening, they live in a nice house, there are presumably no phone sex operators in Locke’s life (though, Randy is still a complete douche bag, so I guess some things never change). But Locke is still angry, still trying to find a purpose. Instead of crashing on the Island after being rejected by the walkabout company (and thus being able to have his own, very personal, walkabout), Locke must return to a life where his van doesn’t always work, where he must lie about his walkabout attempt, and still feels trapped in a purposefuless life.

It’s crystallized nicely both by his encounter with Hurley (and everyone else is grooving on this self-assured, confident Hurley as much as I am, right?) and his meeting with Rose. His run-in with Hurley provides a smart variation on the “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” speech, but this time it’s fighting for a little bit of normal ground (as opposed to the larger acceptance of the walkabout). Rose, on the other hand, provides Locke with a way of working to accept himself within the confines of his own (very good) life. It’s all nicely, quietly, tied up as Helen (yay for Katey Segal’s return!) assured him that she’s looking for the man she loves, not a destiny.

But the destiny elements seem willing to converge at any possible chance. Yes, Helen tears up Jack’s business card given to Locke in the premiere, but Rose’s intervention is perhaps more important. Like Locke, Rose didn’t want to leave the Island (it cured her cancer, after all), but Rose was always in a better place, emotionally, than Locke was. Her acceptance of her life allows her to survive on the Island (with Bernard and Vincent). Locke has the same opportunity in his flash-sideways, if he’d only take it.

Perhaps the most exciting destiny convergence (especially if Locke keeps his job as a substitute), is that of Ben Linus, as a teacher of European History. It isn’t just the sublimely wonderful way that the flash-sideway introduces us to Ben (“Fear not, I shall make another pot!”) or that Benjamin Linus would teach European history, but that this Ben offers words of welcome to Locke. It isn’t enough for Locke to be accepted by Helen, he needs a place of accepted purpose, and perhaps he’s found it at the school, and with Benjamin Linus. Again.

While I applauded last week’s episode for softly introducing us to the flash-sideways structure (and for essentially re-introducing us to Claire), this episode provides, I think, the idea that the writers had all along for the device. Much like how the flashbacks complimented the on-Island material, the flash-sideways provide a new lens for looking at these characters. Certain traits come to the forefront while others recede into the background, providing us with a fuller portrait of these characters.

Smocke, on the other hand, seems destined to repeat Locke’s old Island mistakes. Able to only to look like Locke or the Smoke Monster (hence my desire for him to be called Smocke), Smocke is recruiting people. He manages to recruit the drunk and grieving Sawyer by promising answers in much the same fashion that Locke drew in Boone with promises of unlocking the Island’s secrets together, and we all know how well that turned out for Boone.

But despite Smocke’s abilities and knowledge, he’s trapped on the Island and being haunted by a little boy. Said boy seems to be warning Smocke, “You know the rules. You can’t kill him.” Smocke retorts with Locke’s refrain (“Don’t tell me what I can’t do!”) but it’s fairly clear that there are some things that Smocke can’t do for some reason.

Grounding all of this, though, is Terry O’Quinn. Like any good actor, he’s managed to find a different physicality and vocal range for Smocke. It’s mostly the way O’Quinn works his eyes and alters his cadence of delivery (fewer unsure pauses, more off-hand, let’s get on with it, tones) that sets the two versions of Locke’s body apart. O’Quinn, like Michael Emerson and Josh Holloway, have managed to take this fantastical material and make it very real. And what more could you want as we head into the final stretch?

FINAL THOUGHTS

• Not much to say on this yet (I’m sure I will later), but this idea of candidates nicely works back to ideas of leadership and who is fit to lead that I discussed last week. Kate seems to be no where on Jacob’s cave, and Miles’ name has been crossed off.
• It was nice to get out of the temple for a bit. I was starting to feel very claustrophobic in there, like early hatch episodes.
• The show allowing the folks on the beach to breathe a bit was also refreshing. Ben lying to Illana and then giving Locke’s eulogy felt entirely consistent with the character, and I’m eager for Ben to begin his crafty planning again to strike back against Smocke. (And what the hell is Lapidus doing here? Someone tell me!)
• I mentioned it up there, but Holloway’s still doing some damn fine work on this show. The rundown on why he’s still on the island (“Because my plane crashed. Because my raft blew up. Because the helicopter I was on was riding one person too heavy.”) was nicely done, only to be on-upped by “Well, I guess I’d better put some pants on.” Classic.