Friday, September 9, 2005

I still haven’t purchased a television, so for me the rich landscape of primetime programming is an untilled field, full of mystery and DVD-shaped holes for disposable income. Most of these pitfalls I’ve avoided, probably because boxed sets of Airwolf and The Simpsons don’t really speak to me. There are some plots, however, upon which acclaim is heaped in quantity. People dig, find something good, and occasionally I follow suit to find exactly the same thing.

Firefly was one of these discoveries, though I always have a nagging sense of dorkiness when watching science fiction. Certainly this series was far better than, say, the new Star Wars trilogy, but then again anything that refrains from Darth Sodomizing your senses is commendable. I enjoy a good amount of escapism in my various entertainments, and science fiction detracts from this because of the inherent flashes of geeky self-awareness.

Lost. This is my new squeeze. I’m positively enamored. Its immersion comes partly from the lack of spacecraft powered by dark fusion and implausibility, partly from good pacing and a mythology that is thick but manageable. The characters are meaty, but that’s not to say they’re immune to triteness. The plot twists are clever and sometimes expected. Tense moments? There are plenty.

To its credit, I believe we’re at a point where there is too much media, too many ideas, to consume. If we had to be honest, it’s probably all been done before. I mean, are there any new thoughts left to think? What remains, then, is how those ideas are presented–how they’re packaged, the sense of motion, whether they’re accessible. In that regard, Lost does pretty well for itself.