Was I under the influence of my elliptical bike, or was this episode rather great? I’ve got to try those endorphins on the next Scrubs. If I so much as chuckle, that means I can’t trust my impressions on anything I watch while exercising.
Love the new, new, new, new Locke. Of course.
But, much more importantly, the Monster as a judging demon thingy that emanates from an Egyptian temple FUCKING WORKS. And I’ve almost got tears in my eyes from finding out that the reveal of one of the island’s earliest mysteries FUCKING WORKS. That’s how disillusioned I am since the Battlestar finale. Opera house, my ass.
Wouldn’t it be ironic if it turned out that the Lost writers, with all their pathological meandering and red herrings (one of which was this episode’s only flaw, because they just can’t help themselves), had a much better idea of where they were going than Ronald D. Moore ever chose to have?
Remember when they said that they’d made a rule, whenever they introduced something to the show, to already have planned out what it was all about?
Damn, I could almost hope again.
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