Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Back to the beach

Our household has been looking forward to this day for months. It's Tuesday, February 2. Groundhog Day. And the premiere of the final season of Lost.

Noel has been writing about the show for several years, and has frequently mused about its place in television history and its significance for serialized storytelling. I'm not nearly as well versed in Lostiana as my husband, but I've gasped and laughed and sat on the edge of my seat since the beginning.

What I'll always remember about Lost, though, is a television critic's pessimistic report from a network promotional panel about the show. The critic marveled at how all of her colleagues were fawning over J.J. Abrams as if he was the savior of television, a sure thing if ever there was one. Then she noted that previous Abrams shows -- Felicity and Alias -- had persistently failed to become popular hits, despite their status as critical darlings. Networks kept going back to the Abrams well, she concluded, despite the the absence of any evidence that he could bring them an audience.

I still find it funny that she chose that moment to make that argument -- the moment just before it became completely untrue.

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