The one episode I’ve been looking forward to since we began this whole adventure, and I manage to forego the liveblogging. Disappointed? Sure. But in some ways this may be better. While the episode aired, I wasn’t sure what to make of each development, but the details completely engrossed me every step of the way. Looking back, it would’ve been nice to capture my immediate reactions to each twist, but it feels like this episode deserves a deeper look at things. So here we go, let’s dive in.

His name is Jacob.

We knew this, but what we didn’t know is that he didn’t arrive on the island alone. Across the Sea begins with Jacob’s mother landing on the island post-shipwreck. We witness her give birth to twin sons with the assistance of an unknown woman living on the island. She names one of the boys Jacob, and then subsequently meets her demise at the hands of her would-be protector. Jacob and the unnamed twin (dare I suggest, the Bad Twin?) are both raised by their mother’s murderer, and from that point on we come to know her only as “Mother.”

Is it any surprise that the tale of LOST begin with matricide? Considering the strong thematic loops of children with mommy complexes and daddy issues woven through each season? Let’s speak of weaving. The yarn that has been used to weave this tale all generates from the events that take place within the space of Across the Sea’s runtime.

Birth. Death. Faith. Science. The rules. Betrayal. The con. The guardian. Children with special powers. The candidates. The game.

All of these things, and many more, begin here. Did you miss them? Let’s run through some of the more subtle aspects of the episode.

The game.

One of the most damning complaints I read about this show is the supposed changing of rules “on a whim” from season to season. I hear this more often than I care to admit, and quite frankly the more I dive into why people feel this way, the more it becomes clear. They weren’t paying close enough attention.

There. I said it. Now, I know this is going to open up a can of worms, but here is my attempt to explain. A brief word of caution to those of you whose eyes glaze over whenever the subject of film/tv theory comes into play, I’m about to reference some very complex stuff in a very light manner. It may cause the following reactions: “Huh?” or “What the fuck is he talking about?” I’m not going to waste time diving into details, so simply ignore the following paragraph and move on, we’ll get to the good stuff in a second.

It’s no secret that studios, whether you’re referring to television or movies, follow a formula. Writing for the screen is not an adapting or evolving field, it’s a science. In fact, it’s so well mapped that any variation from the formula stands out in some very obvious ways. The best variations (and the ones that often get lauded by formal institutions) typically find ways to mutate the formula without ever actually straying too far from the formula. It’s the appearance of subversion that compels those working within the system, and these supposed subversions re-invigorate the field because they are seen as “fresh” by the viewer, while re-enforcing the same old rules that many have been playing by for ages.

If you just scratched your head, don’t worry. Let’s keep pushing forward.

The thing that compels me about LOST is that this is actually the first time that a TV series has been crafted with the fanboy in mind under studio blessing. Sure, there was enough formula baked into the show to get the initial thumbs up, but the creators of the show had a gutsy plan all along, took a chance, and happened to come out the other side. I mean, this is a show that actually demands some understanding of subtextual content. It assumes some familiarity with books outside of the main plot, and invites those unfamiliar with these concepts to dive in and uncover some very interesting stuff along the way.

Many scoff at this, and chalk it up to “bad writing.” Sure, it doesn’t hand you every required beat along the way, but look at the experiment at play here. It’s pretty compelling. Plus, the episodes themselves still somewhat stand alone, but I’m 100% certain that those who dug a little deeper are going to walk away feeling like they got more out of it than just the casual viewer.

So when I happen to bump into someone towing the “bad writing” line these days, I typically just shrug. But not after Across the Sea. Now, I finally feel like we are getting some proof that this is what has been happening all along. Those who didn’t pay attention are continuing down the path they set out on, and I will bet you anything they will grow continually more disappointed as the series wraps. In fact, this little detail actually plays so well into the core of the show that it makes me snicker a little bit…

“Ok, ok, enough already. We get that you’re a nerd. Whatever. Why did you title this section ‘The Game?’”

Oh, alright. So much of the show has been dedicated to discussing “the rules” throughout the seasons, but so many people have wondered what those rules actually are. We’ve long known that our dear LOSTIES have been nothing more than players in some grand game on the island, but we’ve been a little confused about what the rules of the game are, what’s at stake, and who is playing. Hell, we didn’t even know who the team captains were for several seasons now. But slowly over the course of the each season, details were revealed. The tapestry has started to unravel. My guess is, when all is said and done, those interested in connecting the dots will find that this whole thing is a case of infinite regression, brilliantly layered so that each detail is connected back to that one, beautiful, MacGuffin. I’m getting ahead of myself.

The game being played on the island is a real-life version of the Egyptian game called Senet. The game is very similar to chess, in that each player manipulates pawns on a board that typically comprises of 30 squares. The object of the game is move all of your pieces off of the board before your opponent.

How did I arrive at all of this? In Across the Sea, the Man in Black, as a boy, discovers a game on one of the island’s many beaches. He shares his discovery with his brother Jacob, and the two of them begin playing. There are rules to the game, and over time Jacob learns that his brother is essentially making up the rules as he goes along to his advantage. When confronted about this, the Man in Black tells Jacob:

“One day you can make up your own game, and everyone else will have to follow your rules.”

This is not unlike two children discovering a copy of Chutes and Ladders without the instructions. It looks compelling. There are pieces to play with, and a board with an intricate design. Without instructions (and had they never played a board game) they would need to improvise. This is essentially what happens with the twins and their game on the island. I did some poking around and discovered the ancient Egyptian game of Senet. The connection is obviously intended, and the details around the game are widely unknown. It was commonly placed in the tomb of the departed as a talisman to help guide them to the afterlife. The rules of the game are somewhat unknown, although two competing sets of rules have been deciphered.

But here is where things transform from merely referencing historical information into the series. The developments between Jacob and the Man in Black evolve into a real-life version of Senet. Both boys are informed of a life-giving power that lives deep within the island – a MacGuffin of epic proportions. In fact, this MacGuffin is so biblically loaded that I have to say it might be the most compelling one yet.

This light, however you may feel about it, is essentially the essence of all wonder. To understand it would defeat the purpose. It is, what I believe, the sort of understanding one can only achieve through death. It’s the classic struggle. Man creates religion in an attempt to define himself, to give reason to death and add purpose to living. But ultimately, it’s a futile effort that can only be resolved in death. In order to prove any of it, one must experience it. And if experienced, then they won’t be able to share their newfound knowledge. And what if they were wrong? What if a religious person dies only to learn that there is no God? Does that mean their life was for naught? Or is that a lesson in and of itself?

Anyway, these types of things are not ours to answer, and nor is the light on the island. We aren’t meant to know what the source of the light is, or what it does, or how it came to be. What is important, like those loaded and heady religious questions, are the lessons and stories inherent. Is it more important to be right about the correct god to worship, or that you learned to treat others with dignity and respect? I digress.

This sort of thing bothers many who seek strictly answers, but for me it works just fine. To take issue with the light one must also take issue with other MacGuffins as well, including Marsellus Wallace’s briefcase, The Maltese Falcon, Rosebud, and the case of explosive white light in Kiss Me Deadly. In each of these examples, the story told far outweighs the MacGuffin itself. Hell, even the original Star Wars has a MacGuffin in some sense. You could argue that the entire back story including the conflict between the Rebels and the Empire and the fall of the Jedi, while enticing, was better left untold in an effort to serve the story of Luke, Leia, and Han as they save the galaxy. Lucas attempted to define these MacGuffins with the prequel trilogy, how well did that work out for you as a viewer and fan of those films?

The point is, the light exists, and it is this existence that resulted in the series of events leading to the LOSTIES arriving on the island.

Every game has rules, so what about the rules for this game? Well, to that I say, what did we learn from Mother? First and foremost, she is the guardian of the light. She tells Jacob and his brother that she is prepping them to accept this role, but it will only be passed to one of them. She gives us the first clues with two very important lines of dialogue:

In response to the Man in Black’s question about death:

“[It's] something you will never have to worry about.”

This is both evidence of her preference of the Man in Black over Jacob, and the rules of the island. She intended to pass guardianship over to the Man in Black, and once this is done he would likely live forever without worry of death, just as she has done for countless lifetimes.

In response to the Man in Black’s claims to being like the humans, whom she described as treacherous and capable of great evil:

“I’ve made it so that you can never hurt each other.”

This is evidence of the guardian’s ability to create rules on the island.

Her plan was to raise the two boys as her own contingency plan, her exit strategy if you will. Lifetimes spent guarding the light likely leads to a desire to move on, but the only way to do so is to establish a successor. I believe she hoped to set the Man in Black up as the next guardian, and betray Jacob’s loyalty in an effort to drive him to kill her. This would forever release her from her duties on the island.

Her plan backfires, as the Man in Black’s own inquisitiveness leads to the potential corruption of the light, and the possible destruction of all life. So she switches the roles, making Jacob the guardian and the Man in Black her murderer. Two very important things come of this turn of events, and here they are.

The ritual of the smoke.

In her initial description of the light, Mother tells the boys not to go down the tunnel and into the light. The Man in Black asks her about what is down there, and she explains that it is the brightest light you’ve ever seen. Later, when passing guardianship over to Jacob, she tells him that down there is “Life, death, rebirth.” She makes him promise that he will never go down into the light. He asks if he’d die, and she tells him:

“You’d be worse than dying, Jacob. Much worse.”

My question to you is, how does she know all of this? The answer? Experience. I’ll elaborate, but hold that thought.

When Mother learns of the Man in Black’s plan to tap the light, she visits him under the guise of saying goodbye. She ultimately double-crosses him, fills the well full of rocks, and razes his village killing all of his fellow companions.

She does this alone.

When the Man in Black awakens, he discovers her double-cross and seeks her out. She enters her home and silently sets about doing something when the Man in Black plunges a sword into her heart from behind. She ultimately dies, but we learn so much from this sequence.

1. She doesn’t say a word before the Man in Black kills her.

2. The way he kills her is precisely how Dogen instructed Sayid to kill Faux Locke:

“As soon as you see him, plunge the sword into his chest. If you allow him to speak, it’s already too late.”

3. The sword the Man in Black uses to kill Mother is the same sword Dogen gives Sayid to use on Faux Locke.

When she falls, she whispers the word “nothing,” which makes me wonder if she has somehow learned something (or nothing) from this turn of events. Perhaps there was no release? Did she expect one?

When Jacob learns of his brother’s actions, he takes him to the light and tosses him in, thus creating the smoke monster we know and fear/love. Or love to fear. Whatever.

So I ask, how did Mother know what was in the light cave? How did she know what would happen to Jacob, and subsequently the Man in Black, should they venture into the cave? How did she kill all of the Man in Black’s companions, etc? Why did Dogen instruct Sayid to kill Faux Locke in such a way (and with the same weapon)? Why did Richard receive the same instructions about killing Jacob? And better yet, why did the “don’t allow him to speak” rule not factor in when Ben killed Jacob?

Well, I believe Mother went into the light at some point. I believe she was also a smoke monster, and this gave her the power to destroy the village and fill the well. I believe that she knew that there was only one way for her to die (at the hands of another, silently, and having been stabbed in the chest), and I believe she entered that room knowingly while being purposefully silent.

I think Jacob somehow learned about the smoke monster killing ritual (and we may see this happen). I believe the “worse than dying” fate Mother mentioned is actually a reference to absolute power, and ultimately absolute corruption. Given the Man in Black’s outlook on humanity, I believe he assumes that Jacob also entered the well in an attempt to gain the powers of the smoke monster, and this is why he instructed Richard with the same ritual. I think he may have been a little surprised to see Jacob die after conversing with Ben, because in death his brother proved that some people are capable of avoiding such temptation.

With great power comes great…screw that, it’s payback time.

So let’s talk about power, the wielding of said power, and the corruption of the soul. Like I mentioned, I think that becoming smokey is akin to gaining absolute power while becoming absolutely corrupted. But it’s not as simple as that. Recall the Man in Black’s words about creating the rules of the game? In becoming the guardian of the light, Jacob has also been given absolute power in a way, and that power is the ability to create and manipulate a series of rules that must be followed on the island. As with everything in LOST, there are always parallels. We are in the midst of a season with two timelines. There is always a counter to every philosophy represented (science vs. faith, etc.). The concept of twins, opposing colors, and conflicting ideologies is prevelant on the island. So why wouldn’t we have two forms of absolute corruption?

My theory is, in gaining the guardianship role, Jacob has been given the ability to make and change rules on a whim. He has subjected his followers to this whimsy, and it has been referenced to some extent by Ben in a conversation with Charles Widmore regarding the rules being changed. Was he referring to Jacob changing the rules, or Widmore changing the rules? I’m going to stick with the former.

Anyways, we are being forced into questioning corruption in a lesson that plays out with two essential players. Make no mistake, there is a reason for the sympathetic portrayal of the Man in Black in Across the Sea, we are meant to feel for him just as we are meant to feel for Jacob in his role as guardian. The question being, which is more important: doing the right thing for all humanity (e.g. protecting the light at any cost?), or doing the right thing for you (e.g. the Man in Black wanting to leave the island)?

The answers aren’t easy. Where mythology and religion are concerned, they never are.

Deus ex machina, right? Um, no.

As I mentioned, the most commonly contested issue with LOST is the writing, and within the same breath deus ex machina is typically mentioned. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, here is the definition as listed on Dictionary.com:

Knowing that they would come under fire, especially given the circumstances surrounding their chosen MacGuffin, Damon and Carlton carefully plotted out these developments from day one. The character of Sawyer is, in his own way, a humongous clue pointing directly at the events in this episode. Our LOST characters have been entangled in game changing, rule bending conflicts with one another from the very beginning, so thematically everything here has been plotted out.

The stones, however, are the clearest clue. Since the arrival of Adam and Eve, everyone in LOST fandom has postulated the origins of the two mysterious skeletons. Who are they? How did they get there? What role did they play? These questions took the forefront most often, but behind all of these were questions about the black and white stones found on the bodies. What do they symbolize? Why were they left there? Yadda yadda.

The simple truth is, Damon and Carlton knew from the get-go that we would arrive at the story of Jacob, Mother, the Man in Black, and the island’s lifegiving light source in the cave. This yarn is the parable the birthed the island mythology, shaped the interactions with all unfortunate souls who land on it’s beaches, and influenced the schemes and double-crosses that have made up the bulk of the series runtime. So while many thought the meaning behind the bodies would somehow prove the writers’ plans, myself included, it was the actual context of the stones themselves that provided this clue — ultimately foreshadowing the game, the rules, and the events in Across the Sea.

So, does the light act as a deus ex machina here? One could make the case, but in my humble opinion they would be wrong. The use of the lifegiving light source is akin to another favorite MacGuffin of mine, the Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark. The Ark is presented as a religious artifact from the offset, and the events in the final sequence were foreshadowed in the very early stages of the film. Indiana Jones explains the myth, and the beliefs commonly associated with it, and then goes off on an adventure to find the lost relic. Those unfamiliar with the intricacies of the plight of the Isrealites require this explaination to both set the stage and assist in the acceptance of the spiritual events that occur when the Nazis defile the artifact.

In LOST, we aren’t given this level of detail regarding the light in a cave, because the primary conflict at play in LOST is already familiar to each and every person alive. This conflict lives in the questions that fill the void between science and religion, and humankind’s inability to understand the purpose and meaning behind their existence. To provide exposition here would have defiled the concept altogether. Imagine a sequence where, instead of talking about blind faith and logical science, Locke says:

“Do you know what it means to question your existance, Jack? Well, I have been questioning mine in the same way everyone else questions theirs. I’ve been looking for proof of a higher power. Can you identify with that need to understand? Well, I know what this place is. I’m doing what I’m doing because I’ve seen a light on this island that is the very essence of life itself, and that light is somehow involved in our very existence. It’s telling me what to do, Jack. I need to listen.”

Instead of exposition dialogue, Damon and Carlton chose to express this universal conflict through the personal histories of each character. What emerges is the duality of mankind, capable of both good AND evil, and influenced by faith AND science. We’re complex, and there is an ongoing game similar to the version of Senet on the island that is being played within each and every one of us daily. The light, those stones, and every reference to trust, faith, and religion has served as the definition of the conflict that we will face in the climax of the series. Man of Science vs. Man of Faith. Man in Black vs. Jacob.