It’s been 12 years since Lost ended, but we finally have our heir to the mystery-box throne.
It was more than a decade ago that Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse closed the book on Lost.
Most recently, Yellowjackets shares the same catalyzing event of a plane crash leaving survivors stranded.
To be the next Lost, a series needs to meet a few requirements.
First and foremost, it has to be a show that releases one episode at a time.
As the internet or servive, you leave the audience with no time to theory-craft.
Perhaps cynically, this format doesn’t seem to be about giving fans an experience to remember.
It just gives them something to consume.
Netflix and others know this, but to be the next Lost, that breathing space is critical.
Lost’s approach was to dedicate each episode to a single character.
In a way, Lost’s centric episode format was given a season-long treatment for William.
Lost, for all of its awards and plaudits, was routinely a mess.
What were the whispers?
Who really was the smoke monster?
Why can the island move across Earth?
Was he no longer a candidate when the smoke monster killed him?
It’s reasonable head-canon, but the show never really explained it.
What does it take to kill a host?
What really is the Sublime?
Why does Maeve have her emerging, almost supernatural, abilities and no one else does?
Perhaps the writers plan to answer these questions in due time.
Through three seasons and then some, however, the internal logic isn’t always consistent.
Some hosts die when they’re fatally shot, others don’t.
But series are rarely plotted out in full ahead of time.
But that’s a show about regular people.
Westworld is all sci-fi.
With shows like these, the messy and exciting journey with like-minded fans will always outshine the destination anyway.
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