Book Smart

I’m a fan of the TV show Lost. Not a fanboy (I’ve been avoiding all the meta-content that the producers put on the Internet), but I make an effort to watch each new episode as soon as possible. Whenever this comes up in conversation, though, I almost feel like I have to apologize for it. “I know it’s silly,” I’ll say, “but I really like Lost. You either hate it or you’re hooked, and I’m hooked.” While I was watching this week’s episode, though, I started thinking about the sort of show Lost is; why some people can’t stop watching and other’s can’t stand it.

Here’s what I realized: Lost‘s hook is its characters. They’re interesting, conflicting (internally and with each other), and the structure of the show means that we’re constantly learning more about the characters as the story unfolds.  Also, because each and every character has their own personal goals, there are no permanent allegiances – at every conflict, battle lines are re-drawn and the characters are directly conflicting with each other – the characters drive the drama. Compare this to an action or war movie, where everyone’s objectives are defined by their uniform, and “the winner” is determined by strength and skill. In Lost‘s character-driven conflict, there are no “winners.” The characters just slide back and forth along a continuum, with their personal goals at one end and death at the other.

On the other hand, and it’s hard for me to say this, the plot on Lost is pretty terrible.  This is why it’s best to ignore the plot entirely and just pay attention to the characters.

If you do pay attention to the plot, you’ll have one of two reactions. The most common is to start asking questions – what’s the smoke monster (how does it work, where’d it come from, what does it want)? What makes [spoilery detail about The Island] work the way it does? What’s the deal with the four-toed foot statue? And why does Richard wear so much eye makeup? At this point, you’ll either become obsessed and tune in every week hoping your questions will be answered, or you’ll throw up your hands and say it’s all rubbish.

The other way to react to the plot also involves throwing up your hands, but this time you’re crying “A ha! It’s all ‘deus ex machina’!” If you’re feeling particularly smug about this realization (like I was), you’ll make a snarky comment about the smoke monster being a visual representation of deus ex machina. You might even point to the movie Adaptation where the character Robert McKee says “don’t cheat, and don’t you dare bring in a deus ex machina.”

After a minute or two, though, your smugness will begin to break down and you’ll ask yourself, “but then why is Lost still so compelling? And didn’t Adaptation end with a deus ex machina?”

I realized something at this point. Maybe using a deus ex machina is only bad (or worse, at any rate) in plot driven stories. For example, if John McClane only saves the day because Hans Gruber suffers an unexpected heart attack, the audience feels like it’s been robbed. There’s no story if Commodus chokes on a grape instead of being killed by Maximus.

In character driven stories, though, the deus ex machina can serve a different purpose. It doesn’t resolve the plot and save the day; instead, it changes the characters’ circumstances, altering the situation and the conflict so that the audience can see another aspect of the characters. It nudges the character along their story arc.

I don’t want to encourage animal cruelty (I’m rather against it) but in terms of conflict, the deus ex machina is like putting two roosters into the ring for a cockfight. You can show the audience the lives of both roosters from shell to farm, up until the point that they just happened to find themselves in conflict over a hen, or you can just skip to the interesting part – the conflict itself. Not that cockfighting is interesting, it’s just a visual representation of character conflict (which is interesting).

Seriously, don’t make animals fight each other for your own amusement. Not cool.

So does Lost use deus ex machina as a shortcut? As a way to skip the hard work of “good storytelling”? That’s probably one way you could look at it.  Or you could look at it the other way – in the hands of a good storyteller, deus ex machina is a shortcut for the audience. It’s a way of skipping the tedious parts of the backstory you don’t really care about, and getting to watch the characters interact with each other and fight to reach their goals.

You don’t have to like Lost. You don’t even have to watch it if you don’t want to. But I’m not going to apologize for liking it anymore.