Pacôme, 35 — Paris (France) :
At that moment, I burst into tears. Those tears weren’t of joy or sorrow. Those were tears of gratitude because at that moment, Lost wasn’t talking about human will anymore, about how men end up getting what they want, about the necessity to fight for what seems right, as in so many fictions. Lost was speaking about the impossibility to think History in conditional terms — the show was always about that, and season 6 is a long meditation on the fact that everything that we do matters, that there’s no shortcuts, no do-overs, that “whatever happened happened”.
Lost was speaking about the impossibility to think the human will independently from the totality of the world, and thus the submission of the individual opinion to the Law — the Dharma Initiative-centered Seasons 2 and 5 tried in any way possible to play with this idea. Lost was implying the superiority of contemplation over action and the necessity to submit action to knowledge (from Locke’s Michelangelo monologue in season 1 to the “non-action” of Jacob in seasons 5/6, the submission of action to contemplation will be a constant in Lost).
So at that moment, I burst into tears, because I understood the need to accept everything I had gone through so far, independently from what I reckoned to be right or wrong, because it was impossible to keep on thinking otherwise. At that moment, I felt like Lost was speaking to me directly, and would never stop speaking to me. I didn’t doubt I would go from one wonder to another, and I had already the nostalgia of the moment that had just passed, because Lost would eventually stop, and each episode would bring me closer to the end. Before that moment, Lost was an excellent series that fascinated me. From that moment on, Lost became a destiny.