609: 'Ab Aeterno'
Wr: Melinda Hsu Taylor & Greggory Nations
Dr: Tucker Gates
Synopsis: Richard Alpert faces a difficult choice.
Review: It's been a good four seasons since first we encountered the mysterious Richard Alpert and in that time, Lost has categorically refused to tell us all that much about him, skirting sheepishly around the issue of his apparent immortality and reducing his screen time and dialogue to the most scant and pointedly vague of references. It has been made abundantly clear that he is a character of the utmost importance, crucial to the inner fabric of the show and to unlocking the secrets behind the oh-so-beguiling mythology, but, teasingly, we've never been allowed access to these elements; instead, showrunners Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof have kept us quite literally in the dark, hungry for more, starving for answers... and now, the day has finally come where they are actually delivered. Yes, four years and God only knows how many episodes down the line, Richard Alpert is finally unmasked. 'Ab Aeterno' tells the story of his ill-fated journey to the Island and the circumstances through which he becomes the age-defying, eyeliner-sporting ubermensch that he is today. It's a fascinating tale, full of emotion, heartbreak, pathos and all-round lunacy, and one that provides the viewer with the finest episode of the season so far.
It is perhaps inevitable that Melinda Taylor and Greggory Nations's script succeeds so distinctly; by virtue of its subject matter, 'Ab Aeterno' holds the audience's attention from the get-go. This is hitherto unexplored territory, an aspect of the arc plot that has only been touched upon in years past, its surface barely scratched. We have never explored the minutiae of the Island prior to its more immediate 20th Century history, apart from a few minor potential glimpses during season five's sczhiophrenic jumps through time. To devote virtually an entire hour to a plot that takes us back to a time when the Island was apparently largely bereft of inhabitants is a giant Christmas present for Lostaholics, a juicy, jam-packed seven course meal of revelatory goodness. It is also avoids the problem of inherent predictabiloity that has plagued the show since the inception of the 'flash sideways' narratives; by taking us away from this technique, the writers lose the semblances of foreshadowing that featured so prominently in easrlier episodes (the character beats, for the most part, have been identical to those we have encountered continually since the first season). Here, everything is new, all territory is unchartered, so there is very little scope for anything to be telegraphed. The blank slate, as always, provides the most engaging and rewarding of televisual experiences.
Helping matter ssomewhat is the combination of solid scripting from Nations and Taylor and Nestor Carbonell's finest performance in four years on the show. Granted, he is given far more scope to impress since his total screen tiem here is probably the sum of his prior collective appearances, but boy, does he seize the opportunity. The character's story is essentially a rather simple,one, focusing on his love of and devotion to a woman named Isabella, and the tragedy that ensues as a result, but it is constructed so beautifully and with such a potent and believable injection of heart that it feels distinctly fresh. Carbonell brings Ricardo to life so vividly with every passing scene, humanising him right from the initiating moments. His parting words to his dying loover and subsequent desperation when faced with the unhelpful and obstructive machinations of the world's worst and most despotic physician are considerably moving, helping to set up the character's psychological struggle for the rest of the episode and encouraging the viewer to empathise with his plight. The continual bombardment of injustice magnifies this and imbues the narrative with a strong level of investment, encouraging the formation of allegiances.
It certainly helps that the antagonists are all heartless bastards, played to callous perfection by everyone involved. The heartless priest is deliciously evil, seemingly relishing Ricardo's plight, taking great pleasure in informing him that he has no hope for salvation and then setting him up for execution, while the slave-procuring British colonial officer is even better, seemingly offering a semblance of hope but actually reducing Ricardo to a life of servitude, barely any better than death. His methodical murder spree upon the crash landing is a superbly malicious touch, exemplifying the horror of the scenario, as well as seeming entirely realistic. This is one of the most disturbing sequences that Lost has served up in some time, precisely because it is so stark. The production crew do not shy away from delinieating the situation in all its gruesome glory and the perfunctory absence of humanity in the whole thing only intensifies matters. In contrast to the pleas of these tortured, enslaved human beings, the colonial officer is deathly silent, simply piercing their chests one by one, snuffing out their lives as if they were nothing more than insects underfoot.
Of course, he doesn't manage to enscare our Ricardo; thankfully, ol' Smokie intervenes and saves the day, laying the despotic crew to waste and dishing out a healthy helping of comeuppance. Yet again, the production crew outdo themselves, creating a deliciously intense bloodbath that makes great use of the Smoke Monster's minutiae to continue to captivate (it should probably be noted that the production values are actually fantastic throughout, particularly given that the script gives the crew the unenviable task of recreating 19th Century Spain, a challenge to which they rise admirably). What subsequently ensues is a fascinating recreation of the battle of wills to which we have previously been subjected, as Smokie tries to recruit Richard in an attempt to murder Jacob and thereby free himself from the confines of the Island. However, this particular power play is different in the sense that it allows us access to information that previously has not been forthcoming. This battle actually leads to some answers, the most intriguing of which, of course, is the idea that the Island is some sort of cork, keeping 'Hell' at bay. Jacob's explanation as to his purpose, and the Island's, may be more metaphorical than literal, especially given that he appears to tailor his phrasing to suit his audience, expressing complex concepts in language that Ricardo will understand (he is a religious man, after all), but it is no less satisfying, essentially suggesting that his purpose, if not that of his surroundings, is to make sure that the Man in Black remains trapped (or presumably, holy Hell will be unleashed). Whether or not a literal manifestation of Hell will occur if Smokie does escape doesn't seem to matter; the onus now is on the entrapment of UnLocke and the well-being, effectively, of us all. This gives the show a whole new dimension, intensifying the already palpable levels of tension and suspense by incorporating a macrocosmic tableaux.
The various insights that we are offered into Jacob and Smokie's troubled relationship really enrich the narrative. Marc Pellegrino and particularly Titus Welliver are absolutely excellent, side-stepping cliche and assurity to create a pair of deliciously ambivalent and impenetrable characters whose motives are never quite clear and who seem just that shade removed from the spoils of humanity. It is somewhat interesting that it is Jacob who is the most hostile of the two, taking significant umbridge tat the arrival of Ricardo at the statue, without even necessarily knowing his intentions. This makes us question the 'good/evil' binarity, demonstrating that neither character slots neatly into a black and white opposition, in spite of the intricacies of the mise en scene (all this white/black imagery and chiaroscuro is deliberately misleading, I'm telling you). The Man in Black, by contrast, is relatively clam and hospitable, despite his brutal murder of the Black Rock's crew, seemingly offering Richard nothing but the truth (although whether this is accurate or not is certainly debatable... was he coming to challenge Jacob's manifestation of Isabella?) This lends contemporary Richard's struggle all the more weight and makes his final breakdown and subsequent redemption/epiphany at the hands of Hurley, Jacob's apparent vessel, all the more moving, which is one hell of a feat in itself given that Carbonell gives it his all, perfectly conveying years of pent-up trauma. It is also rather interesting that all if this is wrapped up in some sort of theoretical moral debate between the two omnipresent characters, as Jacob brings individuals to the Island in order to prove to Smokie that there is good in all human beings, that they can make the correct moral decisions, while UnLocke just thinks we are all corruptable and therefore deserve nothing other than grizzly death. This essentially makes the Losties pawns and suggests, perhaps, that they will need to break away from the stranglehold of both parties if they ever wish to truly be free again.
All of this and we haven't even mentioned the delightful reveal regarding the birth of Richard's immortality, which comes about as an afterthought when Carbonell cannot think of anything else to ask his benefactor for, or even the insinuation that Smokie was brought to this place by Jacob and trapped there deliberately... or hell, even the fact that we now know how the statue got itself all demolished. In an episode so chocked to the brim with revelations, intriguing insights and Goddamn wonderful scripting and performances, it's easy to forget about certain aspects, simply because there's so much to devour. 'Ab Aeterno' is one of those instalments, never ceasing to hold your attention throughout its forty five minutes and providing a brilliantly fulfilling viewing experience that leaves you reeling and desperate for more. This is the sort of episode we've been waiting for all season, kicking the arc plot well and truly up the backside and thrilling at every turn. Nestor Carbonell is brilliant, Taylor and Nations are genuii and Lost, once again, is the best damn show on television. 9.6
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