Lost, Season 4, Episode 4, “Eggtown”

One of the most basic metaphors of the show is the idea of the island as a tabula rasa or blank slate. That means for most of the characters, being stranded on the island is a chance to put the sins of their past behind them and get a fresh start on life. But one exception to this rule is Kate. In her flashbacks we find that she is manipulative, impulsive, and brutally violent. And on the island she is exactly the same. In this episode alone she effortlessly fools Hurley into revealing the location of Miles’s prison and enters into a sort of Faustian bargain with Miles to learn whether the rescuers are planning to haul her back to prison. She then (unwittingly, at least) assists Miles in blackmailing Ben, and even finds time to – yet again – give poor Sawyer blueballs. I’m beginning to think Kate might actually be the worst villain on the island.

In the flash forwards, meanwhile, we see Kate looking sort of Jane Austen and on trial for her numerous past offenses. I couldn’t even keep track when the judge rattled them off – were all the ones we’ve seen in other flashbacks accounted for? Did he name crimes we haven’t seen? At any rate, a pre-beard Jack is dramatically called to the stand as a character witness. His testimony is fascinating: Jack states that only eight people survived the crash, Kate saved them and helped them to shore, where they almost starved to death. So for the first time we get a sense of what the general public has learned about the weird and tragic happenings on the island – absolutely nothing. What has led Jack and the other survivors to create this fiction, and preventing anyone from trying to rescue the other Losties? How does that fit in with Hurley’s and Sayid’s flash forwards? And why, as we learn at the end of the episode, is Kate raising Claire’s baby, who Jack is so afraid to go visit?

While we’re absorbed with these questions, we almost miss the fact that we’re watching the most asinine courtroom scene ever on television. I was actually encouraged, at first, to see the trial set in a realistic looking courtroom with hung ceilings, putty-grey walls, and fluorescent lights. But around the time the judge said “I’ll allow it” in response to a question, I realized that the trial was ludicrous. Are we really supposed to believe that out of all the crimes Kate committed, including arson, murder, and armed robbery, the best witness the prosecution could dig up is Kate’s mother? (And doesn’t mom’s testimony – that Kate confessed the crimes to her – count as hearsay?) After a melodramatic mother-daughter confrontation, Kate’s mom conveniently has too much cancer to testify, and Kate gets off with probation or something. Of course, we knew that already since we already saw an even more future Kate where she was at least free enough to meet Jack by an airport runway. For all the imaginative surprises the Lost writers can serve up, they sure do drop the ball on basic television plot devices.

Lost, Season 4, Episode 3, "The Economist"

The opening golf course scene totally made up for the fact that, as I watched it, I was sitting at home alone on Valentine's Day. Who needs a date when you have Lost, the ultimate lonely nerd salve? In fact, the show has many of the traits of an actual significant other. Sometimes it’s funny, sexy and exciting; other times it’s cloyingly emotional, mean spirited and just plain incomprehensible. And like a real relationship, Lost can occasionally draw things out for far too long.

My Tivo inexplicably failed to record Jericho last night. So instead of a review, I thought I'd post about this amazing game my co-workers and I made up. It's called... ummm... Theme Song Challenge. Sure, that'll work. Here’s how you play: You and a challenger sit at opposing computers so that you can't see each other's monitor. Both contestants sign on to YouTube and take turns calling up different television show theme songs for the other to guess. Every one you get right earns you a point. The person with the most points wins.

“Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles” has a long name. I’m trying to remember if there’s ever been a good show with a colon in the title. I’m coming up with nothing. Maybe there’s a reason for that...

The pilot picks up shortly after the events of Terminator 2. Apparently the writers, like the general public and possibly the governor of California, want to forget that T3 ever happened. Sarah randomly decides to go on the run again after settling down with some dude for a couple months, much to the dismay of her son/future messiah. John doesn’t understand why they have to leave. After all, didn’t they destroy Skynet at the end of the movie? Wasn’t the future apocalypse averted? Well, that didn’t stop a third sequel and it sure as hell isn’t going to stop this show. Soon enough, a glowing-red-eyed Terminator is on their trail.

Could there be an Arrested Development movie in the near future? The New York Post certainly thinks so. I miss that show like a fat guy misses his johnson, but I’m honestly not sure if I really want to see that exercise in bizarre, Freudian (but painfully funny) free-association compressed into a 2-hour feature film.The humor in the eccentric rich family who suddenly lost it all came from about about 60 percent story, sexual innuendo, ironic narration, and slapstick. The other 40 percent was how the show would repeat or reference the same gags across 53 episodes. It was fantastic if you managed to follow Fox’s arbitrary airings of new episodes (or simply bought the DVDs), but it ultimately made the series impenetrable to new audiences and arguably led to its downfall. So the movie will either keep repeating those inside jokes, which probably feels tired by now to even loyal AD fans, or will try to reel in a new movie-going audience by attempting to put every reference in context, which will surely deflate any inherent comedy.Of course, another problem was that Arrested Development, like The Office, is set up as kind of a mock reality show. And with the exception of The Real Cancun, there are no reality movies. (I’m sure if you saw The Real Cancun – admittedly, I never bothered – you understand why that is.) The AD movie might be better off if instead of rehashing low-budget reality TV conventions, the writers made it more like a real film documentary. Those things have become such awards whores since Michael Moore struck box office and critical gold, they’re ripe for a send-up. (King of Kong was awesome, though.) [And they're making a fictionalized version of KOK, right? -the editors]