Found and Lost

I recently finished watching the third season of The Office on iTunes. I have said before that I believe The Office is the greatest program in the history of television (that I have seen, at least). Its third season did not pack the power of the landmark second season, which will likely be remembered someday in the same ways we remember Nevermind, the early years of Rolling Stone, and James Dean.

It had to be that way, though. The second season ended with a climax of the show’s primary plot line, Pam and Jim’s unrequieted romance. The first two seasons of the show were propelled by this storyline, which always simmered but never boiled over. Bringing it to a head meant the show could never be the same. The drama, which was completely unparalleled in television comedy, would have to come from new sources.

So although I believed The Office to be the greatest program in television history, my hopes for the third season were not all that high. I knew it was going to be impossible to recreate the show’s trademark drama, and I questioned whether the show might have been pasteurized thoroughly enough to send it out to an early pasture.

I’m pleased to say that’s not the case. The people behind The Office found effective ways to make up for the inevitable dramatic deficit born from the Season II finale, and Season III was an entertaining, hilarious romp through the paper distribution business. Rather than react to the looming drama chasm, the people behind the show anticipated the potential problems and immediately moved in a fresh direction. They transplanted Jim to Stamford – a cop out, of course, but this was easy to overlook. Stamford allowed for the smart additions of Karen Filippelli (Rashida Jones) and Andy Bernard (Ed Helms), two thoroughbred foils for the already brilliant cast.

The producers and writers understood it would be an inopportune time to sell the drama, and instead focused on the comedy. They pushed the Pam-Jim relationship back to somewhere between foreground and background. They threw the supporting actors a little more food and watched them flourish.

Rather than beat us over the head with a Pam-Jim soap opera, The Office provided some new, intriguing storylines to entertain us. Individual episodes contained a little more plot than in the past, with several small crises throughout the season: Oscar’s outing, Dwight’s attempted coup, the merger/Stamford branch closing, Roy’s attack). The larger, season-long romance story arcs (Jim and Karen, Roy and Pam, Michael and Jan) didn’t pack the same punch as Jim/Pam but they weren’t meant to. Each was tender and intriguing, though Jan’s character clearly jumped over a fifteen-foot inflatable shark in the season finale.

The actors stepped it up as well. Everyone but John Krasinski (Jim), had more to work with, and they responded. Rainn Wilson, who I previously felt was somewhat of a weak link, stepped his game up to a major league level this season to make Dwight both funnier and more believable. Jenna Fischer (Pam) sunk her teeth into a little heavier meat and chewed it admirably.

As my friend Kevin once pointed out, Steve Carell may have the most unique and challenging role on television. He must somehow make Michael Scott, a completely ridiculous, selfish, and ignorant character, into someone the audience believes and cares for, without displaying any solemnity or sacrificing any comedy. Whatever they pay Carell, they should double it. Krasinski and Jenna Fischer and the rest of the cast perform flawlessly, but Carell’s work could never be duplicated. He’s in one of those rare situations, like Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean or Jim Carrey as Ace Ventura, where the role would be an absolute disaster in anyone else’s hands. I can’t imagine Michael Scott being anyone but Steve Carell, and nor do I want to. (And yes, I do know a British version existed first and inspired all this, and I will watch it some day).

The third season of The Office was not as epic or satisfying as the second, but it was damn hilarious. It was funnier than the first two seasons. It was immensely watchable. It could not have been written or acted better. It reached its potential.

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Shortly after finishing the third season of The Office, I ripped through the first season of Lost on DVD. When Lost exploded three years ago, I immediately knew that someday I would watch every episode in its entirety. Lost is the show I dreamed of existing when I was younger. It’s the show I always wanted to watch, always wanted to write, always wanted to produce. A well produced science-fiction television show with legitimate production values and actors, Lost may be the first of its kind. I read this sort of material all the time when I was younger, Michael Crichton sort of stuff. There was never a reasonable tv show created along these lines, until Lost finally came along.

The premise of Lost is simple. A plane flying from Sydney to Los Angeles spins off course and crashes on an island in the Pacific Ocean. There are about fifty survivors. The survivors expect to be rescued soon, but they aren’t. It becomes clear the island they are on is very strange, perhaps magical; for one, it appears polar bears live in the jungle. The intrigue steadily mounts – a radio distress call that has been playing for years is discovered, “Others” are suspected on the island, the island appears so big that it seems impossible they haven’t yet been rescued, etc, etc. The list goes on and on, mounting constantly, but I won’t give any more away for the few who are interested in the show but have never watched it.

The beauty of Lost’s premise is that it provides an infinite, empty canvas for creating/writing/producing team J.J. Abrams, Jeffrey Lieber, and Damon Lindelof. Essentially, they can do whatever they want. They can take the show in any direction. Since the Island is a magical, dynamic character in itself, they can create any reality they want for their characters. They constantly introduce new discoveries, new shocking twists that make the hairs on your neck stand tall.

Lost is arguably the most suspenseful show in the history of television, wildly entertaining at times, and endlessly thrilling. Each episode adds a new twist, more mythology, a new unsolved mystery, a new layer of intrigue. The premise allows for unlimited, spiraling staircase plot development. Abrams and co. are continually building upward, to the point where Lost is no longer about plane crash survivors – it’s more about what they find, and what they find in themselves.

Here’s the thing about Lost. It’s just not great. It’s pretty good, pretty well done. There are competent people behind the show. But it’s not truly inspired by creative geniuses like The Office is. The characters are decent, but they’re not as authentic as those who work in The Office. Some of the actors, such as Naveen Andrews, Dominic Monaghan, and recent Emmy winner Terry O’Quinn, are quite good. Some are only decent.

Music, direction, cinematography, dialogue – none of these are particularly well done in Lost. Nothing is botched, mind you – it’s all proficiently produced. It just doesn’t have that extra something, that manifestation of an artist’s need for expression. Lost is only a tv show, a good story, not a piece of art.

It’s a damn good story though. The story alone has me hooked, and it will keep me coming back the whole way. The show is slated to end with its sixth season in 2010. I will eventually catch all the way up, and then ride the final wave into The Island. It figures to be a frustrating, exciting ride.