What I liked about “Across The Sea”—loved, really—is that when all was said and done, the answers really weren’t so simple. Sure, the implications may be. Lost over the last several weeks has clarified just who the villain of the piece is, and what the responsibilities of our heroes are, vis-a-vis said villain. Yet the roots of that hero vs villain dynamic remain awfully tangled, and indicate that when it comes to faith vs. reason, and choice vs. no-choice, there’s still quite a bit of gray in this story of white stones and black stones. “Across The Sea” had a real biblical feel, as just as with The Holy Bible, there’s a lot here that’s open to interpretation.
Here’s one interpretation:
Once upon a time, two brothers—twins—were born on a mysterious island, and raised by a woman who taught them right from wrong, and taught them also that they were destined to protect The Island from ill-intentioned interlopers who would exploit The Island’s unique energies, and spread wickedness throughout the world entire. Only the younger twin—The Bad Twin—didn’t trust The Woman, and went to live with some of those interlopers, helping them to tap into what The Island has to offer. So The Woman punished The Bad Twin for straying, and in return he killed her. The Good Twin banished his brother, consigning him to roam The Island as a monster, effectively drafting The Bad Twin in the ongoing campaign to keep outsiders at bay.
And here’s another interpretation:
Once upon a time, a woman stumbled across a pregnant castaway on the beach of a mysterious island, and after helping her deliver her babies—twins—The Woman killed The Mother and claimed the offspring as her own. The Woman lied to the brothers about what lay beyond the confines of The Island. She lied to them about why they were there, and what they were meant to do. She pitted one brother against the other, by indicating she had different expectations for each. She stifled their interests, and crushed their ambitions. Then the younger twin—The Good Twin—rose up against her and killed her. And in repayment, he was chained to the land he despised.
And I could go on. I could mention that while living with The Others, the black-clad brother comes to hate them, because he sees that The Woman was right, and that men are by nature “greedy, manipulative, untrustworthy, and selfish.” I could mention that the white-clad brother—Jacob—watches these men from afar and sees a lot of good in them, even as he dutifully stays by The Woman’s side. right. this is where I missed a few minutes and was m main complaint, why does the son who broke from the Mother and went to live with the men, viewing them as his people, come to adhere to the Mother's viewpoint that the men are no good? they come, fight, destroy, it always ends the same. And why does the son who remains loyal to Mother and succeeds her in the role of Island guardian (*from* the greedy fighting men) dissent from her viewpoint and instead believe & wish to prove that there is good in mankind?
“Across The Sea” was an origin story—and Lost has always been good at origin stories—explaining why Jacob and Blackie are obsessed with games, and throwing out a bunch of familiar phrases and images, and showing how Jacob pushed Blackie into Glowy Cave, turning him into Smokey. But the episode also shows how origin stories can change over time, and take on meanings far different than their, well, origins. Yes, Smokey came into this world because Blackie disobeyed. But Jacob is just as much to blame, for forcing his brother into the water.
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I like Noel Murray's two interpretations. (reads a bit like Kierkegaard re Abraham & Isaac, the ways it could have gone. but there, it only actually happened one way. Kierkegaard detailing how that one way is ~uniquely, precariously okay. how easily & variously it could have gone wrong. ~like GKC re christianity as distinct, this happened, only & exactly actually this. *not* any variation. one truth.) I like variations. (Calasso: myths are stories that encompass their own variants)
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