Friday, October 7, 2016

Review: "The Leftovers: Season 2"

“The Leftovers” has the structure of a mystery, but it’s a mystery that can never be solved in the world of the show. Iris de Ments spells it out in the new song lyrics. The director himself spells it out in several interviews. Looking for answers? Stop looking! You can't get there from here!
As Mark Twain once said ...
"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot."
Thus spake Mark Twain. Thus spake Damon Lindelhoff.
But it’s misdirection, a cheat, a way of saying “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain.”
To put it another way ...
Pretend the show actually has a pay-off. Pretend that Damon Lindelof is lying. As a thought experiment, assume the mystery can be solved. Thus pretend, and think for five minutes  You'll see that the logic of the big reveal is ineluctable. Play a game of 20 questions, and the truth is as plain as day/
Are aliens responsible for the cosmic yoink?
Hardly.
'Was the underwear-free exodus the result of a  telekinetically induced Einstein-Rosen bridge opened up by humanity’s inquiet group mind?
Cold.
Well, what about evil scientists? Say, a revival of the Philadelphia Experiment in a CIA experiment gone horribly ..
Pfffft. No. Freezing.
No, kids. Discard all those hypotheticals.
No collective bad dream. No dimensional bridge. No aliens. No X-Files style evil scientists.
The elephant in the room is theological.
God and nobody else is responsible.

Or some supernatural entity we might as well call God.
The Book of Job is the template. Shitty things happen to good people; good things happen to shitty people. The second you think you figured it out, reality takes a mad swerve. There's purpose behind all the apparently stupid randomness. But it's an unknowable purpose.
Faith is believing in that purpose, no matter how stupid things look.
Which builds down to two options. Get on with it, no matter how much it hurts or how crazy it seems. Or accept the undefined Kafka-esque sentence of doom God's laid on your head. And stop insulting God with the bourgeoise presumption of trying to live a normal life

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