Before I begin, you’re going to need some background info on the television show Lost. Lost is the story of the survivors of Oceanic Airlines flight 815. What begins as a story of survival develops into an intense, multidimensional, often nonlinear journey. It revolves around the mysterious, mystical island the plane crashes on. There are numerous flashbacks, flashforwards, and a literary technique called flashsideways, which will make perfect, logical sense to you once you begin watching the show. If you’ve seen Lost, you need no further explanation. If you haven’t seen it, any description I give will make me lose all credibility because you’ll actually think I’m insane. Just know this:
Everyone loves a bad boy. Throughout the entire series, the good doctor Jack agonizes over every decision: How will my choice affect others? How will it affect my life? What kind of a person will I be if I do this, or that, or the other thing? How much longer should I spend looking up at the sky with a tortured expression on my face? (Answer: At least five more scenes). Meanwhile, Sawyer is busy making all the wrong choices. Jack’s trying to save everyone while Sawyer’s trying to piss them all off, and let’s face it: mean nicknames and unnecessary deceit are much more interesting than longing stares. In real life, most of us strive to be decent people, but no one wants to watch that on TV. We want to watch people lie, steal, cheat, and unnecessarily insult and alienate other characters.
Everyone loves the conflicts that arise when the bad boy has a heart of gold. Halfway through season two, the audience begins to realize that Sawyer’s rude nicknames are his twisted way of showing affection for the people around him, who he’s grown to care about more than he’ll ever admit. We realize he’s a good guy seasons before he does. We realize that, five episodes ago, we subconsciously started rooting for him to do the right thing while also subconsciously hoping he’d do the wrong thing because it’s more interesting. Every bad decision he makes after the moment we realize he’s a good guy is that much more meaningful. We feel his inner conflict. We struggle with him. We identify with him, because let’s face it, even though we want to do the right thing, we often end up doing the wrong thing. Sawyer even goes so far as to make good decisions and keep them secret. Characterization doesn’t get better than that. Jack, on the other hand, has very little potential for character growth in this area. At the beginning of the series, he is the good guy. He is broken, but still good. Where, really, can he go from there? Should I become a slightly less good good guy, or an even better good guy? No, Jack please don’t. Please go do something reckless that hurts at least five people. Then maybe I’ll write a persuasive essay about joining YOUR team.
Everyone loves a scruffy, misanthropic cowboy. Jack is pale, with dark hair and rather serious lovehandles. If you need a reference point, watch the episodes from season 6 when he’s walking around his house without a shirt on. He has no discernable accent, odd mannerisms, fear of intimacy or inability to talk about his feelings. Who, really, wants a male character who loves commitment and sharing his emotions? There is no reality (including all the parallel realities in Lost) where that’s interesting. Sawyer is tan and ruggedly handsome. Sawyer is drawl, cheekbones and jawline, and the man does five o’clock shadow like no one else. He gives off an “I woke up, didn’t shave and still look this g—WHOA is that dangerous/shiny/illegal/life-threatening/hurtful? Let’s do it!” vibe, whereas Jack gives off a, “Do I look pensive? Because I spent twenty minutes today practicing my pensive expression in the mirror?” vibe. Sawyer = effortless. Jack = trying extremely hard. Despite all Jack’s efforts to stare longingly into the distance, Sawyer can do a lot more with silence in a scene. Every time he tries to tell Kate he loves her, we can hear the words in his head and feel how he can’t say them out loud. Meanwhile, wherever he is, Jack is probably looking thoughtfully at a rock.
If you’ve seen Lost, and you’re already on Team Sawyer, I applaud you. If you began on Team Jack but are reexamining your alliances, as long as you join me, I won’t hold it against you. After all, like Sawyer, we all make the wrong choices sometimes. If you’re still on Team Jack, fine. He deserves your misguided, overly-meditative adoration. If you still aren’t convinced, I don’t care, I’m too busy swearing, stealing, denying that I care, and doing the right thing while simultaneously insulting people.
PS: This was an assignment for a writing institute I'm in this summer. The assignment was to include a logical fallacy.
- The two most integral, interesting male characters are Jack and Sawyer.
- If you see two people yelling about Lost, odds are, they are arguing over whether Jack or Sawyer is cooler.
- There is often a person on the sidelines of the argument asserting that another, creepy character like Benjamin Linus is cooler than both Jack and Sawyer. This person is 100% wrong, and the arguing people ignore him, as well they should.
- I am Team Sawyer, and my hope is for you, dear reader, to join my team, whether you’ve seen the show or not.
Everyone loves a bad boy. Throughout the entire series, the good doctor Jack agonizes over every decision: How will my choice affect others? How will it affect my life? What kind of a person will I be if I do this, or that, or the other thing? How much longer should I spend looking up at the sky with a tortured expression on my face? (Answer: At least five more scenes). Meanwhile, Sawyer is busy making all the wrong choices. Jack’s trying to save everyone while Sawyer’s trying to piss them all off, and let’s face it: mean nicknames and unnecessary deceit are much more interesting than longing stares. In real life, most of us strive to be decent people, but no one wants to watch that on TV. We want to watch people lie, steal, cheat, and unnecessarily insult and alienate other characters.
Everyone loves the conflicts that arise when the bad boy has a heart of gold. Halfway through season two, the audience begins to realize that Sawyer’s rude nicknames are his twisted way of showing affection for the people around him, who he’s grown to care about more than he’ll ever admit. We realize he’s a good guy seasons before he does. We realize that, five episodes ago, we subconsciously started rooting for him to do the right thing while also subconsciously hoping he’d do the wrong thing because it’s more interesting. Every bad decision he makes after the moment we realize he’s a good guy is that much more meaningful. We feel his inner conflict. We struggle with him. We identify with him, because let’s face it, even though we want to do the right thing, we often end up doing the wrong thing. Sawyer even goes so far as to make good decisions and keep them secret. Characterization doesn’t get better than that. Jack, on the other hand, has very little potential for character growth in this area. At the beginning of the series, he is the good guy. He is broken, but still good. Where, really, can he go from there? Should I become a slightly less good good guy, or an even better good guy? No, Jack please don’t. Please go do something reckless that hurts at least five people. Then maybe I’ll write a persuasive essay about joining YOUR team.
Everyone loves a scruffy, misanthropic cowboy. Jack is pale, with dark hair and rather serious lovehandles. If you need a reference point, watch the episodes from season 6 when he’s walking around his house without a shirt on. He has no discernable accent, odd mannerisms, fear of intimacy or inability to talk about his feelings. Who, really, wants a male character who loves commitment and sharing his emotions? There is no reality (including all the parallel realities in Lost) where that’s interesting. Sawyer is tan and ruggedly handsome. Sawyer is drawl, cheekbones and jawline, and the man does five o’clock shadow like no one else. He gives off an “I woke up, didn’t shave and still look this g—WHOA is that dangerous/shiny/illegal/life-threatening/hurtful? Let’s do it!” vibe, whereas Jack gives off a, “Do I look pensive? Because I spent twenty minutes today practicing my pensive expression in the mirror?” vibe. Sawyer = effortless. Jack = trying extremely hard. Despite all Jack’s efforts to stare longingly into the distance, Sawyer can do a lot more with silence in a scene. Every time he tries to tell Kate he loves her, we can hear the words in his head and feel how he can’t say them out loud. Meanwhile, wherever he is, Jack is probably looking thoughtfully at a rock.
If you’ve seen Lost, and you’re already on Team Sawyer, I applaud you. If you began on Team Jack but are reexamining your alliances, as long as you join me, I won’t hold it against you. After all, like Sawyer, we all make the wrong choices sometimes. If you’re still on Team Jack, fine. He deserves your misguided, overly-meditative adoration. If you still aren’t convinced, I don’t care, I’m too busy swearing, stealing, denying that I care, and doing the right thing while simultaneously insulting people.
PS: This was an assignment for a writing institute I'm in this summer. The assignment was to include a logical fallacy.
