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And this is what Lindelof and Cuse try to do by claiming the story to be about the characters, not the mysteries. While I believe that they’re only partially right, I can’t argue with the success of that finale. I can’t think of an episode of television that moved me so much. Lost has always seemed to be a head trip, but, in the final lap, it reveals itself to be a heart trip all along, one final bit of slight of hand for the road.

Moment after moment of catharsis pops up throughout the show’s final two and a half hours. Just when I think I can’t get any more choked up, Charlie and Claire reunite, Sawyer and Juliet reunite, Richard embraces his new mortality, and so on, the lump in my throat getting bigger all the time. All of this leads up to the biggest sleight of hand in the show’s history, to me at least.

I mention above that even I have a few niggling complaints. Well, the biggest is the lead character. I’ve never liked Jack. At first, I found him to be an irritating superhero wannabe, then, as we learn the cracks in his façade, I found him to be an insufferable obstacle to the forward momentum of the narrative. He’s always the one to say “no.” As the mystical and mysterious nature of the island reveals itself, other characters, Locke most of all, seem willing to run with it. Not Jack. He always puts the breaks on. Whenever there seems to be the potential to learn some more of the island’s secrets, he scoffs them off. As the show’s body count increases over the six seasons, I found myself hoping that he’d join the ever growing ranks of the dead.

Then, as the final season progresses, Jack starts to embrace his faith. And I started to root for the big jerk. He lets go and stops trying to control everything. As a result, I started to embrace him as a character. Where once I hated him, there were even a few times in season six I went so far as to describe him as awesome.

And here’s where Lost’s finale got me - where I knew I wasn’t just watching a great episode of television, but a sublime moment for the ages, where I realized that this finale, unanswered questions and all, elevate the already great show into a serialized masterpiece. When Jack closes his eye for the last time, all of the emotional build up - and it’s already considerably intense - reaches a height I rarely feel any more from the visual arts. It’s a beautiful, devastating and perfect moment. And it’s the death of a character that I had wanted dead for so many years.

That’s the brilliance of what Lindelof and Cuse accomplish. It’s a textbook example of how to create a brilliant character arc. They drive me to hate their hero, then, as the show nears its climax, they turn it all the way around so that his final moments are the most profound moments of the entire series, earning their claim that Lost is indeed a show more about the characters than the mythology.

Of course, now it’s time for me to start the great re-watch. I want to see how it all holds together knowing what I now know. My guess is that, for the most part, it will. A few cracks will show - what’s the deal with Walt, for example - but overall, I’ll bet it’ll make for a complete, unified piece. In the end, whenever a Walt type dilemma presents itself, I’ll just remember Jack’s eye closing and I’ll know that the questions are all just red herrings on Lost. To borrow one of their own inspirations, the show is more about the Tin Man’s heart than the Scarecrow’s brain. I imagine that the very first image of Jack’s eye opening will now have a new emotional resonance to me. Ok, I’ve gotten myself all worked up. I’m off to get started. The island isn’t finished with me yet.

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