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Over the years, I’ve had my fun with Matthew Fox’s interpretation of Dr. Jack Shephard as The Mopiest Medicine Man Alive;
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But last night, during Lost’s two-hour final-season premiere, it struck me that these actors, along with a number of others, are giving what may be the performances of their lives, all in the service of a show that doesn’t always reward great acting.
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• Jack is now shouldering the greatest amount of guilt, shame, depression, and despair of any character in contemporary broadcast television. (I’m leaving myself a loophole in that phrasing for about five characters I could name in The Wire. And a few in The Shield.) For two hours last night, Jack went from one sucks-to-be-him scenario to another, and Fox really rose to the challenge, giving shadings not only in his line-readings, but in his glances, his winces, his careful movements. Along with the writers and producers, he’s created a character of tragic heroism; he’s like Job with vodka.