*Three caveats before I begin: 1. I don’t intend for this blog to become a place where I review shows all that often, but I can’t deny inspiration when it hits. 2. So many spoilers follow… (so do yourself a favor and go watch the show, then come relive its glory here). 3. Like most things, I wrote this on my wave of excitement after bingeing the show, and have since wondered about tempering such positivity when I read others’ not-so-enthusiastic show and episode reviews… But hey, this is how the series made me feel, and I have to believe others had (or will have) the same experience.
It’s official: Lost in Space has joined the growing number of binge-worthy Netflix originals (as “original” as a reboot can be, anyway). This series is indeed, as Den of Geek described it in its spoiler-free review, the “ultimate above-average show” of the “escapist entertainment” variety. In terms of pure, tense enjoyment with a compelling plot and characters, Lost in Space is downright galvanizing, more like a “ten-hour movie” than anything marketing itself as such that I’ve ever seen.*ꝉ
From the start, this series is committed to a “show, don’t tell” philosophy. One of the most underrated strengths in current TV shows is resisting the pilot episode exposition dump, and Lost in Space does particularly well with the way it quickly yet meaningfully introduces characters and establishes expository details (e.g., a brief mention of the Robinson couple’s near-divorce, or one scene of June stealing a doctor’s uniform) that lay the groundwork for the future (e.g., the couple acting tense and not working together well, or June being selfish at every turn). This development is further supported by the pacing of the plot, which proceeds in guessable-but-still-surprising ways (e.g., June taking the flare gun from Don, John defeating the first alien eel, June helping with the engine instead of saving herself, countless robot ex machina, or the deceptive use of foreboding music to create an anticlimax). Sure, the twists become increasingly predictable as outcomes and choices are narrowed down—with time running out not only for the planet but also the season—but they’re of the sort that still makes you proud to have guessed them.
Moving within this above-average story, then, we have a cast of above-average characters, who are primed for development. These characters are relatable without becoming stock, like Penny, the jealous sister/rebel/comic relief; Judy, the disciplined yet sometimes impulsive sister/protector; Will, the idealistic yet self-doubting kid; or June, the wholeheartedly selfish one who maybe, just maybe, has a selfless streak (right?). Though I was impressed by how each family member contributes, intellectually and physically, to each task at hand, I respected them all the more for the vulnerabilities and insecurities each of them must overcome (which is, after all, what makes them feel more real). Point being, no one is too much of one thing, and each supplies the right amount of fear, laughter, anger, and lingering conflictedness to every situation.
And that situation, by the way? It’s awesome. (At least as far as dramatic TV thrillers are concerned.) I, for one, am thrilled to see a series eschew the ever-popular “slow burn” in favor of nonstop action and danger. Sure, there may be one too many “we’re trapped in a confined area with the people we need to be more emotionally connected to; how ever will we escape?” moments, but damn, do I respect this show for not giving its characters any time to breathe. Even when there’s no immediate threat, there’s always some exponentially closer deadline (pun not not intended), in the form of the Resolute’s impending departure and/or the planet’s fatal orbit. Like the characters, the never-ending perils are layered; this (mostly) allows the plot to keep moving forward without making us roll our eyes at “oh, another obstacle,” since this is really just a tale of survival, focusing on the most pressing need at each moment. Add to this a plot that’s practically dripping with dramatic irony, and there’s that “ten-hour movie” feel. When will the Robinsons discover the danger that’s been lurking around them all along? (Nope, not talking about the killer robot.) Will the family wholesomeness finally melt June’s heart? Binge season 1 to find out!
All in all, we’re given an entirely enjoyable show that combines elements of Stranger Things (with its oftentimes kid-centric perspective, inc. befriending a mysterious, powerful being who wants to “belong”), Lost (with its plot of surviving and escaping a dangerous, unearthly place), and Terminator (for obvious robot-reprogramming reasons), even if it doesn’t experiment with genre boundaries as those series do.
In contrast to its merely “above-average” elements, I do think Lost in Space did some noteworthy work in developing its theme of “selfishness vs selflessness.”
It’s no surprise that this Lost-esque plot would challenge our characters on a fundamental level: are they stronger together or better off alone? To be sure, this is a common theme in any survival scenario (where the real antagonist isn’t just one person; it’s human nature), but Lost in Space brings this to the forefront by placing its characters along a spectrum of selflessness, not to mention the heavy involvement of the unabashedly selfish Dr. Smith.
The Robinsons, our heroes, have no shortage of selflessness. Each has multiple opportunities to show his or her heroic side: Judy takes the plunge to retrieve a battery so Will doesn’t have to, Penny drives the Explorer to rescue her family from the oncoming storm, John offers his wife the only safety suit when they’re stuck in a tar pit, Maureen risks the Jupiter 2’s fuel supply to save her husband, and Will locks himself outside the spaceship by volunteering to manually close the bay door (annoying trope alert: how is there never a lever on the inside?!). The fact that they are far from an ideal family at the start (at least as far as the parents are concerned) makes their undying loyalty all the more compelling, and the show as a whole more enjoyable. These trying times don’t pull the Robinsons apart—it pushes them back together.
Indeed, though each character reacts differently to this strange new world (equal parts curiosity, wariness, and resentment), they share an innate “stronger together” vibe when forced to survive it. “We're Robinsons. We live together or die together,” Maureen enumerates in one of the admittedly cheesier lines of dialogue. Though the Penny/Judy hugs are the most heartwarming, John and Maureen’s reconciliation is the most substantial. Driven by a shared concern for their children, this reunion makes them not just better parents, but better partners: building on the classic “brains and brawn” pairing, we see how John’s penchant for taking risks and responsibility pays off (like jumping onto Victor’s Jupiter and becoming the de facto leader), but also how Maureen grounds her husband with calculated caution (like when she pulls him back under the satellite dish or into the tar-sinking vehicle). One would literally not survive without the other, which is all the more harrowing given that they nearly let a galaxy separate them.
This selflessness contrasts nicely with characters like Victor, June, and Don.
As the elected leader of this expedition, Victor demonstrates a sort of “responsible selflessness” (as opposed to the Robinson’s reckless version). He is not unsympathetic but rather focused on the big picture—the survival of the group as a whole. So it’s understandable when it comes down to choosing between one man’s life and preserving the fuel supply that could save them all, he grimly but unwaveringly chooses the latter. (Though couldn’t they have turned the tank another 90 degrees, so the hole was at the top of the container, then waited for a replacement tanker?) Though his attempts at empathy and comfort are clearly not his strong points, his only actually selfish move was in attempting to use the fuel to save his own family, in a decidedly less leader-like fashion—an act Lost in Space uses to show that even disciplined people can be overtaken by desperation at times. (Nevertheless, Victor achieves redemption in the season finale by risking the Resolute’s survival in order to wait for the Robinsons to get into orbit…)
Of course, it’s easier to make unpopular choices when you’re in a position of privilege. June (AKA Dr. Smith, AKA Jessica) is all too aware that she has no such safety net. Instead, she becomes the poster child for selfishness, constantly plotting ways to manipulate each situation for personal gain. We get flashback snippets of her inequitable upbringing (“dad didn’t pay for my college”) that presumably molded her into the grifter she needed to be just to survive on Earth. So it makes sense when, after becoming trapped in the supply closet she was in the process of looting, she tells Will, “It’s okay to be afraid, to want to save yourself… Self-preservation is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s how we learn to survive.” I mean, if she wasn’t pitted against the golden-hearted Robinson family, it’s more than likely that she would be venerated for her craftiness and survival-orientedness. The problem is, she’s a bit too beguiling and devious to make me believe that “self-preservation” or even “a new start [on Alpha Centauri]” is all she wants. Her actions betray her as someone with a deep-seated need to be in a position of power, always with a final trick up her sleeve. She’s also far too willing to leave everyone to die if it will benefit her in the slightest. Even in her last act of re-shooting the harpoon to save John, I have to believe she was planning on currying favor with the Robinsons since she lost her robot protector.
Also caught up in a convoluted selfishness/selflessness cycle is Don, who presents an interesting foil. Like June, he is part of the lower class and is in danger of being sent back to a dying Earth (which is crazy considering how often his engineering know-how comes in handy). As a smuggler, he proves himself willing to break the law to get ahead (never mind the heartless profiteering demonstrated by taking his dead partner’s boots or demanding money to lead the group to the last fuel tanks). Nevertheless, he time and time again tempers his sense of self-preservation when someone (usually Judy) appeals to his sympathetic side; he saves Angela (and Debbie), abandons his payoff to pry the tanker off Evan the surfer, and risks his life (alongside John) in a last-ditch effort to reach the Resolute. In contrast, June’s seeming inability to act counter to her own interests is what makes her fall into the role of the villain, despite her protests otherwise.
Just as Victor, June, and Don represent the different layers and motivations of selfish acts, they also exhibit what I will call the “Robinson effect”—they are inspired by the protagonist family to value noble acts, and to pay it forward. Victor’s son, Vijay, and the robot also fall into this category. Even the Watanabe family, who by all accounts love each other and work well together, cannot measure up to the heroism of the Robinson clan, who risk their lives to not only save each other but their fellow colonists (think of Judy trying to keep Evan alive, Penny saving Vijay from the cave monster bats, or John standing between the robot and a gun-toting Angela). While watching this season, I was reminded of a well-known quote from the CW’s The 100: “Who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things.” (June enumerates this same idea when she describes our daily inner battles “between between what we want to do and what we need to do…”) Though these words were meant to excuse humanity’s brutality in a survival scenario, I was surprised to note that the Robinsons may actually be better people in the face of such a scenario.
And sure, we could simplify the situation, as Den of Geek does, by saying “Robinsons: good; not Robinsons: bad,” but I for one am relieved to see some old-fashioned, morally sound, good guys. I’m more than a little burned out on brooding antiheroes in our current TV climate (and it’s not as if the Robinsons don’t have their own familial problems). Plus, this show already does so well producing exterior threats, if this family spent more time arguing, they would literally die.
Ultimately, I enjoyed this show for the action-packed, family-friendly thriller that it is. So by the end of the season, I didn’t care that John and Don’s survival was laughably implausible (though it would have been much more interesting, in terms of the show’s treatment of risks and consequences, if they hadn’t). Instead, I was mainly concerned with whether there would be a season 2, since reuniting with the Resolute seemed to tie up all the loose ends. But then, true to the never-ending stakes-raising and problem-solving that made the rest of the season so thrilling, a wormhole opens up and transports our heroes to yet more uncharted territory, sure to be full of threats, dangers, and opportunities for self-sacrifice. I’m fairly confident the Robinsons are up for the task.
ꝉ But sure, if you hate good-natured fun, I guess this show isn’t for you. Read here or here to satisfy your inner critic, and throw around words like “bland,” “repetitive,” and “tedious.”
*I feel it’s important to point out that I did not compare this show to Terra Nova. That show was about colonizing a new planet, focusing on power struggles between the colonists. Lost in Space, meanwhile, has a much narrower focus, shorter timeline, and completely opposite goal… If the Robinsons ever make it to Alpha Centauri, then all the other reviewers can start with that comparison. You know what new show is like Terra Nova? The Crossing (AKA Continuum 2.0). It’s the same thing in reverse (i.e., the survivors time-travelled to the past instead of the future).