Having orchestrated an exhilarating time-bending narrative that would have made the master of cinematic memory Alain Resnais proud, Lost honchos, Carlton Cuse and Damon Lindelof, employed some old school storytelling in their finale.  As Irna Phillips, creator of the soap genre, knew from the beginning, it is the relationships that matter; the couple became the core of her serial. In the complex and dense Lost calculus, the pair also emerged as a sweet solution to life's mysteries and mythologies. Yes, soap opera seem to trump the science fiction.

Throughout the 150 minute culmination, complete with what seemed record-setting commercial interruption, key characters were awakened in the sideways universe by the interaction with their respective partners. These emerging memories were illustrated by teary, but wrenching montages from the island, a classic device appropriated from the daytime soap. In the end, it didn't really matter what type of purgatory entrapped our heroes. Sawyer ended up with Juliet just like Josh and Reva in Guiding Light (an appropriate subtitle for Lost's final episodes). Who knew that vending machines could have such romantic resonance? But Lost also had deeper issues on its mind.

Emotional truth triumphed over reason in this conclusion, which is a little surprising for a series that named its cast after such philosophers as Locke, Hume, and Rousseau. Certainly there was an explicit and daring surrender to a spirituality of forgiveness, which will be debated for a long time.  The major characters, revealed to be dead, gathered in a nondenominational church waiting for a Springsteen-like rising. Ken Tucker of Entertainment Weekly argued for the simple, but elegant grace to this congregation; while Slate's Jack Shafer dismissed it "a prom of the dead in a chapel of love." Matters of faith were regularly debated by Locke and Shephard, but the final fifteen minutes jolted almost everyone. Through this prism the travails of the tortured Jack seemed messianic, especially coupled with Locke's miraculous resurrection.  Rarely has such overt spiritual material been injected into a pop culture phenomenon. 

Ironically, the real John Locke was an icon of the Enlightenment, arguing for a separation of church and state. I think many doubters might be calling for a separation of church and series closure after Lost.

There was one surprise worthy of the new Internet order without the mystical baggage. The Falstaffian fanboy Hurley ultimately assumed the mantle of Protector. As we know, Jorge Garcia originally auditioned for the Sawyer role, but was cast as comic relief, usually a job with little chance for promotion. But Hurley went from referencing Yoda to becoming him, a nice transformation for the luckiest guy alive.

This finale of Lost has been haunted by the ghost of Tony Soprano. How many times did we hear Journey and see that cut to black before Sunday night in the review of great finales? One of Jimmy Kimmel's alternate endings had Lost's creators and some actors indulging in an onion ring parody. But the connection between Lost and The Sopranos runs deeper. On the surface, both series ran for six seasons and their endgames were seen by eleven million fans. Although both shows were spellbinding genre entertainment with little overt connection to the real world, they were suffused in their way with the national fears and frustration of the 21^st century's opening decade. The Sopranos captured middle management dread, with business and family equally deteriorating; while Lost incarnated the anxieties of flawed and lonely people searching for connection after a tragedy. As importantly, both series challenged its fans to examine their assumptions of the entire series with a provocative last act.