come out of the hatch naked with your hands in the air

April 26, 2013

I'm rewatching Lost, all by my lonesomes, because sgnp made me do it and Jon despises Lost with the power of ten-thousand supernaturally enhanced water bound sun-spheres. As I was cruising along the initial pilot episodes (Hurley! I missed you! Whirrrrpooghghffsssss EXPLOSIONS!) the camera swept up the beach and there he was, ol' fuckface Mc BOONE, swiveling his carefully highlighted skull around on top of his beastly neck. It all came flooding back: BOONE. GODDAMN BOONE.

Indisputable fact: Boone was a useless slackjawed moron with a fat neck. Except, in the years since Lost, the former sister-boner has somehow turned his life around. No longer is Ian Somerhalder Boone: dumbest character ever, he's now Damon Salvatore: popular vampire teenage dream, watch him put his hands on me in his skin-tight jeans la-la-la-la-la, and while almost the entire population of the earth would agree that even with its multitude of faults Lost was a better show than The Vampire Diaries, the key difference is that Ian Somerhalder is 95% of The Vampire Diaries' draw AND I LIKE IT THAT WAY.

I watched fucking Boone fumble around the fuselage, searching futilely for a pen he couldn't understand no one needed, and I started to wonder -- How did this guy manage overcome the life handicap of being fucking Boone to pop up a few years later a decent actor and attractive human? How did I completely overlook his potential ability to smolder while holding a cat? Did he sell is soul to Satan/Beyonce? Is he a goddamn wizard? How does one recover from a case of the BOONES?

How did this happen? Because Boone was a terrible character.

Boone was a terrible character. I mean John Lock and Jack and Sawyer and Toothy and Ben and Boone's sister-lover and Agent Snappy-Snap Rodriguez -- they were all terrible characters to some degree or another, but Boone was the terriblest. When he got crushed by a falling beach ball or whatever and kicked the bucket 30 episodes later, I poured myself a tall glass of vodka and toasted to his eternally annoying damnation.

He was stupid, whiny, over dramatic, and only seemed to pop up when the writers wanted to stretch out a side story to maximum brain-numbing capacity. His back story stalled out right past the part where he wanted to whisker-kiss his sister and he never contributed anything to group game night. He was useless at best, and managed to complicate things miles away while standing still on an empty section of beach away from all sharp objects and bears. While he admittedly had some better moments as the show went along, I could just never shake my initial impression of fucking Boone. That was it for me. Done. Nope.

How did this happen? Because the guy who played Boone was a pretty good actor.

Despite my admittedly irrational hatred of BOONE, capital I idiot, none of the above actually had anything to do with Ian Somerhalder, "actor." In fact he was such a good actor he took acting like a moron to the absolute limits of reality. He pulled a rope out of his chaps, lassoed stupidity, and committed to it utterly and with his whole soul. We wrapped his hands around the throat of stupidity and choked the life right out of it.

Ian Somerhalder is such a good actor I really BELIEVED he was a moron. He never had the opportunity to be anything less than a complete idiot, and he fully embraced that challenge like a goddamn PROFESSIONAL. Do I hate Boone? Yes I do. Was that Ian Somerhalder's fault? NO. It was his RESPONSIBILITY as a man, and as a human, and as a surrus act-or. I hated Boone because I was supposed to hate Boone, because Boone was so deliciously, perfectly, hateably killable. In that bizarre and twisted way that only Lost can manage, my hatred of him may actually qualify as his extreme success.

How did this happen? Because Boone was a the fifteenth wheel on the blind date from hell.

Not everyone was as oblivious to the guy's potential good qualities as I was. There were plenty of Lost fans who didn't roll their eyes and scream at the TV every time Boone's face hung open on screen attracting a cloud of tropical flies eager to fill up that vapid space in his skull and start a breeding colony. The trouble was Sawyer, or more accurately, Sawyer and his abs and his Kate & Jack PB&J love-triangle, pushing out its elbows and hogging up the sexy-time sized portion of every 46 minute block of mystery.

There was only room for so much man-candy on that god forsaken island, and Boone was constantly in peril of slipping into a Dharma Initiative-styled redshirt. He didn't have the screen time to bloom gently in the sun and open his petals, and the show didn't have room for him anyway. Do you know how much confusing shit was going on on that show? THE SHOW WAS CALLED LOST, AND I WAS. There was no room in my bank of conspiracy theories for the guy that might-be-hot mucking things up in the background, not to mention that his every appearance was part and parcel to his sister's and she was just as unlikeably irritating as he was.

In essence, Somerhalder was never going to be a leading man in Lost world, so he kept his head down and used his awesome skills at acting terrible to land himself a right proper gig as everyone's sassy, drool-covered kitty-treat.

...On the other hand, someone could have just walked up to him on set and said, "Hey man, you'd be pretty hot if you could keep your mouth from hanging open all the time like Lady Chatterly's glovebox. You should try that, maybe you'll get your own show." And then he did.


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