Lost vs. Heroes
ABC & NBC

Matthew Fox recently became the first cast member of ABC monster hit Lost to host Saturday Night Live. In his episode, SNL's writers seized the opportunity to mock Lost's increasingly complicated premise: Trapped in an elevator with several Lost fanatics, other riders hurl unsolicited theories about the show at Fox. At one point, Fred Armisen, playing a stereotypical "obnoxious New Yorker" says, "You guys got no idea what's going on on that island. I think your writers sit around that room and one guy's like, 'What's going on on this island?' and the other guy's like, 'Don't look at me!'"

All jokes aside, this has been a nagging concern of the show's fans and critics alike. Since the second half of the first season, the stories and revelations on Lost having been moving at what seems to be glacial speed. (Ironic, considering they still haven't told us exactly how those polar bears have managed to survive on a tropical island.) What started out as an action-packed pilot has become a Twin Peaks-like conundrum of plotlines, with retcon-ing so bold it makes you wonder if you've developed early onset Alzheimer's. It's had brilliant moments, but ever since the underwhelming finale of Season Two, Lost has been spinning on its tires.

Take for instance this season's fall finale: there were no "big-reveals" or answers to any questions. Instead, a classic soap opera twist: a medical cliffhanger (Will Jack let Ben die or will the Others give into his demand to free the sex-caged lovers, Kate and Sawyer?). Does anyone really care anymore? Lost initially won fans by enrapturing them with the larger mystery of why these people were brought to that island. But, after two seasons of setting up parallel storylines and implications of fate, it has been revealed that the only reason these folks ended reside on said island is because some mopey Scotsman decided to stick it to the man by not pressing a button — thereby causing Oceanic Airlines flight 815 to crash. What a letdown (pun intended).

But for those blue-balled by Lost's meanderings, release has been made possible by another show. The freshman NBC hit, Heroes, ended its fall season with a bang — or at least some kind of nuclear explosion. Following the expository pilot, each episode pivoted around the central question of whether a merry band of "genetically enhanced humans" could work together to save the world. Did they succeed? Well, actually (and here's the kicker) there is something of an answer (though a complex one), and that kind of resolution-giving is what has made the show so deliciously satisfying thus far.

So, how is it that Heroes — a Lost-inspired serial that delves into the supernatural — so quickly topped its big brother after only half a season? Comparisons between these two shows have been omnipresent ever since Heroes jumped out of the ratings-stall running. But it's no wonder: the first season of Lost convinced network execs of the profitability of unorthodox storytelling and unusual dramatic conventions and the following season they cranked out copycat shows all eager to emulate Lost's popularity. That year, no fewer than three shows attempted to cash in on different elements of Lost: Surface took the mystery to the sea, and Invasion and Threshold looked toward aliens to bring in the ratings.

It wasn't until Heroes that any show was able to replicate Lost's success, and it did so by nailing the most obvious, yet key concept to the serial's appeal: suspenseful storytelling. Like a well-crafted thriller, Heroes is able to captivate its audience by presenting an immediate task (to, um, save Manhattan from immanent destruction) while launching a larger mystery: How did these "heroes" get their powers, and why did these folks become heroes and not others? But, unlike recent episodes of Lost, Heroes keeps the action focused on shorter stories (as with the early task "Save the Cheerleader, Save the World") while steadily explaining several of its mysteries and characters' motivations along the way. For instance, after Sylar commits a series of brutal murders, Sylar's identity and evil plot to absorb multiple powers is revealed — but it's clear his giant head is brewing a horrible revenge. (What's that? A resolution? Lost would never be so bold.)

Lost, it seems, in an effort to preserve its lifespan, has been exponentially dividing its plotlines upon themselves, leaving us with little story — but many new castaways and many new (comically) nefarious bad guys. (Really, an eye-patch? Come on.) Like a sci-fi version of Tristram Shandy — wandering into this life and jumping back into another, never quite getting to the point of either — Lost has become... well, I'll just say it: lost. Even the show's creators — J.J. Abrams, Carton Cuse, and Damon Lindelof claim they don't know what's going on. But instead of addressing any of the dangling plot lines, they've created new ones (and even entire new characters) hoping that the survivors' implausible lack of curiosity about other impending dangers will give audiences a reason to stay tuned.

But, maybe Lost's failure to provide satisfying action and plotline closure isn't the fault of the writers; maybe the reason Heroes already supersedes Lost is due to the intrinsic nature of both of the shows: Lost began as an overall mystery, with multiple stories attached. Heroes began as a story with multiple mysteries attached. The former was left with the classic television dilemma: reveal too much information or the big mystery and the viewers' interest disappears.

The latter however, mined an almost limitless exposition: Take an ensemble cast, give them a crisis and follow them through it. (Evidence of Heroes's potential longevity can be found at any local comic book store.) There isn't just a "will they or won't they?" theme running here, but also a "when, how, and how many times?" as well. Future seasons have the potential to become like individual issues of a comic, with arcs featuring the same great characters thwarting new evil plots. Just look at the James Bond movies. The potential is endless.

Most certainly, Heroes owes a lot of its success to Lost. Besides popularizing the genre, Lost's mistakes were lessons to other shows not to bite off more story than they can explain. Still, what has elevated Heroes above and beyond Lost is its ability to reinvent some of the more successful elements its predecessor: The Sun/Jin inspired subtitled dialogue of Hiro and Ando may have began as a technique to preserve the realism of foreigners stuck in a strange land, but it has now become a way to craft a believable friendship between two mismatched men. What's more, Heroes' decision to pull the subtitles out of the bottom-center of the frame and swiftly move from shot to shot, echoes the medium that inspired the television show in the first place. And that, my friends, is how you turn TV into art.

Yet, aside from all the comparisons, there doesn't seem to be any sibling rivalry between the two shows. After all, the first person Heroes creator Tim Kring called when he came up with his idea for the show was Lost executive producer Damon Lindelof. Kring said he wanted to get some advice about how to tackle the genre, since Lost had just chartered the territory. Like a kid admiring his successful older brother, Kring looked to Lindelof for guidance. It's nice to see TV show creators showing a little humility. Maybe now, Lindelof — and the rest of the Lost team — can, in turn, take away a little wisdom from its younger sibling. Does "Save the Story, Save the Show" sound like good advice?

— Caroline Edmunds (thelinus at gmail dot com)