JJ Abrams' Lost Revolution

There may not have been a more compelling pilot on television than the initial episode of JJ Abrams' Lost. The first scenes of the airline disaster, played over and over from the points of view of the different characters, demonstrated the incredible tapestry of interwoven lives and connections at that single moment in time, and foreshadowed the way in which, throughout the series, the larger island story would be told.

Lost was simply made for DVR and internet technology as fans searched for and found connections left behind for them by the writers and directors. You did not just watch the show. You participated in it by scanning the background for information or comparing dialogue. Every episode was a source of clues in a world-wide puzzle contest.

I fear that Abram's newest offering, Revolution, created by Eric Kripke and currently on Monday nights on NBC, may suffer a similar activity for just the opposite reason. Revolution presents us with an alternate reality. The initial moments of the pilot episode jerk us immediately from the world in which we live, into a pre-Thomas Edison existence in which items using electricity have been rendered useless. Cars, planes, lights, televisions, computers - all of it fades to darkness. Then, after a pause to sell us car insurance or whatever, the story advances 15 years into the future. The United States government has fallen. Strong arm militia groups vie for control of their little piece of the country side. What population that has not killed itself trying to stay alive has huddled together in little xenophobic groups spattered about the countryside.

On the island in Lost, everything about the story could be controlled by the writers. Want a smoke monster? No problem. Want time travel? No problem. Move the entire island? Again no problem, because the framework of the laws associated with the island were entirely in the minds of the writers to be revealed, as needed, to the audience. We accepted the premise that we did not have complete information about the island so we allowed the story to take us where normally we would refuse to go.

Great pains have been taken in the first episodes of Revolution to inform the audience that the setting of the story begins, near our own time, in the United States of America - mostly in and around Chicago, Illinois. We see shots of a rundown Wrigley Field and Michigan Avenue as our heroes trek from an equally dismal and overgrown O'Hare airport.

And therein lies the problem. We know things about this world that the writers apparently do not. We see a small stockade in a suburban cul-de-sac with a few gardens of corn surrounded by countryside gone wild and we think, "What are these people eating?" I don't care if there is no electricity, 15 years implies that they might just have learned a little something about survival.

If they are resorting to being hunter-gatherers, then the little group would not be in permanent dwellings. Permanent dwellings imply food production and we do see some little gardens planted with corn. Now corn may indeed currently be the most significant crop in the country but, as Scientific American blogger Melissa C. Lott points out in this post from October 2011, only 20 percent of all the corn produced in the US is for human consumption, a quarter of which is for highly processed syrup. The other 80 percent is split between livestock feed and ethanol production. Besides, according to the USDA Nutrient Data Laboratory, as a staple, corn is a poorer cousin to wheat, containing less protein and fewer minerals. And considering we see no livestock, why do we see so much corn in the food supply?

Or should I say so little. In 1862, Congress passed the Homestead Act, giving an individual 160 acres of land as long as he lived on, and improved the property for five years. Much of the middle portion of our nation between the Mississippi River and the Rocky Mountains was placed under cultivation, to varying degrees of success, by men and animals plowing up these 160 acre tracts, all done without electricity. By all rights then, the little outpost we see at the end of the cul-de-sac should have been surrounded by 800-1000 acres of wheat, corn and livestock.

Then, just as in 1862, trains, with steam engines, using no electricity, could collect those crops and bring them to feed hungry people in the cities. And finally, between 1861 and 1865, the United States government transported hundreds of thousands of soldiers along rail lines, using steam locomotives to wage war and defeat a civil uprising, mostly without the use of the emerging electric telegraph. And let's take a close look at some of the equipment used to defeat that uprising. The catalyst for the action in Revolution is the death of Ben Matheson, the father of "Charlie" who is the heroine of the story. Ben is shot by a muzzle-loading rifle in an encounter with a local warlord's militia. The muzzle- loader appears to be standard issue amongst the soldiers. Assuming that the equipment of the militia represents the highest average available technology, it represents yet another serious failure of the eye-test of plausibility.

The modern muzzle-loader looks nothing like the guns Fess Parker carried playing Daniel Boone and Davy Crocket on television. But on Revolution, Monroe the warlord's soldiers appear to be carrying a weapon that looks very much like a Model 1842 Springfield caplock musket.

Why? What prevents the militia from all carrying a modern firearm? The caplock has all the component parts of a modern rifle. Earlier flintlock muskets used a flint and steel combination to ignite a small portion of powder which, in turn, ignited the gunpowder within the chamber forcing the bullet down the barrel and on to the target. But the caplock improved on that design, replacing the awkward flint and steel combination with a nipple that held a small cap containing fulminate of mercury. Yes, the caplock was a cap gun. The hammer struck the cap and the cap ignited the powder and shot the bullet. The process of firing this weapon uses up bullets, gunpowder and caps. A flintlock would use up bullets, powder and eventually, flints, which being rocks, are pretty readily available.

Creating caps, or primers, requires a chemical process involving the metals mercury or silver, combined with nitric acid, and in a technically reduced society it might make sense that they become scarce enough to force the flintlock's return as the typical firearm. However, the appearance of caplocks, not flintlocks, on the show, implies that there exist adequate supplies of gunpowder, bullets and caps.

So what is missing from a caplock that is contained in a modern firearm? Oddly enough, the only difference of consequence is the cartridge. Every muzzle loader takes the three individual component pieces - bullet, propellant (gunpowder), and ignition (cap or flint and steel) and places them together within the weapon. The brass cartridge brings the bullet, the propellant and the ignition primer together and holds them in readiness, separate from the weapon itself. When the cartridge is placed in the chamber and the gun is fired, the action which occurs at that time is essentially identical to the caplock, destroying the component pieces and leaving the empty casing.

But ironically, this is what the writers of Revolution have missed. The key item that has brought technology backward to the caplock in the story is in fact, the one item that is actually recyclable. Clean it up, replace the primer, pour in powder, press on a new bullet and you are ready to fire again. Technology has made the process easier certainly, but the lack of technology does not make it impossible, or even difficult.

And these are only a couple of problematic background points. What is being used for currency at the bar the group visits in Chicago? Where does the sugar come from for the bar's whiskey making operation? The list just keeps growing.

There are many good, alternate history stories where the authors seem to have actually done a little research. And when we read Harry Turtledove, or Orson Scott Card, we are swept along for the ride, amazed at the small moments in time that result in major swings of history's pendulum. Abrams and Kripke have failed to sweep us along with Revolution. Their blatant disregard for reality is overwhelming any possible chance for their story to become compelling.

My prime reason to watch, after the first ten minutes, was simply to find fault with it. What might have been another Lost is just lost. Providing useful articles, reviews and writings on movies and films online.