Dr. Linus (S6X07)
Airdate: 9 March 2010
Written by: Edward Kitsis & Adam Horowitz
Directed by: Mario Van Peebles
Running Time: 43 minutes
From the outset of its sixth and final season, Lost had committed itself to traversing profoundly dark terrain. The apocalyptic stakes of the Man in Black’s bid for freedom and the looming demise of the Island created a narrative atmosphere of relentless, often nihilistic, pressure. The show’s creators, Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, understood that even within this endgame, a degree of tonal balance was necessary to prevent audience fatigue. That essential glimmer of light—a tentative exploration of redemption—arrived through the series’ most duplicitous and morally compromised villain: Benjamin Linus. Dr. Linus, the seventh episode of the season, posits a startling question: can a man who has orchestrated genocide, manipulation, and filicide be salvaged? The episode’s answer, cautiously affirmative, provides one of Season 6’s most emotionally resonant and intellectually satisfying episodes, even as it strains against the structural confines of the show’s controversial dual-timeline format.
The script by Edward Kitsis and Adam Horowitz introduces another layer to Lost’s pantheon of philosophical debates. Alongside the enduring conflicts of Science versus Faith and Destiny versus Free Will, “Dr. Linus” compellingly frames the Nature versus Nurture argument. Through the device of the ‘flash-sideways’—an alternate 2004 where Oceanic 815 never crashed—the episode argues powerfully for the primacy of circumstance over inherent evil. Here, Dr. Benjamin Linus is a European history teacher at a Los Angeles public school, a man defined not by cunning ambition but by quiet dedication and thwarted potential. He is kinder, morally responsible, and exhibits a genuine, paternal care for his students, particularly the bright Alexandra Rousseau. His compassion extends to his ailing father, Roger—a stark contrast to the monstrous patricide of the original timeline. This version of Ben is a man shaped by a life off the Island, free from the toxic influence of Charles Widmore, the manipulations of Richard Alpert, and the corrupting power of the Dharma Initiative. His core desire for respect and authority remains, but it is channelled into a bid for the school’s principalship, a plot that forms the moral crux of the alternate narrative.
In the sideways world, Ben’s arc is a meticulous study in ethical choice. Nudged by his colleague, John Locke, to challenge the penny-pinching Principal Reynolds (William Atherton), Ben discovers Reynolds’ affair with the school nurse. Armed with evidence, he confronts Reynolds, demanding his resignation. It is a moment that mirrors Island Ben’s Machiavellian manoeuvres, but the stakes are humanely scaled. When Reynolds counters by threatening to withhold Alexandra’s Yale recommendation, Ben is presented with a pure dilemma: personal advancement versus the welfare of his pupil. His decision to capitulate, sacrificing his own ambition for Alex’s future, is a profound act of altruism that his Island counterpart would have found incomprehensible. This choice is the episode’s thesis statement: removed from the Island’s brutal ecosystem, Ben’s inherent capacity for goodness can flourish.
Conversely, on the Island in 2007, the characters are ensnared in a web of consequence and penitence. Ben, having been exposed by Miles’s psychic inquisition for his role in Jacob’s murder, is forced by the vengeful Ilana to dig his own grave. The offer of a reprieve comes from the ultimate tempter, the Man in Black, who provides a rifle and an instruction: run, and kill Ilana when she pursues. In a critical, brilliantly acted moment, Ben breaks down. His confession—"He’s the only one that’ll have me"—is a raw admission of a lifetime of seeking paternal validation from Jacob, only to feel utterly abandoned. Ilana’s simple, unexpected response, “I’ll have you,” is arguably one of the most powerful lines in the series. It offers not forgiveness, but a chance at belonging through atonement. This parallel redemption in both timelines, one through sacrifice, the other through confession and acceptance, gives Ben’s character a devastating poignancy.
Meanwhile, the episode services other key players. Jack and Hurley’s encounter with the despondent Richard Alpert provides a potent counterpoint to Ben’s story. Richard, his faith shattered and his immortal purpose extinguished, seeks death at the Black Rock. The scene where he lights a stick of dynamite, with Jack steadfastly refusing to flee, is a masterclass in suspenseful minimalism. Jack’s emergent, unshakeable faith—that the Island has a plan and will not let them die—is vindicated when the dynamite fizzles. It is a pivotal moment for both characters: Richard is shocked back into a purpose, while Jack fully steps into the mantle of belief that Locke once wore. This subplot, while effectively building the ensemble’s movement towards a final confrontation, also highlights a recurring Season 6 issue: the mechanics of the Island’s will can feel arbitrary, reducing profound character moments to deus ex machina.
The episode concludes with a menacing cliff-hanger as Charles Widmore’s submarine is detected approaching the shore, a reminder that the larger conflict is inexorably closing in.
This narrative efficiency is a hallmark of Dr. Linus which manages to advance the core mythos while delivering a deep character study. Season 6 was initially met with significant criticism, much of it focused on the confusing introduction of the flash-sideways. However, Dr. Linus marked a turning point for many critics, demonstrating how the alternate timeline could be used not merely as a cryptic puzzle, but as a profound tool for character exploration. The episode succeeds in spite of the format’s constraints, primarily due to Michael Emerson’s extraordinary performance. Emerson, in a role that has always balanced menace with pathetic vulnerability, delivers his finest work. He delivers the two Bens with exquisite subtlety: the sideways Ben’s weary decency is etched in every hesitant smile and slumped shoulder, while the Island Ben’s breakdown is a torrent of guilt and longing that never descends into melodrama. He makes the episode’s central conceit believable.
Director Mario Van Peebles deserves credit for orchestrating the episode’s tense, dialogue-heavy scenes with a sure hand. In an episode notably lacking in physical action, he generates remarkable suspense, whether in the closed-room confrontation between Ben and Reynolds or the silent, dread-filled standoff at the Black Rock. Matthew Fox matches Emerson’s intensity in his scenes with Richard, portraying Jack’s hard-won conviction with a quiet, compelling authority.
Furthermore, the script is laden with rewarding self-referentiality for dedicated fans. The sideways Ben’s lecture on Napoleon’s exile on Elba—a “miserable little man” in contrast to the emperor he once was—serves as a wry meta-commentary on his own diminished, Island-less existence. Even darker is the poignant image of this Ben tenderly delivering oxygen tanks to his father, a man whose counterpart he coldly gassed to death. The humour, often absent in Season 6, peeks through in Miles’s casual acquisition of Nikki and Paulo’s diamonds from the beach graves—a nod to the series’ most infamous misstep that manages to be both funny and seamlessly integrated into the plot.
Nevertheless, Dr. Linus is not without its flaws, which are largely inherent to the flash-sideways construct. The coincidental, small-world nature of the LA universe continues to stretch credulity. The idea that so many Oceanic 815 survivors and associates would cross paths in a metropolitan area of millions feels less like fate and more like contrived narrative convenience. Furthermore, the butterfly effect—a core concept of alternate history—is conspicuously ignored. Alexandra Rousseau, conceived on the Island in 1988 under vastly different circumstances, exists in the sideways world with identical genetics and appearance. This logical inconsistency undermines the ‘Nurture’ argument it seeks to bolster; if destiny (or the show’s mythology) overrules basic biology, then the debate is skewed from the outset.
At the end of the day, Dr. Linus is a very good, arguably great, episode of Lost. It is a testament to the series’ enduring strength: its commitment to complex character drama amidst high-concept mythology. By focusing on Ben Linus’s soul, the episode finds a profound humanity in its darkest corner, offering a nuanced take on redemption that avoids easy sentimentality. While the machinery of Season 6’s overarching plot sometimes groans audibly, here it is powered by Emmy-worthy performance and sharp, thematic writing.
RATING: 7/10 (+++)
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