The cone of silence has been lifted on "Lost," since the bride and I watched it Thursday night. (Wonderful to have a night when the viewing demands were so minimal that we could spend a couple of hours catching up.) I was sure of some things as it went along, then — within a half-hour of its end — convinced that everything I had settled on was probably wrong.

For instance, when Libby appeared in the flashback with Desmond, I thought that proved she was some kind of recruiter for the island experiment. Then, reflecting on it, I imagined that she could have been unhinged somewhat by the death of her husband — hence her willingness to give up a boat, just like that — and then was institutionalized when Desmond was lost at sea, since that sent her depression spiraling.

The idea that the magnetic impulse brought down the plane in a bizarre coincidence was comforting at first, until I began to wonder (a) how the plane came so near this presumably isolated island and (b) whether anything we were being told was actually true and (c) Henry's comment.

You know: That the Others we know are "the good guys."

It certainly feeds into the notion that there are other Others. And who's-watching-whom was a recurring question in the "Lost" season finale, especially when it turned out that the monitoring notebooks were just being dumped. And if the Others know about other Others, who's to say there aren't forces at work that no one has figured out — forces that could bring down an airplane but make it appear as if there was cause-and-effect involving the people on the island.

At the same time, though, "good guys" could just mean that the Others do indeed reflect my previous theorizing that they're a parallel to Native Americans in the Old West, while the crash survivors are the invaders disrupting the established civilization. I'd feel kind of smug about that coming up again, if I wasn't so confused by everything else.

I could go on, but you can see why the "Lost" finale finally ticked me off. I enjoyed watching it at the time. But I would have liked to come away from it feeling sure about something, of having at least one idea I could cling to without any doubt or question. Didn't get that. Instead, there was too much ambiguity. Too many questions old and new. Like the characters on the show, we're all being played with.

The cone of silence about "Lost" lifted late last night. Actually, it had partly lifted earlier, when that co-worker talked to me, since her comment involved Ana Lucia getting shot. I managed to avoid any additional information yesterday, but when watching the show, I kept waiting through the episode for the shooting. But I sure wasn't prepared until the last moment for Michael to be the shooter — or for Libby to serve as collateral damage. What a disaster, what a nightmare, what a thrill. Completely topped the earlier moment when the hostage Other made the overture to Locke. But the shock was so great in this week's episode, it diminished the weeks leading up to it, making it feel even more as if we have been sitting through filler on the way to some really big episodes.

I have to go back to "Survivor" to watch all the details leading up to the ouster; last night was one of those with a series of meetings, so we got to "Lost" fairly late, then fast-forwarded through "Survivor" to see who got the boot. I've got mixed feelings about Shane's end, though. Yes, he was annoying and it was great to see him finally knocked down. But he was also an entertainingly bizarre character.

I won't pretend that last night's "Lost" — called "S.O.S." — was great in terms of advancing the overall narrative of the show, although there was some of that. Liked Jack and Kate in the net. Remain curious about the way the captive Other has played with Locke's head. And Michael's back, apparently setting up a lot of things for the rest of the season.

But I think of "S.O.S." as the greatest episode in the show's short history — and I admit that this is probably a solo opinion — because of the Rose and Bernard story, both in flashback and in the present.

Sure, we knew that we were headed toward a point where Rose admitted her belief that the island had cured her, and that she was not willing to leave. But oh, the getting there, and the wonderful actors (L. Scott Caldwell as Rose and Sam Anderson as Bernard) who made the writers' words sing.

As much as "Lost" is a page-turner, its inner strength is as a character piece — in Jack's relationship with his father, Sawyer's swagger masking a meeker soul (Is there anyone who hasn't beaten him in a fight?), in Hurley's sadness (nicely elaborated upon in last week's episode), Locke's father issues and pondering of faith.

Rose has been a pivotal figure when "Lost" deals with faith, because of her certainty that her husband had not died in the crash — faith that was validated when Bernard was found among the Tailies. But in "S.O.S.," we see that she has not always had such strong faith, and that she was at times pushed forward by Bernard's beliefs. At the same time, Bernard/Rose represent the dichotomy at the heart of the show; Bernard believes in what he can see and what people can do, while Rose has moved on to a higher power. They are a variation on the Jack/Locke split.

And I see that I've started overintellectualizing about an episode that affected me in a very personal, emotional way. It's not merely that Rose and Bernard are a middle-aged couple bound by a love that contains elements of newlyweds and old, settled people — something I feel with my wife. We are settled in many ways, two people in their fifties who match up well, but we are also in a marriage that after two years still feels very new at times. And my reaction came from the way Bernard and Rose face her illness.

My wife lost her first husband; I lost my first wife. When Rose tells Bernard that she has a year to live, I was saying, "Take the year." The show is smart enough to let him do it, and to see that a man who believed in Rose would also believe that he could be rescued from that island. Where "Lost" has had moving scenes before, the Rose and Bernard story was great from start to finish. I didn't just recognize the characters. Their feelings blended with my own.

This morning, I've been collecting theories about "Lost" from co-workers to go with my own, and there are some good ones. Starting with the obvious: That "Lost" has pulled a "St. Elsewhere" and really is all Hurley's imagination. Then the twist, which I sort of like, that it's all Libby's mental-asylum fantasy. I'd like to think the show is smarter than either of those, and that Hurley-and-Libby-in-the-asylum is just another of the show's many character overlaps. And my co-workers came up with other good spins: That Libby was in the institution doing research as a therapist, or — even better — that Libby was a Dharma plant, looking for candidates for the "Lost" project, and discovered Hurley.

However this plays out, though, it was a good episode. I like Hurley, after all — who doesn't? — and we got to see a lot of sides of him, including an explanation of how he ended up in an institution. The kiss was sweet and more than a little sad (even sadder if you accept that idea that Libby has some other agenda). And there were good little games along the way, from the arrival of Dave (whom my wife immediately pegged as someone from the asylum) to the revelation of his non-existence — which I figured out, not least because he talked like Hurley, but also because the photo-taking felt like a set-up. But the show played very fair in establishing that, for example in the way Dave's appearance was always tied to Hurley's eating. And there was the other stuff involving Locke and do-we-still-call-him-Henry.

Very satisfying, a good invitation to next week's show.

Still wondering what message we should take from the use of Les McCann and Eddie Harris's version of "Compared To What," the song playing when Locke is exercising. Great tune, of course. I've had the album for years, and saw McCann and Harris perform it at the Hampton Jazz Festival back in the '70s. I keep thinking that its use may have had to do with the line "trying to make it real — compared to what?"  After all, last night's episode was one that gave us another taste of Old West civilization-building on the island, with Jack and Sawyer as the cowboys staring each other down across a card game.

Liked the scene, too, although I would have expected Sawyer to be a smarter player than he was shown. And, if he can cheat, why hadn't he done so before going mano a mano with Jack?

Also enjoyed the latest twist in the is-he-an-0ther story. But I've been muttering for some time that, even if the balloon was there, it didn't mean the guy wasn't an Other, so the payoff was not a huge surprise. Am more curious about how the parachute drop fits with the doors dropping in the hatch.

Of course, I know that lots of you have freeze-framed the shot of the symbols Locke saw, and no doubt there are interpretations aplenty flying around out there. I have nothing to add right now.

As for the Locke flashback, I thought it was leading — at last — to an explanation of Locke's being in a wheelchair, perhaps because the thugs chasing his father had knee-capped him. The story as it played out felt concluding — since Locke's father was leaving and his relationship seemed over — and unfinished — since his father could pop up yet again, and Locke is still walking.

Watchable episode overall, but still one that left me feeling impatient.

Why no shaving cream?

This morning, when I was shaving, I thought of Locke's lament about not having shaving cream and wondered, why? All the other stuff that's in the hatch, but no shaving cream? Is it a Dharma mind game? Is it tied in some way to the locked-up guy's being able to shave? Am I overthinking again? Well, yes, but that doesn't mean the shaving-cream reference was meaningless.

Wasn't knocked out by the search for the balloon, aside from Ana Lucia's little speech about people not liking her. (Talk about directly addressing audience concerns.) In fact, I ended up watching the episode in two parts — one last night after finishing my "American Idol" business, the other this morning — and it was the balloon search that made me decide to sleep last night before finishing "Lost."

Did like the Sun-Jin story, and even felt a little sentimental when she told him the news. Then recognized that "Lost" likes to function on several emotional levels, and that moment could have had a lie or two buried within.

I am still mulling over last night's episode, since I was fighting sleep when I watched it. Not because it made me sleepy, though. There was a lot going on, and not — as was the case in the new episode two weeks ago — baby steps of information. This felt as if the show was really telling us some things.

Still, in my mulling, I keep coming back to what looked like a couple of references to other productions — horror productions, in fact. First, I got a strong sense of "Kingdom Hospital" in the way the corridors were lit; that impression was underscored by the captive Other's reference to Stephen King.

(If you want, we can argue about whether the captive is an Other. He sure looks that way to me, more so now that he is sowing disagreement among the flight survivors. If you also want, we can argue about whether a "Kingdom Hospital" reference is to King or to the original Danish version. I'm sticking with King because of that Other line in the dialogue.)

The other idea, which popped into my head during one of my "Lost" conversations in the office, is that there was a lot of "Rosemary's Baby." I was even thinking that there was an "RB" poster involving an empty rocking chair, although the poster I saw online today did not include that image. But I still get an "RB" feel from the way Claire was treated.

Loved the scene with Eko. What a good character and performance — the way he was giving his confession but also sending a message to the Other that there was at least one scarier person than Jack and Locke in the survivor group now.

I'm not the best one at catching the little surprises on the show. I was happy when I spotted Kate's mom last week, but tonight I didn't recognize her dad (although he looked familiar) until we saw her picture. And I'm going to have to go back into my recording to see the images that replaced the numbers on the countdown device, although I suspect I won't know what they mean either. The refererences to the armory threw me at first, since we knew it had been cleaned out; I wondered if episodes were airing out of sequence.

Beyond my usual confusion over "Lost," I had conflicting feelings about the episode as a whole. It was good to see more of Sayid again, and the flashbacks were effective, even if the CGI of the Persian Gulf were on the tacky side.

Always enjoyable to watch Clancy Brown; he's such a good choice for an ambiguous character like this one because he has played both good guys and villains, and blends of the two. (Seeing him also made me miss "Carnivale" all over.)

I wasn't so thrilled with the Sawyer/Hurley story, especially when Sawyer killed the frog. It pushed the idea of Sawyer's being-bad-for-his-image's sake too hard; he didn't really prove anything by doing it. And as much as the episode looked as if it was advancing the plot, at the end it seemed as if we had just moved a few baby steps. With this show, baby steps might be taking us backward.