Okay, so there's this magical key that opens any door into a mysterious motel room, and from there, just by asking, you can go anywhere that has a door, from your own pad to a 7-11 bathroom in Iowa to your ex-wife's closet so you can spy on her fucking... Well I'll be damned. Your own brother. What a total whore. Anyway, when the main guy's daughter accidentally disappears in the magic motel room the solution seems pretty obvious: use the key and tell the room "Take me to my daughter." So does he do that? Of course not. Instead he spends then next three hours and forty-five minutes collecting other magical doodads (a pen that flash-fries suckers from the inside out, a time-stopping comb, a glass eye that heals people) and dealing with endless crazies and cults and believe me when I tell you that it's all so goddamned boring. Honestly, there's so many magical McGillicutties with so many powers and so many nitpicky rules concerning them that they might as well be making it all up as they go along. Actually, scratch that- once the main guy got shot in the back only to find out that the coat he was wearing just happened to be indestructible, I knew they were making it all up as they went along. And for every cool bit (the part where the main guy stops time during a gunfight and finds himself face-to-face with a bullet; "This is not hell! This is New Mexico") there's at least three annoying ones: they keep adding more and more weird details without ever explaining anything important; people figure shit out from the most minor, obscure, or out-of-nowhere clues; the story totally ignores its own logic when it's inconvenient (like how does the guy who steals the glasses that prevent cars from starting get away when he came in his fucking car?); and, frankly, huge chunks of the plot just make no goddamned sense whatsoever.

Seriously, fuck this half-assed, harebrained shit. I'm never watching anything with "Lost" in the title again.