The Dharma Initiative. The Smoke Monster. The Others. These mysteries are inseparable from Lost. The TV show ran for six seasons from 2004 to 2010 on ABC, a time when most of us were probably watching cartoons instead of serious dramas. It’s widely regarded as one of the best television shows of all time by critics and viewers alike, despite its divisive finale – but more on that later. Neither I nor anyone in my immediate family watched Lost when it first aired. When it arrived on Netflix this summer, I suggested we give the daunting 121-episode saga a try.

If you haven’t seen Lost, here’s the short version: A commercial airliner heading to Los Angeles from Sydney crashes on a jungle island. Survivors discover the island isn’t what it initially seems. Mysteries fall from trees like mangoes. But Lost is more special than its simple premise suggests.

From the first episode, Lost is instantly engrossing. The hostile island forces the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 to adapt and find food, water and shelter while they cling to the fleeting hope of rescue. Among forty or so survivors, an “A” team quickly distinguish themselves as leaders: Jack (Matthew Fox), a spinal surgeon; Kate (Evangeline Lilly), a woman with a mysterious criminal past; and Charlie (Dominic Monaghan), a has-been rockstar battling addiction. These three head the first expedition to the plane’s cockpit in order to find its transponder. The trip doesn’t go well, as the group is attacked by a mysterious creature nobody gets a good look at. Nevertheless, it manages to brutally maul the surviving pilot of the plane. Mystery #1: What the hell was that?

A second group of survivors rejig the plane’s transponder in an attempt to send out a distress call, led by ex-Iraqi Republican Guardsman Sayid (Naveen Andrews), snarky southerner Sawyer (Josh Holloway) and step-siblings Boone and Shannon, as well as Charlie and Kate. The group encounters a polar bear (Mystery #2: Polar bear on tropical island?), and when they turn on the transponder they decipher an ominous distress signal (Mystery #3: Who came before the survivors of Flight 815?). With this three-punch knockout delivered in just the show’s pilot, viewers are immediately exposed to the brilliance of Lost’s enigmatic elements. Every question is seemingly answered by an episode’s end, yet in the last moments the show poses yet another one. I can only imagine watching the show as it aired, tuning in one night and beginning the next day armed with delicious conversation fodder. Lost keeps viewers hungry by peeling back layers of jungle canopy slowly, letting unanswered questions simmer just long enough  before making dramatic reveals with explosive aplomb. My family got into the habit of watching two episodes a night; though, while on vacation, we binged three or more episodes in one sitting–we were that hooked.

One of Lost’s central conceits is that it plays with time. Interspersed with scenes on the island are flashbacks to each character’s pasts, which collide in numerous and surprising ways. The lives of the survivors before their fateful crash are as important to the overall plot as the narrative “present.” Flashbacks give viewers insight into characters’ flaws and desires,allowing them to appreciate the development of each survivor as they come into contact with one another and grapple with inner and outer demons. The showrunners play with this conceit in increasingly complex ways I won’t spoil. Rest assured, these aren’t simple flashbacks that fill in gaps the show’s continuity declines to answer. Rather, they are parallel storylines that form the psychological and emotional space the show builds from in real time.

If all this sounds heady to you so far, I won’t blame you. Lost occasionally feels convoluted for convolution’s sake, but past the fog of mystery and nonlinear storytelling is some of the best character work of any show I’ve seen. One might expect having such an expansive cast (one that grows and rarely shrinks, even when a character’s finale seems conclusive) would limit each member’s depth, but the opposite is true. Each character plays off the others so well that any group of two or three has chemistry capable of producing gripping drama, tense conflict and heart-wrenching emotional beats.

Everyone is bound to have their favorites, but it's impossible not to become attached to Lost’s characters. My personal favorite is Desmond (Henry Ian Cusick), a Scotsman introduced in the first episode of Season 2. Despite dipping in and out of the main story, his delightful accent and devotion to those he loves made him instantly memorable. Lost’s characters work because no single role is ever relegated to a bit–everyone is given multiple moments to shine, including characters made out to be secondary or those sidelined during advances in the “main plot.” Even seemingly set dynamics, like follower and leader, are upset when, for example, Jack butts heads with survivalist Locke (Terry O’Quinn). By the end of the show, I felt as though I’d gotten to know the whole cast of characters thoroughly–which makes sense, seeing as I spent the whole summer with them.

I started tearing up as I watched Lost’s series finale. The two-hour-long conclusion packed several emotional gut punches, but also ended on a resounding message of hope and serenity. Some puzzles were left unsolved, but I came away satisfied nonetheless. Looking at Lost as a checklist of loose ends to tie is a surefire way to leave the show disappointed. I won’t say it’s the wrong way to look at the show, but I still think the most important element the finale needed to deliver was closure to the characters’ stories. One could roll their eyes at the concept of everything coming full circle, but the closed loop was a tear-jerker– one that has, in my opinion, has never been replicated in any show I’ve seen.

Twenty years on, Lost has earned its place in the hallowed halls of great TV. I’m going to miss the island. One of these days, I might even go back.

Thumbnail graphic by Conner Dejecacion / North by Northwestern