Five Theses on the X-Files: An Appreciation

As an adult, I have never owned a TV or had television in my home. Nevertheless, those that know me know that I have managed to become fanatical about a handful of shows over the past two decades. Despite not having a TV I have exploited videotapes, then DVDs, and more recently streaming technology to catch up and keep up with my faves. I also have benefited over the years from the generosity of folks who were willing to let me come over week after week when I couldn't wait until the end of a season to find out what happened (Jonathan, Maria, and Laura, I am talking to you).

My fanaticism is no joke. I either ignore TV or I obsess about it. This is likely a holdover from my youth when, as a bored (and boring) child, I watched everything indiscriminately. I could sit and watch awful tripe for hours on end. I avoid that nowadays, but I find that, when I let myself, I fall into narratives and get totally wrapped up.

Some of the shows that have held me fast over the years only did so for a handful of seasons. Smallville, for example, faded for me after several major characters left the show (and it started feeling like Dawson's Creek with super powers). Similarly, though the first two seasons of 24 were gripping, it eventually became formulaic at best and a torture-fest at its worst. I still enjoy going back to episodes of both on occasion, but the series arc overall does not hold me.

Then there are the series that held me the whole way through. LOST immediately comes to mind, as does Buffy the Vampire Slayer (it took sticking through a season to get me hooked, but I got hooked and stayed hooked). A more recent discovery was The Wire, which was utterly fantastic throughout, and AMC's Rubicon, which had tremendous promise but has sadly been canceled at the end of its first season.

Of all this fanaticism, however, nothing holds a place in my heart like the X-Files.

I was first introduced to the series by my friend Theron, and over the years I would catch an episode here and there. Later, when the DVD box sets came out, I watched the "mythology" sets, and then the whole thing. Repeatedly. I loved it.

This past Christmas Theron and I had a conversation about the series, and that got me thinking about some of the things I have come to believe about what it means for me. It made me want to watch it again, as well. So over the past several weeks, my wife Kira and I have begun to re-watch the series from the beginning. We are now just finishing Season Three. This is Kira's second time all the way through. It is my fifth. As we've been talking about the episodes along the way, some observations have come up that seemed fit to share. So thanks for letting me be a nerd for a few minutes about my favorite show.

First of all, this is my first time re-watching the series since I finished watching LOST last year. I'll be honest, I had expected that LOST would have cooled me on the X-Files somewhat, but I am finding that is not the case. If anything, the intricacy and connectedness I find in LOST has just made me appreciate X-Files all the more. In fact (and I don't think JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof or Carlton Cuse would dispute this), in many ways the X-Files made a show like LOST possible. Certainly LOST found an audience primed and hungry for weirdness and conspiracy in the wake of Mulder and Scully's long run. LOST made it respectably through six seasons, weathering a writers' strike and still delivering a quality story throughout. The X-Files managed to make it half-again longer than that, weathering a change of production location and the loss of its major star, and still delivered quality throughout. Kudos to both for that.

I know that some of my readers are long-time fans. I also know some have never seen the show. I hope the following will pique the interest of the latter half and give way to some good conversations with the former half. In what follows, I am going to make some opinionated observations, and I welcome comments and corrections from both newbies and fanatics alike.

Strap in, ladies and gents. We are entering alpha-nerd territory. Here are my five theses about the X-Files:

If you think the X-Files is a series about aliens, you are missing the point. Around the release a couple years ago of the second movie, X-Files: I Want to Believe, I had many conversations with folks who voiced their disappointment and confusion with the film. "Where are the aliens?" was what I heard over and over again.

It makes sense, of course. Clearly the alien stories and mythology were an essential part of the series. But -- as important as a backbone is -- it is nothing without the muscles and sinews around it. The X-Files was preoccupied foremost with telling creepy stories, and telling them well. The alien stories were definitely creepy, but so were the stand-alone "monster of the week" episodes (and sometimes more so. Think of "2Shy" from Season 3, or "Home," which some have rightly called "the scariest hour ever aired on television").

Which is all to say that a focus on the aliens alone means you miss a lot of good tingles -- both from the creepy monsters and from all the good development of Mulder and Scully's relationship.

If you think the X-Files is about figuring out the conspiracy, you're missing the point. This is a similar temptation to the one that frustrated a lot of the LOST viewers. Like the LOST writers, Chris Carter, Frank Spotnitz and the other key players in the X-Files were very good at weaving intricate, long-running story arcs that dropped clue after clue in an ever-widening web of intrigue.

But the X-Files is not a mystery novel. Despite the pedantic tone of the series finale, the story arc does not neatly resolve or tie itself off in satisfying closure. This is largely because there is not one conspiracy at work in the X-Files, but several overlapping ones at once.

Remember that the Consortium are pretty much all dead by the end of Season Six, having been killed off in a hangar by the rebel faceless aliens (alpha-nerd - I warned you). But their death did not mean the conspiracies went away. Even before their demise, we were shown that there were other agendas at work, at all levels of the government and the shadow government.

The one common thread was venality and self-interest. As the conflicting intrigues unfolded we see again and again that self-interest is the strongest loyalty most of the characters hold. Krycheck certainly exemplifies this, selling his services to the highest bidder and repeatedly double-crossing everyone, but he is only the most visible exemplar. Everyone and every organization is out to increase its power and cover its hind quarters. The overlap of these self-aggrandizing machinations drive most of the deep plots of the long-term story arc.

In fact, as time goes by, we come to discover not only multiple agendas among the humans in the show, but also the multi-leveled conflicts among the various alien races, at work for or against the colonization plot, and for or against hybridization. The complexity makes the show rich with narrative possibility, and -- for me -- makes the show's conspiracies all the more lifelike and realistic. I mean, spend a little time researching the various conspiracy theories around the Kennedy assassination -- trying to find one clear narrative in that rabbit hole is a lost cause, mostly because everyone's explanation brings in more and more groups that had some interest in the events, from Oswald ad infinitum.

The desire to take the complex story line and find the key to unlocking it can drive other simplifications, as well. So it seems important to say this -

If you think the X-Files is about the struggle between science and the supernatural, you are missing the point. A theme that resurfaces continually in the series riffs on the polarity between Scully, "trained in hard science" and rational inquiry, and Mulder, whose "spooky" ideas have taken him "outside the Bureau mainstream" into laughingstock territory.

In the first two seasons, in fact, this polarity is sharply emphasized, and it leads to some very interesting stories in which Mulder holds the place of "the feminine" in the narrative. What I mean is that the other men in the FBI treat him, narratively, as females have often been treated in television procedural dramas. Detectives roll their eyes at him, refuse to take his ideas seriously, and work actively to get him out of the way so the "real work" can be done. It is especially interesting to watch Scully's reaction to this behavior, especially when she participates in it.

If that were the whole of the tension, that would certainly be interesting. As the series develops, however, we are exposed to the complexity of this tension, and the polarity is anything but simple. First of all, while Scully is a rationalist and scientist, she is also a person of religious faith -- a fact that should provide common ground with Mulder's supposed "irrationality." Instead, her faith confounds him. Despite his credulity for all forms of the supernatural, this is one realm into which Mulder refuses to venture. In Mulder's world, there is room for aliens, but not angels. Scully, however, can see the hand of God in events, and becomes more bold in saying so as time goes by.

This asymmetry makes for one of my favorite aspects of the show. Throughout the series we see both Mulder and Scully facing crises of "faith," as Scully waxes and wanes with her Catholicism and Mulder bitterly abandons his belief in aliens as a result of one of the many false conspiracies that are "revealed" to him by the venal powers manipulating his crusade for their own purposes. In the final episode, when we hear Scully assert to Mulder that "you and I believe the same thing," the admission is as hard-won as it is accurately inaccurate. Mulder and Scully may believe the same Truth, but their respective articulations of that Truth, and its ultimate meaning, are still deeply personalized.

If you think the X-Files "jumped the shark" after Season Seven, you are missing the point. Next to the lack of aliens in the film, Mulder's departure from the series is often cited by my friends as their biggest disappointment about the series. The implication is that the series went disastrously awry, in terms of character and story, with David Duchovny's absence. In television parlance, this is known as "jumping the shark." Even the Cigarette Smoking Man says, "you know how important Mulder is to the equation."

True as this may be, there is more to the story. Though he is physically absent for the majority of the last two seasons, Mulder's absence forms a central presence to both the narrative and the development of the relationships between Scully and her new partners, Doggett and Reyes.

In Doggett and Reyes we have a chance to see the X-Files through new eyes, and new perspectives. The approaches of both to the unexplained phenomena in the Files are significantly different to those of Mulder, and in confronting these approaches, Scully is pushed to further define her place as the X-Files's advocate. Where her original role was that of skeptic, brought in to debunk Mulder's work, by Season Six she is the voice and the champion of the X-Files in a changed FBI landscape.

I will admit that the final two seasons are somewhat weak, but so are the first two seasons of the show. With the introduction of new major characters, a period of adjustment has to occur for dynamics and relationships to become firmly established. This was certainly true through all of Season One and most of Season Two. Think, for example, of "Ice," an early episode where Mulder and Scully's relationship is tenuous at best and there is very little trust or camaraderie in the face of unknown dangers. In contrast, by Season Two's cliffhanger conclusion, "Anasazi," Scully defends Mulder's innocence despite his violent and aberrant behavior and seeming guilt in the death of his father.

Truly, the high water mark for the X-Files finds its home in seasons Three through Six, but this means that those who would dismiss the Doggett and Reyes episodes should also dismiss the early Mulder and Scully episodes. While weaker than the strongest seasons, I contend that Seasons Eight and Nine are at least as strong as Seasons One and Two, and in some cases stronger.

Which leads to the inevitable conclusion:

If you think the X-Files is about Mulder, you're missing the point. Despite all the twists and turns along the way, the Mulder that we encounter in X-Files: I Want to Believe is fundamentally the same Mulder we first see in the basement office in the Pilot episode of Season One. Mulder is static. He matures, but he does not change.

The X-Files is about Scully. From the very first scene of the series (where we see her enter the J. Edgar Hoover building to be briefed), to the last shot of the show (where she and Mulder lay quiet as the rain falls outside), to the last shot of I Want to Believe (where she begins the operation to save the boy's life under the prayerful eyes of the nuns), Scully is the focal point. Mulder doesn't change, but Scully does.

While remaining committed to her scientific and rational view of the world, we get to watch as Scully rediscovers her childhood faith, and then watch again as that faith broadens beyond dogma to spirituality, ecstasy, and ecumenism. She meets a boy messiah, angels, miracle children, three incarnations of Satan and at least one incorruptable martyr along the way. It is more than subtly hinted that her inexplicable child, William, has a somewhat Christ-like "dual nature" that could someday bring peace between the aliens and the human race. By the last seasons of the show, she has had a remarkable faith journey, to say the least.

More than this, however, she becomes open to the Truth of the phenomena contained in the X-Files. Not in the way Mulder is open, but she achieves a credulity that remains balanced with her commitment to scientific inquiry. As an empiricist she has encountered overwhelming evidence of mysteries; unlike Mulder, she does not jump to explain them, but she accepts that, until the proper answers are found, these experiences cannot simply be dismissed. By the time she is paired with Agent Doggett, then, she has become the "spooky" one at the FBI. She has not become Mulder, but she understands him and what he must have gone through in those early years alone in the basement office.

This, in the end, is what makes the X-Files -- from very start to very finish -- so compelling for me. The slow build up of trust and affection between Mulder and Scully, the eventual consummation and inseparability they achieve in the narrative, despite Mulder's absence, and the tenderness and respect they show each other, are deeply satisfying to me. Moreover, as a person who makes his living trying to understand the deep conflicts that drive and motivate persons of faith, Scully's struggles and triumphs are to me very realistic and extraordinarily edifying.

And that, from start to finish, is for me the heart and soul of the X-Files. More than any other show I have seen, I think the creators and writers of the X-Files kept integrity with that heart and paid honor to that soul. This is why, to the confusion of my friends, I was so happy with I Want to Believe, despite its lack of aliens, and why I am certain this will not be the last time I watch the whole thing, start to finish. I want to. I believe.

"MONSTERS": Low Budget, Big Payoff

I've been a small-time film maker and television writer, back in the day, and I've worked with student filmmakers at various levels of their projects. I really love what comes out of the limitations of small film budgets and minimal film crews. Regular readers will recall that one of my favorite films of all time is Shane Carruth's Primer, a film shot on 16mm for just over $7,000. Another favorite is Robert Rodriguez's El Mariachi, another hella enjoyable film made for well under ten grand.

So I haven't yet seen the whole movie version of Gareth Edwards's new film Monsters, but from the trailers and clips I've seen, I'm getting pretty excited. Reportedly shot on a budget of just $15,000 (yes, that's thousand, not million), the film seems to deliver on the things that get you hooked into a narrative: good characters, good story, and leaving a good deal to the imagination.

Here's a little behind-the-scenes clip about doing all this on such a low budget:



Monsters is available for download at Amazon, and it hits the theaters in limited release on October 29th.

Pick a card, Scully....any card.

I heard about this fellow, Professor Stephen E. Braude, thanks to the Wisconsin Public Radio program To the Best of Our Knowledge (if you download RealPlayer, or have a compatible player already installed, you can listen to the audio here). He's a real-life Fox Mulder (even to the point of talking about the man who could do Polaroid "thought-o-graphs," like in "Unruhe," from season 4).

My favorite quotation from the clip below: "If we've learned anything from the history of science, it's that human kind is not a very good judge of the empirically possible." Mulder couldn't have said it better himself.



You can find out more about Dr. Braude's professional work in philosophy here, and his work in parapsychology here. If you want to do some further reading, I've pasted an Amazon link to his book below, as well.




Disclosure: I am an Amazon.com affiliate If you choose to purchase products through links on this blog, I will receive a commission.

X-Files: I Want to Believe

So I've been fishing around on RottenTomatoes.com for the past few minutes, and I have to say that every snide claim Orson Welles ever made about "the critics" in his masterpiece, F for Fake, seems to be holding true.

Thus, in what follows, it should be noted that I am writing with the voice, not of the "expert," but as a fan. A dedicated fan.

I am a longtime fan, first of all, of the Batman mythos, and was thrilled by the work Christopher Nolan and Christian Bale did to bring the film franchise back into line with the roots of the mythology with Batman Begins a few years back. A superb film, on its own merits, that fact only makes it more amazing for its being a superhero film. (Though I do wince at the hokey physics involved in the "we need a microwave emitter to destroy the city water main" subplot - a narrative device bested in its useless melodrama only by the "Project Xylophone" sublot in Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged - but I digress) .

In terms of the new film, The Dark Knight, however, I cannot give such high praise. Yes, Heath Ledger is all that and a bag or anarchic chips; and yes, I am happy - like the rest of us - that Christian Bale is the first actor since Adam West who is actually able to turn his head from side to side while wearing the costume. But (and this is a tremendous but) - I spent almost the entire film trying to will myself to like it more than I actually did. Which is sad, because I really did want to be blown away by it, but frankly, I wasn't.

Make no mistake: I am glad I saw it; it was worth watching. But I have no real desire to watch it again.

Checking RottenTomatoes just now, however, you'd think this film was the Second Coming. To quote an old friend of mine, Jesus on a Telecaster with new strings couldn't get a crowd going like the buzz afoot among the critics about The Dark Knight. 95% approval, at my recent perusal. That's quite a thundering endorsement for a film that couldn't even edit the chase scenes for consistency of street flow (watch the first Batcycle scene again - you'll catch what I mean. Its simply a mess) or getting Harvey Dent out of an exploding hospital with any sort of temporal credibility. I take some solace in the fact that X-Men III and Superman Returns were worse still. But hey, I guess, it is, in the end, just a film based on a comic book. I can let some of that slide.

The real thorn in my side, however, is that the new X-Files film, I Want to Believe, is getting absolutely hammered by these same critics. But absolutely.

Full disclosure: I am not just an X-Files fan; I am an X-Files fan who adamantly does not subscribe to the opinion that the show went downhill after Season 6. I am one of those mutants who finds all nine seasons to form a coherent and satisfying story arc. In other words, I am a nerd about this.

To digress again for a moment, allow me to make my case with a few choice points. For me, X-Files was never about the conspiracies - it is about the characters. Mulder, it is true, does have his shifts through the series (losing his "faith" in extraterrestrials, the paradoxical closure and simultaneous lack of closure about his sister, Samantha, and his strange aversion to religious convictions of any stripe), but the really interesting development throughout the series is Scully. Her portrayal by Gillian Anderson is complex and fascinating - by turns strong and vulnerable, stubborn and hopeful, faithless and faith-filled. Her slow orbit around Mulder's monomania for "the Truth" reveals that she is literally as crazy as he is, in different but equally rewarding ways for the viewer.

I submit that you do not truly get the depths of her craziness - or the orbit - until Mulder is no longer a physical presence in the series. Hence the last two seasons, 8 and 9, are not an aberration, but a completion of a trajectory that begins (you can see it - go back and check for yourself) right there in Season 1, in the earliest episodes. Without belaboring the point or psychoanalyzing too much, I'll just say that the interplay of Scully's return to her Catholic faith, coupled with the recurrent "father figure" issues she has throughout the series, leavened by the openness to the paranormal and supernatural she gains through working with Mulder on the X-Files, is handled throughout the nine seasons with gravitas and grit. Her emotional and spiritual life is messy, a hodgepodge of half-remembered catechesis and moral-compass bearings that sometimes flag from true north - in other words, her story is a lot like many of ours.

I admit that I was quite fearful, entering the theater last night, that all of this development and complexity would go by the boards, to be lost in a sea of "rearranging the story" for the purpose of shock or recklessness. I expected the worst, and was surprised beyond my hopes with a truly rewarding, well-made movie.

I Want to Believe is watchable; moreover, it is re-watchable. It is, speaking as a die-hard fan, about the most accessible entry-point into Mulder and Scully's story arc you could ask for - by which I mean, non-viewers will be able to "get" it right off the bat.

Most pleasing to me, you get the chance to see the full-blown craziness of Scully - but now with Mulder there. Seeing how they negotiate their respective neuroses and obsessions onscreen (or fail to negotiate them) was very satisfying, for many of the reasons I have mentioned above. The emotional tenor is convincing, as well. Both actors know these roles well, and though they are stretching them in new directions, the core is still there - the chemistry and the complexity are in full effect.

Most of all - its creepy. Creepy in the fine tradition of all those episodes that still make my skin crawl. Creepy - but with that inexplicable ability to remind you that there is still hope, and that in the end, the monsters will not win - that has always been at the heart and soul of the X-Files. The tone of dread and dark is palpable, but tempered with moments of true humor that flow seamlessly with the larger story. The audience laughed and gasped, both, last night, at moments when I am certain that Chris Carter - the mad genius behind it all - intended us to.

And at the end, when the credits rolled, we applauded. As a true fan, I could not ask for more than that.

You can believe it

Kira and I just got back from the midnight premiere of the new X-Files film. I'll write more about it probably, but before I go to bed I just wanted to say it's really, really good. And spooky - just the way I like 'em.

Worth your time. I'll be going back to see it again.

Marching to the Ocean, Marching to the Sea

Douglas Copeland called it the notion of the "poverty jet set" - the overeducated folks who work McJobs in order to have the money and freedom to (as often as possible) jump ship, skip town, and junket to exotic locales. For better or worse, the ultimate McJob might in fact be graduate school.

At least, that is the way it seems from a distance.

The reality (as reality often is) is far more complex. Take me, for example. I really haven't taken a 'vacation' in probably ten years, but one might reasonably argue that my whole life is, in fact, one big goof off session. Seriously: I occasionally write, I eat very well, I sleep (sometimes), I watch a lot of episodes of the X-Files.

What is there to get away from?

And yet, recently I was graced witht he chance to get away from my life in Nashville; to take a vacation from my goof-off life of graduate studies and really goof off. To go, in short, to the beach. And I went. And it was wonderful.

I was not alone. Making the fifteen-or-so-hour trip with me was my intrepid companion and fellow gung-ho Catholic, Burt. We burned our way across Tennessee and then took on the wilds of Virginia in a rage of driving and loud music and really good conversation. I kept saying "we must be at least half way there by now!" and Burt would just calmly shake his head no and consult the map. It was (from the standpoint of driving) insane, but (from the standpoint of one's relation to life and the universe) a good position to be in. If the trip is insanely long, you might as well enjoy it. [There's a life lesson in there.]

Okay. And the beach was fantastic. We were in two houses on a private beach on the Chesapeake Bay. To get there, you had to drive northwest from Virginia Beach - over a long long bridge that had tunnels that went underwater (cool and scary). We arrived at like 4:30 in the morning and so didn't get a good look at the place until the next day. I have to say, it was truly perfect. Being in the bay, the waves never got terribly high, and the tides were mild for the most part (there was one day whe several folks got marooned on a sandbar, but that might have had more to do with the alcohol levels than the water levels). The one thing I missed was body surfing, but that was a small price to pay. The water was warm at good times and cool at good times, and I had fun wading and swimming.

Did I mention that while I was at the beach my car rolled over to an amazing 200,000 miles on the odometer? This is, I think, some sort of karmic justice (as if I believed in karma, as if I believed in justice. But still). This is, you see, the second Nissan Sentra I have owned in my life. The last one (from mid highschool to mid-college) was a lemon. This one, Lord bless it, is a peach. It runs and runs and runs, despite being old and looking like baked - over Hell. I call it the Grey Ghost, my car, but it also reminds one of the Energizer Bunny.


So the car and the beach were fantastic, but I cannot neglect to mention the people, as well. Shane, Virginia, Jimmy, Burt, Katy, Heather, as well as Melissa, Luke, and Lindsay (who came down from D.C.) shared laughs, got drunk (repeatedly), played card games and made merry in the surf and the sea. It was good to be among friends old and new, away from the cares of Nashville, and inebriated with sand between my toes. (Oh, and at night, the stars. My goodness, the stars).

I was gone just long enough to be ready to come back. A perfect vacation, and a wonderful time.