As a devout X-phile, I didn’t miss an episode of the first three seasons of the TV series. Then the labyrinthine conspiracy arc involving the FBI, extraterrestrial abductions, alien-human hybrids, and the massive cover-up orchestrated by Cigarette-Smoking Man, who may or may not be Fox Mulder’s father, tired me out. I preferred the stand-alone episodes where the cases were closed by the end credits, or at least resolved in a way that did not require detailed knowledge of the conspiracy.
My favorite X-Files episodes included “Tooms,” in which a mutant who could stretch his limbs in order to squeeze under doors and through plumbing was killing people to extract their livers. There was “Clyde Bruckman,” about an insurance salesman who could predict exactly how people would die (it was not an advantage in his line of work). I also liked “Duane Barry,” in which Dana Scully was kidnapped by a mental patient who claimed to have been abducted by aliens. This was where I first heard Nick Cave’s Red Right Hand.
The series taught me a new word, “exsanguinate” (to drain a body of all its fluids), and a very useful quote from Nietzsche about hunting monsters. It provided a nickname for a particularly annoying acquaintance: El Chupacabra, the goat-sucker. Since Scully’s dog was named Queequeg and her childhood nickname was Starbuck, I went out and bought a copy of Moby-Dick. More recently, I was delighted to find that a biologist friend knew the scientist whom the guest character Dr. Bambi Barenboim, the sexy entomologist, was named after. (The real Dr. Barenboim is a few decades older than the TV version.)
At the core of The X-Files was the relationship between FBI agents Mulder and Scully. Fans hoped that they would become romantically involved. They were an intriguing couple: Mulder was the pretty, wide-eyed, troubled one who was inclined to go for the weird paranormal stuff, while Scully was the dependable partner who supported his investigations but kept him grounded in the scientific method. Traditional roles were reversed: Scully was playing the strong male character, while Mulder was the more fanciful female. It worked.
As the series wore on and the romantic angle was not explored, I simply assumed that Mulder and Scully were already a couple, they just weren’t touchy-feely or demonstrative. Face it, it’s hard to make goo-goo eyes at each other when nearly every case involves a grisly, unexplained death, and she has to perform the autopsy.
I tried my best to like the first X-Files movie, Fight the Future; I had hoped that when the second movie came around, series creator Chris Carter would have figured out how to translate his vision from TV to the cinema. This is not an easy thing. (Witness how the Sex and The City movie was actually a small-screen trifle blown up into widescreen dimensions. It was still television, not cinema — 30 minutes’ worth of fluff stretched into nothingness. The inept writing and direction destroyed just about everything we enjoyed about the TV series.)
The X-Files was a show with a big theme: humanity’s place in the cosmos. The cinema has the breadth and scope to tackle this epic theme in a way episodic TV could not. Too bad Carter has made what is essentially a two-hour TV special.
The X-Files: I Want To Believe takes place 10 years after Mulder was hounded out of the FBI. Scully is now a doctor at a Catholic hospital, which gives the writers room to explore one of the character’s most interesting facets: the perpetual tension between her training as a scientist and her religious beliefs. Mulder is a recluse in a snowy small town, clipping articles from newspapers (I guess he’s too paranoid to trawl the Internet). At first the nature of the leads’ relationship is unclear, but fans’ questions are answered by mid-movie. The two are asked by FBI Agent Whitney (Amanda Peet in a charmless performance) to help in the search for a missing colleague.
Their only leads are the “visions” of a defrocked priest and convicted pedophile, Father Joe (Billy Connolly in a serious role). Fr. Joe’s visions lead them to evidence of a serial killer at work. Meanwhile, Scully tries to save a patient with an apparently incurable brain disease (her research source: Google), even as the priests who run the hospital decree that there’s nothing to be done but await divine will.
So this movie is like The Silence of the Lambs crossed with Lorenzo’s Oil, with the pedophile priest as the Hannibal Lecter/clue generator. There are homages to Seven. Unfortunately, all the information about the actual killer is withheld until the last reel, so we have no idea what our heroes are up against. Director Carter is so intent on keeping the mystery mysterious, he neglects to engage the audience.
There’s plenty of ominous atmosphere but no tension; the climax is slack and suspense-free. A well-loved character from the TV series turns up, to no effect. The mystery turns out to be truly creepy and bizarre, but the director does not allow us the full impact of this horror.
Still, The X-Files: I Want To Believe is not nearly as horrendous as the reviews say it is. If you were an X-phile, it’s a pleasant way to pass two hours in the company of old friends — even if somebody onscreen has to say “I want to believe” every 15 minutes to remind us of the characters’ issues. There’s a brilliant moment early on, when Mulder and Scully visit the FBI building and stop in front of a picture of US President George W. Bush. As the grinning president’s photo appears on the screen, we hear the portentous notes of the X-Files theme.
Labyrinthine government conspiracies and unfathomable secrets: The X-Files has taken over reality.
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