The Conventional
Wisdom:
Many
of you are already familiar with the conventional wisdom about The
X-Files (1993 – 2002). This
conventional wisdom has been disseminated and repeated across fan hubs and critical
review web-sites for many years now.
It
goes something like this: After star David Duchovny departed the series as the
lead actor, the series went down-hill…fast. In fact, The X-Files stayed on the air a few
years too long, and ended in something resembling disgrace and embarrassment.
Well,
the truth is out there…and it’s much more nuanced and intriguing than the
conventional wisdom suggests. First,
it’s accurate that during the eighth season of The X-Files, David Duchovny reduced
his participation considerably. He was
no longer the star of the program, and he appeared as Mulder in
less-than-a-dozen episodes airing that year.
But he wasn’t gone entirely.
His
successor in the male lead position was actor Robert Patrick (Terminator 2 [1991], Fire
in the Sky [1993]). On The
X-Files, Patrick played John Doggett, an ex-New York police detective
who did not boast a familiarity with the paranormal or supernatural, but
instead constructed his cases upon the bedrocks of common sense, a finely-tuned
moral barometer, and good old-fashioned police work. 
In
short, Doggett equaled “dogged.” He was
a superb, tireless agent (as Scully once noted: “above reproach”), and the character and performance provided the
series with a welcome injection of fresh blood.
Yes, Doggett was quite different from the beloved Agent Mulder, yet if
you speak to many X-Files fans that actively disliked Patrick’s tenure as
Doggett, they won’t name either the actor or the character as the source of
their upset.
Instead,
a series of arguments are raised.
For instance, a few of these critics will suggest that the writing was
bad in Season 8, even though episodes were by-and-large penned by the same
authors who toiled on earlier seasons of The X-Files and knew their way
around the series’ premise and characters.
Their stories in season eight at least deserve a fair hearing.
Some
will tell you that the monsters of the week during Season 8 suddenly grew “tasteless,”
based on disgusting premises like a vomiting monster (“The Gift”) or a creature
that could crawl into the rectum of a grown man (“Badlaa”).
And
yet -- again -- one must wonder why
earlier, highly-praised X-Files stories such as “Home”
(featuring an amputee and genetic mutants), “F. Emasculata” (concerning a disease
with exploding flesh pustules), “Bad Blood” (with extracted human organs dripping
blood from a scale during an autopsy) or “The Host” (with a creature hiding in
a port-a-potty) did not encounter the same negative response of
“tastelessness.” Throughout its run, The
X-Files was persistently and gory, and that’s a
good thing in my estimation, especially in a medium (at the time) that favored
homogeneity.
Another
oft-voiced complaint is that during Season 8, Scully and Doggett ended up
striking off on their own too much, and thus ending up in mortal jeopardy without
back-up. Once more, did those folks
complaining about this issue ever actually watch the earlier seasons of The
X-Files?
This
sort of situation happened all the time
to Scully and Mulder.
One
potential answer underlying the conventional wisdom is that, at some point,
many critics of The X-Files decided, a
priori, that a Mulder-less version of the show wasn’t going to be something
good, or something in which they could fully invest and actively engage with.
So
they erected a series of false premises about the series to reinforce their pre-existing
beliefs.
The Affirmative
Case:
So,
if the conventional wisdom is wrong, why is Season Eight a strong season and one worthy
of praise and The X-Files legacy?
First
and foremost, there’s Doggett.
He is the third
leading “Chris Carter male” we have
encountered, following Fox Mulder and Millennium’s Frank Black (Lance
Henriksen). My wife, a therapist, coined
the phrase “The Chris Carter male”
because she became intrigued by the writer’s male characters, and their common
traits. She describes the Chris Carter
males as “chivalrous and heroic, but unavailable
emotionally to the women in their lives.”
When I interviewed
Chris Carter in late 2009, he responded to this psychological classification
and noted that it was “dramatically-interesting
to him” to write for characters when “it’s
what’s withheld that counts, or is that important.”
He went on to say: “If
the character is remote or unable to speak about these things – because it’s
series television we’re talking about here – it becomes something that needs to
be discovered. So if you discover these
things too quickly, if a person is too emotionally available, it actually takes
away from interest in the character.”
What's Doggett laughing about with his budz?
With
this premise in mind, Carter and the other writers of The X-Files grant Doggett
a particularly intriguing arc in Season Eight. He starts out as a dependable but relatively
unimaginative by-the-book agent in the premiere “Within/Without.” In fact, viewers even feel a little suspicious
of him starting out because when we first see him approaching Mulder’s basement
office in “Patience,” he is depicted laughing outside the door with
colleagues…as if mocking the X-Files.
He’s responding to a joke we don’t get to hear, and so the audience
response is suspicion…even paranoia.
Later
in the episode, one penned by Chris Carter, a police detective, Abbott
(Bradford English) proves downright dismissive of and hostile to Agent Scully
(Gillian Anderson). Doggett steps in and whispers something to Abbott to back
him off. Notice that we never hear
Doggett’s words, nor see his facial expressions as he speaks to Abbott in this particular
scene. Once more, the implication is
that Doggett is not entirely trustworthy.
He may be sympathizing with the misogynistic detective…we don’t know for
sure. Again, the primary feeling with
Doggett is one of suspicion, or uncertainty.
After
these moments and a few others like them, we slowly warm to Doggett, and his
sense of emotional unavailability begins to recede. In later episodes we learn that his marriage
failed, and that his son died under tragic and mysterious circumstances (in
“Invocation”), but more importantly, we begin to see how he and Scully develop
a working relationship. The distance we
feel from him diminishes. But the
important thing is that Doggett as a character earns our trust over a period of episodes. He is not inside “the circle” (like Skinner
is, for instance) instantly.
In
some ways, this is a touch very respectful of Mulder, and Mulder’s role on the
series. It would have been terrible, not to mention unbelievable, to
have a character jump in and pick up where Mulder – after eight years – left off, emotionally vulnerable with Scully
and trusted by Skinner. Instead, the
writers gave us a character that had to find his way both on the job, and with
the dedicated fans of the show.
In
addition to the new and at times ambiguous presence of Doggett, the eighth
season of The X-Files is successful because, by and large, the stories
feature interesting “monsters of the week” (soul eaters, Siddhi mystics,
microscopic flesh-eating ocean life…), ones often based on myth and folklore. But the stories are good for more than that
reason. In particular, they establish
the new dynamic for the characters and their interactions.
The
original and admittedly brilliant X-Files dynamic of Scully/Mulder is
best expressed as the comparison of two distinctive and competing world views: science vs. faith/skepticism vs. belief. Virtually every story in the first six years
was filtered through this highly entertaining and cerebral double lens.
In
Season Eight -- with a mostly absent Mulder to contend with -- that dynamic could
no longer function. So instead, the
episodes of this span largely concerned how Scully had to re-train herself to
“see” the world, accommodating Mulder’s genius into her own perspective. This endeavor not only made Scully grow as a person, it
kept Mulder as the “absent center” in Carter’s words, of the drama.
Consider
for a moment just how often the episodes in Season Eight involve “sight,” or more
specifically, “learning to see.” Here are some examples:
In
“Patience” Scully tries to see the world (and a specific case) as Mulder would
see it, but admits she has difficulties making the same leaps of faith.
In
the episode titled “Medusa,” Scully assumes control of a command center on an
investigation, and must “see” through Doggett’s eyes in the subway below. Again, she’s re-learning how to interpret the
world and its mysteries. She needs Doggett as her “eyes and ears” to do that. He needs her, oppositely, calling the shots, because of his inexperience on the X-Files.
In “Via Negativa” a cult leader grows a “third
eye” by opening his mind to the path of darkness, and Doggett nearly goes the
same way, into a new realm of diabolical sight.
In
“The Gift,” Skinner commends Doggett for seeing a case through Mulder’s eyes…by
getting inside the missing agent’s head.
“Badlaa”
involves an Indian mystic who can cloud the sight of normal people, including
Scully and Doggett, making them see -- or not see -- what he wishes. Our very reality is up for grabs, and Scully
must make a decision based on what she believes, not what she actually sees.
Even
“Three Words” is about sight in some critical sense. It concerns how Mulder
comes to see Doggett, and then how Doggett comes to see himself: as being
manipulated by an untrustworthy informant.
“Alone”
is about blindness (another aspect of sight), and about how in the absence of
clear sight, trust can substitute for vision. This lesson comes in relation to competitors Doggett and Mulder, who are
trapped by a kind of lizard monster in a dark labyrinth. His eyes sprayed by venom, Doggett can’t see
his nemesis well enough to shoot it. He
must place his trust in Mulder, and Mulder’s words to survive.
The
leitmotif of “learning to see” appears in more than a handful of episodes, and
grants the eight season an umbrella of unity that draws it together.
Episode Highlights:
Scully (and the audience), on the outside looking in.
1. “Patience.” Written and directed by
Chris Carter. This is a standalone story
(or “monster of the week”) involving a sort of man-bat (who sees quite differently than
human beings, by the way…) seeking vengeance against tormentors from the year 1956.
But
this episode – essentially a second pilot for the series – cunningly sets up the
fundamentals of the Scully/Doggett relationship as well as the season’s
obsession on sight. Furthermore, it features
a great commentary on what it means to live in fear. On the latter front, consider Ernie
Stefaniuk’s moving monologue about what fear did to his marriage…and to his (now
deceased) wife. For forty-four years the
couple lived in virtual isolation on a six mile stretch of land and denied
themselves modern conveniences, family contact, and more. In the post-9/11 age, “Patience” takes on a
new meaning given the government’s color-coded exploitation of fear during the last decade.
Chris
Carter is a gifted director and he proves it again in “Patience” with the carefully
constructed and perfectly framed scene I mentioned above wherein Scully is castigated and
treated poorly by Detective Abbott, and Doggett steps in to ameliorate the
detective’s concerns.
A
less clever director would have included a frontal shot of Doggett’s
explanation or provided audio of his words.
Instead, the moment is left intentionally ambiguous because we never learn
exactly what it is he said.
This makes
us wonder if Doggett will be there for Scully when she needs him…
“Patience”
is the first standalone episode in the series sans Mulder, and it is therefore
the template for the two final seasons, diagramming the fresh terrain of
the burgeoning Scully/Doggett relationship and the importance that “learning to
see” will play in upcoming episodes.
Also,
“Patience” is a coded-title and a message directly to X-Files fans. Be patient, and you’ll be rewarded with a new
character dynamic that, conceivably, could rival the richness of the original
format.
Burks or Siddhi Mystic?
2.”Badlaa.”
By John Shiban. This absolutely go-for-broke episode concerns a Siddhi
mystic (Deep Roy) who travels to America inside the rectum of a four-hundred
pound businessman.
Yes,
you read that synopsis correctly…
When
the vengeful mystic evacuates the rectum, the fat man bleeds out, and we are spared no
nauseating detail. One thoroughly
terrifying scene finds the mystic hidden inside a corpse, and as Scully begins
her autopsy, we see his tiny hands wriggle
their way out of a chest incision.
Doggett or Siddhi Mystic?
The sense of escalating terror generated by this episode is not only visual. The Siddhi mystic – an amputee -- drags himself from one location to another on a
scooter with squeaky wheels, and that ubiquitous squeak quickly emerges a
fearsome harbinger of terror. We come to
expect it, and fear it.
But
the episode works splendidly not because of the nutso (if inspired) premise,
but because it fits into the season’s leitmotif about “learning to see.” Specifically,
director Tony Wharmy achieves something extraordinary in terms of visualizing
certain crucial moments in the play. It
is established early on that the Siddhi mystic can control how people perceive
him, and there are at least two instances in the tale when Scully sees people
who are already present on the scene – in
long establishing shot – standing in the distance, observing her.
One
is Charles Burks (Bill Dow), bracketed inside the door frame at the X-Files FBI
office. Another is Doggett himself,
standing pool-side, with strange light reflected on his face. Neither figure gets a traditional entrance
when Scully sees them: they’re already present -- motionless– and the implication is that there is something not
quite right about them.
If
you go back and watch this episode with a careful eye, be certain to ask
yourself at all times, who is Scully actually “perceiving” and receiving
information from? Those she knows and trusts, or the mystic himself, carefully
insinuating his “sight” into her mind?
It’s a brilliant idea and a visual grace note in a highly disturbing and provocative episode.
Learning to see.
3. “Via Negativa.”
By Frank Spotnitz. This is another
brilliant standalone episode. In
philosophy, the "via negativa" is an approach to understanding
God; a strategy that seeks to define God by enumerating those things God
is not. God is not mortal, God is not Evil, and so forth. Sometimes, this unusual approach to comprehending the
Divine is also called Negative Theory or The Negative Way.
The episode "Via Negativa" finds stalwart Doggett
investigating the brutal murders of two FBI agents who were staking out an apocalyptic
cult. Doggett is investigating this particular X-File alone because
a pregnant Scully is away at the hospital. Still new to the X-Files unit, Doggett
is uncertain and rudderless. He's no Mulder, and boasts no interest in being
Mulder. Leaps of faith don't come easily or naturally to him. Without Scully to
ease him in, the "dogged," meat-and-potatoes Doggett is, in a very
real sense, vulnerable, to what he learns during this
investigation.
Doggett
discovers that the members of the apocalyptic cult died horribly and that their
still-at-large leader, Anthony Tibbett, is an ex-convict who developed a
peculiar brand of evangelical Christian/Hindu philosophy. Tibbett suggests that
"the body is but clay...to hold the twin aspects of the human spirit:
the light and the darkness." Furthermore, he believes that if his
dedicated followers gaze into the path of darkness ("the Via Negativa"
of the title), they will see God there.
To help
them reach this dimension of darkness, Tibbett administered experimental hallucinogens
that would awaken the cult members’ "Third Eye." It is this
"Third Eye" -- the Hindu gyananakashi, or "Eye of
Knowledge, positioned between hemispheres of the brain -- that can see into the realm of darkness..
Doggett delves deeper and deeper into Tibbett's strange, dark
beliefs until the agent himself takes a walk on the Via Negativa during
a horrifying dream sequence. The scene is cast in a suffusing blue light, and
intermittent fade-outs and pulsating strobes provide a sense of fractured time
and splintered consciousness. This tense, virtually silent scene witnesses a sweaty,
desperate Doggett (depicted in extreme close-up) contemplating murder...and the
specter of his own internal darkness.
Another scene, in which a vulnerable, confused Doggett
confesses to a baffled Skinner (Mitch Pileggi) that he’s uncertain about his
own state of consciousness (dreaming or awake...) also serves as Doggett's
authentic indoctrination into The X-Files...the horrifying
case from "outside" that changes him "inside."
In "Via Negativa" there's a deep underlying fear at work. Doggett has
no support system. His walk on "the dark path" is a
walk alone (or so we believe, until the denouement) and there's something
incredibly unsettling about the brand of evil he faces here. This episode is
absolutely terrifying.
A succession earned, not bestowed.
4. “The Gift.” This episode by Frank
Spotnitz and directed by Kim Manners is another story that focuses on “sight”
and how people see things differently.
Agent Doggett investigates one of Mulder’s old cases, and finds evidence
that Mulder may have committed murder.
Through enigmatic flashbacks, we see Mulder’s unorthodox work on the
case, and the execution of the crime.
Only in the end do we come to understand that Mulder’s blood-soaked
act of murder is actually one of mercy.
And we uncover this revelation not in straight-forward narrative fashion,
but through Doggett’s investigation as he follows literally in Mulder’s
footsteps, and comes to make a similar choice regarding mercy and decency. The result, at episode’s end: Doggett – for the briefest of instants – imagines
the specter of Mulder in his office, as if a tacit sign of approval of
Doggett’s presence there. He has,
finally, earned the right to sit where Mulder once did.
The monster of the week in “The Gift” is a great one too: a
“soul eater” who may be summoned to eat the bodies of the sick. After eating sick people and absorbing their
diseases, the soul eater than regurgitates the digested human beings…and they
re-form and are resurrected. Both Mulder
and Doggett go through that horrifying process in this episode (another
instance of “parallel” footsteps), and yes, the vomiting scenes are nausea
provoking. But regurgitation isn’t the
point of the story. The point is that
the soul eater is a tortured creature who cannot die and who must keep healing
others…and absorbing their horrible illnesses.
He’s in pain and wants his life to end.
As the episode commences, you think that “the gift” of the
title belongs to the soul eater. He is giving those he digests and regurgitates
the gift of health. But at episode's end, we learn that Doggett has actually
given the monster the greatest gift of all: death. Release.
This is a poetic and lyrical X-Files episode, and one
that asks us to see the soul eater differently at different times. He’s a monster and a terror at first. But then – as we look into his eyes – we register that if he is a soul eater,
his soul too has been eaten by a lifetime of physical suffering.
The truth we now know, and have "learned to see..."
5: “Existence.” Written by Chris Carter
and directed by Kim Manners. In this
season finale, a pregnant Scully gives birth to her unusual child, and we learn
– at long last – that Mulder is the
father. Shippers will enjoy the
Mulder/Scully kiss, but on a more significant note, the episode provides the
punch-line to the season-long exploration of "learning to see."
Before our eyes – for
we don’t know how long – Mulder and Scully have been together…romantically.
And, now, we suddenly see and understand it all. It’s a beautiful end to the season, and to
this nearly-season long arc. We’ve
traveled a long road believing one thing, or suspecting one thing, and then –
in a single scene, and with a single line of dialogue – we finally see “the
truth.” It’s a perfect capper to Season
Eight. In this final installment of the year, the audience learns to see, thus mimicking the odysseys of Scully and Doggett. How's that for elegant storytelling?
Season Eight could have been one of jarring change and false starts, but instead, The X-Files triumphed with fine storytelling, great performances, scary monsters and a recurring theme.
Other Season Eight high notes: “Roadrunners,” “Medusa,” “Three
Words” and “Alone.”