Midnight Mulling Moldy Mulder

  • Post last modified:Wednesday, March 24th, 2010
  • Reading time:3 mins read

The X-Files‘ time really is past. When I was in high school and college I adored it as I had never adored a piece of pop culture — except maybe the Sega Genesis. Between “Shapes” (the werewolf episode, and the first I saw) and the middle of season eight, I only missed two episodes on first broadcast. Then I just stopped, and have never made up the final season and a half. I really liked the first movie, and I’ve got the full set of action figures. Three Scullies, even, in two outfits! Yet I can’t even watch the original show now.

In tone and pacing and theme, the show is such a 1990s phenomenon. A product of the Clinton era (which the new movie seems to wink at), and an age just before people figured out how to write for television. Yes, it helped to bring this age on; that doesn’t make it part of it. And the new movie is an epilogue to the TV show. It’s shot the same way; it uses the same subtitles; it’s got the same ambling Chris Carter pace and tone and cluttered sense of theme to it.

It works as a movie; it works as an afterthought to the TV show. It is distinctly not a relaunch of the franchise. It’s tired, and it makes no attempt to be current or vital, or even to reach outside its core audience. It’s basically just saying goodbye, and wrapping up some character threads. After an hour and a half of genial if not particularly interesting story, the best part is hidden after the credits. In context especially, it alone is near worth the admission — provided you care for the characters.

I went to the 9:45 showing at the Grand Lake. They had free popcorn, and a balcony! And flirtatious concession stand women. I think there were three other people besides me, and none who stayed through the credits for the Cracker Jack prize. One of the ushers came in toward the end and sat in the rear corner; when it was over and I stood up, he bade me good night. And… it was 11:40 exactly. It’s a twenty-minute walk from the theater. I walked in silence. Though I had my mp3 player, midnight in Oakland is no time for clouded senses.

Quiet is never so loud as when there is no noise.

I think work is progressing…