REVIEWED BY: Jennifer J. Chen ON: May 16, 1999
ORIGINAL AIR DATE: May 16, 1999
"You're both liars."
God help me, I am about to flip out. How much do I want to fly over to L.A. right now and kick CC's ass? All right, I'm the first to concede that a season finale isn't as fun if it doesn't leave the audience dangling...but I don't need these knots in my stomach, threatening to remain there for the duration of summer. They began to form at the beginning of the episode, when Mulder and Scully were engaging in banter that could not remotely be construed as shippy, but really started when that horrible Fowl woman showed up.
She was in Mulder's bedroom! She was stripping off her clothes! And if I didn't already know that Mulder was too ill to be engaging in any kind of activity with her, it still irked me that she was there at all. If there was any truth in what she said (and I can think of no reason for her to lie to her accomplice, CSM), then Mulder had called her. Perhaps the reason as she told Scully (that she, Diana, was the only person who would believe him) was false, but Mulder apparently still called her. And he wouldn't tell Scully who it was! Why? Because it didn't matter, it didn't mean anything? Because he knew it would hurt her? Or because it was too personal? I think I'm going to lose my dinner. I don't care that Mulder was probably too sick to have fallen for any of her Fowl advances—what matters is where his emotions lie. Didn't the spoilers indicate that he would start becoming suspicious of Fowlness? Why didn't that happen? I needed it to happen! Argh! At least when Scully questions why the Fowl was with Mulder the night before, the Fowl lets slip that she "found him in a university stairwell" (filmed at UCLA, by the way—go Bruins!). This sheds some light on the possibility that Mulder didn't call her so much as she forced herself upon him...we all know that Krycek found him there first.
Plus, there is the implied intimacy of Fowley being there in Mulder's bedroom, her answering his phone, handing it to him in bed, and he reciprocates by handing it back to her once he's done. It's TV--no gratuitous gestures are truly gratuitous--they mean something. That is how we Shippers can put so much emphasis on the significance of the gratuitous tactile moments between Mulder and Scully--because we know that in TV language, it is significant. What has happened to the wonderful recent revelations, like the fact that Scully is in love? Okay, I guess that wasn't tampered with, but how can they have her be in love with someone so willing to hurt her? Mulder can't be so dense that he wouldn't realize that, and if he is too dense, then he doesn't deserve Scully anyway. For the first time I feel like maybe Scully really should get as far away from him as possible.
The frustrating thing about watching Fowley strip and go back into Mulder's bedroom is that we will likely never find out what happened. Using our common sense, we know that Mulder's condition probably made sexual intercourse an impossibility, but there are other kinds of intimacy, intimacies that wound far deeper than a sexual act. She could have, for instance, crawled into bed with him and simply held him. That he would let her, that he could possibly find comfort in her embrace, hurts. Of course, she could have also been simply (rudely) making herself at home and making use of his shower, but we'll never know. And we'll never know because Scully wasn't there and wouldn't know to confront him about it later, and there's no reason for either Mulder or Fowley to bring it up. It's such a catch-22; again, the TV language of her stripping implies more, and the only way to be sure that nothing happened is to have the characters say it, but they have no reason to bring it up again. Scully doesn't know about it, and Mulder may have (gag) allowed such intimacy if he believes Fowley has that right. This then becomes simple Shipper torture. Yet, in the larger scheme of things, all X-Philes should be concerned. For Mulder to let someone else in like that would weaken the bond that he and Scully have, and weaken the most important part of the show.
Scully once called Mulder on the fact that he tells her to trust no one, while he himself seems to trust everyone, including people he shouldn't (case in point is the Fowl One). He's never satisfactorily explained why that double standard exists. Can he be so easily manipulated? Their only weaknesses outside of their families should only be each other, yet it seems that Mulder is perhaps not the man I thought he was--that man would not be so easily caught up in feelings for other women; that man would not have feelings for other women, period. Perhaps I put too much pressure on my version of Mulder, put him too much on a pedestal of sorts. However, it's this belief in Mulder and Scully's uncorruptible bond that sustains my investment in their characters, and their quest. If they take that away--if they let Mulder or Scully betray each other over someone else--how can I continue with my faith? The show then turns into a Melrose Place, where loyalites can change at any moment, and feelings are never deep, real, or lasting. For this reason, I have to believe that Chris Carter & Co. are smarter than that, and that things will resolve themselves somewhat satisfactorily next season. This aspect of the abiding trust and deep loyalty between Mulder and Scully has never been truly compromised in six years--I can't imagine that they would want to destroy that. Still, Fowley is without question the biggest threat yet. The possibility of death would be easier to take--it only strengthens the Mulder/Scully bond, but Fowley shakes the foundations of that bond, which is more threatening than anything else.
I wish I could have as much faith in Mulder as Scully does, that he is not a danger to her. But she doesn't know what I know, she didn't see what I saw. Mulder may not be a danger to her physically, but mentally, emotionally, he can hurt her more than anyone. The terrifying thing would be to realize that the reverse isn't true. Even though I can't be as certain about Scully's adamant statement that Mulder is not a danger to her, I want to believe.
And now, after all Mulder and Scully have been through, he's back to Samantha again? Don't get me wrong; searching for one's sister is always noble, but in this case, verbalizing it is just too much. Scully already knows that that is what he wants. He doesn't have to lay it out there for her, like she doesn't know him, or is insensitive to his needs. Speaking of Scully, what was with her dogged determination NOT to accept the facts in front of her? For the first time, I felt myself get truly irritated. Perhaps because I knew that Diana was in his *bleeping* bedroom, and felt that if Scully should be supportive at any time in their partnership, now was the time. Yet even faced with so much evidence, she...all right, I know I sound like Mulder. This time is different—what she says is different from all those other times. She says that she refuses to believe. She doesn't have any science or evidence to back herself up like she usually does. Scully simply gives no reason for her disbelief other than her unwillingness to do the opposite. That is finally crossing the line between skepticism and narrow-mindedness.
What is with Skinner calling Scully Dana and holding her *bleeping* hand? I am SO NOT a Skinner/Scully proponent. Okay, so Mulder seems to have gone crazy. But it's not like he's dead! And it's not like he's been in that condition for very long! There was no call for Skinner to be acting like Scully had lost Mulder forever. Skinner may harbor secret desires for her, but how dare he act on them once Mulder's even remotely out of the picture?
And the Fowl thanks Scully for showing up, as if she, Diana, had some proprietary right to be there? Diana's not Mulder's wife, or anyone to him besides a dark mark in his past—she has no call to be thanking his best friend and partner for naturally showing up when told that something has happened to him. I felt for Scully; what was she to believe, when she herself had heard the Fowl answer Mulder's phone? Does she suspect the extent of his possible betrayal (one I can't even think about seriously right now, or else it would drive me mad)?
Thank the Lord for Scully's reactions to those two turncoats! It saved the episode (the thought of the middle part still inflames me). "You're both liars," and then yanking her arm away from Skinner. Ooh, yeah, give it to 'em, Agent Scully! And Skinner, could you possibly lie any worse? Well, Scully obviously doesn't return Skinner's regard. She needed to pull another "Scully. And we're done with this conversation," like she did with Agent Peyton Ritter.
All right, I think I'm finally done with my tirade, and can move onto bigger themes, like the possibility that aliens provided mankind with Scripture. What a fascinating concept. Yet if it were true, it would seem to belie everything that the Bible claims. The episode seemed to suggest (by way of Mulder) that not only did aliens provide the very basis of Christian faith, but that they had somehow engineered the germination of the human species on this planet.
If that is true, then it is entirely possible that the Bible is one big lie—engineered to keep human beings complacent. One theory I have heard postulated to explain all the different forms of worship found throughout different cultures is that human beings have a need to believe in something—or someone—higher than themselves. This would give meaning to our existence; that we are part of some larger plan and not formed by accident or chance. I believe that the human need to believe in a deity, or deities, is a result of this basic ideal. There is a need in me, and I would venture, most human beings, to believe that our lives are not simply once chance occurrence after another, that there is a larger plan for us, that someone out there is watching, and cares enough to pay attention and maybe even have a hand in the directions our lives take. I believe that this is what is at the crux of the human need to believe in a higher being. If our lives are being guided, it would mean that someone or something is intricately controlling it all, and for them to do that would mean that there is a plan, and our existences are MEANINGFUL. That is what I want and need to know, that there is meaning to my existence, which in turn brings meaning to my life. Perhaps the aliens understood this about human nature, and so provided one "answer" in the form of Christianity.
So then the question is, why go through such an elaborate scheme? Why introduce a deity, and not let us in on who the real "Creators" are? Tony Campolo, a Christian theologian, once said that "a God you could understand would be a minute God." It doesn't take a crack genius to realize the truth in that statement. Could that be why? It's certainly a possibility. Aliens are probably no more deity-like than human beings are. Isn't the idea that the human race may well have been grown like bacteria on a petri dish fascinating? If humans were able to manufacture a new form of self-sustaining life, wouldn't those life forms also see us as God-like, even though we are far from such distinction? The same could be said of these alien beings, if what has been postulated is indeed correct, in the world of The X-Files. These aliens created us, yet are merely the scientists in a research lab. We can't believe in that; so they gave us God to appease our need to believe.
Now perhaps I have also stumbled upon what I probably couldn't see before due to the mist of outrage clouding my brain (my initial reaction to certain parts of the episode). One fact is clear—if those pieces of ancient artifact are indeed extraterrestrial, and if they do in fact have part of Genesis etched on them, then it would certainly make a lie of Scully's spiritual beliefs. All the faith that she has fought to sustain within herself would be false. Her religious convictions, something she lost then regained with much difficulty, and got her through some of the most difficult times of her life, would be exposed to be nothing but a sham. No wonder she refused to believe—it would take so much out of her. The one aspect of life that she accepts on faith instead of science, and here Mulder is asking her to realize that this essential part of her spirituality, the struggle she has fought within herself, has been for naught. That the cross she wears around her neck is not a symbol of a pure, unspoiled, higher being, but only a machination of other materially bound beings. She could be them, those aliens—in a lab, playing around with microorganisms on a petri dish. "A God you could understand would be a minute God." And maybe not God at all.
So Scully stands there on the beach, faced with evidence that could send the walls of her religious faith crashing down around her. Yet even if that should happen, another conviction is strengthened—her connection to Mulder forged even stronger. She has perhaps learned that the ultimate ideology is the Truth, and whatever frightening knowledge it may present her with, she must seek it. Her partner is constantly there by her side as they seek the Truth together; physical location is not important. They are fused, bound, by a force that is the strongest of all bonds—a potent, unyielding mix of love, respect, and loyalty. Ultimately, in the lives of Mulder and Scully, there is no greater meaning to be found.
"He's a danger to anyone."
Please feel free to
WARNING! Tirade ahead! I had to get some things off my chest before starting the more objective part of this review.
I wanted to rage in anguish when the doctor said, "He's a danger to anyone," and Scully responded immediately, forcefully, "Not to me," and was only met by the cold disbelieving, patronizing "truths" that the Fowl and the Traitor had to share. The ONE aspect that saved this painful scene was Mulder finally yelling Scully's name in the throes of his presumed madness. God! The look on Scully's face—how much pain can one woman endure over a man? Yet all I wanted to do was hug him...he had that lost Mulder look that is just so incredibly endearing. As long as he behaved himself in regard to Fowl.
Scully then focuses on the one thing left that has meaning in her life—her relationships with other people. One person, in particular. Mulder needs her. Whatever she may uncover about that artifact, whatever that may do to her personal convictions, she has not lost sight of the fact that in the end, meaning in a person's life is what one brings to it. That will never change. She holds onto the one constant in her life—her loyalty to her partner and his to her, and does the work that he cannot, at the moment, do.
"Not to me."
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me at jenu1bruin@centropolis.org
1999 by Jennifer J. Chen