REVIEWED BY: Jennifer J. Chen ON: May 30, 1999
ORIGINAL AIR DATE: May 3, 1998
"What is it?"
"She's just...concerned for her partner."
All right—call me bizarre, but I found the few shippy moments of this episode to be some of the most romantic in the history of the show. The X-File was passably interesting (losing kudos points from me for unabashedly using two almost identical situations from other films: the movie theatre scene from Outbreak and the bank scene from Point Break). This was one of those episodes that entertained me because of all the shippy thoughts that ran through my mind, not because of its actual content. I don't know how anyone could have gotten anything out of it if not for the Shipper aspect. There are many episodes of The X-Files that I would enjoy even if I weren't a Shipper, but I don't think this was one of those.
That being said, let's not waste anymore time ferreting out those shippy instances. The first time I saw this ep I was pretty concerned that Mulder in his eagerness to believe had gotten himself into yet another dicey situation where he was only going to end up harming himself. I was none too pleased to see him shutting Scully out, either. It is only going through those same instances in retrospect, knowing what Mulder is really doing that makes those actions endearing rather than hurtful. He is, as always, protecting Scully. But of course Scully's first impulses are also to protect Mulder, and when she senses that he has gotten himself involved in something potentially dangerous to him, doesn't hesitate to jump right in.
Methinks that if Mulder ever has even the slightest inclination to cheat on Scully, not only will she be able to read him immediately, but can tail him as effectively as the most determined and jealous of wives. As delightful as that thought is, close on its heels comes an even more delightful realization—Scully will never have cause to tail him in that way because Mulder would never cheat on her with someone else. Maybe I'm going a little too far with these 'significant other' allusions, but I can't help it. That's what I saw when I watched this episode.
Considering the nature of their relationship, their closeness—it seems obvious to me that subconsciously, Mulder wants to get caught. His obvious avoidance of her probing into what she sees as him helping a criminal escape on the videotape; his outright brush off after the hearing—he wants her to know; it was Skinner who advised him not to get her involved. Mulder has to know that she'll get clued in by his bizarre treatment of her, his coldness, his aloofness. I mean, wouldn't you know something was up if your best friend suddenly treated you like you had the plague? Skinner and the CIA agent unwittingly help to achieve the end that they don't want—Scully involved. They don't want to see Mulder confiding in her, and talking to her would raise suspicions. Yet by the same token, this very thing is what raises her suspicions—her best friend is ignoring her? Dodging questions about helping a criminal they were trying to catch escape? Or perhaps in a way, it is a subconscious test on Mulder's part to see how well Scully really knows him; how far she will go if she suspects his predicament. Perhaps some would see this as weakness; some would say that Mulder should have borne his load more convincingly, if he believed that by doing so he was ensuring Scully's safety. But he is in a life-threatening situation, taking orders from people that he doesn't necessarily trust. He is told not to tell the one person he does trust. So I can hardly blame him for wanting Scully to watch his back, consciously or subconsciously. After all, if she were a male counterpart he would have done the same. His faith in her is not only a testament to her unique place in his esteem, but also a testament to his perception of her abilities and strength. I certainly can't find fault with that.
Scully's anger toward Mulder is more a result of his not confiding in her than out of any suspicion that he might be involved in less than above-board dealings. Her angry "Not even close" response to the motel manager's "Are you the wife?" generates amusement because that's exactly what she does sound like—a woman who has caught her man at some seedy motel that he has not bothered to provide any explanations for. She is angry at him for keeping her in the dark, and I have no doubt that she suspects he thinks it's for her own good. She angry that he may have placed himself in harm's way...and the last thing she wants is to see him hurt.
Actually, the great thing about this episode is that it reminds me of the Mulder I love best—full of honor, integrity, and a sense of duty. Putting himself on the line for the benefit of others. Embodying the best qualities of any law enforcement officer. He never loses his quirky sense of humor, one of his most endearing traits. This penchant for using humor to diffuse a situation that makes him really nervous has not been unseen in the past, and it also surfaces in Fight the Future. Kudos to David Duchovny for being so convincingly tortured. I wince every time "the gimp" comes anywhere near Mulder or his poor finger—and each time I have watched this, I have to force myself not to turn away during the last painful wrenching.
But my favorite two scenes occur right after Mulder's injury—in fact, they occur because of his injury. I simply adore the scene in his apartment. Mulder trying desperately with his anger to divert Scully from what he is doing, at the same time that he needs her to be there; her quiet strength absolves him. He doesn't need to protect her, though she appreciates the sentiment—he is in far more danger than she, and she wants to be there for him. She would rather know what he has to go through than be kept in the dark, not knowing. Scully's quiet resolve deserts her when she gets a look at Mulder's injury. Her gentle horror, "Oh, Mulder, what did they do to you? God, this needs tobe set. You’re in pain," makes me feel all mushy inside, and I don't think Mulder has much immunity to it, either. The gig is up, and has been for a while, even if he has vainly been pretending otherwise. Mulder is like a sulky little boy in his defeat—"Yeah, if you keep pulling it around like that," but at the same time, he basks in her care and concern. It is the comment of a man who wants all the mushy sentiment, yet also feels the need to protect his tough guy image. Of course, then he feels free to spill his guts to her.
They turn to a familiar and comforting scenario when they sit facing each other while Scully tends to Mulder's injury. Kudos to the show for rising above two stereotypes—an even more impressive feat because it comes purely from the depth of the two characters that makes this show so addictive. Mulder avoids the corny "I-can-get-beaten-to-a-bloody-pulp-and-not-bat-an-eyelash-but-when-a-woman-touches-me-I-wince-in-pain" situation. As I previously commended, David Duchovny gives a fine performance of a well-nuanced pain. "You might want to put that hood back on me unless you want to see a grown man cry." He doesn't cloak his physical pain in any false bravado or machoness, and I love him all the more for it. He's that much more believable as a man and a human being. In fact, I find him extremely sexy when he head-butts "the gimp" and shouts, "You touch me again, you'd better kill me!" Then, they avoid the whole "woman as natural healer" scenario (which has always irritated me—if a man came to me riddled with bullets or even a sprained digit, I'd be hard-pressed to have any clue what to do), because Scully is a medical doctor and would naturally know what to do with Mulder's injury.
That leads right into my other favorite scene, when Mulder walks into the conference room to meet with Skinner and the CIA agent. It took another viewing for me to realize that a conversation was even going on (the only thing penetrating was Mulder's "feed my fish" line)—all I could see, all I could concentrate on, was his injured finger in a splint. Telling all the world that he had been cared for. Someone had lovingly healed him, soothed his hurt, figuratively (and perhaps literally?) kissed the pain away, and there was the evidence for anyone to see. The CIA agent may have no clue what the significance of the splint is, but Skinner has to know—know that Scully had immediately gone to Mulder after their late-night discussion, and tended to him. I was thrilled to see Mulder display, with the casual ease of one who has the absolute right to enjoy such a privilege, the modern equivalent of his lady's favor, as back in medieval times, a woman would tie a slip of her dress to her preferred knight's suit of armor. It is almost as though she is there with him—his very demeanor, restlessness gone, suggests that as well. His somewhat contented countenance then delightfully brings back not so distant memories of a darkened apartment, a tender moment, and two FBI agents with a weakness for each other. At the end of this scene, Mulder is again imbued with that sexy mixture of courage and strength as he is sent off on a mission that may very well compromise his safety. But he shoulders his responsibility as does the most honorable of men—he sees it as his load to carry and he does so without attempting to shirk what he sees as his duty. At this point I can still sense Scully's presence in the room, hear her raging on Mulder's behalf, tearing the other two men apart for daring to risk her man's life—much as she does at the end of the episode.
Okay, so Mulder acted like an absolute idiot in the bank. He shouldn't have told the bad guys that the poor teller was still alive. Then, seeing as how no one could see the fellow but himself, when he was ordered to finish him off Mulder should have shot away from the guy and said that he had killed him. Instead, he kept completely silent, nerve-wracked by a situation that wasn't pleasant, no, but didn't have to turn out the way it did if he would have just thought about it a little. And for the second time in the same episode, it borrowed from another movie, Point Blank. The group of men, the masks, the bank, seeing it all on videotape later. In a way, I hoped that Scully was going to say that she recognized Mulder because she would have recognized him anywhere, and not because of the splint on his finger, but part of me is glad that they avoided the cheese.
But Mulder's absolute courage, the strength in his eyes, his absolute refusal to be cowered, head straight, looking forward, at a moment when he believes that he will soon be killed, redeems him utterly in my eyes. The sheer strength of honor that he displays reminds me that he is a law enforcement officer above all, ready to defend and die for the ideals and values that he himself regards so highly. This same integrity is what draws others into believing in him and his quest for the truth...and it is no doubt what draws his partner to him like a moth to flame. How can Scully resist these qualities in him that she herself holds inside her?
"What happened to your hand?"
Please feel free to
"Terrorist lie detector."
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me at jenu1bruin@centropolis.org
1999 by Jennifer J. Chen