The X-Files: I Want to Believe

I've been watching a lot of the old "The X-Files" TV series lately. Taken episode to episode, it's often fascinating and sometimes brilliant, like a "Twilight Zone" revival with FBI agents Mulder and Scully serving as Rod Serling. Taken in toto, it's a frustrating thing and why, despite its occasional brilliance, I didn't become a "TruFan." I just never believed, not completely.

And I bring up those issues in this review, written at the time of the film's release.

"That's not within your perview, Doctor"

The new "X-files" movie, The X-Files: I Want to Believe, feels just like an episode of the old series. They've returned to their old "haunts" filming in Vancouver, Canada. The mystery--the disappearance of an FBI agent--is solved, but not resolved. And Scully and/or "Spooky" Mulder spend a lot of screen-time working at x-crossed purposes searching for someone or something in a vacated building at night, with plastic sheets, rebar and lots of back-lighting, or in dark, drippy labs (why is that dark?) and what look like dilapidated double-wides in the sticks.

And they're bickering. Just like old times.

When last time we left Fox and Dana (in the series finale) they were one happy family with baby William* squeezed between them for that kiss it took the entire series to come to.***** By that time nobody cared a rip about Mulder's UFO-abducted sister, the bees, black oil, ET's, super-soldiers, and the government collusion concerning...well, probably all of it. Everybody was so confused by that time, the only thing the audience knew for sure was that Mulder and Scully had to get together.

Dr. Scully (Gillian Anderson) is recruited by the FBI to find Mulder (David Duchovny) ("What are you, my booking agent now?"), living by himself in a remote ranch-house presumably decorated by John Nash. He's been discredited, brought up "on charges" by the FBI (it's never explained--Hey, it's "The X-files!" They don't explain anything!**), but they still want his help.*** The Fed's have a lead from a psychic that they want Mulder to check out. He's a de-frocked Catholic priest and convicted pedophile who sees vague visions that might give clues to the missing Agent--or not. It does give an opportunity for the FBI's two biggest doubting Thomasi--he, of religion, she, of the supernatural—to lock horns and debate the whole movie. A psychic priest? They probably haven't had this much fun since they saw The Song of Bernadette!

While Mulder mulls with Father Joe (Billy Connolly), Scully goes back to work as a surgeon at the cheery Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Hospital, where her religion is tested with a patient who needs a radical stem-cell treatment, which gets the stink-eye from the father-in-charge, Father Ybarra. Scully threatens to take his objections to a higher authority. "I already have," says the priest.

While Scully deals with her perviews, Mulder deals with his perv's view, while we get to watch the perps do their dirty work, if we could only figure out what that was.

Creepy it is--you expect creepiness with "The X-Files," but there are none of those truly unsettling moments that trace an icy finger down your spine as the series could occassionally do. Nor are there any particularly good ideas that make you shake your head at the cleverness of the makers, those being "X-Files" veterans, Frank Spotnitz and Chris Carter. There's also a slight hint of homophobia, which might be attributable to its origins on Fox (20th Century Fox is the film's distributor).

 

But it's nice to see a continuation of the longest theological debate on television outside of Bishop Sheen. ****

I'd just like to see a question answered once in a while.

* A script complication dictated by Gillian Anderson's real-life pregnancy. Amanda Peet co-stars in this. She and Anderson must have compared stories of how a pregnancy can throw a TV series out of whack. Talk about yer complications.

** Consider yourself lucky to have the Credits! It's the only thing cut-and-dried in the movie!

*** If that doesn't make sense director Chris Carter defuses it somewhat at FBI headquarters by paying particular attention to portraits of Pres. Bush and FBI godfather J. Edgar Hoover. Oh, well...yeah...now it makes perfect sense!

**** And when you see it, be sure to watch all the ways through the credits for the answer to one question....

 

***** Again, this was written at the time of the film's release—there have been a couple more series continuations whenever schedules and salaries could be negotiated. But, even so, the ongoing story only seems to get more confusing—while simultaneously more internalized—than revelatory. 

The Way, Way Back

Written at the time of the film's release....

The Summer of Our Discontent
or
"Little Mr. Sunshine"

The summer "coming of age" movie is such a staple that it might be worthy of its own genre label, rather than merely being relegated to a sub-category. It's a natural, really. The timing seems right and appropriate for the subject of change. Summer always seems to be a time of transitions: from one school year to the next; from bring a graduate to a freshman, walking out of one door and into (and hopefully through) another one. And while the rest of the year is taken up by schooling, the ample three months of idle time gives one plenty of opportunity for other extracurricular learning—life-lessons from the school of hard knocks.

Take Duncan (Liam James), for instance (please, someone has to...) in the new film by Jim Rash and Nat Faxon (they won an Oscar for their superb script for The Descendants).  Fourteen, a 'tweener, his parents are divorced and Mom (Toni Collette) has taken up with another man. Trent (Steve Carrell), who has a daughter Steph (Zoe Levin). It is clear as this pint-sized Brady Bunch goes to an ocean beach house that it is not going to be anything resembling a beach-home. Duncan doesn't want to be there; he'd rather be with his Dad this Summer. Whether that preference has driven a previous wedge between Trent and Duncan is not know. What is known is that Trent is something of a jerk to Duncan. "One a scale of 1 to 10, what do you think you are?" he asks Duncan sequestered to the back of the station wagon on the ride to. "Six," says Duncan, noncommittally.

Duncan (Liam James) has a "thousand mile stare"

"I think you're a 3," says Trent imperiously.  "I just don't see you putting yourself out there..."

If Trent wanted to see Duncan put out, that remark was a good start.

Duncan settles into the teen routine of being a hot-house plant in a dark room, grunting monosyllabically at anyone over 30.  He can't relate to Trent's friends and neighbors, like the barely-together Betty (Allison Janney)—she has two kids, Susanna (AnnaSophia Robb) and Peter (River Alexander) and Kip (Rob Cordrry) and Joan (Amanda Peet).  And Mom, trying to heal after a divorce, is there for Trent. Duncan tries to be invisible and stay out of the way, and is emotionally unavailable.

It isn't until he finds Steph's abandoned pink bike (with tassles on the handlebars) that things begin to pick up speed and he feels like less of a trapped and pacing animal.  The bike gives him some mobility, some freedom, and it only has one seat, which is fine by him.  He starts to explore the beach-town and runs into Owen (Sam Rockwell at his loose best) who runs the local water-slide park, Water Wizz. Duncan gravitates there and that's when his Summer starts to get fun.  Owen takes him under his crooked wing, adding Duncan as park-help, and introducing him to what will be his new family, including Caitlin (Maya Rudolph), the responsible to Owen's irresponsible, and concessioners Roddy (Faxon) and Lewis (Rash). Pretty soon he's in a routine, interacting with sort-of adults and fitting in.

But, it causes conflicts within families; his long hours at the park causes concerns at home and puts him in further conflict with Trent, who has his own disappearing act issues.

It is no great shakes as a film, but it is a good movie, a movie you might enjoy. It is merely competent, well-written, extraordinarily cast and acted (the standouts being Rockwell and Steve Carell who works against type and proves himself capable of playing a deliberate jerk, instead of just a clueless one. And Rash and Faxon prove themselves as adept at directing as they are at screenwriting. In a disappointing Summer, this counts for a lot. And like Duncan's situation at Water Wizz, this little wayward breath of fresh air from the usual carnage perpetrated on screens is a welcome relief

The only explosion in The Way, Way Back