I wasn’t going to watch the X-Files movie this weekend (why is the singular form of movies not movy?). I mean, the trailers can best be summed up as: “zzzz FBI zzzzzzzzzz Mulder zzz Scully zzzzzzzzz It’s here! (scottish accent) zzzz Here! zzzz Here! zzzz Here! zz! HERE! zzzzz.” Chris Carter found god and wants to bludgeon us over the head with his new bullshit spirituality by reanimating one of the beloved shows of the 90s. There is no reason at all for “X-Files: I want to Believe” to exist.
And yet, I was over at Salon.com reading one of my favorite writers there and damn it all if Rebecca Traister’s excellent piece on Ms. Dana Scully didn’t get me kinda wanting to drive over to the theater. You should all go read the article as there is nothing I can write on the subject that she doesn’t say better. Some people are Mulder people. Some are Scully people. I’m the latter. I mean, she’s a redhead, c’mon! I must admit, I never saw the episode where it is suggested that Scully is immortal, and this intrigues me to no end. Sigh, there could have been so many great places to go with another X-Files movie and instead we get two burnt-out characters trying to help a child-fucker priest solve mysteries.
I’m trying to convince myself that it’s morally acceptable to go watch The Dark Knight again and then hop into The X-Files. On the one hand, I don’t want to support Chris Carter since he’s been a hack for about 10 years and completely killed the show back in the day. On the other, Gillian Anderson should really be getting more work. Sadly, I know in my heart that if I go see Batman again there’s about a 75% chance of me just leaving the theater afterward.
PS. It’s nice to see that the Sex and the City backlash has already begun amongst my favorite feminist authors on Salon.