I went to see the new X-Files movie tonight. The company was excellent but the film was not to my taste . I wanted to love this film so badly but failed. It was two hours that passed pleasantly enough and I didn't dislike it at all except for the part where I shouldn't have been sitting there feeling nothing for long stretches.
I found the script nonsensical, and the dialogue desperately portentous and pompous. Some of the directions it took were lacking in clear logic, and confused. Googling? For specialist knowledge? Really? I am glad I know that I can do that, and will be taking up my career in particle physics just as soon as I have arsed about printing out photos of the large hadron collider.
There was none of the paranormal thrill in there for me, aside from Father Joe's visions, indeed the whole thing just reverts to a rather tame slasher movie which is taking its cues from Saw and Hostel.
The two FBI agents we see, Special Agent Flirty McBadmascara and Agent Dodgyrapper , are by rote drones, there just to mouth sceptic/believer standard lines, and are played in anodyne, featureless fashion. Though as hesychasm said, it goes to show that if you flirt with Scully's boyfriend you end up falling down a liftshaft.
I was fairly offended by the whole Russian serial-killing gay spouses on two grounds: firstly it's brass-plated xenophobic fail to make your villain wun o' them furriners -- and a criminal waste of the effortlessly charismatic and sinister Callum Keith Rennie -- secondly, I am sure I don't have to explain why it's just *rubbish* to draw a link between gay marriage, sexual deviancy and serial killing. Yes, you could say that he is motivated by love, rather than gain, but it's not done in an interesting way.
Of all the XF episodes I thought they might reference, I never imagined that they would go for "Home" -- and manage to leave out the parts that made "Home" twisted fun.
Finally, I didn't like the performances that much, with the exception of brief Mitch Pileggi and especially Billy Connolly. Parting company with the vast majority of my flist here, the two central performances weren't consistently doing much for me, as I felt the script kept demanding that they act as though this was *serious* and *important*, and that made any usual lightness of touch desert them. Gillian Anderson always does wonders with Chris Carter dialogue, and there were scenes where she was really good, and David Duchovny as Mulder is a lanky streak of hot with a smart mouth, but all the plotty heavy lifting they were doing made me tired. There was little gallows humour and precious few instances of quirky wit that I so loved about the best episodes of the series.
All the mobile phone and ceiling/pencil interface-related shoutouts in the world aren't enough to make up for that script, no matter how much fanservice there is in finally making the relationship loving and explicit. The end scene, after the credits? Let us not speak of it. I'll have whatever crack he's having. I've run out of WTF and the shops are shut.
Ultimately, I haven't seen a full episode of the show in maybe four years -- or maybe I did but I'm blanking on it. The DVDs are on my shelves in their shrink rap packaging. I bought 'em cheap, I'm saving 'em up, I'll watch them one day. The characters I love don't live in this film or, for me, on those DVDs. They live in my imagination and the imaginations of people who write them in a way that I love.
I believe my flist knows all and I wonder if you might help me:
What is the present equivalent of a song like Radiohead's "Creep", you know, I hate myself/the world and I want to die (but not really)-style teenage angst music? I am sure there must be something from that legion of American emo bands but I don't know any of their output at all. It has to be something as well known as "Creep" though, rather than obscure. It has to be well known enough that a factory in China would put it in a musical toy. Is there such a song?