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The Cave's X-Files Commentary Archives: Patient X/The Red and the Black Title: A Partnership
Out-of-Joint (with replies) I found something similar to be the case within this story arc. Though Mulder and Scully weren't physically apart the whole time, they were definitely mentally--or shall I say ideologically--on opposite sides of the fence. Knowing how much Scully needs the validation of others, it must have been particularly frustrating for her to feel those urgings brought on by the implant, only to find Mulder unwilling to believe her. Not that he's come around to a mainstream way of thinking, whatever that may be. He's still out on a limb; it's just a different limb now--from alien conspiracies to government conspiracies. But Scully is in a real quandary. She feels something at a gut level that goes against all her scientific training, and generally Mulder would be supporting what she feels, urging her to go with it. But all of a sudden Mulder has done a complete 180. So besides the misgivings her scientific side is causing, she does NOT have Mulder's approval on this, but rather his skepticism. Mulder, of course, cannot be having an easy time here, either. Though he is quicker than most to redirect (and he does see an enemy, and in his usual tenacious way, he charges off in pursuit), still, in the back of his mind it can't be easy to admit that "the truth I've been seeking for the past five years is the truth of a madman." Along the way he faces--in other people--the ghosts of what he once believed: Cassandra Spender's admiration and her conviction that his story had saved her; Scully in the hospital telling him that after his switch (and her lack of memory about what she had been through), she can no longer follow him. It is this declaration of Scully's that finally cuts through to his core. "If I could give you those memories," he says, and his voice has that gritty emotion we've seen in the FTF hallway scene and in the phone call he makes to Scully after his father has been killed. Scully--the only one he trusts, the only one he can confide in--detaching herself from him is the last straw, leaving him floating alone on an unfamiliar sea. So Mulder and Scully make their way through the events of the episodes strangely disconnected from each other. Scully gathers enough courage to suggest that maybe Mulder shouldn't be so quick to discount what Cassandra Spender has to say--a huge leap for her--but Mulder sees it only as validation of his theory that people have been well-brainwashed/controlled (it would have to be a good job to work on his skeptical partner). He is interrupted by the phone call from Marita Covarrubias; when he turns around, Scully has gone. I found this tiny snippet-of-a-scene to be real genius. There is a palpable emptiness here; that space of comfort where they meet each other is gone, vacant. Scully stretches herself here. It is difficult enough to admit to herself the things she is experiencing (the feeling of being called, etc.) in light of their conflict with her core scientific beliefs, but she does venture to broach them to Mulder, and in the encounter in the basement office, she defends Dr. Verber to Jeffrey Spender. Still, it is not without cost. Scully's body language after she tells Mulder she can no longer follow him show the emotional cost of voicing what she does. Toward the end she feels the need for reconciliation (interesting, since Scully is usually the more careful of the two to keep her distance.) She goes to Mulder's apartment and says she's reconsidered the validity of what she said during her regression. While she's surely given it careful thought, I believe she is also driven by a need to end the lack-of-sync that has characterized the entire episode. The essential little signs of their caring for each other are still here, though they tend to show up when only one of them is conscious: the way Mulder wakes Scully up in the hospital by brushing aside a lock of her hair; the way Scully reaches out for Mulder's hand as the regression becomes too intense. Finally, in the scene in the car at the end we see a thin line of connection reestablished (not surprisingly, under the pressure of events.) Having made the difficult switch in his essential beliefs about what is going on, Mulder once again has his world upended by new evidence. His "I don't know" in response to Scully's inquiry about what happened is a gem of acting on David's part and reassuringly--because we could use some reassurance at this point in such a melancholy tapestry--Scully is there to offer a harbor from the shrieking blasts of circumstance. Overall, these episodes left me feeling off-base,
partly because of the blatant reality of the alien craft themselves
(they have always remained relatively subjective until now--things that
might have yielded to alternate explanations--but their glaring reality
here strained my suspension of disbelief), and partly because of the
disconnect between two people who, in spite of their many difference,
constitute a partnership whose whole generally far exceeds the sum of
its parts. Here the partnership was "out of joint", to borrow a phrase
(thank you, Will Shakespeare.) It left me yearning for
something solid and familiar: that rock among the waves where you can climb up, just barely, and be assured you won't
drown. In the course of events (the X-Files being a work of fiction and conflict being necessary to a successful story) something like this could arise again, an internal threat to the unity that drives these agents. It's not always pretty, but it is real-life. How many of us have found ourselves in a similar situation with a friend/lover/spouse/child? Maybe that's what gave these eps such a three-dimensional emptiness for
me. Reply: "As usual" This is interesting, because my own feelings about these two episodes couldn't be more different! I think the key to my feelings is your last statement, "It isn't pretty, but it's real life." Watching these beloved characters struggle to maintain their connection, when everything else around AND WITHIN them is changing, for me is awe-inspiring. Isn't this a struggle we can all identify with? Each of them is given ample opportunity to drift away from the other; each is given many other paths to follow, many of which would be easier. Instead each of them, in their own way, tries to draw closer to the other even when events and their own feelings are pulling them apart. Just as one example, Mulder could have taken her doubts about following him further as a threat; instead he took it as an opportunity to help her, even though it might mean re-thinking his hard-won
skepticism. Scully could have refused hypnotherapy outright (seeing how it scared her before), but instead she went ahead, even though it meant facing her worst fears of being out of control. Thanks for all your thoughts. I didn't mean to say I didn't think the story wasn't well-done--or realistic; just (on a purely selfish level) that it wasn't what I wanted to look at right then, sort of like someone making you open up that door you talked about constructing so carefully in your own life. Know what I mean? Now that I think about it, I recall these as a few of (if not the ONLY) eps where both M and S are BOTH internally and significantly stressed. Perhaps that is why it is somewhat painful to watch. When it is only one of them who is feeling overwhelmed, we (the audience) have this feeling that all will be well, because push come to shove the other one will be there to back-up/support/comfort the distressed partner. Examples that spring to mind: Paper Hearts -- Scully is there to be the voice of balance/comfort/reason while Mulder is having his emotions and beliefs toyed with by Roche. Never Again -- (Yes, here I go with it again. Sorry. ) Though he's not sure what is wrong or how to fix it, Mulder's concern for the obviously distressed Scully is evident.
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