I'm going to open an X-file on this bran muffin.

The X-Files

11.2: This

(SPOILERS) Glen Morgan returns with a really good idea, certainly one with much more potential than his homelessness tract Home Again in Season 10, but seems to give up on its eerier implications, and worse has to bash it round the head to fit the season’s “arc”. Nevertheless, he’s on very comfortable ground with the Mulder-Scully dynamic in This, who get to spend almost the entire episode in each other’s company and might be on the best form here since the show came back, give or take a Darin.

Langly: Mulder, I need to know. Am I dead? If I am, they know that I know.

The idea of not only depositing humankind in a simulation but of us also being in one has a lot of currency lately, not least from science itself. David Icke’s very big on the subject, taking his cues from the Gnostics and The Matrix (or is it the other way round?), the former with their “bad copy” take on the antics of the Demiurge. While This doesn’t go as far as suggesting that we’re all in one not-so-great holographic simulation and that the physical universe isn’t remotely physical at all, it does curiously trace out a fleetingly similar – in typically sketchy X-Files fashion – envisaging of future events as the one Anjeliki Anagnostou-Kalogera presents in her Gnostic-influenced Can You Stand the Truth?, where she posits that the end of this simulation is nigh and that there are various plans afoot by the Archons to wrest humanity into a parallel universe when this one ends (that universe itself having only very finite time available, this attempt to stave off the inevitable end of everything that is not part of the “Hyper Cosmoi”). Why, she even brings in ETs, but as the old humanity from the future (or parallel universe).

Mulder: I was gone back then. Could Langly be alive?

In This, Barbara Hershey’s Erika Price (shoehorned into the final reel to create a causal link with the rest of the season, exactly as successfully as that sounds) announces that life on Earth is about to be crushed, that “The simulation is necessary for our evolution as a species”, and that the means to upload everyone, whether they like it or not, is currently feasible (via a cell phone; I’m sketchy on the efficacy of this, but okay), which will be the state of (most? The select few?) humans when the doomed planet is left behind (as part of space colonisation). It’s unclear quite how this fits in with the plan to wipe out most of humanity (if you can put seven billion in a simulation, the only thing stopping you is that you don’t want to), and in the Gnostic scheme of things, the more humans there are for the Archons to feed off, the better, so that analogy only runs so far.

Langly: It’s a work camp. We’re digital soldiers.

Of course, with The X-Files it’s wise never to get too hung up on the specifics; Langly tells Mulder and Scully that the Elite are using the minds of participants in the simulation to deliver the necessary science in order to leave the planet. Again, this is nebulous. Because they don’t have the tech they need already? I thought that was where the aliens came in?

Langly’s previously unmentioned girlfriend (as if Langly ever had a girlfriend) Karah Hamby (Sandra Holt) informs them that she and Langly theorised when signing up to the project that everything they were told about the simulation might not be true, and wondered, if they were placed in it when they died, “How would that life know it was a simulation?” For Langly, it’s pretty much as The Matrix told us regarding early failed simulations; it’s too perfect, a world where there’s no cancer, where he eats hot dogs and donuts all day, where The Ramones play every night and never fight, and the New England Patriots always lose (whatever the last one means): “I’m begging you, destroy it”. And that “They all hate it here” (the great minds, including Steve Jobs and Michael Crichton, the latter presumably writing hacky virtual pseudo-science airport fiction).

Kara: Maybe he saw Mulder in his dreams.

Mulder: Who hasn’t?

Morgan offers no fake-out realities with this scenario, though, one that seems entirely asking for them (if this had been an JJ Abrams series episode, it would have probably taken place from inside the simulation looking out), aside from a coda in which Langly reappears on his phone (“Mulder! They know what we know. Destroy the back-up”) and the psycho killer Russian shot dead earlier appears on the screen (and being The X-Files, does Mulder leave his friend languishing in favour of a new standalone episode next week? You bet). The lead in to this is rudimentary cobblers, with Mulder escaping Erika, meeting up with Scully and having a fight while she turns off the BIG machine (server).

Mulder: So the Russians who tried to kill us have had access to all our work.

Much of the rest of the material is faintly old hat. The private contractors aspect would have seemed much more topical a decade ago, Purlieu Services being an American contractor with Russian links (Russian links to the government because topical, right? Except that The X-Files is the last show that should be swallowing verbatim that what we’re told is fake news is fake news). Who put the X-Files on line, so know all about them (and deleted some of them).

Added to which, putting Skinner in duplicitous-seeming situations is plain lazy at this point in the run. His impromptu carpark speech, where everyone stops squabbling so he can deliver a spiel about how there are now seventeen US intel agencies, “All of them are in bed with one another while trying to exterminate each other, and that means each of us” at least gives Pileggi something to chew on, but it’s further evidence of this show’s unenviable old git syndrome.

Mulder: He’s dead because the world was so dangerous and complex then. Who’d have thought we’d look back with nostalgia and say that was a simpler time, Scully? Everything we feared has come to pass. How the hell did that happen?

The above is, of course, bunk. It’s the tired refrain of an older generation who should know better, since every older generation responds similarly. Getting agitated in the face of Trump only serves to make the current incarnation of The X-Files seem the more stranded, waving its arms about helplessly while dropping Snowden into conversation because he’s only about five years past being happening.

Mulder: Frohike look 57 to you the day he died?

Scully: Frohike looked 57 the day he was born.

What makes the more egregious aspects of this episode forgivable, however (the trail of clues in Arlington Cemetery is so much nonsense), is the banter between Mulder and Scully. First seen on the couch watching TV, it isn’t long before Duchovny’s doing Californication by way of Beavis and Butthead (“You said taint”) and waxing lyrical after a hard day wrestling bad guys (“Scully, you looked so adorable then. All curled up in a ball in a skanky bar with your fingers wrapped around the grip of our assassin’s Glock”). And he doesn’t get to hog all the good lines either:

Mulder: I’m going to open an X-file on this bran muffin. I’ve got to get to the bottom of why it tastes so freakin’ good.

Scully: I don’t care if it comes out of an alien’s butt. I’m going to eat the whole thing.

Morgan’s an infinitely preferable, more composed director than Carter, even though he has less experience. He should steer well clear of action sequences, however; the opening home invasion mistakes randomly cutting a scene to ribbons for a thrilling shootout. Mostly, though, This is welcome for getting the characters back on track, even as it needlessly rakes over old continuity in the process. Time was you could have a really great episode and really great character work, often from Morgan and Wong. I guess things were simpler then.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

I’m smarter than a beaver.

Prey (2022) (SPOILERS) If nothing else, I have to respect Dan Trachtenberg’s cynical pragmatism. How do I not only get a project off the ground, but fast-tracked as well? I know, a woke Predator movie! Woke Disney won’t be able to resist! And so, it comes to pass. Luckily for Prey , it gets to bypass cinemas and so the same sorry fate of Lightyear . Less fortunately, it’s a patience-testing snook cocking at historicity (or at least, assumed historicity), in which a young, pint-sized Comanche girl who wishes to hunt and fish – and doubtless shoot to boot – with the big boys gets to take on a Predator and make mincemeat of him. Well, of course , she does. She’s a girl, innit?

Everyone creates the thing they dread.

Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015) (SPOILERS) Avengers: Age of Ultron ’s problem isn’t one of lack. It benefits from a solid central plot. It features a host of standout scenes and set pieces. It hands (most of) its characters strong defining moments. It doesn’t even suffer now the “wow” factor of seeing the team together for the first time has subsided. Its problem is that it’s too encumbered. Maybe its asking to much of a director to effectively martial the many different elements required by an ensemble superhero movie such as this, yet Joss Whedon’s predecessor feels positively lean in comparison. Part of this is simply down to the demands of the vaster Marvel franchise machine. Seeds are laid for Captain America: Civil War , Infinity Wars I & II , Black Panther and Thor: Ragnarok . It feels like several spinning plates too many. Such activity occasionally became over-intrusive on previous occasions ( Iron Man II ), but there are points in Age of Ultron whe

If you ride like lightning, you're going to crash like thunder.

The Place Beyond the Pines (2012) (SPOILERS) There’s something daringly perverse about the attempt to weave a serious-minded, generation-spanning saga from the hare-brained premise of The Place Beyond the Pines . When he learns he is a daddy, a fairground stunt biker turns bank robber in order to provide for his family. It’s the kind of “only-in-Hollywood” fantasy premise you might expect from a system that unleashed Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man and Point Break on the world. But this is an indie-minded movie from the director of the acclaimed Blue Valentine ; it demands respect and earnest appraisal. Unfortunately it never recovers from the abject silliness of the set-up. The picture is littered with piecemeal characters and scenarios. There’s a hope that maybe the big themes will even out the rocky terrain but in the end it’s because of this overreaching ambition that the film ends up so undernourished. The inspiration for the movie

This entire edifice you see around you, built on jute.

Jeeves and Wooster 3.3: Cyril and the Broadway Musical (aka Introduction on Broadway) Well, that’s a relief. After a couple of middling episodes, the third season bounces right back, and that's despite Bertie continuing his transatlantic trip. Clive Exton once again plunders Carry On, Jeeves but this time blends it with a tale from The Inimitable Jeeves for the brightest spots, as Cyril Basington-Basington (a sublimely drippy Nicholas Hewetson) pursues his stage career against Aunt Agatha's wishes.

I’m the famous comedian, Arnold Braunschweiger.

Last Action Hero (1993) (SPOILERS) Make no mistake, Last Action Hero is a mess. But even as a mess, it might be more interesting than any other movie Arnie made during that decade, perhaps even in his entire career. Hellzapoppin’ (after the 1941 picture, itself based on a Broadway revue) has virtually become an adjective to describe films that comment upon their own artifice, break the fourth wall, and generally disrespect the convention of suspending disbelief in the fictions we see parading across the screen. It was fairly audacious, some would say foolish, of Arnie to attempt something of that nature at this point in his career, which was at its peak, rather than playing it safe. That he stumbled profoundly, emphatically so since he went up against the behemoth that is Jurassic Park (slotted in after the fact to open first), should not blind one to the considerable merits of his ultimate, and final, really, attempt to experiment with the limits of his screen persona.

I think it’s pretty clear whose side the Lord’s on, Barrington.

Monte Carlo or Bust aka Those Daring Young Men in Their Jaunty Jalopies (1969) (SPOILERS) Ken Annakin’s semi-sequel to Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines tends to be rather maligned, usually compared negatively to its more famous predecessor. Which makes me rather wonder if those expressing said opinion have ever taken the time to scrutinise them side by side. Or watch them back to back (which would be more sensible). Because Monte Carlo or Bust is by far the superior movie. Indeed, for all its imperfections and foibles (not least a performance from Tony Curtis requiring a taste for comic ham), I adore it. It’s probably the best wacky race movie there is, simply because each set of competitors, shamelessly exemplifying a different national stereotype (albeit there are two pairs of Brits, and a damsel in distress), are vibrant and cartoonish in the best sense. Albeit, it has to be admitted that, as far as said stereotypes go, Annakin’s home side win

Death to Bill and Ted!

Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991) (SPOILERS) The game of how few sequels are actually better than the original is so well worn, it was old when Scream 2 made a major meta thing out of it (and it wasn’t). Bill & Ted Go to Hell , as Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey was originally called, is one such, not that Excellent Adventure is anything to be sneezed at, but this one’s more confident, even more playful, more assured and more smartly stupid. And in Peter Hewitt it has a director with a much more overt and fittingly cartoonish style than the amiably pedestrian Stephen Herrick. Evil Bill : First, we totally kill Bill and Ted. Evil Ted : Then we take over their lives. My recollection of the picture’s general consensus was that it surpassed the sleeper hit original, but Rotten Tomatoes’ review aggregator suggests a less universal response. And, while it didn’t rock any oceans at the box office, Bogus Journey and Point Break did quite nicely for Keanu Reev

Just because you are a character doesn't mean that you have character.

Pulp Fiction (1994) (SPOILERS) From a UK perspective, Pulp Fiction ’s success seemed like a fait accompli; Reservoir Dogs had gone beyond the mere cult item it was Stateside and impacted mainstream culture itself (hard to believe now that it was once banned on home video); it was a case of Tarantino filling a gap in the market no one knew was there until he drew attention to it (and which quickly became over-saturated with pale imitators subsequently). Where his debut was a grower, Pulp Fiction hit the ground running, an instant critical and commercial success (it won the Palme d’Or four months before its release), only made cooler by being robbed of the Best Picture Oscar by Forrest Gump . And unlike some famously-cited should-have-beens, Tarantino’s masterpiece really did deserve it.

Poetry in translation is like taking a shower with a raincoat on.

Paterson (2016) (SPOILERS) Spoiling a movie where nothing much happens is difficult, but I tend to put the tag on in a cautionary sense much of the time. Paterson is Jim Jarmusch at his most inert and ambient but also his most rewardingly meditative. Paterson (Adam Driver), a bus driver and modest poet living in Paterson, New Jersey, is a stoic in a fundamental sense, and if he has a character arc of any description, which he doesn’t really, it’s the realisation that is what he is. Jarmusch’s picture is absent major conflict or drama; the most significant episodes feature Paterson’s bus breaking down, the English bull terrier Marvin – whom Paterson doesn’t care for but girlfriend Laura (Golshifteh Farahani) dotes on – destroying his book of poetry, and an altercation at the local bar involving a gun that turns out to be a water pistol. And Paterson takes it all in his stride, genial to the last, even the ruination of his most earnest, devoted work (the only disappoint

Piece by piece, the camel enters the couscous.

The Forgiven (2021) (SPOILERS) By this point, the differences between filmmaker John Michael McDonagh and his younger brother, filmmaker and playwright Martin McDonagh, are fairly clearly established. Both wear badges of irreverence and provocation in their writing, and a willingness to tackle – or take pot-shots – at bigger issues, ones that may find them dangling their toes in hot water. But Martin receives the lion’s share of the critical attention, while John is generally recognised as the slightly lesser light. Sure, some might mistake Seven Psychopaths for a John movie, and Calvary for a Martin one, but there’s a more flagrant sense of attention seeking in John’s work, and concomitantly less substance. The Forgiven is clearly aiming more in the expressly substantial vein of John’s earlier Calvary, but it ultimately bears the same kind of issues in delivery.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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