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Monday, July 28, 2008

X-Files: I Want To Believe

There’s a reason for the “X” in things. Ex-husbands, ex-lovers, ex-bosses, extra-cream cheese… in the end you know you’re going to regret having wasted your time on ‘em. You know it’s true. You get into a relationship all full of commitment and complete dedication and over the years something happens. Some call it “the ‘S’ word” but for this semi-squeaky clean Princess of the Keyboard I’ll call it ‘life.’

For nine years (1997 – 2003), my perfect husband was slavishly devoted to the television series “The X Files.” He treated that series as if it were his mistress, devoting all of his attention every Sunday evening to that supernatural slut, and she just taunted him, week after week, with the alluring promise that the FBI agents in the show would finally discover not only that “the truth is out there” but what it really is. Sixty minutes a week she’d pledge something she wasn’t ever planning to actually deliver. What a clock tease she was. Meanwhile my role in all of this was to turn a blind eye and simply deliver the nachos and 7-Up to the end table next to my perfect husband’s Lazyboy™ recliner so he and “The X Files” could be satiated in style. Then I’d sit quietly nearby and try to understand what the allure of this show really was. I know. I was an enabler, but it beat being married to my ex-husband, who could have qualified for investigation as an X-File if you ask me.

I’m sorry, I know how devoted “X-Files” fans are, and I would never want to mock anybody (stop laughing!!!), but I just didn’t feel it, at least not at first. It was a cold, dark, and hollow-feeling show and half the time I couldn’t tell if the main characters loved one another or hated each other. In other words, as I eventually realized, it was exactly like my first marriage.

So flash forward five years since the show went down the tubes and I got my perfect husband totally back. Life was good again, and then, suddenly, his pants are pointing straight towards the Essex Cinemas as soon as I told him
The X Files: I Want To Believe was playing. I’ll bet you can guess where our next stop was going to be.
I barely remember the first “X-Files” movie, simply called The X
Files. Trés créateur, non? I recall it had bees in it and the story revolved around some alien virus and a syndicate of men who were in cahoots to keep all the alien secrets to themselves or some twaddle like that. Like I said, it’s been a while.


Anyway, now the original stars are back for
The X Files: I Want To Believe. Yes, the title says I Want to Believe. Well, may I just say that I want to believe that this time around the story is going to be more exciting and engaging than the series was in its final couple of seasons. I want to believe that Gillian Anderson (How to Lose Friends & Alienate People) and David Duchovny (tv’s “Californication”) can show more than two expressions each. I want to believe that this movie might actually answer some of the thousand or so lingering questions that were left hanging at the end of the series like somebody’s faded ‘granny panties’ flapping on a rusty old clothesline in the wind. I want to believe The X Files: I Want To Believe will keep me awake for two hours.

Okay, so I can guarantee you that it fulfilled that last wish of mine without much trouble. The mere fact that series creator, director and co-writer Chris Carter (along with series veteran writer Frank Spotnitz) had the cojones to make the psychic at the center of the movie’s controversy a pedophile priest was just contemporary and emotionally charged enough to grab my interest. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When the film opens we find Dana Scully back to her first profession, as a surgeon, working in a Catholic hospital of all places. Now, I always thought Scully was the skeptic of the duo, so I found it a bit off that she’d be employed by a religious institution, and one with a raging piece of rectal tissue at the helm, an unpleasant man of the cloth named Father Ybarra (Adam Godley; Elizabeth: The Golden Age). Why Scully would put up with Ybarra for more than two minutes is a miracle to ponder, but that’s not what this movie is about. When a field agent comes to the hospital to ask Scully if she can get in touch with Fox Mulder, she informs him that they don’t work together any longer and that neither is affiliated with the FBI. Of course, the very next scene cuts to Scully showing up at Mulder’s house out in the boondocks. Yep, he’s still as buggy as ever, with clippings everywhere, his famous “flying saucer” poster intact on the wall, and all the usual clutter you’d expect of Mulder. He’s older, bearded, but wiser? Eh? If he was wiser, we wouldn’t have any movie.

Quicker than you can say “Whatever happened to Agent Doggett or The Lone Gunmen?” these two are wrapped up in a case involving a couple of missing women in rural West Virginia and this psychic priest, Father Joseph Crissman (Billy Connolly; Open Season), who claims his only motive for helping is his own penance. That may be true but even though it has been years since his days of buggering altar boys still nobody wants to shake his hand, yet alone sniff his fingers, but, then again, would you? Xzibit (Gridiron Gang) plays a very skeptical FBI Agent named Mosley Drummy who is nearly as annoying as Scully’s boss at the hospital, with all his griping and whining, but someone has to say all the crap he does as a skeptic and Gillian Anderson isn’t going to say it. Actually, I’m not sure she can say it because with all the Botox® and Restylane® in her face the expressions necessary to look as p.o.’ed as Drummy does is not something Ms. Anderson could manage.

In the midst of the investigation Mulder is forced to defend himself from attack by a couple of Rottweilers and, even though it is off-screen, he bashes in their heads and kills them both, leaving the snow bloodied and covered in brains. I mention this only because you just know PETA is going to get
their collective panties in a bunch over this, which I love only for the drama of it. I always enjoy a good drama as long as it doesn’t involve me. And, believe me, I know just how vicious those PETA beyotches can be. When I tossed the e-vile Dennis, my first husband, out of the house, they wanted to picket in front of my door because one of their members was driving by at the time and thought I was kicking a lame water buffalo in the ass on his way to the curb.

So how fabulous can a movie be that stirs the pot and causes an uproar with the Catholic Church, PETA, supposed psychics, and the pedophile community? That is, assuming the latter has a community, and if they do, then ewwww!

Actually, after the whole Brooke Bennett tragedy in central Vermont last month I guess we now know that the pedos do have a community, which is disgusting and
horrible enough, but I’m an ADHD baby and so I’m currently more distressed and distracted this
week with a story I read about in our local weekly, Seven Days, about a 22 year old woman, Alla Katsnelson, who died suddenly and was buried at Lakeview Cemetery by her loving parents, Boris and Marina, in a plot they purchased from the City of Burlington years ago. Well, apparently, the City screwed up because part of the cemetery is reserved strictly for members of the local Temple Sinai, and City of Burlington sold the Katsnelsons three plots in that part of the cemetery by accident.

Even though the Katsnelsons are Jewish they are not members of Temple Sinai, and so Rabbi James Scott Glazier of Temple Sinai has gotten his yarmulke in a twist and taken legal action to make the Katsnelsons dig up their daughter and move her corpse elsewhere. In the meantime, while this matter is dragged out in court, Carol Rubman, a member of the Temple Sinai cemetery board, has repeatedly been seen stopping by the cemetery specifically to rip out all flowers and shrubs the Katsnelsons have planted or left at Alla’s grave and throw them away. Wow! I have to give it to the folks at Temple Sinai. They’ve topped the pedophile priests that have embarrassed and scandalized the Roman Catholic Church in the past several years for shameful conduct.

At least the Catholics only preyed on living kids. It looks like those in charge at Temple Sinai are willing to go one step further and f*** over a dead one. Now that’s really creepy! Maybe someone should call Scully and Mulder in on the case.

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