The X-Files

Season 1 – 65% – Watching the mysterious men behind the scenes herd Scully into the spooky Mulder's office after all these years is almost a sacred moment for me. It's just that "my" X-Files origins don't start until the very end of the season, when it's definitively clear that something isn't quite right behind the curtain. And even though Tooms still scares me years later, and Darkness Falls will never make me want to go into the woods at night, there's still something missing for me here. Maybe it's because this first batch has been served up on TV many times and I've never missed it, so it's ingrained in my memory pretty firmly and can't surprise me with anything after reruns and knowing the reveals. Fortunately, the scripts are so unmissable several times that even the first steps towards Truth deserve some respect. Season 2 – 75% – The Awakening. From the very beginning of Little Green Men, it's clear that we're a level up. Mulder is back in even smokier form (which escalates in the mythological bomb in Colony+End Game and even more markedly in the finale Anasazi) and Scully is already much more personal in her relationship with him, giving the viewer a noticeably greater appetite to embark on more and more investigations. And that we're in for a much more varied set of cases this time around. Whether it's the typical Chris Carter specialty The Host, the atmospheric climax of Die Hand Die Verletzt, or the perfectly bizarre standalone Humbug. It's a shame that there are still episodes where the viewer doesn't suffer, but unfortunately they feel almost forced. Otherwise, however, there is a rising satisfaction and enthusiasm over the graduating skeleton of a story. Season 3 – 85% – With critical success and high ratings, of course, come higher budgets, and Carter and co. have managed to make the most of it. Especially in the first half, there is no shortage of bloodied or mutilated bodies and more believable effects. But the basic improvement is the story. The government backstory has definitely become an impenetrable web of intrigue, and we get clear clues from the alien hints that the main storylines just won't let go of. What the spectacular Paper Clip, the paranoid Wetwired, or perhaps the best episode to date, the legendary Apocrypha, offer are matters that even amidst the avalanche of TV series nowadays would be talked about for weeks. Routine-to-bad episodes like Oubliette or Hell Money are still present, but as filler among the ilk of Smoker, Black Oil, perfect atmosphere or surprising humor, I'll happily forgive them. Season 4 – 90% – Welcome to the golden age. Mythology reigns supreme, standalone cases ooze with original ideas, and bad episodes don't even exist, just an occasional experiment gone wrong. Scully fights with herself, Mulder fights with everyone else, and I've definitely seen a season with no room to pause. Flashbacks to the Cigarette Smoking Man are interspersed with the cruelly realistic yet hypnotic episode Paper Hearts, a disfigured family comes knocking, and maybe the oil will flow. Season four, in short, was all one small, backwater office could have wished for. Season 5 – 90% – The expansion continues, and with it comes a wealth of creative ideas. This time there's something for everyone – lovers of paranoia in the oppressive Folie a Deux, fans of more action-packed cases in the woodsy Detour or the terroristic The Pine Bluff Variant, and the humorous mood is satisfied by the top-notch Bad Blood. The criticisms are hardly criticisms at all. As much as I have to build a monument for one episode (the opening double episode Redux made it to the very top of my imaginary ranking), others applaud the ones that didn't appeal to me (namely Stephen King's unconvincing Chinga or the all-too-routine Mind's Eye). But even despite that, it's easy to see how much they were thinking of their fans. Thanks for that. Fight the Future – 100% – As a standalone film, the first full-length adventure of the most amazing duo in FBI history is a great adventure experience, but it wasn't until I saw it as part of a larger whole that its brilliance truly overcame me. Almost immediately after the end of the fifth season, Fight the Future functions as a deep catharsis. Scully, just like Mulder, definitively carries the burden, the Syndicate reveals the origin of its operations, and in between the lines, the Truth we have been searching for all these years is hidden. The X-Files movie serves as a tribute to the series, a greeting to all the fans, but also as the best bait for future seasons. The heart of a true shipper couldn't be happier. Season 6 – 90% – The opening episode of season six is entitled The Beginning, and it's not just a new beginning in a plot sense, but also in the sense that the crew has moved pretty far south from inhospitable Vancouver, and it's immediately apparent in the plots. It's all sunshine, desert, and an entirely more positive visual atmosphere. And most importantly – qualitatively, it's still the pinnacle of the series. There's a lot of closure in the alien story (One Son) and the episodic plots hint at such archetypes as a body swap or a time loop. There are still brilliantly written and punctuated thrillers (Milagro, Field Trip), nostalgia (Three of a Kind and the ghost-written The Unnatural) and, more than ever, humor. After all, every once in a while there's an episode that, while poking a little fun at the premise, also gives the series something extra. Out of that barrel, one of my all-time favorite episodes, How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, leads the pack. And as the finale suggests, there's still plenty to go on and flesh out. As I've always liked the system of planting diverse ideas into episodic plots, there are a few themes in season seven that are unusual in a way that doesn't sit well with me on principle. Especially in the second half, there are themes that just ooze with wanting to be different at all costs on the surface, and First Person Shooter, Theef, or Fight Club are anything but great episodes. Suddenly the writers are unexpectedly keen on those, and successful cases like Amazing Maleeni or Je Souhaite hide a lot of sweat behind them. So why an 80% season? Because of the main story, Samantha, and the final Requiem. Everything featuring the main characters behind all the conspiracies and conflicts are all golden X-Files adventures, and then the final episode is one big treasure that would work perfectly as the complete end of the series. Except that I don't want it to be over. Season 8 – 75% – I'm glad I can still peek into the secret files, but the rollout of the new era was a bit jarring at first. Agent Doggett as an unapproachable tough guy works perfectly, it's just that the return to his roots in the form of gritty episodic cases doesn't really work for me. The individual mysteries are severely mediocre, and even audience favorites like Roadrunners fail to snap me out of my jaded lethargy. Fortunately, it doesn't change the fact that the mythology marks a step up, and the great Per Manum or the nerve-wracking DeadAlive return the series to safer realms. Then again, after one fancy return, the eighth season somehow kicks into gear at a literally cosmic rate, making the final impressions more positive than I would have dared to even hope for somewhere in the middle of the season. But the central plotline is clearly exhausted by now, and I'd hate to see my favorite conspiracies take the form of forcibly maintained filler. So it's good that the ending and the truth are very close. Season 9 – 85% – Easily the finish line. There were a hundred and one answers to the question "where could the last season go wrong" and it's a huge relief to me that it didn't. Doggett has found his permanent place and Monica Reyes had already established herself as a newcomer by the end of last season. Much is made, of course, of Annabeth Gish's deep eyes, but even more pleasing is the fact that Monica, unlike Scully or Doggett, doesn't need to be convinced that she can "believe". The scripts abandon the concept of unnecessarily frequent dark episodes and aren't afraid to experiment surprisingly successfully (4-D, Audrey Pauley, or the extreme Improbable). As a result, the standalone stories are, with a few exceptions (the unnecessary Underneath and the tiresome-to-death John Doe) a level above the past two seasons, and the series as a whole at times reaches for the same ratings as the golden days of seasons four through six. The mythology, however, sends it down a notch. There are still some above-average or thrilling episodes, but Nothing Important Happened Today and the two-parter Provenance/Providence are unfortunately the weakest of the main story of the entire series. Fortunately, bits like the poignant William and the perfect Release are there to wrap up almost all of the side-stories of recent years. Still, one big answer was still left hanging. The Truth – 90% – Many gave up on finding it during the long years and hundreds of episodes, but it's still here. The truth revealed itself in all its beauty at the very end and proved one crucial fact – Fox Mulder belongs to The X-Files. Of course, I can't overlook Dana Scully, and I also fell in love with Doggett and especially Monica. However, the most interesting threads regarding the syndicate, colonization, abductions, black oil, and Samantha simply suit that inconspicuous geek who enjoys sunflower seeds. The final installment shows that super soldiers or William undoubtedly captured attention, but they were qualitatively one step below. The Truth itself is thrilling, liberating, and above all nostalgic in its recapitulatory mood. The amount of familiar faces never ceases to amaze, and personally, I was most pleased with Krycek and most moved by The Lone Gunmen. And as a true shipper, I can only say about the last minutes, "Maybe there's hope..." I Want to Believe – 90% – A pure gift for the fans, disguised as a movie that even uninformed or semi-informed individuals will appreciate. It will not be appreciated. Paradoxically, those who watched the series years ago and have it in their memory as a series of monster cases from forests, channels, or polar regions mixed with extraterrestrial chasing, will be the most disappointed. However, those who spent nine television seasons with Mulder and Scully and understand the bond they have developed, or references to William, will appreciate this winter odyssey more. The series offered several dark episodes where paranormal phenomena were not the central point of the script. But here, everything is two or three levels more personal. Thanks to that, the underrated film is not only a thrilling thriller but above all a mental cleansing for both main characters. In short, a (literal) wave to an unforgettable phenomenon, which the series undoubtedly deserved. It will be remembered beautifully. (03/08/2008) (less) (more)

Until the last moment, I didn't believe that in today's time, especially after the infamous results of the second movie, the whole project could be successfully brought to a conclusion, and I was even more excited after the first viewing. The series that introduced me to the continuing television stories is back and has everything that it succeeded in years ago. The most positive surprise is the realization that it is continuing without hesitation in the same tone where it left off last time. The final (and now almost legendary) two-parter The Truth has closed all the original avalanche of questions and the following (partially rejected by fans) I Want to Believe is not about the search for visitors, conspiracies, and hidden truths, but about the search for oneself. However, its mood is closest to the new stories in terms of my enthusiasm. Its own doubts are, in fact, the driving force behind the entire revival, and surprisingly, they find their place in EVERY episode. Perhaps most satisfying for me, surprisingly, are Darin Morgan's two episodes, Founder's Mutation and Home Again, which are sufficiently scary but primarily surrounded by moving family storylines, proving that the events surrounding William in the last seasons have an essential and inevitably tragic undertone even after so many years. Among Morgan's episodes, the more wild Mulder & Scully Meet the Were-Monster discreetly slipped in, which understandably caused outrage or misunderstanding among unfamiliar viewers, but for those who remember legendary lighthearted rides such as Bad Blood or Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space', it brings perhaps even more enthusiasm. Because, in addition to the typical narrative methods, the creators also brought back the self-depreciation, which will only be fully appreciated by those who paid attention years ago and remember more than yellow Tooms' eyes or glowing forest insects from the original series. Chris Carter remains a chapter entirely to himself. While, for surprisingly high percentage of viewers, the long-lasting background full of abductions, colonization, or black oil was to some extent a necessary evil, for me, these stories redefined the word mythology. All the storylines, including those related to not-so-lovingly-known super soldiers, were always something more, which reliably magnetized me every time, even during weaker periods. That's why I was shocked when I had to admit after the opening My Struggle that such a weak mythology episode had never been before, and I was genuinely worried about the fate of the requested revival. When the aforementioned trio of episodes proved me wrong, another episode written by Carter, Babylon, came – and again, it disappointed me because, like in the previous case, it worked in its details (the bond of the main duo, allusions, jokes on the edge of parody), but as a whole, it was chewing on a desperately uninteresting story. That's why the boulder that fell off my heart after the final My Struggle II was as heavy as the largest meteorite. Right there, finally, someone-you-know-who reveals a glimpse of their eternal plans, right there, more close encounters threaten, and I am genuinely concerned about the fate of the legendary heroes. At the very end, I'm not angry that the six-part nostalgia, originally intended as a final tribute, ends up being a regular series that will likely have a continuation. I'm not angry because the moods during the viewing experience haven't changed much over the years, and they fit into the series without any problems. I am genuinely moved by Gillian Anderson's performance, which unexpectedly overshadows even the otherwise perfect David Duchovny. While he plays Mulder as someone who has been beaten up, whose blind faith and destructive skepticism have already taken their toll, Scully's role as a regretful, insecure, and hopeful woman until the very end is quite tough, and as the episodes progress, it becomes clearer that some roles simply cannot be dropped. And I want to believe that this is just the beginning of something bigger. (25/02/2016) (less) (more)

For so long, I believed. Several times I have read the opinion that the whiniest fandom is Star Wars. "True" lovers of the original trilogy consider the prequels too romantic, one sequel too similar, another too different – and this makes them somewhat laughable. I agree with that, with one exception. They only come in second in whining. The true crybabies are the orthodox fans of The X Files, who probably demanded the continuation just so they could constantly complain about it. Because no matter the episode, it deserves to be erased. One learns that funny episodes too often devalue the series' legacy, dark ones do not fit in the present, mythological storylines no longer interest anyone, memories of old plotlines bother new or forgetful viewers, modern elements seem ridiculous, and no matter what the original idea is, it always turns into any possible outcome. And unsurprisingly, Chris Carter himself caught the first wave of criticism. Sure, it was a decent challenge to introduce such a major twist right in the first episode, but to blame the show's creator for destroying it was a bit too much for my taste. This is his work and no matter what he does, it is just his development, not destruction. Not to mention that we already received blows to the head from him in the original series, when more than once he left me in shock or tears with his revelations. He's just playing with the audience until the end, like few creators do, and not everyone has the stomach for it. Of course, this does not change the fact that My Struggle is a fitting name for both (including the previous season) of these episodes. Carter is struggling with the new mythology, every line or twist draws blood, and it shows how much he is now working hard on it. Maybe that's why I like him even more and I would easily include the finale of the whole series (?) among my favorite episodes ever. But other artists hit the nail on the head as well. The Lost Art of Forehead Sweat is a perfectly self-aware tribute in a mischievous spirit, which only the truly invested heart appreciates, Kitten reminds us of Skinner's focused gems Avatar and Zero Sum. Nothing Lasts Forever brings back memories of the ninth season, specifically the moment when the last episodic storyline (in the case of Sunshine Days) focused on an individual who constantly watches TV and adjusts his surrounding world according to it – and despite the bloody harshness (which, in fact, is the aspect that I like the least about the show), it earns points in a big way thanks to its sufficient care for the main characters. And finally, the almost detached appetizer with the blatantly trolling title Rm9sbG93ZXJz, which best demonstrates the shift that the series has undergone over the past quarter of a century. In the beginning, even the then-current case of troublesome technologies in Ghost in the Machine seemed funny, while now this dialogue-driven thriller is not lacking in frostiness, relevance, black humor, or irony – and by the way, it easily competes with the famous Black Mirror. Surprisingly often and surprisingly strongly, however, I feel nostalgia from the season as a whole. All those who could write individual contributions this year are calmer, more thoughtful, they know more compared to the tenth season, they know what they can afford because this time the break was only two years, not more than a decade. But above all, there is a sense of acceptance of the end coming from everyone. They were given a chance that many TV shows do not get – to end it once again, to fix what they felt was unfinished in the original ending. And I can feel all the emotions that they could experience while writing, not just in the last ten minutes, which, in the spirit of a giant ancient tragedy, bring storylines that have been hanging in the wind for twenty years to a close. (18/04/2018) (less) (more)