Mark with an X

Both Darren Mooney, over at them0vieblog, and Keith Phipps of the AVClub, firmly locate The X Files in the 90s. They cannot be faulted for doing so, either. Every time we see a laptop or a mobile phone, we know where we are in time. Mooney goes further, identifying the whole series as capturing the zeitgeist of the decade. And, again, it would be hard to gain say his assessment. So, accepting that this TV show is such a product of its time it is almost a synecdoche, does it retain any value for 21st century viewers – can a 90s TV show have anything to say to a world so vastly different to the one in which it had its initial airing?

In a sense, this is like asking if Shakespeare still has relevance. You can quibble over whether it is insulting to the Bard to be compared with a mere TV show, but that is because we have, generally, such a low opinion of our own greatness when measured by Shakespeare. As Sharon Stone pointed out recently, to be recognised as great doesn’t mean to be great in everything. One can hardly imagine Shakespeare writing The Sopranos let alone a single episode of The X Files. Only a fool would say that certain TV shows are mere rollercoaster rides in comparison to Shakespeare. Tony Soprano may not be as philosophical as Hamlet, but he is no less a tragic figure – caught up in a world of murder and revenge and the expectations of a father.

To say The X Files is so quintessentially nineties as to be superfluous today is to say that because Macbeth is fighting for the crown of Scotland (something which no longer even exists), the play has nothing to say today. When speaking of a Shakespeare play it sounds ridiculous – well, so it is of any great story; even stories written for the gogglebox. Ultimately, the answer to the question of why Shakespeare is still relevant today comes down to a matter of themes True, Shakespeare delivered these themes wrapped in great writing, but Macbeth seeing a dagger before him, rather than a Glock 43, dates the play every bit as much as Scully’s laptop. Shakespeare is so distant, of course, it doesn’t matter and we never think of it as dated. Why then should we limit The X Files? Obviously, only because Mulder and Scully are using the same technology we use today, the same technology upon which this text is written. And that’s partly the point, this text couldn’t have been written on Mulder’s phone. We only date the things we know. We don’t date a Shakespeare play because there is nothing about it that is practically useful today. But an SF film or series from the 70s will inevitably look dated today because the technology is something we do practically recognise. And judge as inferior because it fails to match the standards of today.

It is a rather facile criterion on which to judge great storytelling, but it has always been so. Compare the three great Ancient Greek tragedians and you’ll find each bringing something new to the game so that, eventually, what once was radical became passé.

We live in an age in which being new is deemed an aspect of quality. So it is that so many great films, especially black and white films, go unwatched and unknown. I ask Secondary School students constantly if they’ve seen this film or that, knowing full-well they’re going to say they haven’t. Imagine my surprise, recently, when a 15 year old not only had heard of Alfred Hitchcock but was excited at the prospect of watching one of his films in class (Rebecca (1940), because Du Maurier’s text is on the set text list – to my great joy, as she is one of my favourite writers).

But, Hitchcock brings my whole argument into question. People do still watch Hitchcock films and don’t bother about whether it’s dated or not – despite the telephones, cars, clothes and lack of hand-held devices. Why?

Well, to hark back to that great commentator on modern Hollywood, Sharon Stone, Meryl Hitchcock is the pinnacle others must aspire to, with or without oxygen.

It is an artificial selection process that seeks to persuade us that what is new is what should be watched.

Anyone with half a brain can tell you that Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979) is a better horror film than almost anything produced in the last ten years; just as one can say, without fear of serious contradiction, that Michael Curtiz was a better Director than 95% of all Directors working today. One can say this because, well, Curtiz directed Casablanca, so, beat that! But, also, those directors were working with a new technology and were exploring its possibilities as they went along, pushing and stretching it in ways they wanted it to go. Nowadays, an average jobworth can do in his sleep what probably used to cause sleepless nights. Scott’s Alien is one of the last films that created a sense of horror rather than just show us horrific scenes.

What Scott did with Geiger’s designs, on a limited budget, is a huge part of what makes the film so great and still relevant. If only those in Hollywood who believe all you have to do is throw money at the screen would listen to the evidence!

It is often cited that David Fincher was working with an unfinished script and that this, in part, was why Alien3 disappointed (though I actually quite like it). Michael Curtiz, when filming Casablanca (1949), was working from a script as it was being written – nobody knew, at the beginning of filming, how it would end! Yet, Curtiz directed (in my opinion) the best movie ever and Fincher directed a disappointment. Workman blaming tools?

My point, really, is simply that some people, in whatever the medium, can tell great stories. And great stories remain relevant because, to be great stories, they must tap into fundamental themes that remain timeless. To judge a story by any criteria other than it’s themes is like judging a wine by the donkey that hauled it to market. To judge The X Files by its time is like saying … well, you know.