The X-Files 20th Anniversary Blogging: "Small Potatoes" (April 20, 1997)

The fourth season of The X-Files (1993 – 2002) represents a remarkable and fertile time in the series’ history and development.  The ratings were through the roof, and creatively the stories pushed the limits in terms of on-screen horror (“Home”), but also in terms of character development. 

On the latter front, Scully developed cancer during this span, and the Chris Carter series also adopted a new, often askance perspective on Mulder. In episodes such as “Never Again,” Scully found herself objecting more and more to Mulder’s way of doing things, and even, after a fashion, rebelling against his mentor-ship.

The de-mythologizing, or more aptly, humanizing of the main characters continues in a comedic little masterpiece called “Small Potatoes,” an episode which is actually anything but small.  In this tale written by Vince (Breaking Bad) Gilligan, Mulder and Scully confront a loser who can re-shape his face and body so as to become anyone he chooses.

But significantly, Eddie Van Blundht (played by series writer Darin Morgan) alters his physical appearance not merely for the purposes of sex, but because he longs for some touch of romance or sense of connection in his unhappy, lonely life.  He can’t find that connection as himself, and so he must shroud his true identity to attain the happiness he seeks. Eddie even approaches one woman, a former girlfriend, in the guise of her movie hero, Luke Skywalker. 

It’s a weird paradigm: Van Blundht can only be his best self when he is imitating someone else.

“Small Potatoes” explicitly contrasts Van Blundht’s desire -- as a living, breathing X-Files -- to reach out and relate to people with Mulder’s opposite approach; the agent’s all-consuming desire to understand the X-Files, a task which, a priori, prevents him from reaching out in a personal, romantic sense. 

Dynamically and unconventionally then, “Small Potatoes” suggests that as a (romantic) partner, Van Blundht may actually preferable to Mulder, at least for Scully, who also longs for some sense of deeper human relationship outside the work culture. 

This is a matter that The X-Files takes up again in the fifth season, as Scully’s longings to become a mother come to the forefront.  But the point is that she is asking questions about her life, and becoming impatient with it as it stands.  She wants to take a next step, and possibly with Mulder, but he is not ready.

So in short, the theme of “Small Potatoes” might be viewed as a pretty big swipe at the handsome, heroic and dedicated series protagonist, Mulder.  For all his intuitive genius, for all his brilliance, he is emotionally arrested.

Still, this installment thrives as both a comedy and trenchant examination of character because Mulder and Scully are both keenly observed, and David Duchovny goes all in -- and I mean all in -- for his comedic performance as Blundht-in-Mulder’s-Guise.

In a small town in West Virginia, four infants with tails are born to four different sets of parents.  When Scully (Gillian Anderson) and Mulder (David Duchovny) investigate, they determine that this genetic anomaly can only mean one thing: all the babies stem from the same father, perhaps a sperm donor.

While looking deeper into this mystery, the duo discovers that a custodian in a local doctor’s office, Eddie Van Blundht (Darin Morgan) is the culprit. 

He not only once had a tail (which he had surgically removed), but possesses a bizarre muscular condition that can alter or re-arrange his features.  He uses this ability so that he can mimic the physical appearance of any man…and thus have sex with any woman of his choosing.

Soon, Van Blundht escapes from police custody, transforms into Mulder, and sets his lascivious sights on Scully…

The crux of the issue in “Small Potatoes” is made plain during a trademark moment of fast-paced dialogue between our twin “lenses” on the world, Mulder and Scully. 

Scully remarks that in terms of Blundht, “looking like someone else and being someone else are two different things.”

Mulder’s thoughtful reply is that people judge other people by appearances, and so if our appearances did change “the world would see us differently.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” He asks her.

Unwittingly, Scully must consider that philosophical point up-close and personal when Van Blundht -- appearing as Mulder -- shows up unannounced at her apartment with a bottle of wine, gets her a little tipsy, proves very good at listening and empathizing, and almost lures Dana into the sack. 

The real Mulder breaks in on this scene, and realizes what is occurring. Van Blundht has stolen his life, and worse, may be doing a better job managing his relationships than he has done!

The sad truth that even Mulder comes to explicitly realize (when he comments that he’s “no Eddie Van Blundht”) is that the chameleon in their midst possesses the very qualities that one might desire in a romantic partner. 

Against him, Mulder realizes, only half-joking, he doesn’t exactly measure up.  Mulder’s never brought over wine to Scully’s house, never asked her about her teenage years, and never taken up an interest in her life just for the sake of “knowing her better.” 

There’s a great scene in this episode of Van Blundht (Duchovny) pretending to be Mulder in front of a mirror, pulling out his badge and gun, and quoting macho dialogue from Scorsese’s Taxi Driver.  But the episode essentially holds up a mirror for Mulder.  With just a little bit of action on his part, he and Scully could be together, but he never takes that step.

But again, a loser like Eddie does. 

Or as Eddie tells Mulder: “I was born a loser, but you’re one by choice.”

In this final recognition of Eddie’s triumph, and Mulder’s failure, the comedic “Small Potatoes” suddenly switches gears.   The focus moves from a unique monster-of-the-week to a very telling commentary on the kind of life Mulder has lived, and chooses yet to live.  Mulder’s a “damned handsome man” to quote Van Blundht, so what’s he waiting for?  Why doesn’t he make a move?

The question becomes, regarding Eddie:  is he just putting on a show for Scully and the other women so he can bed them?  Or is he legitimately just a guy who seeks connection and romance in an otherwise humdrum life, but lacks the self-confidence as “himself” to make that connection? It’s a testament to the complexity of the series that this question is not definitively resolved, and there’s room for interpretation.

Throughout The X-Files, the series writers play with the idea of a Scully/Mulder romantic relationship, but never quite take the plunge (until the end of Season 8).  An episode such as “Small Potatoes” -- which hints at what a Mulder/Scully coupling could look like -- serves an important function.  For one thing, it helps tide fans over between longing looks, the first kiss, and other milestones in the Mulder/Scully relationship.  But in another case, it reiterates a significant theme.  No development in The X-Files comes without some kind of price, or some kind of uncomfortable truth. 

For Mulder, the case involving Eddie Van Blundht puts the onus on him to overcome his inertia.

So again, why doesn’t he make a move? The answer, I believe, simply comes down to that conversation Mulder and Scully share about how people are “seen” by others.  In a relationship that starts out with respect and friendship, there’s much to lose in the transition to romance.  Mulder can’t be someone else --unlike Van Blundht -- and so he must live with the consequences of his relationship choices.

Next Week: “The Post-Modern Prometheus.”