30 Years Ago: The X-Files: Jose Chung's From Outer Space (April 12, 1996)

Darin Morgan’s stories for The X-Files (1993 – 2002) are something of a philosophical anomaly. 

Where Mulder and Scully typically voice facets of belief or skepticism, Morgan often populates his episodes with a lead character who is a surrogate for his own belief system: nihilism.

That surrogate in “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” is an opportunistic “non-fiction/science-fiction”writer, Jose Chung (Charles Nelson Reilly) who is seeking  a quick buck by writing a history of an alien abduction experience.  

And at one point in the episode, Chung directly diagrams this episode’s theme: “Truth is as subjective as reality.”

This statement of principle, as you may detect, is deliberately and distinctively at odds with a series which made famous the catch-phrase “The Truth is Out There.”   

How can truth be subjective, if it exists in some definable place, “out there?” If it is subjective, is the truth even worth seeking?

This thematic tension represents merely one glory of The X-Files as a multi-layered and meaningful work of art. The Chris Carter series can accommodate different points of view and different philosophies so long as Mulder and Scully remain true to their beliefs and histories as the audience understands them.  Morgan’s episodes are so much fun -- and so provocative -- because the scribe stretches the boundaries a bit, but never totally breaks them. In this case, the lead protagonist role is taken by Chung, an act that permits the storyteller to present a different philosophy while sacrificing nothing we know in terms of continuity.  

To wit, the alien-abduction and Mulder and Scully’s role in its investigation is largely recounted in flashbacks this episode.  Under this creative paradigm, memories, essentially, are “portrayed” or dramatized as answers to Chung’s probing interview questions. In true Rashomon (1950) style, the viewer has no way of knowing or verifying the honesty or veracity of each account.  In other words, the author’s point that the truth is subjective becomes manifest in the very absurdity of many witness reports.  

This is a funny development, to be certainly but also a complex one, for it leads to Darin Morgan’s final, existential truth about our human existence. Since there is no objective truth for us dwelling here on Earth, only interpretations of it, we are truly -- in a variation of Close Encounters’ (1977) ad campaign --“alone.”

Two teens in Klass County, Washington are imperiled by dueling aliens on the way home from their first date. A popular author, Jose Chung (Reilly), interviews Scully (Gillian Anderson) about the case and she recounts her perception of it.

Scully and Mulder (David Duchovny) have a difference of opinion about the truth of the case, however.  Mulder believes there was a genuine alien abduction while Scully believes the matter was date rape and ensuing post-traumatic stress. 

Meanwhile, a witness to the odd events of that night, Rocky, claims that a third alien -- one from the Earth’s molten core and named Lord Kimbote -- was involved, as were two unearthly Men in Black.

Unable to discern the truth for himself, Chung hopes to interview a reluctant Mulder about what really happened that fateful night…

I’m not passing judgment on this aspect of the episode, but a deep cynicism shines through in “Jose Chung’s From Outer Search.” 

That cynicism concerns humanity’s eternal quest to know the truth.  Through a series of re-enacted events related to one bizarre alien encounter, this episode by Darin Morgan suggests that human memories are inherently and fatally flawed and therefore unreliable arbiters of fact or history.  For one thing, humans may lie on purpose, without others knowing it. To this end, we learn that the teenagers involved in the close encounter actually had sex on their date, and are desperate to hide this fact from their parents.

So memory being wrong is one thing, but some people encourage wrong interpretations because they boast hidden or unknowable agendas.

Morgan’s critique of truth goes further.  “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” also expresses doubt in truth-searching tools, ones developed under the auspices of man’s science; tools such as hypnosis.  Here, hypnosis is termed explicitly in the dialogue as a procedure which “worsens” rather than “enhances” human memory.  In other words, human memory is bad but memories re-surfaced during hypnosis are even worse.

Intriguingly, “From Outer Space” also indicates that the desire to know the truth -- in this case to believe in alien life forms -- is merely a primal scream shouted in response to a nihilistic human existence, and a delusion or blind alley fostered and encouraged by a complicit mass media.  The episode’s first shot, for instance, is of an object (actually a work crew’s crane…) that could easily be mistaken for a UFO.  

In fact, this inaugural image knowingly harks back to the first sequence in Star Wars (1977), with the triangular Star Destroyer intersecting the frame, as well as a moment from Close Encounters (1977), wherein Roy Neary spots a large object overhead, hovering in the dark Muncie sky. 

Those productions nurture in us, the episode seems to indicate, some sort of romanticism about the nature of life and the universe.  It’s a false or unfounded romanticism, according to Morgan/Chung.

More important, however, is the fact that in this shot we believe we’re seeing a spaceship at first glance.  As we watch longer, however, we become aware that we are actually seeing something much more mundane, something utilitarian and man-made.

This visual joke thus perfectly reflects the idea that we can’t ever be sure that we are correctly seeing, registering, and interpreting external stimuli.  Our desire for the romantic (look, it’s a spaceship!) supersedes our rationality (oh, it’s a work crane!) and our brain seems to respond to our deeply-held desire see that which isn’t, plainly, there.  And if this is so, it means that our perception, our memory, our very truth, is suspect.

At the end of the same scene, we witness the appearance of an intentionally silly-looking “monster,” Lord Kimbote.  This hairy, cyclopean thing seems based on an amalgamation of creatures from 1960s Ray Harryhausen films.  No matter -- our eyes immediately discount Kimbote as fake or corny.  

Here’s the point, however.  We don’t visually “read” the Greys nearby in the same dismissive fashion.  On the contrary, they seem “real” in a way that Kimbote just does not (perhaps because the Greys reflect 1990s mythology instead of 1960s mythology/fantasy…) 

Morgan’s message is thus that we shouldn’t stand in judgment of other people’s belief systems, because they are all equally flawed and yes, silly.  Why accept dome-headed Greys from space without question, but nit-pick Lord Kimbote from the center of the Earth?  Is one “being” intrinsically a nuttier idea than the other?  Or are they insane on a co-equal level?

It’s a little like saying that you believe in the literal meaning of communion (eating and drinking from the literal body of Christ), but that you draw the line of believability at the Pope’s infallibility.  

Everyone draws this line differently…

And, of course, if we draw that line differently and can’t objectively support our belief system, then we are, for the most part, alone in our belief system.  

What I find so interesting, however, is the last few moments of “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space.”  Here, Morgan establishes how the abduction has influenced each “alone” individual to change his or her life for the better.  A teen girl at the center of it has become an activist hoping to save the world.  The boy she was with that night, contrarily, has been reconfirmed in his (unrequited) love for her, and has made this love the center of his (meaningless?) existence. 

And Mulder, of course, tilts forever at Morgan’s impossible windmills, looking for answer to things that aren’t really questions in the first place.  Why seek truth when there is no truth?

“What really happened to those kids on that night?”  Chung asks Mulder.  His answer is “how the hell should I know?” 

For Mulder such an answer might result from a lack of facts, or a need for more investigation and research.  But for Chung it’s a validation for the belief that we are all animals trapped in our cages of subjectivity, unable to know the truth or reality of any event in our lives.

Undeniably brilliant and categorically funny, “Jose Chung’s From Outer Space” is another signature X-Files episode.  I appreciate it intellectually, and it always makes me laugh.  Yet it is not among my personal favorite episodes of the series because I tend to believe that we, as humans, must search for the truth, even if it is, finally, a fool’s errand.  

The journey is worth the trip, and even if truth is ultimately found infinitely subjective, it still may be enough to help us sleep better at nights, or accept our limitations as flawed, mortal creatures. Sometimes, a little bit of self-delusion isn’t necessarily a bad thing, if it can keep us looking to the stars, or to the next horizon. 

30 Years Ago: The X-Files: "Syzygy" (January 26, 1996)

Although it is not widely considered a signature episode of The X-Files (1993 – 2002) like “The Host,” “Irresistible,” “Home,” “Pusher,” or “Bad Blood,” Chris Carter’s “Syzygy,” now three decades old, is nonetheless one of my favorite installments of the two-hundred-plus strong catalog.  

In part that position of favor arises from the episode’s deliberate and crafty re-purposing of familiar horror tropes.  In a very real way, the story is a wicked inversion of Stephen King’s Carrie (1976).  Only here, the victimizers and not the victim acquire paranormal abilities of terrifying strength.

In other words, this episode -- with its focus on high school cliques, Valley Girl lingo (“Hate him!”) and adolescent concerns -- proves something akin to Carrie meets Mean Girls (2004).  I find that creative equation practically irresistible in terms of the episode’s humor quotient.  And although I am a huge fan of Darin Morgan and his humor-based stories for the X-Files, his installments tend towards the nihilistic end of the spectrum.  For all its inherent wickedness and violence, “Syzygy” proves much less of a downer.

I also very much admire the way that “Syzygy’s” secondary plot about the Mulder (David Duchovny) and Scully (Gillian Anderson) relationship plays as a reflection of the main plot involving the partnership of two teen girls.  In both cases, there’s something clearly amiss, and in one case that "wrong-ness" is merely funny while in the other it proves incredibly dangerous.

Episodes like “Syzygy” (not unlike the underrated “3” in the second season) remind me how elastic and flexible The X-Files format remains.  One week it can be a a dead-on, serious exploration of a terrifying and taboo subject (like “Irresistible”), another week it can be a statement of personal philosophy (“Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose,”) and on yet another week it can playfully invert horror tropes and comment meaningfully on astrology and on human relationships.

What also makes the episode so much fun to watch and re-watch is the razor-sharp, hysterically-funny (and often caustic...) back-and-forth between Scully and Mulder.  Although some fans may not like the humor or subject matter of "Syzygy," it's impossible to deny the fact that the episode is brilliantly-written.

Three popular high school jocks have died in the small town of Comity in as many months, and local authorities, including the attractive Detective White (Dana Wheeler-Nicholson) suspect Satanic cult activity.  

Mulder and Scully look into the matter and Scully immediately suspects that two teenage cheerleaders --Terry Roberts (Lisa Robin Kelly) and Margie Kleinjan (Wendy Benson)-- are somehow involved since they both witnessed the most recent death.

Suspiciously, the two girls are also present when a basketball who offended them is mysteriously crushed by the school gym’s retractable bleachers.  

A local astrology, Madame Zirinka (Denalda Williams) informs Mulder that the girls may possess unusual powers because of a once-every-84-year planetary alignment of Mars, Mercury and Uranus, a so-called syzygy.

This planetary alignment also seems to be having an effect on Mulder and Scully, who become, respectively, horny and snippy…

A syzygy might be defined as (according to Wikipedia) “a kind of unity, namely an alignment of three celestial bodies (for example, the Sun, Earth, and Moon) such that one body is directly between the other two, such as occurs at an eclipse.”  

But importantly, a syzygy might also be described in terms of psychology, as “an archetypal pairing of contra-sexual opposites, symbolizing the communication of the conscious and unconscious minds.” This definition explains a Jungian conceit, one that suggests two people in relationship might take on opposite sexual characteristics from their norms.

Not surprisingly, both definitions of syzygy are applicable to this episode of The X-Files.  First and foremost, the episode concerns astrology, and the effect of planetary bodies on human bodies.  

Although I am not an astrologist by any means, I have always found -- perhaps to my detriment as an intellectual -- that there is a certain veneer of believability to some aspects of this belief system.  We know for a fact that there exist cosmic forces such as gravity, and that they do boast an impact on matter and energy, for instance.  Therefore, it does not seem such a gigantic stretch to suggest that a shift in such cosmic forces could impact humans in some strange or mysterious way.

In terms of astrology, I can only sort of/kind of/not-really confirm a funny old old wives tale: For many years, I worked as the office manager in my wife’s psychological practice, and all the employees who worked with me firmly believed in the idea of “lunacy;” that the full moon brought out the worst behavior in patients, ranging from bad phone manners all the way up to self-injury. The Scully in me wondered if the timing of these incidents was a coincidence, or merely our perception of the events while the Mulder in me questioned if there might indeed be some validity to the theory of the full moon exerting a more powerful influence upon some people.

But in terms of “Syzygy,” the astrology factor is the story device which permits the author, Carter, to examine the behavior of teenagers, and then, essentially, amplify that behavior to an unimaginable, fearsome level.  We’ve all known cruel girls (and boys) in high school, and witnessed how their selfish interests become the essential orbit of all activity in their social circles.  The planetary alignment in “Syzygy” thus reveals what happens when dangerously narcissistic adolescents are suddenly able to act immediately on all their worst, selfish impulses.  It isn’t pretty, but in many ways, it is pretty funny.

Much more intriguing than the mean girls, however, is the way that Carter uses the idea of the “syzygy” in regards to Scully and Mulder.  In this episode, the couple encounters a "third body" in the form of the (hot...) Detective White, and the new alignment immediately throws off the familiar relationship.  Rob Bowman, the episode's director also deserves kudos for his sterling compositions in the episode, which often reinforce how the presence of a "third" body (White's) sends Mulder and Scully spinning into erratic orbits.  Just look at the framing below and you'll get a sense of what I'm talking about:

Three bodies in alignment or conjunction? Or are they out of alignment?

If we return for a moment to the second definition of "Syzygy" -- the psychological conjunction of two people taking on opposite sexual characteristics -- the episode becomes even more intriguing. 

I’ve written about this aspect of the series before, and David Duchovny has also publicly mused on the subject, but in many ways, the sex roles of Mulder and Scully on The X-Files are reversed.  Scully is much more analytical and closed-down emotionally (which are stereotypically male characteristics), whereas Mulder is more open and questioning (stereotypically female characteristics).  

In this episode -- as Scully and Mulder are impacted by the planetary alignment -- their roles reverse again, and new facets emerge.  Mulder becomes a prowling, boozing, perfume-smelling, horn-dog, and Scully is suddenly jealous, sniping, and second-guessing.  Before anyone gets mad at me for such colorful, blunt description: these are intentionally comical extremes, and the episode makes the most out of them.  Another way to put this, usually Mulder is more female and Scully more male in nature, but "Syzygy" brings out their traditional sex roles instead...and their romantic chemistry is entirely "off" because of their reversion to societal norms.

But finally, I would argue that this episode works splendidly because, in some sense…we all have moments like these in our relationships, even without astrology conjunctions. Sexual attraction isn’t a constant.  Neither is flirting or romantic banter.  Sometimes, even with our most loved ones, things get...strained.  Irritation seeps in.  Familiarity breeds contempt.  

I love the fact that “Syzygy” uses the conceit of an astrological conjunction to reveal a very human side to Mulder and Scully’s often-idealized romantic relationship.  Indeed, I feel like they are closer, more identifiable, and much more real in our imaginations because of stories just like this one, where there are moments of pure exasperation and annoyance.  

I suppose what I’m arguing here is that it isn’t a stretch to believe that Mulder likes to Bogart the driving duties out in the field, or that he frequently second-guesses Scully’s directions.  I find that some of the best moments in The X-Files are those that bow to the reality that even partners as close as Scully and Mulder sometimes get on each other’s nerves.  It’s human.  It doesn’t mean they love each other any less.

As usual, “Syzygy” seems even more impressive the deeper one digs into its creative DNA.  The name of the town where all this craziness occurs, for instance, is “Comity,” which means "friendly or social harmony." And “comity” of course is the one quality totally lacking in the town, both between Terry and Margie, and between Scully and Mulder.  

And the fact that Keystone Cops footage keeps playing on every TV in sight is a dynamic reflection of the fact that the planetary syzygy has also frazzled Mulder and Scully’s usually-sterling investigative talents.  They are clueless and competitive throughout most of the episode, bungling each stage of the investigation, and they can’t get their acts together.  

I also categorize “Syzygy” as part three of the “American Suburbia” subplot of the ongoing series. Earlier installments include “Die Hand Die Verletz” and “Our Town.”  

In all three of these stories, a small American town is revealed to boast a seamy underside, and to be under the sway of some sinister influence, whether it is Satanism or cannibalism. All three of these episodes also involve, to some degree, the mob mentality, and therefore feature some resemblance to The Twilight Zone’s classic “The Monsters are due on Maple Street.”  

In each X-Files story of this type, hysteria and finger-pointing -- as well as mob behavior -- ultimately undo the “comity,” or sense of community, at least until Mulder and Scully arrive and can restore some sense of order or balance. 

30 Years Ago: The X-Files: "War of the Coprophages" (January 5, 1996)

Thirty years ago, writer Darin Morgan returned to The X-Files (1993 - 2002) with "The War of the Coprophages," a humorous installment of the series that gazes at humanity with unblinking and unromantic eyes. In particular, the story involves the “insect mind” as it relates to cockroaches.

However, “The War of the Coprophages” also compares the relative purity and simplicity of the insect mind to the “over-developed” human mind, a biological machine which permits for non-useful responses or “reactions” to threats; responses such as paranoia or hysteria, for example.  

These mad human responses are highlighted specifically in the episode’s townspeople of Miller’s Grove, MA, who display ignorance, the mob mentality, and terror in the face of the impossible: an apparent concentrated attack on the town by cockroaches.

Importantly, and humorously, all the gruesome deaths in the episode are a result not of roach attacks at all, but irrational human responses to the proximity of roaches, creatures that our eyes and minds register as “monsters.”  In fact, the gory deaths in the episode have the same effect on us, as viewers, as they do the townspeople.  We are not able to put aside our discomfort with the bugs long enough to take them out of the “suspect pool.” This fact gives the episode a highly reflexive quality: we are squirming in our seats at the grotesque bug swarms while the characters on the screen do approximately the same thing.

Finally, the last piece of this complex and funny puzzle is the fact that some of the roaches featured in the episode are actually outside observers of mankind, alien probes who are visiting our world…and find us with all our over-developed neuroses and psychoses on full display.

What, "The War of the Coprophages" wonders, must aliens make of this strange human species?

The tiny town of Miller’s Grove, Massachusetts has a bad bug problem.  It is teeming with cockroaches, and murderous ones at that.  Mulder (David Duchovny) is in town to investigate reports of UFO activity, but the roach attacks merit his full attention soon enough.

Although Scully (Gillian Anderson) scuttles the notion of swarming, attacking cockroaches, Mulder learns of a top secret Department of Agriculture experiment in town examining a new breed of roaches.  

More curious than that, however, is evidence that suggests the roaches may be metallic, perhaps alien probes sent from another world to examine this planet…

In Morgan’s “War of the Coprophages,” the gorgeous and intelligent Dr. Bambi Berenbaum (Bobbie Phillips) notes that cockroaches “eat, sleep, defecate, and procreate” and yet have no sense of romance, mythology, or exaggerated sense of importance about these rudimentary biological activities.  

This dialogue is a deliberate voicing of Morgan’s theme in the episode, that beings such as cockroaches see life in a clear, practical, and real way that human beings simply do not.  This thesis applies as well to our treatment of insects, as the episode’s final "squashing" scene reveals in spades.

To wit, even intelligent, educated, sensitive Fox Mulder can’t overcome his irrational human programming of terror when confronted with an insect.  In the end -- and even in light of everything he now believes about the cockroaches of Miller’s Grove -- he can’t resist the temptation to squash a bug.

The (defensive) violence is ingrained. It’s hard-wired.  And it is absolutely, patently irrational.  Mulder's head may want to offer "greetings from Planet Earth" to the possibly extra-terrestrial bugs, but his heart wants to destroy that which is different, and that which has terrified him since childhood (when he first saw, up close, a preying mantis).

Importantly, “War of the Coprophages” twice makes mention of my all-time favorite science fiction film: Planet of the Apes (1968), and in particular, the final dialogue on the beach shared between Dr. Zaius (Maurice Evans) and Colonel Taylor (Charlton Heston).  The discussion there is explicitly about destiny, and how it concretely exists, whether Taylor will “like what he finds” or not. 

In the case of “War of the Coprophages,” Morgan's point may very well be that biology is our destiny. 

Therefore -- to some extent, our destiny is irrationality: a fear of that which is different.  We look at bugs (or any creature) across a vast gulf of suspicion and fear and can't make peace with them.  This gulf is explicitly visualized in the episode during one impressive composition, which features Mulder and a police detective staring down a sink drain at an escaping bug.  This shot transforms the drain into a kind of a tunnel, and so subtly suggests mankind's "tunnel vision" when viewing things which are "alien" to us.  

Somehow, we are always looking at these"alien" things over a vast, irreconcilable distance...

The theme “irrationality is our destiny” plays out in other aspects of the tale as well.  Mulder lies and claims that he loves insects, all in an attempt to woo the desirable Bambi.  He has thus placed great importance on “winning” this attractive woman, so much so that he would betray his own core principles, and friendships (as we see in his curt telephone responses to Scully, once Bambi has arrived in the picture).  

Meanwhile, Scully -- who provides a lecture on rationality to the townspeople of Miller’s Grove -- is equally irrational and unable to overcome her hard-wiring. She has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that all the deaths in the Massachusetts town are unrelated, and that there is no need for her to travel to the burg to check things out.  But when Mulder mentions Dr. “Bambi” on the telephone, Scully races up to the scene of the crime, intensely jealous and afraid of being outclassed by the entomologist.  Her hard-wiring tells her to fight for the man with whom she has invested so much love, support and time: Mulder.

Again, the inference is that we place unnecessary importance on (and mythology around) simple acts, like procreation, so much so that we don't even understand why, sometimes, we do the things that we do.

The “War of the Coprophages” also returns The X-Files to its epistolary roots (harking back to Stoker's Dracula and Shelley's Frankenstein...), by prominently featuring Mulder’s written (and voice-over narrated) summation of the tale. His computer report concerns man’s apparent inability to rise above his hard-wired fears and irrationality and Mulder is clear-headed and thoughtful in his presentation.  He wonders what aliens must make of us, and our emotional, nonsensical acts.  He sympathizes with the "other," which is his gift as investigator.

Then, acting emotionally and nonsensically, Mulder squashes a nearby bug with his case report file.  This is a perfect Morgan-style ending to the episode.  The writer often delves into nihilism and absurdity, and here he positions Mulder -- our heroic protagonist -- as someone totally incapable of growth, no matter the power of his intellect.   The final destruction of the (harmless) insect by psychologist Mulder is all the evidence anyone needs that man's destiny, his programming, is most difficult to overcome.

The X-Cast: "Familiar"

I loved getting to discuss an iconic X-Files monster, Mr. Chuckleteeth and the episode "Familiar" on The X-Cast! 

Check the episode out, below!

The X-Cast: The X-Files I Want to Believe (#46): "I Don't Believe This"

 I return, with host Kurt North, to discuss another moment of the 2008 film, The X-Files: I Want to Believe.

The X-Files I Want to Believe Minute (#45): What Joe Sees (with JKM)

 

I'm on The X-Cast podcast, helping out on an amazing, moment-by-moment analysis of the 2008 feature film The X-Files: I Want to Believe.

Check it out!

30 Years Ago: The X-Files: "Ice" (November 5, 1993)

The X-Files episode “Ice,” which first aired thirty years ago, on November 5, 1993, is a sterling tribute to one of the science fiction genre’s greatest short stories: Who Goes There? (1938) by John W. Campbell.  

That novella is set in Antarctica and involves a group of scientists who discover an alien ship and pilot that have been trapped frozen in the ice for twenty million years.  When thawed out, the extra-terrestrial pilot is revealed as a dangerous shape-shifter, one who can “hide” in human and other biological forms.  

In the end, the alien invader is barely stopped (with just a half-hour to spare…) before it can escape isolation and reach (and contaminate...) the rest of Earth’s population.

“Who Goes There?” has been re-imagined several times throughout film and television history.  The Thing from Another World (1951) starring James Arness was one such effort, though it eliminated the shape-shifting nature of the alien menace and replaced it with a humanoid plant, a so-called “carrot.”  

John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982) proved a more faithful adaptation of the original story, and is perhaps the most well-known version today.  It inspired the 2011 prequel.  

On television, Doctor Who (1963 – 1989) featured a 1976 serial called “The Seeds of Doom” which involved the discovery of an alien plant pod in Antarctica's ice from 20,000 years ago.  That seed was the heart of a planet-devouring vegetable monster called a “Krynoid.”  

And on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993 – 1999), a race of shape-shifters or "Changelings" called the Founders proved detectable -- like the Thing -- only by blood test in episodes such as the third season finale, “The Adversary.”  The blood test was featured in the original novella and proved the most popular (and perhaps most effective…) sequence in the Carpenter film.

The Thing (1951)

The Thing (1982)

Doctor Who: The Seeds of Doom (1976)

“Ice,” written by James Wong and Glen Morgan and directed by David Nutter, remains a notable variation on the Campbell theme, one bolstered by some unique, even trademark X-Files twists.  

In fact, this episode might be Exhibit A in terms of my theory about the series as a whole; that it deliberately re-purposes commonly told tales in the genre and then imbues them with new meaning and relevance for the 1990s.

From Campbell’s source material all the way to "Ice" we see a similar location (an ice-bound installation), a similar threat (an alien) and even the presence of a dog as an infection vector.  But “Ice,” uniquely, develops in an original fashion because in The Thing, for example, there aren't many close relationships on the line.

Instead, the story has been interpreted frequently as a comment on man’s alienation from his fellow man.   

Nobody trusted anybody in The Thing because nobody really liked or even knew anybody else.  Hidden inside a man's skin, the Thing was indistinguishable from man.  What does that say about man?

It's alive!

The X-Files deliberately explodes that artistic conceit by landing two sets of dedicated partners or allies into the paranoia blender and then diagramming the manner in which close-relationships contend with the possibility of individual infection.  The responses are either burgeoning independence (Scully) or total abandonment of personal will in favor of the stronger personality’s will and desire (Da Silva). 

In a way, The X-Files amplifies the horror of The Thing.  It’s one thing to face a shape-shifter in a battle to the death when there is no one you really care for to worry about on the battlefield.  But in “Ice,” Mulder and Scully have one another to fight for, and must face the very real possibility that one of them could die or be permanently infected.  They are more "connected" individuals than many we meet in various versions of the Campbell story.

Are you who you are?

I am who I am.

In “Ice,” Mulder (David Duchovny) and Scully (Gillian Anderson) join a team of scientists including Dr. Hodge (Xander Berkeley), Dr. Da Silva (Felicity Huffman), and Dr. Murphy (Steve Hytner) to investigate the deaths of a government research team at a base in Alaska.  

The team had been digging deep down into an icy shelf believed to be a prehistoric meteor impact.  Without warning, however, the members of the expedition began murdering one another, reciting the mantra “we are not who we are.”

After a helicopter pilot named Bear (Jeff Kober) flies the team to Alaska, Mulder and Scully discover that the previous team had found core samples containing strange alien worms frozen in the ice…from 250,000 years earlier.  

At least some of these worms have thawed out in the base, and discovered that human beings make for perfect hosts.  

While living on the excretions of the hypothalamus, these parasites also cause extreme paranoia and aggression in their prey….

Who do you trust?

An almost unbearably claustrophobic and tense hour, “Ice” is a deliberate nod to Who Goes There? and The Thing, but also a tale, ultimately, about territoriality.  

The episode’s climax reveals that two worms cannot exist in the same host…or they will kill each other.  Similarly, the episode-long tension between Mulder and Hodge -- each looking to assert leadership -- nearly imperils everyone.   Both men believe they are right in their belief-system and engage in a kind of paranoid “pissing” contest, trying to swing the allegiances of the other team-members to their viewpoint.  

There’s even an amusing scene here where the men must strip down naked to check each other for signs of parasitic infection.  Mulder jokingly reminds everyone that they are in the Arctic, a not so-subtle joke about penis size. 

But joke or no joke, the matter of which man possesses the “biggest dick” -- to state it inelegantly -- is  a sub-text in this particular tale.  Once you make the thematic connection, it’s intriguing to see how the “territoriality” theme mirrors the infection theme.  A terrified Bear asserts control of the situation early on, since he is the only person capable of flying the plane, and he stakes out a command position early.  Simultaneously, he is the first infected by the alien organism.   Power and infection are definitively linked.

Then, after Bear dies, the battle of wills moves over to Hodge and Mulder.  Soon, nobody is certain which of them, if either, is infected. In the end, we learn that neither man was infected, only that each was driven (by adrenaline? by testosterone? by ego? by all three?) to attempt to take charge of the situation.  

Why were they so aggressive, if neither was actually infected?  Is it simply the human condition?

Why can't these two get along?

Why can't Mulder and Hodge?

Just remember, we're in the Arctic...

The underlying social commentary, then, seems to concern man's capacity for self-destruction, particularly if he doesn't get his way.  This quality impacts even the usually sensible (and sensitive) Mulder.  What complicates this issue of territoriality, and what is explored rather fully in “Ice” is the notion of allies, friends and subordinates in such a dynamic.

Dr. Da Silva is Hodge’s ally, but treated like a subordinate, and Scully is Mulder’s ally and equal.  Neither woman is truly impartial or on the side-lines,  but Hodge bullies Da Silva to see things his way, and acts in a borderline abusive fashion in his treatment of her; thus keeping her in line.

Scully -- recognizing the weight of evidence against Mulder at one point -- backs Hodge over her partner.  She never gives up on Mulder, and finds way to protect him, but she is able to weigh the facts…and the facts seem to go against Mulder's perspective. 

Unlike Da Silva, however, Scully is not cowed into making a decision by either Mulder or Hodge.  Instead, she studies the available facts and makes a logical decision, to Mulder’s dismay, since her choice doesn’t favor him in the short term.  Scully thus becomes the de facto leader because she is able to bridge the gap between parties.

Scully’s behavior in “Ice” is another key development in the fledgling series. This week, Scully must face the difficult possibility that Mulder, because of infection, has become a murderer and a psychopath.  One thing I love about The X-Files is that this possibility doesn’t impact Scully’s affection, feelings, or loyalty for Mulder.  She wants to protect him and wants to heal him, but to do that, she must first make certain he doesn't represent a danger to everyone.  She uses science and wisdom to do so, again showcasing her finest human qualities.

Given all this dramatic material, it’s probably fair to state that what “Ice” truly involves is relationship dynamics in a difficult situation, where no clear chain of command can be respected or even determined.  

Going further, "Ice" involves the way that men sometimes behave in a crisis. Who do you choose to follow?  Why does someone, like Mulder, choose to lead?  

The elegant quality of this thematic dynamic is, as noted above, that it mirrors so beautifully the nature of the aliens of the week.  There can’t be two big worms (another phallic symbol…) vying for the same “command” post, or else hostility, anger, and violence will result.

Location plays a crucial role in “Ice’s” success as drama and as horror.  The episode feels like a pressure-cooker because after the first act, it never leaves the claustrophobic outpost interiors.  All versions of “Who Goes There?” are set in icy environments, and that sets up an imposing, endless sense of isolation.  Not only is there terror inside the various “Thing” outposts, but terror outside as well.  

The frozen environment will kill you too, just not as quickly as an alien invader.  

In other words, a person can’t just run outside and catch a bus to escape.  The Arctic or Antarctic installation in all these production is thus a trap within a trap.  Escape is simply not possible.  The "monster" must be reckoned with, no delay, no negotiating.

As a title (and phsyical substance...) “Ice” is also a contrast or counter-point to the hot, passionate, aggressive behavior we witness among the dramatis personae here.  It may be well below zero outside the outpost, but inside temperatures and tempers continue to rise.

In terms of X-Files series continuity, “Ice” raises the concept of Panspermia: life from elsewhere in the cosmos taking root here.  That’s a concept which would come to play a crucial role in the series’ sixth season. 

Furthermore, “Ice” seems to set the narrative template for later tales such as “Darkness Falls” and the second season entry, “Firewalker.”  The former is set in an isolated forest; the latter in a live volcano.  But both stories, like “Ice,” involve ancient life-forms awakened in the present, with the promise of deleterious impact on the human race. 

In the final analysis, "Ice" succeeds because, like "Squeeze," it develops the relationship between Mulder and Scully in a clever way  The episode also intelligently re-configures a horror standard, and even offers a healthy dose of social critique. For the seventh episode of a first season, such depth is simply astounding.