Fifteen Minutes: Endpaper: X-Static!
As a general rule, I don't watch television. Ever. Growing up, my parents were solidly anti-cable, their tastes ranging across a very narrow spectrum which consisted primarily of "Masterpiece Theater" and a select number of weekly staples. Every once in awhile we'd turn it on for special occasions (read: the Super Bowl). Needless to say, the same 13 channels tended to get very old very quickly.
So when I got to college and was confronted with Harvard's similar no-cable policies and, furthermore, a reduced fare of five viewable channels, the television was no more enticing. Freshman year, we didn't even have a set in our suite. When study breaks were in order, we'd go across the hall where the reception was so fuzzy that the majority of the dialogue was drowned out by yelling back and forth at one other to adjust the antenna.
It may seem like quite the contradiction, then, that the highlight of my time at Harvard so far this year will occur this weekend--in the form of a television series' season premiere.
And it's not just any show. It's, well, it's on the Fox network, and it's called (blush, blush) "The X-Files." This is character discrepancy number two: not only do I never watch TV, but I'm definitely not a science-fiction fanatic.
The worst part is that I'm not merely excited about the premiere--I'm infatuated with "The X-Files" in general. I look forward to Sunday evenings with more enthusiasm than my roommates' wild speculation of the appearance of popcorn chicken on the dining services' online menu. Considering the life-or-death importance they attach to a regular Thursday diet of popcorn chicken, I'd say that my obsession has gotten pretty serious. What is it about the show that can turn a comparatively normal girl into an X-phile?
The same guys whose television I hijacked every week last year would proffer the suggestion that my problem stems from having an extreme Scully-complex. They've concluded that I kind of look like her (debatable), so I must actually want to be her. I disagree wholeheartedly, though I must admit that it is nice to see someone else who's as short as I am kicking ass on a weekly basis. And how much fun would it be to get to carry a gun and flash that FBI badge all the time?
Personally, though, I think that a good deal of "The X-Files" attraction can be attributed to the show's avante garde flair. It's got the same kind of cheesy camp as "The Rocky Horror Picture Show," evidenced by the weekly tagline, "The Truth is Out There," and the clever play upon every alien and government conspiracy cliche on the books. The characters are unique and quirky, the wit is dry, and the double entendre is in constant employment. Also, all of the components of traditional action thrillers are present; gunfights, international intrigue, colorful bad guys, and massive quantities of sexual tension. (There's been no actual sex yet, but hey, it's a new year and we've got our fingers crossed!)
I also find that there is a real allure to the technical production of the show; perhaps I'm so enamoured with it because it feels less like traditional television and more like a movie short. The camerawork and set design are an unpredictable mix of slick sophistication and base grittiness. Main characters are perpetually dressed in impeccable Armani suits, the background music is of epic quality, and the plotlines are complex and multi-layered. At the same time, the aforementioned campiness has a tendency to descend to an almost amateurish level. The opening sequence, which hasn't changed since the show began, looks like it was pasted together in a high school video class, and the technical crew is never going to win any awards for incredible special effects. But instead of detracting from the show, these unpolished aspects serve to heighten enjoyment and run up the fear factor. Like the Blair Witch Project this summer, the scare lies in the unknown, the monster lurking in the shadows who never quite reveals himself. The thrill lies in the psychological, not the tangible, possibilities.
But the real appeal of "The X-Files" is so much more than witty banter or sex appeal or impressive camerawork. However strongly I may protest that I'm not a science fiction junkie, the real crux of why I'm so enamoured with the show has to do with its content. The paranormal, the paranoia, the occasional fairytale--these are light-years away from the kind of hectic, non-stop existence that often seems like one big energy suck. Call it a substitute for all those dreams and nightmares that I'm just not having because I simply don't get to sleep, if you will.
Don't get me wrong; I really do love being a college student. Once a week, though, it's wonderful to get away from the very real horrors associated with my Ec 10 problem set and take a flight of fancy that includes flukemen, flesh-eating viruses and disastrous trips into the woods (kind of like FOP). It may be an escapist principle, but I think the feeling is universal. Alien invasions, ghosts, monsters, things that go bump in the night--these concepts are intrinsic to human nature. Every civilization throughout history has incorporated some sort of variation on the theme into their cultural folklore. The Greeks had their multitude of gods and monsters, the Mayans had their "strange men from the stars," the citizens of Salem had their witches. I come from a community in New Jersey where a radio production of Orson Welles' "The War of the Worlds" 60 years ago convinced one million people in the New York-New Jersey region that aliens had landed in nearby Grover's Mill Pond. Some of the local farmers got so carried away by the tale that they shot up the town's water tower, believing it to be an invading ship.
Why do these myths and folktales exist? Why are they so powerful? The reasons are twofold; we want to explain the unexplainable, and we want to believe the unbelievable. We want the opportunity to contemplate something other than the corporeal humdrum of everyday life. We want the vicarious thrill of hearing an answer to our most outrageous queries of What if? "The X-Files," then, can be seen as our filtration of mysticism through a more modern lens, with the paranoia of government conspiracy and the growing fears associated with the introduction of technology such as the Internet serving as appropriate '90s touches. Minotaurs and demons and witches have been replaced by alien cloning and microchip implants, but the underlying principles are the same.
As the millenium approaches, "The X-Files" also approaches a climax of rather cosmic proportions. This is, sadly enough, to be the show's last season; after seven years, they're finally going off the air. As a loyal fan, I'm both disappointed and relieved--I'll miss the weekly dosage of new episodes, but I'm glad they're smart enough to bail out before the number of paranormal plotlines thins too much.
In the meantime, I'm brushing up on my couch potato skills for Sunday night and learning the inner workings of both the remote and the antenna of my new (all-too-used) television. "Agents Mulder and Scully continue to uncover that which is true" declares the Fox press release for the premiere. I can't wait.
Alixandra E. Smith '02 is a government concentrator living in Kirkland House. She's the one in the dining hall that looks like Scully (debatable).