Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Trust no one especially me

Holy alt.tv.x-files, Scully, my favorite non-scrimshaw entertainment turns a robust twenty! In September but why wait 'cause blathering 'bout dums, goopers, and broken systems makes me wanna Mike Tyson's punch myself out. Sure, the Slick Willie black helicopter 90s ain't got nuthin' digitally on our Prismatic Wall, save vs. technofascist age, but in terms of panache, every show that doesn't feature stupid cops or stupid lawyers or stupid doctors or stupid ha-has owes a fistful of metal tribute to this mightiest of genre beasts.

As with bands, the best shit is the old shit [read: pre-Hollyweird sun, but don't be a foolish fool and sleep on some late run gemstone fun], and the bestest with the mostest is found primarily among the first three where director of photography John S. Bartley's dank, basement grit beautifully lit the natural brood of cold, damp Vancouver into delicious gloom. Shouldn't every gig be filmed up there?











 

The Erlenmeyer Flask. Gripping action, Scully-lipped exposition, noir convention, plop plop alien fizz oh WTF they shot him Usenet they fuckin' shot Deep Throat. Convoluted or not later on = opinions = assholes, so just lap up the great unknown 'cause the chase is always better than the catch.













Humbug. "I believe these are your trailers. If they are not, then I am wrong." Jim Rose Circus Sideshow! Scully the bug-eater! I hope bugs, big gaping-maw ones, eat the empty three-pieces that never gave Darin Morgan his own show.










 

 
Duane Barry/Ascension/One Breath, or, holy shit, our lead actress's oven's bunned. Best on-the-fly adaptation in the history of Satan's mind control box. The always great Steve Railsback is great as always, and Steven Williams was, funk exchanged for trenchcoat natch, fuckin' Shaft.














Squeeze/Tooms. THE creepy creeping creep, but whether that's Doug Hutchison himself or his liver-eating mutant alter ego is entirely up to way your brain fries.














Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose. Life sucks, and then, stupendous yapper, you die. Peter Boyle hits a 600-foot dinger and why didn't Darin Morgan ever get his own show?













Jose Chung's 'From Outer Space.' A Charles Nelson Reilly tour-de-force, an inner core, reincarnated soul sex orgy in screenplay format. I'll take Why the blankety-blank-blank didn't Darin Morgan ever get his own show for $500, Alex.

"For although we may not be alone in the universe, in our own separate ways, on this planet, we are all alone."

See, the truth is indeed out there.











Bad Blood. He said, she said meets vampires. Much guffawing ensues. Toothless critics, stick to meth. Vince Gilligan's best work was on the X-Files.














The Host. Nuclear waste doesn't have benefits? Ladies and germs, the Flukeman!













Irresistible. Humans are always spookier than mutants or aliens, I mean, according to the literature. Let us celebrate both the birth pangs of the obscenely underrated Millennium and Scully's 100th abduction. And it's only season two!














Memento Mori. Glowing green tanks of clones, drawer after drawer of abductee ova, Mulder and the Lone Gunmen doing some funky poaching whilst dodging bullets, and oh yeah, the Big C. Skinner deals with the devil for Scully's cure. That can't end well.














Zero Sum. Skinner -- Skinner! -- time to pay up. Results not pretty, but, unlike Scully's disease, survivable, at least until next week. Sure, the alien virus-toting bees are the mythology's narrative weak link, but oh, those moral and legal conundrums!













Anasazi/The Blessing Way/Paper Clip. A master class in how you employ the master race, as alien-human hybrid making tools of their hegemonic inheritors, i.e., us. Though on second thought, I just might prefer the Unit 731 two-parter later on in season three. Oh, beguiling villainy, swoon.

 












War of the Coprophages. Artificially intelligent, dung-eating, robotic probes from outer space can spice up any Friday night. Written by you-know-who.











Unusual Suspects. Everyone loves a superhero origin story. With bonus Steven Williams!



Pusher. Most compelling cerulean blue this side of the CSM, en plus detective Frank Burst, whose heart, of course, burst.












 

Darkness Falls. TREES IST KRIEG. Chris Carter may have weaned his chops on Kolchak, but the greasy ick of those nature's revenge flicks surely seeped in.











The Pine Bluff Variant. A stretched rubber band of a thriller featuring undercover danger, a far right fringe determined to use a lethal toxin on an unsuspecting populace, a toxin manufactured by our own government, the fringe itself the agent of nefarious elements within said government?

Oh, paranoid conspiracy, how I miss you.

10 comments:

Beach Bum said...

...obscenely underrated Millennium and Scully's 100th abduction.

Frank Black blew away all the other characters of that genre. I unfortunately missed the last few episodes of that show, not quite sure what happened.

As for Scully, she did have that hot bureaucrat thing going for here.

Tom Harper said...

I didn't see many episodes of that show, but I liked the ones I saw. OK, my time is up; I must go and get back to my main purpose in life: blathering 'bout dums, goopers, and broken systems.

BDR said...

Trust you? You're the one who made me start to listen to death metal and got me addicted to William Berger's Castle of Quiet at midnight Thursday morning on WFMU just two years before Station Manager Ken took Berger's show away last month and I'm jonesing, man, and it's all your fault.

Jim H. said...

You fail to mention the movie the plot of which Indiana Jones stole for his 4th and South Park soundly destroyed.

susan said...

A couple of months ago we decided to netflix Twin Peaks which was pretty cool at first (loved Mulder as an FBI agent in drag) until it went horribly wrong. Once we'd done with that show we decided to watch another series we'd never seen before either. Guess which one?

So far my favorite episode was the alien Amish vampire sex addict one. Of course the smoking man carrying alien artifacts into the bowels of the Pentagon filing warehouse (where they keep them in cardboard boxes) is also always good for a laugh. If only it weren't all true.

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

It certainly is true. But they use expensive boxes these days.
~

Randal Graves said...

BB, season three had problems trying to mesh season one's grim and two's WTF (not to mention a poor job writing their way out of the supposed apocalypse), but there are some good episodes in there, and the last two are excellent, especially the scene were Frank nearly pops a cap in Watts' ass.

tom, spoken like a true alien invader.

BDR, "death metal," what's that??

jim, now there's a way to survive the impending invasion, hide in a fridge.

susan, where do you think it went wrong? I'm one of maybe three people who actually digs the majority of season two, but yeah, solving the murder was definitely a mistake (stupid network), and in the episode right after there's the goofy music and the goofier Dick Tremayne, but I do think they got back on track towards the end with the Black Lodge bit and Cooper's "how's Annie?" gig is lovely.

And Genderbender's definitely a hidden gem; season one's full of 'em.

if, but they're quality boxes.

Demeur said...

Face it we're stuck with reality shows. But look on the bright side at least the aliens didn't bother to look up Skully's butt hence leading to the spin off of "Frontier Alien Proctologist". Ewww!

ifthethunderdontgetya™³²®© said...

If we aren't supposed to trust you, and then you tell us not to trust you, doesn't that mean we should trust you?
~

Randal Graves said...

demeur, you could make a killing helming that show.

if, NO MATH.