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1996-09-21
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SPOILER WARNINGS SPOILER WARNINGS SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNINGS
The Razor's Edge
by Sarah Stegall
munchkyn@netcom.com
People who argue that only physical traits can be passed
genetically clearly have no children. No one who has watched a
child develop exactly the same mannerisms and character as a long-
dead grandparent can deny that, clearly, some personality
characteristics must be genetic. As Mulder himself points out in
Friday's episode of "The X-Files", numerous twin studies have
supported the growing suspicion that at least some of what we
consider learned behavior may in fact be genetic programming.
The premise of "Aubrey" lives up to the best expectations of "The
X-Files": controversial science, ambiguous situations, and the
unexpected twist.
Mulder and Scully investigate the discovery of the body of a
murdered FBI agent by a woman detective who may or may not be
having precognitive dreams. Almost immediately the investigation
begins to uncover links between a string of fifty-year-old serial
murders and new murders bearing the same distinguishing features.
The tension builds as the inquiry concentrates not only on the
murdered agents but on the detective herself. Mulder and Scully
begin to suspect an unexpected connection between her and the
murders and the serial killings of fifty years ago....a genetic
bond.
As the mystery deepens, we find that the real heart of the
secret lies in Detective B. J. (Deborah Strang) Morrow herself.
Like Oedipus the king, she goes in search of a riddle and finds
herself at the center of it. A top notch performance by Deborah
Strang gives us a complex woman caught between the agony of an
unplanned pregnancy, an unsolved mystery, and the night terrors
that haunt her life. As she is drawn helplessly into nightmares
that turn into waking horrors, we identify with Detective
Morrow's confusion and fear. Strang is supported by a capable
performance from Terry (Earth 2) O'Quinn as her lover and
superior, Brian Tillman. Their interactions, like Scully and
Mulder's are heavy with meanings left unspoken. His solicitous
care for B.J. even in the disaster represented by her pregnancy,
his defense of her when Scully accuses her of assault, and his
grudging acceptance of the FBI's meddling in what he sees as a
local case, are all well brought out in a low-key but affecting
performance. In a particularly well done scene at the end,
O'Quinn makes us believe in Tillman's bewilderment and heartbreak
as he holds a gun on the woman he loves.
This is Sara B. Charno's maiden script for "The X-Files",
and it is an auspicious debut. We are given important issues
handled deftly: unplanned pregnancy, abortion, rape, children
and the inheritance from one generation to another. These
primary "women's issues" are woven seamlessly into a strong plot
that addresses directly the question of what is evil, and where
does it come from. She gives us solid characters, balancing the
tight drama of Detective Morrow against the superb teamwork of
Scully and Mulder. She gives us memorable dialogue--Mulder:
"Dreams are answers to questions that we haven't yet figured out
how to ask." Working in the best tradition of Chris Carter
himself, she fleshes out the working relationship between Mulder
and Scully; for example, we get a clue to Mulder's love of
sunflower seeds. It is glorious to watch Mulder and Scully bent
over a computer terminal, putting together evidence, arguing over
lines of inquiry. How absolutely wonderful to see Scully's
empathy and kindness come through--not only in the excellent
conversation in the bathroom with B.J. but later, when she brings
the woman some clothes to wear in the hospital. One of her best moments
was when she goes to Mulder after BJ nearly kills him--she is *almost*
cradling his head against her breast. It's a hint of the tension in Dana
Scully, torn between attraction to Mulder and a distinctly maternal
protectivenes of him. Scully gets better every episode.
Director Rob Bowman adds excellent visuals: little touches
like Mulder and Scully munching on donuts (they're cops, right?)
in a room full of old bones, the stunning overhead camera work at
the swimming-pool murder site, the juxtaposition of images when
B.J. flashes on an ancient murder. And the scene in B.J.'s
bedroom, when she wakes from a living nightmare terrified and
bloody, left me gasping. The rash appearing more and more
clearly on both Cokely and B.J. was a powerful psychosomatic link
between them--a corruption both physical and moral made manifest.
Bowman elicits fine performances from his actors, as well--
the scene between Scully and B.J. in the Ladies' Room is
evocative. Scully is as warm and sympathetic as Morrow is closed
and defensive, but Scully's gentle solicitude wins through to the
other woman's trust in a scene of which both actresses can be
proud. Likewise, Mulder's amiable humor as he pokes fun at his
own obsessiveness lightens him up considerably. Mulder smiles
more in this episode than any other this season, and it's a
welcome change. His soft-spoken questioning of rape victim Ruby
Thibodeaux (Joy Coghill), in which his intuition races past his
partner's to discover the existence of the child, reveals depths
of compassion in him we rarely get to see. Nor can I overlook
Morgan Woodward's portrayal of ancient evil incarnate, as the
malevolent Cokely. His malignant stare, his sneering contempt,
and finally his helpless terror were well done.
There were one or two points that stuck--Carl Jung never had
physical genetics in mind when he wrote of a collective
unconscious. Moreover, the kind of memory inheritance we are
asked to believe in here is extremely selective--are we to
suppose that only the memories of a psychotic and not the dozens
of other ancestral memories potentially available to the
offspring would manifest themselves? The head blow that knocked
Mulder down would probably have killed him: David Duchovny
should be getting hazard pay. I could have done without the
reference to a wholly imaginary "mothering instinct", although I
loved Mulder's response to it. And I fail to see how on earth B.
J. Morrow could have figured out that some evil old man she has
never met is her secret grandfather.
I kept seeing parallels between Oedipus and B.J. Morrow.
Oedipus' story is tragic because he pursues the 'truth' headlong
despite the dire warnings of those around him. His determination
to do his public duty and solve the mystery results in searing
personal tragedy. Likewise, the stubborn Detective Morrow
uncovers a secret about her own past that destroys her. As Mulder
may someday discover, some secrets are better left buried.
I applaud the cast and company for one of the best episodes
of the season. This one gets five sunflower seeds out of five.