The X-Files

After the catastrophe of the first episode come two self-contained installments, each improving on the one that came before.... [The second episode is] less stilted than the first episode, but still weighed down by extraterrestrial baggage. The third episode, not coincidentally the one in which the show rediscovers its dry sense of humor, finally gets on track.

After a sluggish start in the opener, which dived too deeply into the murky swamp of alien-human conspiracy.... Things pick up the next night with spooky-icky generic manipulation. Now, at the midpoint: "Mulder & Scully Meets the Were-Monster," by Emmy winner Darin Morgan at his whimsical best. [1-14 Feb 2016, p.19]

The [first] episode is stilted and odd, the plot not engaging, and no one looks particularly excited to be there. So much time is spent on exposition and reminders of the past that it's groan-worthy. The following two entries are episodic, monster-of-the-week affairs and they reminded me how good The X-Files could be.

The new run of The X-Files may well, in time, encompass some more up-to-date conspiracies. If so, they’ll be welcome. Nobody is likely to grieve long over the absence of the latest on Roswell and invading aliens from space.

At a minimum, wait until Monday when the series airs a second episode that's a marginal improvement on Sunday’s dispiriting premiere.... Things do get better in Monday’s episode, which dumps the mythology for stand-alone horror, and with next week’s comic outing as the series continues its tradition of mixing in the three forms. But “better” is not “good”--and nothing shakes the depressing sense that time has passed the series and the characters by.

The three episodes represent what was good and maybe not so good about the original series. They also remind us that, somehow, even when Carter and company went off the rails, The X-Files was usually worth watching.

The first episode, titled "My Struggle" (the English translation of Hitler's manifesto, "Mein Kampf," which seems strange) starts off well enough. But then things go haywire.... The second episode, directed and written by X-Files veteran James Wong, is a welcome step up from the first. And the third (only three were made available for screening), is a comic horror gem.

Duchovny and Anderson slip easily into their old roles. But character chemistry and nostalgia are not enough to carry a new season, even (or especially) such a short one.

They [Duchovny and Anderson] slip back into their roles with a gratifying conviction, if not quite enough to make you forget their recent prominence in Californication or The Fall or Aquarius or Hannibal.... The new X-Files hour is fine for what it is, but it lacks the kick of minty-freshness, in favor of the musty tang of mythology.

Chris Carter seems to be creatively bankrupt at this point, with Episode 3 screaming out a vote of no confidence. For a while at least--early in Episode 1--it was kind of nice to see Scully tell Mulder, “I’m always happy to see you.” And for him to reply in turn, “And I’m always happy to have a reason.” But then the story went on, straining, lurching and tripping before falling flat on its face.

The result is a clunky hour of bad one-liners and exposition.... The narrative tightens up in Episode 2, at least, as the series settles into a Monster-of-the-Week format. That allows Duchovny and Anderson to play to their respective strengths, but it also feels like the show is marking time.

The look of the new X-Files may be familiar, but as a whole, it feels rote and unintentionally dreary.

The writing is alarmingly clunky, less a coherent story than a pastiche of beloved catchphrases, iconic images, and exposition dumps, as well as blatantly gif-ready moments.

Mulder’s suspiciousness feels, now, like a dull stating of something close to conventional wisdom, and the show’s mysteries lack the spark they once had. The great success of The X-Files’s paranoid vision may be that its popularity made a series revival feel, ultimately, behind the times.

A well-meaning but deeply flawed exercise in nostalgia.