The X-Files

The first episode is dragged down by more conspiracy blather, interminable voiceover and way too many apocalyptic predictions of doom. And there are a few too many references to Donald Trump's presidency and friction with the FBI, elements that feel dated even as we watch. But Anderson and Duchovny remain one of the television's best-ever teams.

What they’ve [Darin Morgan, Glen Morgan, James Wong and the creator, Chris Carter] produced is intelligent, stylish and always graced by the wonderful performances of Ms. Anderson and Mr. Duchovny. It also feels more formulaic than ever.

The X-Files is back with a mix of convoluted mythology and more satisfying stand-alone stories.

Mulder and Scully remain fixed in their philosophical positions and reactions to various wild events, but Anderson and Duchovny have become more subtle performers who are using the fact of their middle-aging as an opportunity to present themselves as more sly, more self-aware, yet eminently comfortable with each other and appreciative of each other’s deepening skills. I wish I could say the same for Carter’s mythology, but, alas, the paranoid conspiracies that were so absorbing, the mythology that was once so satisfying to ruminate upon, has started to seem like dry, barren ground to be trod across, again and again, out of a sense of weary duty.

Since the show is Carter's baby and he isn't going anywhere or loosening up on the reins, you either find the bursts of inspiration and spookiness worth the plodding stretches of perfunctory mythology or you don't.