The first time Clyde Bruckman's
Final Repose aired (on Friday the 13th no less) I missed it. When
they reran it, I'm pretty sure I missed the point.
That's understandable considering
I was sixteen years old and didn't know my ass from my elbow on what was great
television. I'm not sure I even paid attention to the Emmys that year the same
way I would even a few years later, so I didn't know that Peter Boyle won for
Best Guest Actor in a Drama or that Darin Morgan won for writing (The latter
was the only time The X-Files won in that category.) Even by that point
I wasn't in the position to consider what made a great episode of television.(I
was so naïve I still thought the mythology was going to make sense at the end
of it.)
As I said I didn't start seeing
reruns of the shows including the episodes I'd missed until I was in college.
And while I was very gingerly dangling my feet into writing about television by
that point I'm not sure I considered myself qualified to consider what the best
X-Files episode was, never mind what some of the greatest episode in TV
history were. By that time TV Guide has officially listed Clyde Bruckman as one
of the 100 greatest episodes of all time in an article it published in June of
1997. 12 years later, Clyde Bruckman was still there, even though the majority
of the other episodes (including many from series that were on the air in 1997) had changed.
Thirty years after it aired 'Clyde
Bruckman' is still considered one of the greatest episodes in the history of
television. Yet even now I'm still not sure I consider it the greatest episode
Darin Morgan ever wrote for the show, much less the entire body of the series.
The former distinction is simply
based on the high caliber of the four scripts Morgan wrote during his first
tenure with the show. (The same's true for the two he wrote for the revival but
for the purposes of this article I'll just deal with the first four.) Make no
mistake: all of them are masterpieces and I love rewatching every one of them
whenever they repeat in syndication. But truthfully I'd rather watch the other
three. Humbug is spirited and has a wonderful array of jokes. War of the
Coprophages delights be because by far its his most whimsical script and Jose
Chung's 'From Outer Space' has in truth a far greater claim to be one of the
greatest episodes of TV history than Clyde Bruckman with its imagination. All
of them are absolute pleasures to watch.
I won't deny there's a lot of fun
to be had with Bruckman: it is a whirlwind of comic subversion at every step.
But it wasn't until I read Robert Shearman's Wanting to Believe that I
may have come to the core of why Clyde Bruckman has given me issues. This is a show about determinism and free will
one that The X-Files will return to several times during its run. It's
so serious a theme that it can only be treated playfully. I suspect the problem
is Morgan's own philosophy which is apparent to a degree if every episode. He's
obsessed with the idea that everyone of us will die alone and Bruckman is a
living, breathing embodiment of that fact. It's why Boyle's portrayal is not
just one of the best guest performances in the cast but also one of the saddest.
I find the argument stated most strongly in Robert Shearman's summary of the
episode in Wanting to Believe:
"We are presented with two
men who see the future. Both of them are plagued by what this ability suggests –
if the future is predetermined, then what possibly can be the meaning of life? If,
as Darin Morgan suggests, you have no control over what you do, how can there
be any achievement or any guilt?"
If you think about this too long,
you will become as depressed as Bruckman does. And maybe that's my issue with fully enjoying
this episode the way I do all of Morgan's other ones, even as I consider it
rightfully one of the greatest achievements in TV history. I'm basically like
Mulder when he address him: I believe in Bruckman's ability but not his
attitude.
Perhaps the best way to appreciate
the episode is to look at how Shearman and Zach Handlen (who reviews it in Monster
of the Week) choose to appreciate it. Both reviewers consider it their
favorite episode of the series but I actually think it counts more coming from
Shearman for one critical reason. He may be the only X-Files fan of any
note who does not believe that Darin Morgan is a genius. It may be the biggest way in which I differ
from him in this regard: he thinks Humbug is an average episode (not nearly as
good as 'Fresh Bones') and he thinks 'Jose Chung' is basically a waste of time.
I admit others might be inclined to dismiss Shearman entirely hearing this but
in the case of this review it actually gives him more credibility with me: this
is a man who thinks Darin Morgan is not as brilliant as everyone says but still
thinks Clyde Bruckman is 'the X-Files finest hour.'
What's fascinating is that while
both Shearman and Handlen agree its an absolute work of art, they actually take
different sides as to why so. Handlen's love of the episode is based in the
kind of determinism that drives Bruckman so much. This is clear in both the title of the review
'All There Is' and the joking summary "In which its possible to know too
much'. Handlen, like the majority of the
reviews in the book, is vague on the details (he doesn't want to spoil it for
those who either don't remember the episode or still haven't seen it) but it is
very clear on the kind of mood it seems to leave him in. He thinks this is an
episode that reflects the most fatalistic view possible: that we're all going
to die and aside from the details, it really doesn't matter. To him, Bruckman's
perspective is understandable and indeed it actually calls into question if the
whole point of Mulder's quest is a bad joke.
Handlen seems to be taking the
determinism views of Bruckman with Morgan's fatalistic philosophy. One of the questions Mulder asks is: "If
the future's predetermined, what's the point of doing anything?" Bruckman
says sadly: "Now you're catching on." Stretched to its natural
inclination Handlen's actually arguing that all life is pointless and it
doesn't matter what the killer does or why he does it. And though he tries to
give us some motivation as to keep going anyway, he never really can get away
from this fatalistic approach. That by this construct Clyde Bruckman would be
gloomy to watch but even watching TV seems like a waste of time before the
inevitable demise makes you wonder if Handlen's been drinking too much of
Bruckman's Kool-Aid. This is a funny and enjoyable episode even despite the
depression but reading Handlen's review you almost come away thinking it's only
slightly more fun that trying to sleep after hearing Bruckman describe the
dream he has every night. (Which when we see Mulder afterwards is actually very
funny.)
Perhaps that why I ponder how
Handlen ends his review of this episode by saying. "Yet this episode makes
me happy. I can't explain it." And like the title character himself
states, this is a case of not seeing the forest for the trees. It's almost like
Handlen doesn't want to explain why we all love Darin Morgan. In what is only
the second script he ever wrote (!) he takes the already extraordinary gifts
for comic subversion and meta commentary he showed in Humbug and brings them
into full flower. This is an episode that looks at death from every possible
angle and in every way finds it just as ridiculous as life itself is. Bruckman may take the subject seriously but
Morgan isn't and that's one of the reasons this episode is a classic.
This is made clear in the opening
scene after the teaser long. We see a bunch of detectives discussing the help
they brought in that he is unorthodox and one of them 'saw him in TV'. Then with Mark Snow provides music that
sounds more laudatory than usual, Mulder strides in. Pause. "Who the hell
are you?" one of the detectives says.
Mulder and Scully bring us up to
date as to why they've been brought in – someone is killing professional
prognosticators and leaving behind their eyes and entrails in an attempt to see
the future. At that moment there's
cheers and wonder and the Stupendous Yappi (who we know because he was making
bizarre predictions in a tabloid that Bruckman was reading) comes in and hands
his cape to his female aide. (We also briefly see the killer there but not to
notice.) Cline and Havez crowd around him and Yappi gives in hysterical urgency
the vaguest predictions possible that the detectives treat as gospel. Then he
snaps his fingers. "I'm picking up negative energy. It's blocking me."
He walks right in the direction of our favorite agents right up to Scully – and
then turns to Mulder. The only thing
that makes this subversion better is that as he leaves Scully says deadpan:
"I can't take you anywhere."
This is Morgan doing what he seems
to delight in: tweaking Mulder and David Duchovny. He's already demonstrated
this in 'Humbug' and will go still further in his next two episodes but it's
here he's clearly having the most fun even before Bruckman arrives. Yappi says
as he leaves: "Skeptics like you make me sick." Mulder takes a break
and says: "Mr. Yappi, read this thought." Yappi's eyebrows reach
heights Scully never could and he goes: "So's your old man." (Maybe
Yappi is psychic after all.)
But this is tame compared to what
Bruckman puts him through every step of the way, starting with his demand to
see their badges again and then scoffing when he sees Mulder's "I'm
supposed to believe that's a real name?"
This is one of the few times in Mulder's entire career with the X-Files
that he is up close and personal with someone who has supernatural abilities
but isn't the monster and its wonderful to see that Mulder is frustrated that
Bruckman isn't happy with it. It's also
an episode that suggests, more directly then we get even in comic episodes,
that so many of these characters don't particularly like having the abilities
they do, that its sucked the joy out of their life as Scully puts forward.
(That idea will actually be one of the key themes behind the character of Frank
Black in Carter's next series Millennium when in the Pilot Lance Henriksen
says of his ability: "It's my gift. It's my curse.") I don't think it
calls into question that Mulder's search for the answers is a waste of time, as
Handlen seems to imply in his review but it does bring up a theme that the
show's already dealt with and will come back to: even if he finds the answers,
is the rest of the world ready for them?
These are the kind of questions
you find yourself asking long after the episode because most of the time you're
laughing too hard at the tricks Morgan's playing. It's not just that Morgan
seems to delight in breaking all the rules that The X-Files set up in
its first two seasons; it's that he seems determine to make new ones for the
sole purpose of tearing them down. We know who the killer is before Mulder and
Scully do and even Bruckman does, we know why he's doing the things he's doing
or at least why he thinks he's doing them. We see him at every crime scene but
never enough for him to stand out. And
what makes it all the more fun is that, at his core, he's the mirror image of
Bruckman. As he tells his first victim
he's gotten a glimpse of his own future and he's doing horrible things he
doesn't want to do but can't imagine himself doing them. So he starts killing
fortune tellers because he thinks they can tell him why he's doing them. He's killing professional fortune tellers for
a simple reason: he wants to know why he's killing professional fortune
tellers. Stuart Charno is marvelous throughout because of how ordinary he seems
in every way. When he finally meets Bruckman, well, I'll let Shearman describe
it:
"his eager delight to find
a rationale for his evil is almost childishly touching. And so is his relief
when Bruckman gives him the answer he's been seeking – there's no psychological
explanation, he's not as deep as that, he kills people because he's a homicidal
maniac. A stereotype, a caricature. A character that Darin Morgan hasn't
even bothered to give the dignity of a name."
That's the thing that strikes you
the most about Charno's performance. How happy he is to know that he knows who
he is. But even then he still believes that he has to do things the way they
are. When Bruckman says: "You don't kill me yet," he asks why.
Bruckman asks: "How should I know?"
Of course Bruckman does no why and
that's his own tragedy. This is a man obsessed with details and minutiae the
point of absurdity. We see it in every aspect of Bruckman's character: why did
the fortune teller collect dolls, what kind of pie does Mulder step in which
allows the killer to get him? The details matter to Bruckman because they fit
into a pattern which will lead him where the future has been written. That's
why after he lights Havez's cigarette with the lighter he was given at the
start of the episode for reasons he didn't understand, he then immediately
moves to open the door despite being instructed not to moments previous.
Everything that has happened has led to him being here and this confrontation.
The idea of not opening the door and letting the killer in doesn't matter.
Bruckman was brought to this hotel so that the killer would kill Havez. The
fact that the door was locked and that he still doesn't know who the killer
even is has no bearing on it. This was always going to happen and he could
never do anything to stop it. The future was already written.
Except that's not the message of
the episode, according to Shearman and his interpretation makes far more sense
to me the more often I rewatch it.
At the end of the episode Mulder
runs back to the hotel and accidentally finds the killer as prophesied by
Bruckman. He runs into the kitchen after him, and steps in the banana cream
pie. He whirls around – and that allows the killer to sneak up on him. We've
seen the preview of this from Bruckman's perspective and while he didn't tell
Mulder about this, we know what happens next. Of course, we also know The
X-Files is a hit series that is only four episodes into its third season
and that Mulder can't be killed off. (It's 1995, and that didn't happen in network
TV.) Morgan knows we know this but that's not what he's interested in pointing out
when Scully shows up at the last minute.
When Scully shoots the bellhop
after he refuses to surrender there's a look of surprise on his face even as he
dies. "Hey," he says as his last words. "That's not how its
supposed to happen." Mulder than asks Scully how she knew where to find
him. "I didn't," she tells him. "I got on the service elevator
by mistake."
And that's the reason I take a
different message from Bruckman's suicide at the end than Handlen does. He
argues that Bruckman leaves a note but no explanation "but why would he
need to? Why stick around if that's all that's left?" That is what makes Bruckman's death a tragedy
and Shearman points it out in his review: "Bruckman kills himself because
he knows he kills himself – he never learns that Mulder's life can
be saved." For someone who believes Morgan takes the side
of Scully in this episode I think there's a different argument in this to be
read.
Scully is the scientist who
believes everything follows a certain pattern in the world order and if you
follow it you will get your answer. Mulder is the believer (not religious I
grant) but he believes in the wonders of the universe. Now if you're a fan of Lost
(like I am) you know that the dynamic would seem to put Scully as Jack
Shephard and Mulder as John Locke. But
in this case it's reversed: Mulder doesn't believe in prophecy or predestination;
he is a believer in free will all the way. He makes it clear when he talks to
Bruckman and his impatience in his attitude: "What good are his prophecies
if we can't prevent them?" he tells Scully at a critical moment. His
survival in this episode makes it very clear that the future hasn't been
written and it can be changed. Bruckman's tragedy is not that he kills himself
but that he didn't live long enough to know that there's no such thing as fate.
Maybe that's the reason I have
more difficulty enjoying Clyde Bruckman then Morgan's other scripts. His other
three stories end on a note of pure comic subversion even within the melancholy
of their mood. Clyde Bruckman ends with Scully standing over the body of the
title character as he himself prophesized and she chose to ignore as having any
meaning at the time. And I think that's
the real reason she throws her phone at the screen in the final minutes. She knows the future can't be written better
than anyone and the tragedy is that the man who believed it did died before she
could tell him he was wrong.
Have I left anything out? Oh right. Bruckman telling Scully she doesn't
die. For twenty years X-Files fans puzzled over that question. I always
thought Bruckman was kidding. I was wrong: Morgan was kidding and he
proved it during the X-Files revival.
In the episode that justified the
entire revival of ‘Season 10’, Darin wrote
and directed ‘Mulder and Scully Meet The Were-Monster’. (I'll deal with
this episode in a different article.)
Near the end of the episode, Mulder
realizes that Scully has been trapped with the real killer – a serial killer
with no more justification for his actions than anyone else. (When he starts
confessing after he’s caught, neither agent has the patience to hear his
excuses.) Mulder runs in, and finds that Scully is perfectly fine, and in fact
is standing over the killer who is now handcuffed. When Mulder tries to express
his concerns, Scully brushes them off simply: “Anyway, I’m immortal.”
And this isn’t merely another
call-back. In his typical fashion, Morgan is poking fun at Scully, the show,
and the fact it’s being revived in the first place. Of course Scully’s
immortal. It’s been fourteen years since her show’s been cancelled, and here
she is, investigating cases as if no time has passed. And how to acknowledge
that best? Fan-service, of course. Twenty years have gone by and Morgan still
can't take anything seriously. That why his episodes are a work of art and why
Clyde Bruckman remains, as Shearman put it, a little slice of genius.
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