The first thing that might occur to our dynamic duo, is how much information they might acquire if they could slip unnoticed into the guise of the consortium members. Mulder could choose any of the members (assuming some sort of gender rule) but might find some satisfaction in becoming CSM. He would not only be able to get inside the 46th St. meeting room, but would also be able to see how CSM is really treated by his peers. If it's a meeting where CSM is called on the carpet by WMM, Mulder might get a kick out of that. Scully could morph into Marita and sway and slink her way through the UN building trying to figure out exactly what the woman is up to. She would probably find herself in contact with the consortium and their little project so, between Scully and Mulder, they should be able to gather enough information to keep them busy transcribing reports all weekend. But who wants to be practical all the time. What's the fun of the exercise if you can't play with it a little? That's why I propose that Scully might also want to try on the appearance of Bambi. This would not be to see what it's like to be in the body of a bombshell since Scully is much more appealing in a less obvious way, and she has her own badge to flash (BTW, did anyone wonder why the USDA hands out shields to its researchers?). Rather, Scully would use this opportunity to make a visit to Mulder's apartment to see him stutter and stumble his way through another encounter with Dr. Bambi. Now I ask you, could there be a more entertaining way for Scully to pass an evening? Sure beats the heck out of the Penology Review. Mulder might get a kick out of storming the halls of the Bureau disguised as Skinner. He could scowl and tower over his coworkers and put the fear of god in them. Even better, he could pose as Colton and earn the weasel an embarrassing reputation in the span of one day. The possibilities are endless.

What exactly is it that drives our perceptions and our first impressions? Eddie and Mulder sized each other up in that initial encounter and had already decided what the other was like just based on appearances. Each of their opinions was founded to some extent on stereotypes. In Eddie's mind, Mulder was a tall, attractive man who had a career that sounded dashing and exciting. Plus he had an amazing looking partner. Mulder took one look at Eddie "fixing the Norge" and decided that he was a bit of a sad case. Probably a guy who didn't get many dates and couldn't exude enough charm to fill a thimble. In a way, each of them was right and wrong. On the surface, each of them fit the snap judgment, but when a person takes the time to look deeper, the analysis is far from complete. Sure Mulder is an attractive guy by most standards, but his reputation and own inner-demons have set him apart from the mainstream so his dating habits are far from the stellar picture that Eddie would like to paint. And his job, though dashing and exciting, is also made up of sewer hikes and fights with bile covered mutants. On the flip side, Eddie does seem to be a rather retiring sort of personality, not too sure of himself around women. But when he can relax around a woman, he becomes a very attentive suitor that anyone would enjoy spending time with. Unfortunately, the only way he can feel comfortable is by impersonating other people. If each of these men could distill their best qualities and find a way to present these to others around them, they might find people reacting toward them in a completely different way.

While on the topic of perceptions, it would be interesting to recall how others see Mulder and Scully...or even how they saw each other when they first met. When Scully first crossed the threshold into Mulder's basement office, she had only a limited knowledge of what to expect, part of which was his nickname and an FBI resume. Mulder's record at the Bureau would have given her reason to respect him as an agent, but the nickname could have biased her against him from the outset. I'm sure she did feel a bit hesitant about donning the role of Mrs. Spooky, but she had enough patience to wait and see who the real person was behind the rumors. In a similar fashion, Mulder had Scully's senior thesis and a notion that she was sent to spy on him. Not much to recommend her as a confidante, but Scully was able to garner Mulder's respect and trust by listening and considering his theories without dismissing them out of hand. She respected the journey, as Mulder once said, and this respect for Mulder's opinions and work went a long way toward building a lasting partnership. One of their largest obstacles early on, was the perception of their fellow agents. The quick dismissal of their theories even when they were the only logical explanation. The lack of respect, even when they were acting within their authority. As a team, Mulder and Scully have logged a higher conviction rate than any other division in the Bureau, but it seems this is necessary just to survive. They need to be better than anyone else just to keep the race even. The barriers they have to overcome seem to make their partnership stronger. It has become a case of "us against them", which has strengthened, not weakened, the X-Files.

When Mulder posed the question of assuming identities to Scully, she made one selection but Mulder never took his turn. I chose some interesting candidates for each of them but I think they might actually pick more serious aspects to assume. If they could choose anyone, I think they might each select people from a historical perspective. Unfortunately, Mulder, griping about Scully's choice, added the condition that each subject had to be living today. So no Eleanor for Scully and no Carl Sagan for Mulder. Maybe Scully would pick a famous scientist, or better yet a favorite writer like Jose Chung. Mulder might consider stepping into the shoes of a powerful senator or donning the guise of a current astronaut. The bottom line is, when people look at us, they think they see the whole person but their view is colored by their prejudices and past experience. This influences how they behave toward and respond to us before they really know who we are. We are faced with this plight on a daily basis whenever we meet new people. It would seem that as one of the senses, sight can often be misleading.

As usual, no and certainly not based on the lessons portrayed in Small Potatoes. EVB had the ability to shape-shift his form into anyone. Because he was a sad and lonely creature, he became the imposter spouses of wives in his community. Did her do it for sex only? Well, no. He did it to inhabit the shoes of men in loving families with loving wives. He _could_ have become Tom Cruise and picked women up in bars if he wanted sex, but instead he became Luke Skywalker in order to seduce his highschool sweetheart who dumped him because he was too weird. Eddie's message to all of us was clear: it's what's inside that matters. Eddie's powers of transformation were limited to physical properties only.

And the clearest indication of this is when he seduces Scully. Did he "become" Mulder because he was wearing Mulder's body and walking around in Mulder's clothes? No. For all intents and purposes, Mulder became "him". If the reverse had been true, he probably would have spent the evening with some phone sex and later drop in on the Lone Gunmen to tell them how good it was. Instead, Eddie VanBlundht picks up a bottle of wine and hies himself over to Dana Scully's apartment for romance. Note I say romance, not sex. Not that that wasn't his ultimate goal, but Eddie Mulder was a charismatic and endearing "date" for the evening. He listened to Scully, he wanted to hear her talk, he was enraptured with her, he was loose, he was casual, he was warm. He was the opposite of Mulder. If anything this was his least egregious act because I doubt greatly that he would or could have forced himself on her had she not been receptive. Which is not to say that it wasn't a deceit to "dress up as" Mulder to seduce a woman, of course it was, but if she had not been receptive, I think he would have still happily walked away that night, content at having spent the evening with a gorgeous and intelligent woman.

So if anything, Small Potatoes was a lesson at how very ingrained the personality is, and how the body is strictly an exterior shell. What drive Eddie Blundht was very much *inside* Eddie Blundht, what drove Dana Scully was very much the same and what drives Fox Mulder better drive him in the right direction soon. It was a very ironic scene at the end, where Mulder visits EVB in jail -- somehow EVB still seemed like the "freer" of the two.

We're nearing the end of season four and, as constant viewers, we have come to expect the show to deliver in certain areas. Not necessarily required, but certainly frequent, are scenes of blood (sometimes a whole bathtub full) and gross shots of the effects of disease and trauma on its victims bodies. At the end of each act, we have been trained to expect a violent murder or a character stumbling upon a corpse. These things are now expected, but are they necessary to keep our interest or make the show a classic offering? I don't think so. I have enough of an imagination not to require a violent dramatization to understand the modus operandi of a Monster of the Week. Likewise, the aftermath of such a death can be hinted at and become much more effective than a graphic portrayal splashed across the screen. Take for example the death of the detective who was supposed to be watching Clyde Bruckman in his hotel room. He is attacked and killed by the knife-wielding homicidal maniac, but when Scully finds the body, all we see is the smoldering remains of the cigarette he was smoking before he died. Did we need more? Was anybody uncertain as to the outcome when the killer rushed into the bathroom?

Which brings me to a look at how the treatment of death and violence has altered as the seasons have progressed. It might be suggested that experience and a larger budget have lead to the addition of special effects displaying more violent imagery, but has there actually been a change since season one? Consider the episode "Squeeze". This was the third episode of the series and when the M.O. of Tooms is considered, the images of death would have been very violent. But were they graphically displayed for us? When Colton passed that photo to Scully across the table, were we subjected to a full color image of a man with his liver ripped out? Think back to the executive's death in the teaser. This violent murder was shown off camera and our final image was of his coffee dripping onto the floor. We saw the struggle and heard his screams and when we found out that his liver had been ripped out, it made the scene even worse in retrospect. If this episode, and "Tooms", were remade in season four, I have a feeling that we'd be faced with incredibly graphic death scenes and several looks at the bloody remains as Mulder and Scully viewed the crime scene aftermath. Without a rundown of each season one episode for comparison, I think overall the visuals have escalated, especially in seasons three and four. When I first started watching The X-Files, one of the things I enjoyed the most was the creative way they filmed the otherwise graphic nature of the carnage. It was a case of "less is more" and for me, it was one of the selling points. It is much more interesting to suggest the violence and let the viewer's imagination run with the idea, but more and more we are subjected to the incident head-on. This relies on our ability to believe and respond to the visuals and, despite the great work of the effects team, we know its fake so instead of our imaginations taking us further, we're brought to a halt, analyzing the make-up artist's work.

But the violence on the show isn't simply a matter of the amount of blood and the visuals we are presented with...it's the acts themselves. Has there been an increase in the violence portrayed in general? The real question is whether it is gratuitous or integral to the story; is it helpful in setting the tone or mood of a scene, or useful in drawing in the viewer? I think seasons three and four have more instances of disturbing images serving no real purpose than either season one or two, relying more on gore than a truly frightening concept. To give the benefit of the doubt, I will say that four seasons of stories may have dried the well a bit which is one reason we've seen ideas recycled. One way to tell the same story in a fresh way may be to lean toward a more visual presentation. A point that has been raised is the violence against children. Season four has had more child deaths than the previous three seasons put together starting in "Home", then "Paper Hearts", and most recently in "Zero Sum". The baby being buried in "Home" wasn't critical to the story but it did make a point. The problem is, although they didn't show the baby's body with shovels-full of dirt dropping on it, the fact that the baby was being buried alive was made clear through other methods. This wasn't really necessary, unlike the deaths in "Paper Hearts". The serial killer in "Paper Hearts" murdered young girls, and although this is horrific, it was integral to the character and the story on many levels. This was not a case of manipulation which is more than can be said for the deaths in "Zero Sum". I thought deaths of children on TV was a bit taboo, so the playground scene in "Zero Sum" surprised and shocked me. It wasn't necessary to have the consortium's test involve the deaths of so many innocent children. We've seen inmates being used as test subjects in "F. Emasculata", so why suddenly small children succumbing to such a frighteningly, swift and painful death? The use of children might be explained by their lack of inoculation, but this could have been avoided by the discovery of a new, more virulent strain of Smallpox. This would have spared the children and the obvious manipulation of our emotions which was solely for the purpose of increasing the impact of the scene. Gratuitous.

The impact of violence on TV is clearly a subjective issue. What scares or insults one person's sensibilities may have no impact on another viewer. I mentioned in opening that The X-Files has never truly scared me with either visuals or content. One of my personal cringe moments is when people are cut with knives; not violently stabbed, but sliced. So for me, the only scene on the show that made me want to shut my eyes was in "Clyde Bruckman's Final Repose" when the killer attacks Mulder with the knife. I really hated that. What I don't hate is when a show can make me actually "feel" something. I never expect episodic television to make me feel anything, so when it does succeed, I'm gratified. The X-Files has definitely held my interest and more and more often made me laugh, thanks mostly to Darin Morgan. But rarely has the show found its mark with dramatic impact. For the most part, I am an observer and don't find myself emotionally involved in the events playing out on my screen. There have been moments when I have felt pity or sadness for the characters, but in a distanced manner...I've never shed a tear, even for our heroes. This is probably not a popular view, but the only scene I can recall that really hit me at the gut level was in "Home" when the sheriff and his wife were murdered. I felt the tension, I felt their fear, and I was completely shocked and horrified by the brutal and merciless way in which they found death. I didn't simply feel it was another clue for Mulder and Scully to pursue. I didn't say, "That's cool!" like when the scientist's head shattered in "Roland". I actually felt something. It wasn't pleasant and it wasn't pretty, but that scene, and most of the episode, conjured real feelings from me. The downside was there was no clear resolution for our heroes in this episode. To impact the storyline, the violence should be balanced by some resolution, and although two of the killers were dispatched, the episode had an open-ended feeling and Mulder and Scully didn't seem very interested in pursuing the Peacocks though they were responsible for some of the most heinous acts we've witnessed in four years. But "Home" is not the subject of this essay.

The use of violence on The X-Files is part of the package. One has to keep in mind that as FBI agents, Mulder and Scully will be investigating paranormal phenomenon that frequently relates to the disappearance or deaths of citizens. I don't know if the actual number of violent acts per episode has increased over four seasons, but the number of graphic visuals seems to have grown. When used to augment the story or set the tone more effectively, I can appreciate their use but when I suspect that a scene has been written or filmed simply to toy with my emotions, I can't help but resent the manipulation. Less is better. My imagination is an amazing thing and the season one and two episodes really gave it a workout. The unfortunate truth is that many people have become desensitized to violence. We see so many people shot and murdered on television that the line between fiction and the reality on the news is blurring. Creators of TV and movies have an incredible challenge if they want to shock their viewers but, for my money, I'll take Hitchcock's scares or the first season of The X-Files over an increase in violence and gore in a heartbeat.

And while The X-Files has often relied upon or borrowed from reality in spinning its past webs, more often than not the reality was a whisper, a suggestion in an otherwise diluted monster myth. Most of us have opened that closet door with none of us yet to find a monster lurking. And so a story about a fat-sucking vampire, while authoritative in its message about preying upon the weak of spirit, allowed us to still turn out the lights and sleep because it was far away from our real nightmares.

This season, The X-Files has ventured into a new genre of horror-fascination. Perhaps the parallel world of Millennium has caused this spillover, but the show has dealt with some real-life tragedies and has sought to incorporate these disasters and human suffering into X-File Plots. Examples of these themes include cult deaths in FWID, a child sexual predator in Paper Hearts and the crash of TWA800 in Tempus Fugit/Max. In each of these chosen cases, the material was handled in such a way as to maintain the dignity of the real-life events, or to otherwise be judicious if not righteous about the value of human life.

In FWID, the manipulation of the minds of cultists is played out against a backdrop of reincarnation. Our sympathies go out to those who fall victim to cults and yet as a safety net for our fear, we learn that life is recyclable and so even when we see death, we know that life is awaiting again at the next door. An uplifting journey in spite of the horror and loss. Again in Paper Hearts, there is the sense of a high moral ground. Scully and Mulder are clearly revolted by the murderer LaRoche, and the deaths of the girls took place long ago, giving us a tolerable emotional distance. The grief and horror is not fresh, it has faded like the cloth hearts. And when LaRoche holds a girl at gunpoint in the end, we are granted salvation and retribution. LaRoche is dead, never to kill again. The girl is spared. We are relieved. Finally, and although a mytharc plot like the latest offering (Zero Sum), TF and Max dealt with the TWA800 crash (its facsimile) with a high sense of ethical justice. Mulder makes the statement clearly at the end that no life is dispensable. Whether the cause of real-life crashes be stray missiles, bombs or mechanical ineptitude the moral is the same. We nod, we agree. We grieve.

Which brings me to the latest episode, Zero Sum. Like many mythology arc stories Zero Sum was convoluted in bizarre mystique though in this case, while being simultaneously kooky. A rather extended scene of A.D. Skinner in his undies had just that extra TILT that screamed gratuitous sexual undertone. Combined with the lip-biting, mind-numbing appearances of Marita, and the absence of the moral centre of the entire series, Dana Scully, the episode soon took on a humming life of distractibility. Plugged into the middle of this animated feature was a very disturbing scene of young children being _targeted_ and murdered in their playground as part of the Consortium's arch-villainous plot. Apparently the inspiration for this heartless plot twist came from the Hitchcock classic "The Birds". My thoughts on viewing this scene did not turn to classic thrillers however, they were forced back to Dunblane and OK City. Children being violently murdered while they played -- the act of a sick mind making a political statement that no sane person could hear or understand. In my opinion, this episode was not the appropriate staging for this parallel, and did not treat the subject matter respectfully.

It is, of course, unavoidable that art will imitate life and that ratings or box-office hungry producers will grasp onto the latest real human tragedy in order to scare us out of our Sunday night or our $8.00 admission. Volcanoes, apocalypses, floods, serial killers and The Thing in the Closet all sit locked in the closet of horrors in our unconscious, waiting to be released and explored.

I recall early in the season there was an episode of Millennium scheduled for airing that dealt with the ritual killing of priests. A real-life event that too closely resembled the plot occurred and the episode was delayed out of respect for the real human suffering. This indicates to me that producers do realise that they are bound by a social conscience and do not have carte blanche to dramatise tragedy as entertainment. That there is, at least, a reasonable emotional distance that must be maintained, and that these topics must, when portrayed, echo the value society places on life, justice and peace. But most of all, that they should not glorify violence or portray it in a desensitised and ambivalent way. As viewers we instinctively know when this line has been crossed: when we feel hopeless or violated instead of reassured or catharted.