Still Searching For My Mulder & Scully

Last night I took a bit of a trip on the wayback machine and spent the night at my darling Sofa’s apartment to have a TV marathon, gorge on Chinese food, and drink fruity pomegranate wine coolers. I became friends with Sofa over the length of a cigarette. She likes to believe she was the first friend I made in London, but that is not true; Charlie was the first friend I made in London. Sofa was the first person I met, but our friendship didn’t come about until later when we both went outside by The Guardian building to have a smoke break.

Upon first glance Sofa and I are certainly not people you would ordinarily expect to be friends, let alone best friends. Hell, I didn’t expect to be friends with her either: when I first arrived at our flat, she answered the door in a white skirt, green Lacoste polo, Rainbow flip-flops…and a genuine pearl necklace. I had eyeliner smudged across my lids and was wearing torn jeans, my ratty old chucks with drawings all over them, and a Ramones t-shirt. She was a charming Southern belle from Virginia with aspirations to a diamond ring by spring; I was a quirky sprite of an Asian girl from California who came to England to stalk Carl Barât and be a Libertine. That was our first meeting.

Of course, we are each more complex than the personas we put on; I was the one that ended up with an engagement ring on my finger (a pink plastic heart with a smiley face on it from the Jersey Shore, thank you) and she was the one who had the more libertine lifestyle when we returned to New York. We lived together for three years before I decided to leave Manhattan for more space and less rent, but what I miss about our time as roommates were the weekend afternoons being less-than-productive: watching hours of TV (…we once spent an entire day watching Kyle XY on ABC, running to the bathroom only during commercial breaks), eating the entire Chinese food menu, and drinking the girliest, fruitiest wine coolers we could find. So we made do on a Thursday night after work and she introduced me to her new favourite show Bones.

Bones

Bones is a cute, surprisingly well-written police procedural TV show in the vein of Law & Order or CSI. She, Dr. Temperance “Bones” Brennan (Emily Deschanel), is a rigidly scientific and rational forensic anthropologist. He, Special Agent Seeley Booth (David Boreanaz), is a bit more of the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants sort of guy who relies on instinct. They are partnered together in order to solve cases and are assisted by a team of well-rounded characters, whom Booth affectionately calls the “squints.” (They’re scientists and spend much of their time peering at things.)

The show is exceedingly likeable. It’s funny, witty, and heartfelt and there isn’t a single character I dislike. Sofa’s love is reserved for the potential romantic tension between Bones and Booth, but for me? I love the dorky sidekicks, especially Dr. Lance Sweets, a hotshot young psychologist (and a really cute actor). I just want to ruffle his hair and play “Got your nose!” with him (I know that sounds weird, but it’s totally true). He plays off really well against Bones and Booth, all earnestness and eagerness to show off and please. But as for Bones and Booth themselves, well…

Fox Mulder & Dana Scully

I have said before that I am a serial monogamist when it comes to my television: I can only be faithful to one show at once. My current relationship is with LOST, but le grande passion of my life was and will always be The X-Files. You mention “rational and scientific female doctor” and “goofy intuitive Special Agent” and the first couple that comes to mind is Dana Scully and Fox Mulder. Mulder and Scully play beautifully off each other and for me, Bones and Booth will be nothing but a pale imitation of them. I think perhaps it’s because the writers of Bones make it very clear that Bones and Booth are intended to be a romantic couple (I believe they are in a relationship in the book series the show is based on). The characters might say they’re “just partners” until they’re blue in the face but everyone else knows that is not the case, especially the writers and producers.

But in the case of The X-Files, I believe the opposite situation occurred: the writers and producers (well, mostly just Chris Carter) denied romantic attraction until they were blue in the face, but the characters very clearly had other ideas. That was in part what made their relationship so interesting to watch because their romance was never intentional. It was a strange amalgamation of David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson’s amazing screen chemistry, character development, and the plot throwing them into situations in which the other is the only person they can trust. The growth felt organic, although the show ultimately betrayed me by never fucking showing us the moment of consumation. I mean this in the emotional as well as physical sense. For me, the logical point in time in which Mulder and Scully should have gotten into a romantic relationship was between the fifth and sixth seasons, right about the time of the movie (about halfway through the show’s run). Alas, by this time, Chris Carter had come to the realisation that his two leads’ unresolved sexual tension (UST…ah fandom terms I haven’t seen in a while) was a total cash cow and denied his fans ANY RESOLUTION WHATSOEVER. GRR. Instead we have this weird cop-out of “did they or did not?” where Mulder declares that he loves Scully but she believes he’s drugged, they kiss on New Year’s Eve, Scully leaves Mulder’s apartment where he lying naked in bed, and she discovers she’s pregnant while he’s abducted.

Payoff is a huge thing when it comes to romance. In some ways, Mulder and Scully’s relationship is realistic. We all knew they were in love with each other and the characters (and the actors) did too. When they did start a sexual relationship, it didn’t change how they interacted with each (as well it shouldn’t). I like this aspect of it—that entering into a sexual relationship didn’t change a thing. Too often in order to manufacture tension, TV shows often have the main couple get together, break up, get together, break up ad nauseum, rinse, wash, repeat. What I didn’t like was not being shown the moment Mulder and Scully decide that this is what they mutually want. I wasn’t asking for much: no romantic flowery declarations of undying passion and devotion (not that it would have been keeping in with character), just a simple reciprocated “I love you” and a kiss would have been fine. (Yes, I realise this sort of takes place at the end of season 8, but the show had kind of jumped the shark by then.)

Now I’m in the mood to watch some X-Files. I’ve also noticed that emotionally reserved, rational female and emotionally direct, intuitive male is a romantic combination I adore. Mulder/Scully, Bob/Dot from ReBoot, Bones/Booth, Eva and Raphael from my own novel…