Well, I thought, upon completing the first episode of the rebooted The X-Files, it was inevitable. The desperate gambit to revive any show that can be revived, from Twin Peaks to Full House, was destined to ruin something—if not everything—and The X-Files just happens to be the first beloved TV show to come back to life as a flaming dud. With the eerie shimmy of the credit sequence still sounding in my ears, I wondered if this was not a merciless kind of justice. Reboots are a shameless and cynical attempt to grab ratings and attention. If they succeed, we get more of a thing we already had enough of, which we get excited about because it is the human condition to not grok the concept of “enough.” If they fail, they undermine the integrity of the original and our fond memories of it. (Assuming those fond memories had survived The X-Files’ long, incoherent final years in the first place.) Look, the truth is out there and it is hot garbage. It seemed to me there was something so definitive about this that even perpetual searcher Fox Mulder—jolted out of the deep cryosleep of fictional beings because that other Fox, the network, needed some buzz—could appreciate it.
Then, feeling diligent, I watched the other two available episodes. The third one was pretty cute and funny. What had I been saying? Yay! The X-Files is back!!