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randomfoggytiger · 4 months

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The X-Files: Mulder and Vulnerability

(Dedicated to @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure~. Merry Christmas!)

I've made a post about Mulder's emotional journey before (post here, it's a good read) but not about the broader scope of his vulnerabilities in past and present relationships.

So! Let's start at the very beginning-- after all, it's the very best place to start.

Mulder's Emotional Expression: Ground Zero

The Pilot gives us a clue of Mulder's emotional barometer: within thirty minutes we've learned that his nature is naturally trusting despite distrusting everyone, that he is tactile and touch-starved, and that he is shocked anyone would seek or could derive comfort from him during a crisis.

Mulder strings Scully along for the first twenty-five minutes of the episode before she runs to his room, terrified of a mosquito bite, and promptly clings to him in a mixture of ebbing fear and relief. As noted in my other post, Mulder is taken aback-- shaking his head in confusion and awkwardly patting her on the shoulder, following her with his eyes then his feet to a set of chairs-- before handing over his motel bed and heartbreaking backstory. From then on out, his hand gravitates to her back; and he factors her naturally into his rhythms, e.g. running after her to share his awe at the experience in the woods.

This incident locks in Mulder's investment very early on; and the events of the next two episodes-- rescuing him from the base in Deep Throat and taking his side on a man-monster case in Squeeze-- solidifies that quickset bond even further.

His reliance on Scully shifts after her support in Conduit, exposing itself in (even more) blatantly territorial jealousy in The Jersey Devil, fervent appeal in Ice, dedicated determination in Lazarus, and cloistered, singular trust in E.B.E. and Tooms.

But a little interesting thing happens in both Conduit and Roland that singles them out from the rest of Season 1: Mulder is brought to the brink of tears, breaking down to himself in a church and almost letting them fall later in Roland's care home.

As we see often throughout the series, Mulder rarely gives in to his emotions, and (almost) never completely. While this could be a symptom of being raised in the 60s and 70s with very poor parental support after his sister's abduction, it's even more enlightening-- and distressing-- to notate when Mulder cries and why he stops.

Mulder cries in Conduit because no one is there to check his tears; Mulder cries in Roland because Roland is less conscious of societal expectations and responds more openly to Mulder's honest fears. And Roland is the only person Mulder almost cries in front of for years: during Scully's abduction and return and near-death, he sought the solitude of his apartment; during his "sister's" return and death, he tried to keep his "weakness" from Scully and his father; even during his father's apology and murder, he put his pain aside and focused on revenge. It's not until Herrenvolk that Mulder finally cries in front of Scully, and only briefly; and after that, not for another three years.

And Mulder's reactions to his "slip ups" are the death knell to any other possible speculation. David Duchovny nailed the self-rebuking, ashamed, almost fearful look Mulder gives himself and his surroundings whenever his sobs become loud or noticeable: ashamed, afraid he'll get caught, certain he'll be rebuked for his weakness.

So, what is the deciding factor between his tears in solitude and his open weeping? Simply put: activated childhood guilt.

He "failed" in End Game, and chokes on his regret and tears while being torn down by his father. He "failed" in Anasazi, and his father dies, gurgling on blood and begging for forgiveness. He "failed" in Oubliette, and cries publicly over Lucy Householder's drowned body. He "failed" in Herrenvolk, and sobs on Scully's shoulder after turning her for immediate and necessary comfort. He "failed" in Paper Hearts, and never lets the tears spill over. He "failed" in Gethsemane and Redux II, and stifles his agony in pillows and shame. He "failed" in Kitsunegari, and almost crumbles on the floor next to his "partner." He "failed" in Sein und Zeit, and finally breaks under the irreparability of his mother's death.

Further, the separate pains that afflict Mulder might seem similar-- assigning guilt and blame to himself for a loved one's death-- but they are very different: Scully's abduction, return, near death, and cancer, as well as his father's appeal and sudden murder, were a result of his work. Yes, those haunt him; but in maturer ways, weighing-in motives other than his own. However, the continual roller coaster of Samanthas waltzing in and out of his life and his mother's two deathbeds are a direct result of his "failure" to save his little sister; and the internal wounds he and his mother carry (until her death and his closure) touch the very wick of his soul, burning away the barriers he's erected to maintain what little peace he clings to.

The Samantha Angle

Samantha is the quickest way to squeeze tears from Mulder.

As a child, Mulder was incredibly expressive person, jumping around in glee, stomping on his Spock ear, and yelling happily while running circles around his sister (Dreamland II); and that was still evident during his prepubescent years (Demons and Little Green Men.)

But he stopped emoting after Samantha's abduction, just as his father's affection seemed to fade (Bill Mulder filming his family in Dreamland II contrasted to his behavior in Season 2) and his mother's gregarious attention became restrained (Tena in Dreamland II versus Tena the rest of the series.) The loss of his sister changed the dynamics of the Mulder household; and, like Mulder said in the Pilot, they never recovered. For him, emotional guarding became all-important, as he now had to answer to an unforgiving father and nursemaid his grieving mother (see post here and here.)

Even after Scully ran to Mulder for safety and comfort (i.e. Pilot, Irresistible, and Milagro), he never quid pro quo'd until Tena "died"-- both times-- and there was no optimistic hope for Samantha's return left to cling to.

Conduit is the first time Mulder sheds tears-- the most unrestrained moment early on in the series-- wallowing in grief over the failure of this case and its similarities to his sister's story.

End Game destroys the second chance of Colony; and Mulder barely holds himself together as his father let him take all the blame for the "death" of his sister.

Anasazi is the second time Mulder loses emotional control; but it's later tempered by the revelation of his father's work, weakening and breaking this particular guilty tie to Samantha.

Oubliette is the first of two nightmarish cases relating to Samantha; and, despite his best efforts, Lucy Householder dies. Her death is the one and only time that Mulder sheds tears in public where everyone could see.

Talitha Cumi and Herrenvolk gives Mulder a cure for Tena and third chance with his sister (or another clone), then yanks both of them away. Too raw to reinforce his safeguards, he cries for Tena at her bedside and again-- and for the first time-- on Scully's shoulder. (However, the violent passion of Conduit has to wait for Sein und Zeit to publicly exhibit.)

Paper Hearts: Mulder walks through the motions of his coping skills-- minimization and avoidance-- shutting his emotions away with the last cloth heart.

Demons and Redux II shows the depths of Mulder's unfettered pain, torment, and anguish... but even still, he won't allow himself to completely give way, either for his "memories" or another lost Samantha. (It's easy to lump his cries at Scully's bedside in the same vein as the fault he feels for Samantha; but as mentioned above-- and will be touched on again soon-- they are very separate griefs.)

Sein und Zeit is the end-all-be-all for Mulder: he cracks, resolve crumbling; and years of repressed emotions spill out messily after Tena Mulder's suicide. That she hadn't told him, that she hadn't had the faith in him to give her answers before her death, that she had left him to clean up the mess he'd "wrecked" in her life without the consolation of a last, loving goodbye destroyed him; and he finally falls apart in Scully's arms, noisy and tearful and broken. (And still up the next morning, putting his grief aside to help another family who lost their own little girl.)

But it's not just about Samantha anymore, is it? The guilt about "failing" her spread to every area of his life, consuming the relationship with his mother, his father, and to a lesser degree his friends, partners, and even Scully. It's an aspect of his vulnerability that was always on the surface, able to be easily twisted, manipulated, or extorted by sundry nefarious characters.

Mulder's Past Relationships: Then and Again

Mulder's past friendships and relationships bubble up from his past here and there, giving us ample opportunity to see how to exploit that vulnerability without directly relating to his childhood trauma.

Season 1 Mulder is more likely to reciprocate disdain with his adversaries than forge new connections; but that soft underbelly of his shown briefly in the Pilot and Conduit is revealed and targeted when ex-best buddy Jerry Lamana, ex-girlfriend Pheobe Green, and former partner and mentor Reggie Perdue filter back into his life. Even the manifestation of his childhood aspirations and dreams ends up a victim to the paranormal, inflicting yet another lash from the whip of distorted childhood nostalgia.

Jerry Lamana swoops in from the past in Ghost in the Machine, surprising Mulder with a hug and a backstab for old times' sake. Yet, despite his spite and sticky-finger ways, Jerry worms his way into his old partner's sympathy by hitting on that old, old trigger button: "Let's face it: I was tagging along. How would you know, Mulder? You were too busy dazzling them up there on the highwire."

Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Belt, Mulder's childhood hero in the flesh, ultimately betrays and disappoints his admirer as well as his crew and mission at large. And while Mulder is right-- that the man was being compelled to do something almost outside his will-- he clings too much to Belt's speech and less to the facts at hand: the colonel's appeal to Mulder's humanity won him more grace over his actions than he might justly deserve.

Phoebe Green, cruel and manipulative, exploits her old boyfriend's insecurities by transforming herself into the repentant victim, successfully playing at sultry detective to both Mulder and her new side piece. (She also reveals an underlying attraction Mulder has to danger: that he is drawn to it in spite of his distrust for it.)

Reggie Perdue is the first person from Mulder's past that he is comfortable with: a private, widowed, aspiring writer who shared his dreams with no one but his young partner. Unfortunately, those dreams are never realized; and it's his death, as well as the young agent who was murdered by the same criminal, that digs into the depths of Mulder's self-punishment and regret. And guilt, of course.

In the aftermath of Scully's return in One Breath, Mulder's past dynamics change: the people who slink back into his life are ones whose respect he craves, covets, and will bend over backwards to earn and keep. These relationships deal heavy damage to his mature adult life.

Bill Mulder: what is there not to say about Bill Mulder (post here)? But the distance in his and his son's relationship hits home when Mulder goes in for a hug and Bill deflects with a handshake. Mulder's face says it all: it'd been so long since he'd seen his father that he forgot the house rules-- Bill Mulder doesn't allow hugs. And that doesn't change until sins are atoned in Anasazi.

Bill Patterson, a bitter man with a begrudging respect, stomps into his pupil's life and on all his toes and fingers only to end the posturing in disgrace. Mulder's old teacher, it seems, was one of the first people to turn on him for his spooky reputation, mocking yet coveting the Golden Boy's incredible ability at the same time. He and Mulder fall into old patterns: baring teeth and raising hackles while trying to win the other's approval; but Mulder's emotional progress saves him from following Patterson's mad method into the black hole of insanity.

Diana Fowley, the more polished ex from Mulder's past, further underlines Mulder's draw to the allure of danger, unpredictability, and seedy underbelly of human nature. His dream of her in Amor Fati tried to transform her into both-- ala the nurses in Kill Switch-- but couldn't quite balance domestic trust and happiness with the real Diana, a woman driven by advancement over loyalty, who would grip a smoking man's shoulder and hand for a leg up.

These relationships were relatively easy to resolve when compared to the damage of his childhood; but both of these past dynamics pale in comparison to the complexities of Mulder's present, with himself and with the most important person in his life.

Another Aspect of Mulder's Vulnerability: Scully

Despite many disasters happening throughout his and Scully's first year of partnership, it's not until Darkness Falls that the switch between friendly concern to ingrained guilt occurs: Mulder, before this point, gives tips and advice-- even yelling at her recklessness in Beyond the Sea-- but her near death in the woods is the turning point of his personal responsibility. It imprints so deeply on his mind that he denies Scully's offer to let herself go down by his side in Tooms, preferring that she be saved even if his career is doomed.

Then Little Green Men, then Duane Barry, then Ascension, then One Breath.

One Breath is another turning point-- the most important-- when the guilt from Scully's (second) near-death split from the corrosive damage of Samantha's abduction: during the case, Skinner posits Mulder could be just as liable as the men who did this to his partner; and Mulder, wrung-out and worn down, weeps alone in his apartment. However, Scully's resolve and "resurrection" proved that she didn't blame him, that the men who did this to her would be held responsible, and that she was an equal warrior in this battle to find out what happened to his sister. From this point on, the wrongs done to Scully are placed in a distinct category related only to his abilities as a partner-- in the fullest sense of that word-- rather than his failures as an older brother or "Spooky" Golden Boy or know-it-all basement conspiracist. His personal shields, sarcastic reservations, and kneejerk deflections are effectively gone between them, (though they do pop up in future, defensive fights.)

And while this is healthy for their partnership and future romantic relationship, it opens the floodgates for an even greater trauma: failing her as an adult with capabilities denied to him as a child-- Scully becoming collateral in his enemies' quest to stop him.

Firewalker doubles down on this new, internal shift: Mulder gently discourages Scully from joining the case, gently encourages her to stay where it's "safe", and rushes back, overjoyed and almost overcome at finding her alive in the finale.

The brand of Mulder Guilt is peppered liberally throughout the rest of the show: comforting and accepting comfort after Pfaster and both Modells, needing her reassurance for growing old and dying too soon, presenting a birthday keychain instead of a desk (because of her cancer), being shaken by images of a past life, then losing his faith and almost losing her all within a span of five intense years.

It's a new angle to his blossoming vulnerability: the Mulder who will sacrifice himself to help others-- be it victims or acquaintances or loved ones-- has tied his happiness and emotional vulnerability to a person he could lose (but doesn't believe he will) any ordinary day on the job. It's a precarious position for them both; but is daily proof that he trust her more than life itself.

Mulder's Character Arc (ala David Duchovny)

Mulder is Mulder and will struggle with this side of himself for the rest of his life; but he's makes significant personal development over the first seven years of his partnership.

"Rigid in a wonderful way" and "My one-in-five billion," and "You've kept me honest, made me a whole person" are incredible milestone markers on this journey; but the gold star has to be handed to David Duchovny for writing Mulder's three biggest breakthroughs.

In The Unnatural, Mulder's "joyless myopia" is whipped into clearer focus when Dales opens his eyes to "life on this planet" and "the mystery of the heart"; and because of that experience, he races to the ballfield and calls Scully in, carefree and exuberant and wanting to share this-- and so much more-- with her.

This episode ties inseparably into the scenes David wrote in The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati. Mulder's secret desires, his dream of a normal life with a loving family surrounded by safety and peace is the second step of his baseball lesson, exposing how much he wants craves "normal" but without the luxury of being able to live that life. Besides, that's not who he and Scully are. So, he resurrects out of his dreams, ready to take what he has and turn it into a new and better reality, Scully at his side.

This, again, ties in perfectly with Hollywood A.D.: Scully and he and nothing between, eschewing the glitz of showbiz for a brand of glamor all their own.

Mulder's vulnerability has evolved, shifting from distance and deflection to desperation and despair to dedication and devotion: a testament to the obstacles he's hurtled in order to live each day proud of himself, and free.

May we all aspire to emulate Fox Mulder in that way.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

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