One of the greatest strengths of long-form television is the ability to create standalone episodes that play with an established formula. Taking a framework that audiences have spent dozens (if not hundreds) of hours becoming accustomed to, only to flip the whole thing on its head with an installment that feels like a backdoor pilot to an entirely new show, is an incredible asset if used correctly. It allows the writers to inject fresh life into an aging format while also reinforcing what attracted viewers to said format in the first place. “For a Better Tomorrow,” the latest entry of the wildly incongruous teen drama Riverdale, is a recent showcase for this kind of experiment: a quirky black-and-white episode that single-handedly reinvigorated the show as it nears its conclusion. It’s great stuff, but far from the first time a color TV show has momentarily switched to grayscale. Lucifer, Pretty Little Liars, and Black Mirror have all embraced this kind of makeover, but easily the greatest example comes via the king of monster-of-the-week television, The X-Files.

Season 5 Episode 5’s “The Post-Modern Prometheus” is undoubtedly one of the most memorable installments The X-Files ever produced, and not just because of its abrupt switch to monochrome. Of course, it certainly helped, but that is merely the lure to one of the most thematically and stylistically complex productions the show ever attempted. If one were to summarize “The Post-Modern Prometheus,” the logline “The X-Files meets Frankenstein if Frankenstein was a musical populated entirely by Cher songs” would just about do the job, but even that would be skimping on the finer details. Its unique aesthetic – a halfway house between James Whale’s Frankenstein and David Lynch’s The Elephant Man – enables it to have a wholly distinctive vibe from anything else in the show, and one that sees showrunner Chris Carter (here serving as writer and director) exemplifying what made The X-Files such a singular entity during its creative peak.

“The Post-Modern Prometheus” Is a Musical Take on ‘Frankenstein’

Anyone who knows anything about The X-Files knows that there were two types of episodes: monster-of-the-week, and continuation of the overarching alien conspiracy plotline. However, diehard fans will know that there was a secret third option for when everyone needed a break from the usual options: the occasional silly episode. Such installments were incredibly hit-or-miss depending on who was on writing duties, but when done correctly (such as with Season 3’s “Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose”), they could supplant themselves as among the greatest pieces of television you’d ever watch. “The Post-Modern Prometheus” is firmly in this category, and while the dominating presence of Carter might have made some fans nervous given his middling comedic track record (see the cringe-inducing “Fight Club” for proof of that), he has more than enough strengths to alleviate this. Carter was never the show’s most elegant writer, but he was its most daring. Sometimes that could be a negative, but when guided in the right story, it could also be his secret weapon. For “The Post-Modern Prometheus,” a story that demands a heavy touch, proves a splendid combination.

The episode opens with a color image of a comic book entitled “The Great Mutato” before fading into its black-and-white drawings of small-town America as a not-so-subtle hint that you shouldn’t take anything you’re about to watch seriously. We’re introduced to Shaineh Berkowitz (Pattie Tierce), a middle-aged mother who claims to have been impregnated by a mysterious creature called (coincidentally) The Great Mutato, a grotesque local legend that was possibly also responsible for her earlier pregnancy that resulted in the now eighteen-year-old son Izzy (Stewart Gale). Thankfully, everyone’s favorite FBI agents Fox Mulder (David Duchovny) and Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) are on the case, and after their usual round of believer versus skeptic, they uncover that this monster is merely the unfortunate creation of Francis Pollidori (John O’Hurley), a Victor Frankenstein-inspired doctor who, as with all mad scientists, only learns the consequences of playing God when it’s already too late. It’s an archetypal template, and one that will have most spectators mouthing along to every story beat as they happen, but the enthusiasm radiating from every member of the production team transforms it into an effective homage to classic Universal horror films.

And then everyone goes to a Cher concert. It’s a strange development to hear out of context (and one that makes only mildly more sense inside it), but therein lies the brilliance of “The Post-Modern Prometheus.” The genetic alterations imposed on Mutato by his creator ensure that he will never be accepted by society, but in his solitude, he finds comfort in an unlikely source: the 1985 film Mask in which Cher portrayed the mother of a boy suffering from a similar disorder. His obsession with her quickly extends beyond one performance, with her music becoming the lifeblood of his wish that he will one day find someone who will love him for who he truly is. It’s an odd twist when first introduced (pulsating through Mrs. Berkowitz’s home like it’s coming from heaven itself), but the omnipotent presence of Cher’s voice gradually evolves into the emotional heart of the episode. Who could have guessed that watching Frankenstein’s monster dance his way through “Walking in Memphis” could be simultaneously joyful and heart-wrenching? Yet here’s the proof, in all its impossible glory. The X-Files may have inspired a slew of imitators, but even after all these years, nothing has come close to replicating its individuality.

The Black-and-White Elevates the Surreal Aesthetic

For a show that couldn’t go five minutes without extolling the virtues of the truth, The X-Files was always one of the most implausible shows on television. That’s not a complaint – it also spent most of its lifetime as one of the best shows on television – but it’s a weird incongruity to consider. However, with episodes like “The Post-Modern Prometheus,” it’s clear that the writers enjoyed poking fun at this contradiction. “Has it crossed neither of your minds that what you say you saw that night fits perfectly with this creature that your son created,” Scully asks the Berkowitzs during her daily attempts at extracting all magic from the world. “That don’t mean it didn’t happen,” retorts Shaineh, encapsulating the episode’s thesis in a sentence. Albion, Indiana, is a place beguiled by illusion – a place where monsters seek to rewrite reality and where teenagers create comic books so they can escape their mundane life. The way Carter frames these ponderings within a story that isn’t real to begin with adds to the thematic intrigue – in turn, making “The Post-Modern Prometheus” one of the most exciting dissections of the show’s core tenet.

As you’d expect, the imagery goes a long way in supporting this. Even after twenty-six years, “The Post-Modern Prometheus” remains one of the most gorgeous visual experiences in television, but that should come as no surprise to long-term viewers. The noir-fueled iconography of The X-Files – complete with a muted color palette and a hefty dose of chiaroscuro lighting – had seen it flirting with black-and-white photography since its pilot, but the results are still impressive. It’s amazing how seamlessly the show transitions to grayscale without sacrificing its predefined aesthetic, allowing the episode to feel like an integral part of the wider series even with its peculiar design. Put simply, Mulder and Scully were born to investigate supernatural cases while looking like they’d been unearthed from recently discovered horror films, and props to both Duchovny and Anderson for embracing this whimsical sensibility. Complimenting their performances is Carter’s use of a wide-angle lens, adding a surreal vibe to every shot that generates half of the laughs itself. Never again would The X-Files embrace its artifice so openly – a treat you’d be a fool to pass up.

But for all its subterfuge, there’s something eerily authentic about the episode’s presentation. Much of this comes from the Great Mutato himself, a creature so fantastical he demands a shakeup to the formula. In a more traditional episode, it would be hard for audiences to accept Mutato as a serious character (let alone someone you’re expected to feel sympathy for), but trap him in a make-believe town where color is nonexistent and its residents are just as untethered from reality as he is, and suddenly the fictitious has an air of plausibility. It’s incredibly well done, with this same logic being applied to everyone Mulder and Scully encounter (shout out to the reporter who acts like a chicken). With such a synergistic partnership between the episode’s narrative and technical content, it’s no surprise that Carter scored nominations for both Outstanding Writing and Outstanding Directing at the 50th Primetime Emmy Awards for The X-Files. His fervent commitment to an idiosyncratic style may have resulted in a more arduous production than normal, but there truly was no other way he could have captured this story.

The Ending of “The Post-Modern Prometheus” Is Both Joyful and Miserable

For all its aspirations, “The Post-Modern Prometheus” isn’t perfect. Its depiction of Middle America skews a tad condescending at times (a disappointing attitude given how frequently The X-Files celebrated the diverse cultures found within its home nation), and while the dubious status of the episode’s canonicity serves as an effective defense against this criticism, one wonders how intentional that was. However, the same cannot be said about the decision to base such a lighthearted story around a man using the women of his local town as unwitting test subjects – a revelation that can make for some uncomfortable viewing once the true nature of the story becomes known. Perhaps foreseeing this would be controversial, Carter bends over backward to assert Mutato’s innocence (it was his surrogate caregiver, Old Man Pollidori, who was conducting these trials), but the fact he was still a willing accomplice taints the happy ending he ultimately receives.

Except, does he get a happy ending? When last we see him, Mutato is in custody, with his creators either dead or handcuffed in the police car next-door – a miserable, but also appropriate, image to leave them on. The episode may conclude with a gleeful concert sequence as everyone sings their way through a Cher concert, but this is nothing more than a last-minute plea from Mulder as he complains to the writer (Izzy or Carter, you decide) about the finale of Mutato’s story. It’s a dream within a dream – an idyllic ending that’s actually the most miserable part of the whole affair. There’s greater care put into the ending than first impressions suggest, but in typical Chris Carter fashion, the execution is sloppy (let’s not forget, this is the same man who decided that the terrorism-themed episode “Babylon” was a good place to include a five-minute dance number to “Achy Breaky Heart.”)

But this aside, there’s still a lot to love about “The Post-Modern Prometheus.” From an audio-visual standpoint, it looks and sounds incredible, but it’s also one of the most thematically rich installments of the entire show. Everything that drew audiences to The X-Files is here and accounted for, and considering that Carter does this while still maintaining a distinct personality is worthy of commendation. Amidst a sea of gimmick episodes that forget what show they’re even a part of, “The Post-Modern Prometheus” is a shining example of how to do a dramatic reinvention correctly. It’s considered a classic for good reason, and while it’s mesmerizing in isolation, its true greatness can only be found when experienced as part of a greater whole.