 | Things like this almost never happen – within 4 years an unknown debutant, having acted in a bit part, turned into a world-wide celebrity and recognized sex symbol. The reason for it was acting in “X-Files”. Accepting to perform the role of Agent Scully, Gillian Anderson didn’t suspect what was waiting for her…Gillian lifted the curtain, stealthily looked outside and hid herself back right away: “My God! A whole Melbourne seems to have gathered there!” “Policemen said about 20 thousand, - contentedly confirmed “X-Files” producer Chris Carter, trying to outvoice the noise, heard outside. – Well, now you’ve got what I was speaking about? You’re more popular than some Pamela Anderson. Hey, what the hell we are talking about Pamela?! Any actress would hang herself, having seen such a number of fans. Notice, your fans”.
Dumbfounded, Gillian nodded trying to collect her thoughts. Having agreed to autograph for about an hour in the biggest supermarket of Melbourne and, may be, to answer a couple of questions, she couldn’t imagine to find such a welter. And because of what? “X-Files” was on just for the second season. Yep, she is popular, letters from Dana Scully’s fans, performed by Gillian, came in heaps to the studio. But, in the long run, it’s just a serial. “I’m not Madonna! - blurted out Gillian, having turned to Chris. – I’m only 24! I don’t know what to say to all of them!”
“Madonna? – Carter smiled. – Madonna didn’t even dream about it! Have you ever seen a crowd of girlies, copying Madonna? And now look over there!” Looking from behind the curtain, separating a makeshift stage from noisy visitors, Gillian saw a covey of girls fans from 15 to 25 years old, dressed exactly like Dana Scully: an austere dark-blue suit with red hair and a badge with big letters “FBI” on the chest. Especially good-looking was an incredible-sized fat girl, dressed “a la Scully”. Having seen her content face expression, Anderson unwillingly giggled: “It’s like a circus! Look there, they even made badges”. Carter looked right after her: “Well, what a big difficulty! – Print and laminate. However, someone may have a real one”. Gillian was surprised: “What d’you mean? Someone from FBI?” “Of course no, little silly, your own, - explained Carter. – Do you remember during one of the shooting days it was lost? So, a week later I saw it with my own eyes in Internet, being sold by auction, where scores of fans bargained over that piece of plastic. And know how much they asked for it? $1500!” Anderson gave a whistle: “When I need money, I’ll know where to find them”. “Go ahead, - Chris laughed. – They gave 10 thousand for your bra. So, while you don’t need money, I recommend you to look after it. Here is another surprise for you. Look left – do you see the poster?” There was fluttering a huge sheet of whatman over the crowd, reading “CSS”. “CSS? What’s that?” – asked Gillian perplexedly. “It’s… Church of Saint Scully”, - having sustained a tragic pause, reported Carter. All happening gave him a real satisfaction. The girl stared: “Church?! Does such exist? - “Well, of course virtual. In the Internet. The half of the youngsters gathered here is your net fans, the most faithful. There is also “Order of blessed and mysterious Scully”, “Community of Gillian Anderson true fans”, even “Prevention of violence towards Gill centre”. They are careful, as you can see”. Shocked Anderson kept silent. Having waited for half of a minute, Chris looked at the watch in a pointed manner and uttered: “It’s time. You will cope”.
Having seen Gillian, the crowd started roaring and moving towards her, dispersing police cordons and breaking down two weighty advertisement hoardings with the main slogan of the serial: “The truth is out there”. Having squeaked, Gillian threw herself for the protection of robust security guards, but quickly pulled herself together and came up to the prepared microphone, observing with terror half-crushed teenagers being taken out from the front rows. Somewhere in the background there were roaring sirens of ambulance car, doctors in white smock were rushing about; barriers cracked under people’s pressure, and Gillian thought for a second that the happening is just a dream, a strange dream. Who could ever think that everything would be this way…
…Gill couldn’t stand numerous mobs. And on the whole didn’t favour those around her, at 10 she even hang a poster over her bed with the popular phrase of Bridget Bardo: “The more I learn men, the more I like dogs”. The word “men” was changed for “people” – Gill grew up flat and never, God forbid, dreamt of becoming an actress. Aquatic biologist – this work is just for her! At some distant scientific research station, alone with dolphins and sharks. And rather far off these nasty mugs! Gill disliked Americans especially - she had her reasons for it.
Gillian Li Anderson was born in a suburb of Chicago and, having lived there less than 1,5 years, started to Caribbean Islands: her father was engaged in film distribution and rushed around from country to country with a mail express regularity. Gillian’s childhood p*ssed among blossoming magnolias, youth – in a misty London. 70’s were the blessed time: “Beatles” just broke up, continuous parties around, talks about new rock-groups. Gillian quickly found common language with cl*ssmates – however she was teased as a “nasty Yankee” because of her American accent and caustic character, but Gill stood it not for a long time: one day she approached the main offender and busily gave him a bloody nose in everybody’s presence. Having lived in London for several years, the girl fell in love with this city once and for all; during her free time she was wandering along its narrow streets, scrutinizing windows of little shops and friendly chatting with bored second-hand booksellers. The happiness finished all of a sudden – one day the dad announced that they were moving again. This time it was a little American town Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Grand Rapids was considered to be a god-forsaken hole even to the most liberal measures, and after London it was a god-forsaken hole doubly. Not a bit of fashion, music, parties! Sometimes it seemed to Gill that a tiny bit more and cowboys with rick-red faces would begin to strut about streets. Needless to say, she couldn’t bear her new cl*ssmates – after London friends she found them stupid curs. However, they returned the favor: the “upstart” was again teased for the accent, this time British. Looking through the window in the mornings Gill couldn’t check tears – she hated this small town, every street and every house, and dreamt most of all about getting the better of everybody. And at the same time spited her parents, thanks to whom she stuck in this god-forsaken place. Flying to London on holidays, Gill said good-bye to parents, concealing a spiteful smile in the corner of her mouth: she already knew how would act.
…Her mom opened the door and froze struck dumb: instead of a sweet rested daughter, there was a monster from comics “The Sewer Creature” standing on the threshold. Shaved temples and back of the head, bright-red irokez, jutting out for about 30 centimeters, heavy army shoes of “Dr. Martens” and dirty-brown camouflage dress for about $2. The heart-rending picture was completed by a huge pin Gill pierced her nose with. At that time Pank Revolution was roaring in London and she could hardly find a better way to demonstrate her scorn for the mankind.
The furore was full: respectable old women rushed away seeing her, local robust fellows were indecently roaring with laughter and pointed a finger, and the cl*ssmates concurred that the girl eventually went mad. But Gill was happy indeed: let these frights know that she is different and doesn’t have anything to do with them. “I felt strong and independent, - many years later Anderson confessed to "tastic Plactic Mashine" magazine. – It’s just what I needed. To accomplish the transformation, within a week Gillian said good-bye to the plaguing virginity and started leading a fast life. Now there hang another slogan over her bed – a huge dark graffiti “Live fast – die young”. Gill missed classes, drank cheap vine every other day and f*cked with everybody, who took interest in her. (Even with the worst frights – for some reason it seemed to me that if they liked me, it was enough”). It ended in the situation when Miss Anderson’s photo appeared in a school wallpaper with a deadly writing: “She hasn’t got a chance in this life”. Gill nursed a grievance and in a couple of days put two pig’s eyes, taken from local slaughter-house, into her teacher’s desk. Because of this prank she was nearly expelled from the school. Even at the prom Gill didn’t resist the temptation of arranging a real brawl: having drunk a half of the bottle of trashy whisky she went out and, mumbling indistinct invectives, broke a good half of school windows. While doing this, police patrol caught her unawares – the rest of the night Anderson spent in a jug, with local sots side by side.
Gill’s parents only nodded their heads, guessing what was happening to their dear daughter, and reassuring themselves by arguments from children psychology books: of course, awkward age, craving for self-destruction… As a result they decided not to interfere with anything: after milling there would be flour. Thus, when Gillian announced that was leaving for Chicago to enter a drama school, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson breathed freely: at heart her father was sure after school graduation the daughter at best would rush to Amsterdam to sell heroine. While theatre is a good affair – moreover lately Gill really took interest in it and was praised in the school studio. Standing on a bus stop, waiting for a bus to Chicago, Gillian recounted money, given by the father and thought how she would arrange in the unknown city. Anderson undoubtedly didn’t suspect that she made the first step towards the international glory…
… Detective Carl Kolchak thoughtfully examined the place of murder. The closed room, not a single sign of breaking. How did a killer contrive to get inside? And why it smells garlic so much? A sudden noise broke his thoughts. Having turned round, Kolchak saw something terrible: white like chalk face, long pointed fangs…
The vampire was approaching, and with every its step a fellow named Chris was pressing in the armchair. The hands foully reached out for the remote control, but he overcame the temptation: if not to watch as far as the end, the next day he would be laughed at – all his friends were fans of “The Night Stalker”. And not only friends! When a fearless detective Kolchak appeared on screens, the streets of the whole America became empty. Kolchak not only searched for killers, he had more serious enemies: mummies, vampires, aliens-werewolves. And behind all this an edge of a huge conspiracy was seen: the government hid traces of aliens, FBI helped sectarians, flying saucers stood on secret hangars of Pentagon. In the mid of 70’s Americans didn’t trust Uncle Sam and all to a man believed in green things: only just Watergate finished, and the era of tabloids started. The papers were gay with such titles as “My daughter was raped by aliens”, and sociologists clutched their head: 3% of Americans earnestly *sserted that they were kidnapped by aliens – 10 million people, inconceivable number!
Chris Carter collected press-cuttings about everything concerning strange cases and paranormal phenomena. UFO, genetic freaks, mysterious murders worried him more than football, music and girls. After college Chris took a job in “Surfing” magazine and showed enthusiasm for writing absurd stories about basketball players-zombi and maniacs-lilliputians, and during breaks – humorous stories of surfer’s life. The fellow was noticed: Disney studio offered him a position of permanent script writer of comedy serials. This way there appeared a strange corner in a respectable office: a small room, filled up till the ceiling with cheap tabloids, comics and books of “Mysteries of the 20th century” series, among which there sat an unshaven fellow, enthusiastically drawing a scheme of international conspiracy on a piece of whatman – for no particular reason, just for the future. The sketch proved useful quite soon: in 1993 Carter was enticed into a prestigious media corporation “Fox Network” – to make up a grid of TV programs and produce new TV shows. Within a week Chris took his cherished dream for authorities’ consideration – development of a new serial with a conditional title: “X-Files”.
“You see, the best moment can be hardly found, - agitatedly explained Carter to mistrustful chiefs. – America went mad about conspiracies, aliens and secret communities. The half of the country is paranoiacs, and all of them are our clients. It was masons who killed Kennedy. CIA hides frozen bodies of Martians! Are you aware how much “yellow papers” owners earn? It’s time for us to make money on it as well!” The serial was supposed to be devoted to the special FBI subdivision, dealing with unusual phenomena. The main heroes were an agent Fox Mulder, who saw sorcerers, Martians and government spies everywhere, and a court medical expert Dana Scully, believing not in God neither in Devil. The idea seemed to be captivating, and happy Carter was given money for casting and shooting of pilot series: according to viewers’ reaction they would decide whether to continue the shooting or not.
Mulder was found almost at once: actor David Duchovni although wasn’t very popular, but had a considerable experience of participating in teleplays. For the role of Scully in “Fox Network” they wanted to see a long-legged blonde with lush breasts – someone like Pamela Anderson, to make men stick to screens. That’s why a CV of some Gillian Anderson was nearly sent into a waste-basket: her service record contained only one minor role in a foreign serial that was closed after the first series. When Gill went into the room, commission members exchanged glances and shook their head: on no account. One and a half meter height, wearing a baggy suit and with a big Romanic nose – such candidature didn’t arouse their interest for a moment.
But Chris Carter was struck. No doubt, here she was. Special agent Dana Scully. He fancied her just this way.
…For Gillian this casting didn’t differ from a myriad of others, which she attended with blind persistence during the whole year. One hundred and fifty times the girl sent her CV, stood in front of boring producers and heard the standard phrase: “Wait, we’ll call you”. Of course, nobody called. However, she had great hopes when, after a graduation play in Chicago Drama University an elegant fellow wearing an expensive suit came to Gillian and introduced himself: “I am from “William Morris” Agency. We could help you, girl”. Of course, for future contracts’ percent, and what’s more, she had to move to Los-Angeles, closer to Hollywood studios. But she was noticed! And “William Morris” was a very popular dramatic agency. Gillian agreed without hesitation and on the first day of arrival got a heavy pile of papers – schedule of castings. Talk-shows, movies with little budget, trailers – she tested for everywhere, and everywhere got refusals. During the year she succeeded only in acting in a serial, but the role was tiny, and the serial itself was closed because of low rate. She had to take another job – telephone operator, waitress, anyone. It was going on worse and worse: not a single decent role for a year, she used to make both ends meet. The day when she received invitation to casting for a new "Fox Network" company serial, Anderson concluded that she wouldn’t have made an actress, so she would have to return home.
…Carter despairingly rushed about the cabinet: God’ll fix me if she is not created for this role! You may discharge me, close the program, but beg – give her another chance”. Bosses nodded their head perplexedly:” Pack it in, Chris, it’s a bad job. The girl doesn’t know which side to come up to a microphone. And looks so-so – we have more sexual babes”. “We don’t need more sexual! – having forgot about seniority, screamed Carter. – We need a strict, womanlike, strong character. Just the opposite type”. “Well, let it be so, - decided one of the authority at last. – Let her act a piece together with Duchovni. But keep in mind – if you are about to make a serial for feminists, forget about it right now”.
Carter insisted – and didn’t mistake. The first series was met with delight, the second – with adornment, for the third one people were ready to give all their matters up. The epithet “cult” stuck to the serial at once, the rate was crawling upward, there appeared the first awards and nominations. The crew worked like mad for 15 hours a day 6 days a week. Carter already counted up future dividends, plotlines were written for a year forward – “X-Files” was becoming a faultless device of paranoia production. But all of a sudden something, that nobody awaited, happened…
In winter of 1993 “X-Files” crew arranged a magnificent banquet to celebrate the growing serial popularity. Famous presenters were wandering around the hall, prominent producers and TV magnates, and amongst them – prophets, fortune-tellers and clairvoyants, invited for greater colour. Towards the night a small woman with muddy look came up to Anderson and having looked somewhere past Gill, said in a low voice: “Soon you will have a baby. Girl”.
Gillian did nothing but laughed. A baby? What a nonsense! And who from? She even doesn’t have a boyfriend. Moreover, to have a baby now, when the serial has become extremely popular is a suicide of the first water. Nobody will abolish the shooting since Miss Anderson suddenly decided to become a mother, - she would be just chucked out.
However, in two months Gillian became pregnant.
A man, who ditched a “tooled” enterprise named “X-Files”, was Clyde Klotz. A charming Art Director from the crew, a sociable fellow, he became friends with Gillian owing to love towards Japanese cuisine. Once having chatted about comparative peculiarities between sushi and sashimi, Clyde often began to call at her trailer to have a snack between takes – Gill adored Japanese cuisine and always kept something exotic in the refrigerator. So, little by little, meeting after meeting – a month later they stood in an airport, waiting for a plane to Hawaii. Nobody, even the closest friends, didn’t suspect that the couple decided to get married – in the most extravagant way.
…The priest was bald, like a billiard-ball, and constantly smiled. In the left hand he kept a mobile, in the right – keys from a powerful jeep: “Let’s go, will find an appropriate place”. For a long time Gill and Clyde thought what religion to choose for getting married – they treated belief like a set of amusing rituals – and as a result have chosen buddhism. They rode along picturesque roads of the island, peering at shady lawns and blue bays, and finally have opted for a nice golf field on seashore. So, they got married there – just near the 17th hole. Happy Gillian ran to the post office and sent a letter to her parents, having signed on the envelope: “To open on the 1st of January”, - the secret had to remain secret. The newly wedded spent the most romantic night: sat on a hill and looked out for UFO, as workers of “X-Files” should do. A month later Gillian ran to her husband in tears: a test showed that she was pregnant.
What could be worse for that time? The serial was planned, episodes were thought out, the life is scheduled for the year forward. But now… What will Carter say? What will the authority say? And the crew? Gillian was shocked – she didn’t want to abort, but couldn’t refuse from the role as well. Duchovni, who Gillian phoned at once, kept silent for some moments, but then began persuading her to keep the baby: “The serial – is a trifle, it’s just work”. Easy to say – trifle…
When Gillian’s pregnancy got known in the studio, a storm burst out. Furious Carter rushed along the corridors, barking at young probationers: his ingenious enterprise was falling to pieces just in his eyes, for without Anderson the serial would lose its charm. The authority was indignant: they had put up heaps of money into the “X-Files” and now, when the first dividends came, this impudent woman has made up her mind to have a baby! Carter was summoned to the director's office and heard a great deal of “pleasant” words about his ability to sort out personnel. “We didn’t like her from the very beginning! –a "Fox Network" joint owner roared. – It’s your stupid obstinacy!” A plan of changing Gillian for another actress was discussed in earnest: in the long run, the best script writers work for “X-Files”, they could compose something. And here Carter came to a standstill: “Listen! May be we could think out some shrewd move and keep Anderson, eh?
Gillian was saved by the fact that scenarios were written just a week before the next series was going to be released – so there always was a chance to rectify something. When the pregnancy could hardly be hidden, cameramen began to show miracles of resourcefulness: Gillian was shot from behind, from a side, from above, she wore a baggy raincoat, concealing her figure almost completely, and the phrases were reduced to a minimum. She stayed on a shooting area right up to the 9th month, but the most difficult time of delivery was yet to come. To gain time, the team of script writers thought out an ingenious trick.
According to the new legend, all of a sudden FBI dismissed the department of Mulder and Scully, and some time later Scully was missing. Disconsolate Mulder was searching for her everywhere, imagining the most terrible – one night he even dreamt about aliens used his workmate in awful experiments, pumping her full on the inside with some substance. (For this scene Anderson didn’t have to make herself up – she was on the 8th month). Whilst Mulder conducted investigation, Gillian was coming to consciousness after long and painful delivery (she had to endure Cesarean section). She became so weak that hardly moved unaided and, having phoned Carter a day after the delivery, begged to give her at least a month of rest.
The answer was short: “You act in the next series. Be ready”.
Fortunately, by the scenario she lay in coma most of time, coming to consciousness after the mysterious disappearance. But then, the series turned out to be almost the best for the whole period of “X-Files” existence. The serial got 5 “Emmy” awards running for this season, and a bit later “Golden Globe”. Critics were breathless with superlatives: “Miss Anderson have never acted so naturally, so earnestly!” If they only knew that it was far from being acting…
The daughter was named Piper Maru and Gillian confessed to reporters that none girl was probably born in such throes: she didn’t act in the serial just for 10 days! And nobody suspected anything. But the most terrible was another thing: Gillian understood that all this wasn’t worth the energy she had spent because Gillian Anderson, a movie star of “X-Files”, came to hate this serial.
Carter, who she had recently adored, after the story with delivery started causing persistent disgust. Moreover, it became known that Chris, this two-faced beast paid her tenfold less than David Duchovni. No doubt, at first he was more popular and experienced rather than her, but now they worked as equals! Gillian threw a great fit in press and got a rise – now David got only twice more. Everything irritated Gill: reporters that pursued her everywhere, stupid fans with their endless requests of autographs, even her own husband! Clyde turned out to be a dreary, especially after he was chucked out from “X-Files” crew (needless to say, it took place right away after the baby’s birth – to teach him not to disable any leading actresses again). Towards the 4th season Anderson spoke of the serial as about a “stuffy hole”. In fact that wasn’t surprising – who is pleased to read in papers over and over again that she repeated herself and wasn’t able to act someone else except for Scully?
The perspective to stay agent Scully for good frightened her most of all. Gillian did her best – dressed defiantly had her photos taken for covers of leading magazines, acted in strange episodic roles, even entered into relations on the side, but all the pains were empty – press laughed at her attempts “to become different”, and a myriad of fans “politely” promised to “turn her head off” if she again would consort with somebody, except for her husband, or Mulder. In addition, ubiquitous journalists found out that her new lover, some Adrian Hughes, was accused of sexual har*ssment for already 5 times; dirty stories of rapes and beating of unlucky women came to light, and Gillian couldn’t wash of that story for a long time. Everything should come to an end in this or that way – so it did.
One day Anderson disappeared – this time truly. The crew nearly went mad: plans were breaking down, time constraints were drawing in! What to do? Detectives, quickly hired by Carter, reported that Anderson’s trace disappears in an international airport of Vancouver. Everybody decided that Gill nevertheless kept her promise to f*ck the serial off (lately she had told about it over and over again at every interview), and there started a casting for a new actress. But suddenly Anderson returned - brisk, cheerful, ready to work. Without questions she paid out an enormous forfeit and declared in everyone's hearing about her decision: she will act in “X-Files” as long as it will be needed, and moreover – she’s gonna divorce. Right tomorrow.
The scandal was smothered. Nobody knew anything. And only a couple of months later Gillian lifted the veil of her unexpected escape, giving an interview to a small Canadian radio station. “Do you remember that strange woman?” – she asked a presenter. – The one who predicted the birth of my daughter? So, when my life turned into a hell, I found her again. In a wooden shack on a lake’s shore… Don’t ask how. And she advised me the following: to divorce, to stay in the serial, to bring up the daughter. And something else… In general, big changes are waiting for me. Which? I’ll never tell you about that”.
And smiled her famous smile.
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