Jonathan Dobres

Having been raised Jewish, I’m not very big on Christmas music. I don’t mind it, which is fortunate, because for fully two months out of the year it’s completely inescapable. But I, like most of my people, don’t actively seek it out.

That said, I do have a couple of favorite tracks. Both can be found on Hail Smiling Morn!, a 1995 album from my college mentor, Professor Tony Barrand. His group, Nowell Sing We Clear, specialized in Anglo-American songs and carols, which means their albums are full of holiday tunes somewhat off the beaten path, ranging from classic versions of familiar favorites, to obscure wintertime paeans you’re unlikely to hear on the radio.

The first of my favorites is the album’s title track, “Hail Smiling Morn!” Professor Barrand was the group’s lead singer, and can be heard leading the call and response section. This one is about glorifying the light of the sun. I suppose it resonates with me because I live in New England, and our winters are brutal. It’s not the cold or the snow, it’s the darkness. Throughout December, southern New England gets just over nine hours of sunlight, and the sun sets around 4:15 in the afternoon. “Hail Smiling Morn!” concludes with four men heartily singing, “Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!” as if they’re shouting back the night itself. This time of year, that’s medicine for the soul.

My second favorite track is “The Bitter Withy”, which is a folktale about Jesus’s childhood. I always thought the New Testament had a weird structure. Jesus is born, and then the story skips forward thirty-three years to his death and resurrection. What about all the years in between? What did he get up to? What about that time Kid Jesus accidentally murdered three children? As related in the song, Jesus goes out to play and encounters three rich kids, who want nothing to do with some kid born in a barn. So Jesus runs off across the water, the kids try to follow, and as the song puts it, “Drown-ed they were, all three.” Mary makes a switch from the branches of the withy tree and disciplines Jesus, which is, apparently, why the branches of the withy tree are used as kindling in modern times. The more you know!

I’ll also give an honorable (or perhaps honourable) mention to the album’s rousing rendition of “Here We Come A-Wassailing / We Wish You a Merry Christmas”, which harkens back to the original purpose of caroling: haranguing the wealthy until they finally cave.

Part 1

Season 4, Episode 9. Air date: September 9, 1995.

Kids today have it easy. Wake the iPad, tap a button, and watch any show ever made, on demand. They will never understand what it was like for their parents. Case in point: this episode opens on a bizarre scene. Bishop, Storm, and Wolverine are in mid-battle with Nimrod, the futuristic super-Sentinel. It’s May 11, 1959, some on-screen text tells us, and a college-age¹ Charles Xavier is panicking about the insane brawl happening on the quad.

Just when the good guys start yelling about a “remote fuse”, the story cuts to 2055, where we see Bishop and Shard² head to the past to stop a temporal anomaly. Then we get an idyllic few minutes in the present at the X-Mansion. Wolverine and Storm flirt with each other, when the sky turns red, Xavier screams, and everything changes. Suddenly we’re in the middle of a high tech war between mutants and humans. X-Men are fighting against the Avengers! Magneto leads the resistance! Mastermind and Mister Sinister are helping! Storm and Wolverine are married???

Imagine tuning in to this episode five minutes late. Such were the perils of broadcast television in 1995, kids.

Eric Lewald says in 2017’s Previously On X-Men… that “One Man’s Worth” is one of his favorite stories. He also says, “I don’t know that there is a Marvel story quite like this in the books,” but there definitely is. For six months in 1995, the Age of Apocalypse crossover event completely replaced eight—eight—different X-Men titles with an alternate universe in which Apocalypse rules the world. In that timeline, just as in these episodes, Professor Xavier is killed before he can ever found the X-Men. In both stories, Bishop is the guy trying to correct the timeline, Magneto leads the resistance, Wolverine is married to a familiar face (Jean in the comics, Storm on the show), and the world is ruled by one of the X-Men’s great nemeses (Apocalypse in the comics, Master Mold on the show). Given the similarities, “One Man’s Worth” is often mistaken for an adaptation of Age of Apocalypse, but it’s actually an original story. The comic event ran January-June 1995, while the TV story aired in September 1995 and would have been written a year before that, at least.

Anyway, after an extended battle scene overflowing with laser blasts, exciting cameos, and at least a little actual action thanks to alt-1995 Nightcrawler, Bishop and Shard arrive to lay down the exposition. They pull Storm and Wolverine aside and explain that this timeline only exists because of the premature death of Charles Xavier. Without Xavier around to fight for mutant-human peace, the world rapidly descends into all-out war. “All of this destruction, all of this misery, is due to the absence of one man?” Storm says incredulously. But yes, that’s the premise. Charles Xavier is the George Bailey of X-Men: The Animated Series. Merry Christmas, you old Savings & Loan.

Bishop further explains that the time-traveling assassin is one Trevor Fitzroy, who agrees to alter the past to secure Master Mold’s hold on the world in exchange for securing his own comfort in 2055. Fitzroy debuted in 1991, hailing from the same dystopian future as Bishop. He drains energy from other human beings and then uses that energy to open time portals. His sidekick, Bantam, is a particularly weird character. In the comics, he has under-specified powers that (possibly) help stabilize Fitzroy’s time portals. In this story, Bantam serves no purpose other than to make sniveling remarks, and sounds like a cross between Dom Deluise and Snarf. Fitzroy’s deal with Master Mold and his initial jump to 1959 is the funniest moment in the whole story:

Fitzroy drains the life out of a guy, right in front of the looming Master Mold.

Fitzroy: He’ll be fine in a few days.

Master Mold: Whatever.

Fitzroy tosses Bantam into a fresh time portal and then follows.

Storm immediately agrees to help Bishop, because she’s Storm. For her, undoing her own existence is a small price to pay to end a world war. Wolverine is more than a little angry at the idea of erasing his and Storm’s marriage, but comes around to doing the right thing regardless.

This brings us, finally again, to 1959. Charles Xavier is walking around campus, really enjoying his legs, and having a chat with a Professor Grey (definitely Jean’s dad). Young Charles is arguing that single-generation mutation simply isn’t possible, that surely the emergence of, say, fantastic new abilities is something that happens very gradually. We’ll learn later that he isn’t comfortable with his powers and would prefer not to use them at all. He’s not playing coy here, he’s in denial, maybe even closeted.

The whole crew from alt-1995 materializes, and Bishop explains to Xavier that—surprise, kiddo—single generation mutation is extremely possible. Xavier is amazed to meet other mutants for the first time in his life, but mostly seems overwhelmed. They decide to reconvene at a nearby cafe, which gives us this story’s most interesting scene. The cafe’s owner is at first a little put off by the crew’s weird outfits, but what really sets him off is interracial marriage. He can’t stand that Storm and Wolverine are together, and summons a couple of goons to toss them out.

I love it when the show risks a moment like this. Few other kid’s shows would ever do it. The cafe owner doesn’t quite come out and say it, but Storm makes what’s going on explicit. “Skin color prejudice? That’s so pathetic it’s almost quaint!” The crew easily handles the goons and Wolverine comes very close to outright murdering the racist owner. Notably, it’s Storm who stops him, not Xavier. The best Xavier can manage during this moment of intense racial conflict is to lightly scold Wolverine for being rude. Once the brawl gets going, Xavier panics and runs away.

The good guys set about trying to find Xavier, but encounter Nimrod instead, bringing us back around to the fight scene that opened the episode. Our heroes (mostly Storm) manage to shatter Nimrod into little pieces, though that’s only going to buy them time. They then catch a glimpse of Fitzroy and Bantam escaping back to 2055, their work already done. The episode closes as Xavier, who’s been cowering in a nearby building, opens a door and triggers a deadly explosion.

As we close up Part 1, let’s remember that the title of this episode is “One Man’s Worth”. The whole point should be to show us why Xavier matters so much to the timeline, but instead it’s preoccupied with alt-universe takes on familiar characters and laser blasts. The Charles Xavier of 1959 is in deep denial about his own nature, to the point of flagrant cowardice. He expresses no admiration for the diversity of the human race, has no dream of world peace, and would like nothing more than to become a simple family physician. The confrontation with the racist cafe owner should have been a perfect opportunity to demonstrate Xavier’s potential as a peacemaker, but instead it escalates into a brawl that he runs away from. There’s absolutely no hint of the leader that Xavier eventually becomes. If the point of this story is to demonstrate Xavier’s singular importance to the timeline, then it fails completely.

Stray observations:

• Storm, while summoning lightning to blast Nimrod: “Crack the heavens! REMOVE THIS ABOMINATION!”

• On the toilet: technically no one, since this is an alternate timeline, and no one’s absence is unexplained, per se. That said, Cyclops and Jubilee (of course) do not appear. Rogue gets a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo. A “Dr. Grey”, presumably Jean, is named and (possibly) briefly shown on camera, but has no lines.

Part 2

Season 4, Episode 10. Air date: September 16, 1995.

If Part 1 was overstuffed, Part 2 feels thin. The good guys witness the massive explosion that kills Xavier, and Bishop and Wolverine immediately begin squabbling over whose fault it is. They are interrupted by the racist cafe owner, who has shown up with some cops to make trouble for Storm and Wolverine. In response, Storm conjures a tornado and just spins them into the air for several minutes while the team debates their next move.

Everyone returns to alt-2055, in which Master Mold is the unquestioned ruler of the world. There is no resistance movement, and time travel is technically possible but strictly forbidden (so says a fully cyborged Forge). There are a couple of rather uninspired fights against futuristic Sentinels (yes, my nerds, I know these are technically Enforcers). The good guys manage to fight them off, and Wolverine and Storm share a kiss (violence gets the girl, guys!).

Meanwhile, Fitzroy is explaining the assassination of Charles Xavier to Master Mold. Unfortunately, Master Mold has no memory of his alternate self’s deal with Fitzroy (why would he?), and is skeptical that he owes Fitzroy anything. In fairness to the giant world-conquering robot, he did warn Fitzroy to record his actions in 1959, for exactly this reason. In true Saturday morning cartoon fashion, Master Mold privately tells Nimrod that he intends to have Fitzroy disposed of, which, in true Saturday morning cartoon fashion, Fitzroy overhears. Fitzroy and Bantam participate in the second Enforcer fight just long enough to toss the good guys a recording, right before they return to 1959 for a second go.

The good guys arrive in 1959 and grab Xavier as he’s running away from the cafe brawl. They take him to the lab where Fitzroy will soon plant his bomb. After wasting some time having Xavier telepathically relearn some things that, per the order of events in Part 1, he definitely already knows, Fitzroy and Bantam show up to plant the explosive. Bishop plays the message he got from Fitzroy, which turns out to be a message to Fitzroy, explaining that successfully assassinating Xavier creates a future in which he will be executed. After some consideration (and whining from Bantam), Fitzroy cuts his losses, allows Wolverine to toss the bomb out the window, and leaves. He drains Xavier’s energy to power his exit portal, so I’m not totally clear if this gives Xavier short-term amnesia, or if he’s supposed to remember any of these events by 1995.

With Xavier’s life saved, the timeline has begun correcting itself. Storm and Wolverine confront the existential quandary in front of them. They’ll only exist as long as their temporal transceivers are powered, and the clock is ticking. They embrace and turn off their armbands, while we, the audience, enjoy a quick montage of their best moments from the last forty or so minutes of television. I can’t say it’s the most effective the show has ever been, but it’s something, at least. The story returns to the 1995 we all know and love, where Storm and Wolverine continue to flirt.

Not a lot actually happens in Part 2, other than some rote fights against futuristic Sentinels. Step back a bit, and you’ll notice that nobody’s actions really matter. Xavier once again fails to demonstrate his potential and continues to be the episode’s damsel. He even faints twice in twenty minutes, Jean Grey style. All Bishop and Company manage to do here is deliver a message from Fitzroy to himself. The story’s precipitating event and its ultimate resolution hinge entirely on his actions, which we barely even see over these two episodes. Fitzroy won’t be motivated to stop his actions in 1959 until he’s personally threatened in a future that can only exist because those actions succeeded. Time travel nerds (it’s me, I’m time travel nerds) call this type of chicken-or-egg situation a “bootstrap paradox”. Trevor Fitzroy is, as Homer Simpson once said of alcohol, “the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems!”

Stray observations:

• This story has not one, but two entirely wasted characters. Bantam is permanently attached to Fitzroy (I think they’re in a relationship). His only role is to whine and waste precious seconds. Shard is permanently attached to Bishop and doesn’t do anything that he couldn’t do himself.

• 2055 has been altered and overwritten so many times that I think the calendar should probably just skip from 2054 to 2056.

• Do you have any idea how hard it was not to write “Batman” instead of “Bantam”?

Season 4, Episode 8. Air date: May 13, 1995.

Marvel would very much prefer that you forget they canceled X-Men in 1970. X-Men as we know it really (re-)started in 1975 with Giant Size X-Men #1, kicking off a run that would make it the biggest comic in the world. Many of the franchise’s most beloved characters debuted right there in Giant-Size #1: Storm, Wolverine,¹ Colossus, and a weird looking guy (even by X-Men standards) named Nightcrawler.

Nightcrawler rapidly became one of the franchise’s most popular characters, so much so that it’s hard to believe the show waited until now to introduce him. Like all popular characters, he’s accumulated a long list of strange adventures,² complicated relationships, and personality quirks. His main things are line-of-sight teleportation, god-level acrobatic skill, looking like a demon, and being very charming. On top of that, he’s a drama teacher, a romantic, an Errol Flynn stan, an expert duelist, and—of particular relevance for this episode—a devout Catholic. Nightcrawler contains multitudes.

No single half hour could ever do justice to a character like this, though this episode does a pretty good job. The opening sequence that shows off Nightcrawler’s powers is very cool, because it is impossible to show off Nightcrawler’s powers in a way that does not make him look cool (in this sense, he’s the opposite of Cable). Adrian Hough’s vocal performance adds some softness to that cool factor. Even the way he later explains his teleportation powers has a touch of romanticism: “I think of a place I’d rather be, look to it, and I am there.”

It’s an episode packed with character beats. On the lighter side, you have Gambit and Rogue suffering through the worst vacation ever, because Wolverine is such a joyless third wheel. Gambit, holding Rogue’s mittened hand, promises to make it up to her with a trip to somewhere else, maybe Paris (hold that thought). Gambit is so bad at skiing that he blows up a tree and triggers an avalanche that lands everyone at Nightcrawler’s monastery.³ On the more serious side, there’s Nightcrawler’s backstory, which reveals that he was born looking the way he does, and was immediately shunned for it. He’s alive only because his mother⁴ ran away and dropped him off with a traveling circus. Were it not for his acrobatic abilities, he might’ve ended up in permanent hiding like the Morlocks. As it stands, he doesn’t get out much. It’s either the thrill of the stage (where his appearance can be written off as makeup), or the solitude of the monastery.

On the very serious side, you have Wolverine’s attitude toward these monks and their God. Nightcrawler tries to explain that his devotion to God (his words) has brought him peace, to which Wolverine responds, “What are you talkin’ about? We’re mutants! God gave up on us a long time ago.” He follows this up with, “Don’t give me that easy answer garbage! I’ve tried! Don’t you think I want that?” It is shocking, in 2025, to hear cartoon characters talk about religious faith and skepticism so directly. Nightcrawler is a believer, Wolverine rejects the premise, Gambit expresses his doubts with some emphatic head shakes, and Rogue is on the fence. Wolverine and Nightcrawler even get a second scene to briefly debate why bad things happen to good people. You know, standard Saturday morning cartoon stuff. Nightcrawler concludes, “Life will always be hard. I understand this better than most. Yet despite it all, people of every faith believe there is a God who loves them. Can so many be wrong?”

Nightcrawler’s definition of “every faith” apparently does not include the 400 million Buddhists or 1.2 billion Hindus who do not, in fact, believe that there is a singular God who loves them (for a start). But this episode is short on time and has already wildly exceeded the Theological Debate Quotient of its time slot. The monastery’s shiftiest monk, Brother Reinhard, failed to poison Gambit earlier and has now riled up a pitchfork-wielding mob straight out of Frankenstein to storm the place and kill the “demons” inside. Nightcrawler initially wants to leave the monastery to protect his Brothers from the mob, but ultimately decides to stay and confront them. He says that this may be his higher purpose, to teach these village hicks that mutants are people, but I prefer to think it’s the X-Men rubbing off on him.

Brother Reinhard shouting “God is with us!” as the mob breaks down the abbey doors is, again, the kind of thing I don’t think would be acceptable in a cartoon today. The ensuing fight is alright, and the episode does what it can to gin up the stakes. The villagers grab Rogue by her bare arms (her ski jacket was ripped up during the avalanche), which causes her to absorb their intense hatred, confusing her and conveniently taking her out of the fight. Naturally, it comes down to Nightcrawler and Reinhard. Nightcrawler ducks, dodges, and teleports while Reinhard shoots, shoots, and shoots, setting the building ablaze in the process. Reinhard ends up dangling from a balcony and Nightcrawler gets to do the heroic thing, saving Reinhard’s life rather than letting him fall. In the aftermath of this catastrophe, Nightcrawler sees nothing but positives. No one died, Reinhard has seen the error of his ways, the townsfolk no longer fear mutants (though they still don’t seem exactly friendly towards them), and the abbey, though damaged, is “only stone and mortar”.

“Man, I don’t get you,” grunts Wolverine. Nightcrawler, magnanimous as ever, hands Wolverine a Bible, having “marked some passages” for him. Some time later, we see Gambit and Rogue in Paris, as promised. The two are reflecting on what happened in Germany, to which Gambit says that there’s no higher power and life is random, just like a game of cards. Rogue doesn’t particularly like that thought, and takes a walk down a windswept street. She ducks into a church, and finds Wolverine kneeling in prayer. This episode’s final line has Cal Dodd reading from Isaiah 12:1-2 (or most of it), as Rogue wipes a tear from her eye.

This episode has two hard jobs: introduce one of the franchise’s most beloved characters and tackle some very big questions about faith. The show nails Nightcrawler’s introductory story. He gets plenty of opportunities to show off his powers (there’s a great duel between him and Wolverine I haven’t even mentioned), relates his tragic backstory, and saves the day with a smile on his face. Hough’s vocals are some of the best for a guest role in the whole series. As for the religious content, it’s a big swing, and a risky one, but I think it mostly succeeds.⁵ Lines like, “God gave up on us a long time ago,” aren’t beating around the bush. Religion is treated with a seriousness that was (and continues to be) practically unheard of in children’s programming.⁶ Still, the episode’s final scene, with Wolverine bent in prayer and quoting an actual Bible verse, feels a little like the show is proselytizing. I had the pleasure of watching this episode with a friend (and fellow X-Men scholar), who pointed out that it might’ve been more effective if Rogue had been the one trying out prayer, with Wolverine wiping away an ambiguous tear. One way or the other, it’s a standout episode.

Stray observations:

• Shout out to the tussle between Wolverine and Nightcrawler before he reveals himself. It’s not exactly Avatar: The Last Airbender levels of fight choreography, but it’s very fun. At the risk of repeating myself, Nightcrawler is one of the all-time coolest characters in the entire Marvel canon, whether in the comics, this show, or the movies.

• There’s a weird mishmash of eras in this episode. The villagers of Neuherzl are straight out of the 1800s, other than their abundance of laser guns, while Gambit, Rogue, and Wolverine are wearing the puffiest color-blocked ski gear that 1995 has to offer.

• The episode frequently forgets that Rogue has superpowers. She should have shrugged off the avalanche, and there shouldn’t have been any need for Nightcrawler to rescue her from her balcony fall because she can fly. It’s debatable whether Nightcrawler accidentally pushed her off the balcony in the confusion of the moment, but again, Rogue is much, much stronger than him, so it shouldn’t have been a problem either way.

• On the toilet: not applicable. The conflict is local (internal, even), and there’s no reason why any of the other X-Men would need to appear. As far as the rest of the team is concerned, Gambit, Rogue, and Wolverine are just on vacation.

Season 4, Episode 7. Air date: February 17, 1996.

“Secrets, Not Long Buried” is a simple story. Cyclops travels to the town of Skull Mesa and teaches its inhabits to stand up for themselves. The plot is classic Western. The quiet townsfolk are getting rolled by a trio of brutish criminals and need the help of a handsome stranger—in this case, Cyclops instead of Clint Eastwood—to help them set things right.

The episode isn’t based on any comic story that I could find and is full of characters that we’re only going to meet this one time, many original to the show. The bandits are the very talkative Bill Braddock (aka Solarr, with two ‘r’s), OG X-Men villain Toad (unbelievably, only now making his first appearance), and Chet Lambert (an original character with no alias and the power of intangibility). On the good guys’ side we have Darrell Tanaka (a mutant with healing powers who functions as the town doctor and coroner), and Dr. Taylor Prescott, an old friend of Cyclops’s and Xavier’s. Dr. Prescott, like Xavier, believes in mutant-human coexistence, but is more interested in providing mutants a safe place to live rather than training a vigilante strike force.

Also, Watchdog. When Cyclops first flies into Skull Mesa (or near it, at any rate), Watchdog uses his powers to read Cyclops’s mind, knock the plane out of the sky, and neutralize Cyclops’s powers for good measure. Altogether this would suggest that Watchdog is one of the most powerful mutants on Earth. But like everyone in Skull Mesa, he’s a gentle guy forced into doing bad things at Solarr’s direction. The only reason Watchdog doesn’t rule the world is that he doesn’t want to. Sadly, we shall never see this very good boy again.

There’s a bunch of back and forth while Cyclops investigates the disappearance of Dr. Prescott and harangues the frightened townsfolk to fight back against Braddock’s gang, who are repeatedly shown intimidating the town. Eventually Braddock straight-up tells Cyclops that they’ve imprisoned Prescott while they extract all the gold from a mine beneath the town (again, classic Western stuff). Probably the most effective moment in the episode comes when, having told Cyclops all this, Braddock just lets him crawl back to Darrell’s house, confident that he, like everyone else in Skull Mesa, won’t do anything about it.

“Powers or not, I’m still an X-Man,” Cyclops declares, intent on fighting back. It’s a brave thing to say, but Cyclops’s attempt to fight Lambert and Toad goes poorly. Braddock decides to make an example of him in the town square, telling the town that Cyclops is a spy sent to destroy them. This obvious lie, along with the threat of an imminent public execution, is finally too much, and the townsfolk at last take matters into their own hands. A mutant named Tusk kicks off the revolt by sprouting a miniature version of himself from his back to tackle Braddock, and Darrell restores Cyclops’s powers. My favorite part is when a mild mannered lady with green skin uses her plant-based powers to strangle Braddock with some bushes and then gives Cyclops a sheepish smile.

It’s a cute enough story that preaches the value of standing up for oneself. It also feels of a piece with “Sanctuary”, intentionally or not, as it pretty clearly shows that living a quiet life is not enough to stop evil. Braddock and his little gang (again, it’s three people) only get to run roughshod over the town because nobody wants to cause trouble, and their petty scheme falls apart the minute there’s pushback. Call me crazy but I think 2025 can learn some lessons from this 1996 cartoon.

Stray observations:

• Toad and Solarr/Braddock appear in their classic costumes, which look extremely weird next to everyone else, who are otherwise dressed for a casual weekend in Arizona. Even Cyclops, who is almost never out of uniform, spends the episode in a vest!

• I have no idea why a woman would let out a shriek seeing the extremely normal Scott Summers walking around town, but the shriek is pathetic.

• On the toilet: everyone except Cyclops (plus Xavier in a flashback). This is another episode in which Wolverine does not appear, for a total of three so far.

Season 4, Episode 6. Air date: September 23, 1995.

X-Men: The Animated Series did a lot of things that no other Saturday morning cartoon had ever done before, like permanently kill off a main character. Or at least, that was the original intent with Morph: demonstrate that this show had real stakes and that no one was safe. The idea was that Morph would die in “Night of the Sentinels” and stay that way. Attempting to square the circle between the show’s desire to kill off a character and the comics’ tradition of almost never doing that, the writers settled on sacrificing a new character loosely based on Changeling, an obscure villain-turned-hero who himself had died in the line of duty shortly after being introduced in 1967.¹

Unexpectedly, test audiences liked Morph a whole lot. The writers liked them, too, so Morph ended up joining the ranks of characters like Jesse Pinkman instead of Jesse McNally. The writers eventually brought Morph back as Mister Sinister’s tormented minion, but there wasn’t much room for them beyond that. The X-Men rarely ever had a shapeshifter in their ranks, and the show primarily adapted stories from the comics, so there just weren’t many stories where such a character would fit.

“Courage” will be Morph’s only substantive appearance until the series finale, so at least it’s a good outing! Master Mold, last seen exploding in the season 1 finale, is putting himself back together (somehow) and wants revenge on Charles Xavier while he’s at it. That we’re watching a Sentinels/Master Mold story is already remarkable. I had started to give up hope that the show would ever trust its audience enough to revisit old plot lines, though season 4 is exceeding expectations on that front.

Where the episode really shines is in its treatment of Morph and their PTSD. I can’t think of another character who’s gotten it quite as bad as Morph has, at least on the show. Their trauma is extensive, and the writers not only trust the audience to remember most of the reasons why,² they also portray the issue rather well for a Saturday morning cartoon. When Wolverine and Morph investigate a materials plant that the Sentinels had raided earlier, Wolverine notices signs of the big robots and immediately hurries to get Morph away from the place. Too late, though, as Morph spots a telltale giant footprint on the way out and has a panic attack. Later, when the Sentinels descend on the X-Mansion to capture Xavier, Morph can only freeze in panic. Cyclops insists that Morph stay behind while the rest of the team dashes halfway around the world searching for Xavier. It’s obvious to everyone, Morph included, that they’re being handled delicately. This creates some justifiable angst, but it also gives Morph the spare time to figure out Xavier’s location (from a recovered Sentinel head that Beast had been hacking), rejoin the team during the obligatory third act brawl, and save the day. The action is fine. It’s the portrayal of Morph’s mental state and the team’s genuine concern for their friend that makes this story a keeper.

Outside of the fights, the episode goes out of its way to convey how happy everyone is to see Morph again. You get the sense that they really like this person, which makes Morph’s departure at the end of the story hit that much harder. The special friendship between Morph and Wolverine also stands out, maybe more than the writers had intended. During a particularly tender moment, Morph jokingly asks Wolverine if he’s “going soft”. In a notable bit of definitely-not-gay overcompensation, Wolverine temporarily demonstrates super strength and casually demolishes a concrete wall the two are trying to get past. Watching these brief scenes, it’s little wonder that the X-Men ‘97 team decided to make Morph’s feelings for Wolverine more explicit thirty years later.

The action pieces are fine, if a little repetitive. The X-Men fight the Sentinels three separate times in this half hour. The second fight is made a little more interesting by the presence of Henry Gyrich and Bolivar Trask, last seen at the end of season 1. Master Mold has been after them, too, and the X-Men followed the Sentinels to the isolated tropical island where they’ve been hiding. The brief scene we get of Gyrich and Trask bickering with each other reads like a mashup of Gilligan’s Island and The Odd Couple, but with more genuine hatred. Between that and the Wolverine/Morph stuff, this might be the queerest episode in the whole series.

This being the series’s only truly Morph-centric episode, they get to be the lynchpin of the third Sentinel fight. It’s quick but decisive. Morph transforms into Omega Red, Sasquatch, and Longshot (none of whom Morph has ever met, I must note), and the Sentinels just can’t keep up. Ultimately, Morph shoots down a stalactite above Master Mold’s head, crushing their former nemesis once and for all.

As is the tradition with all guest stars, Morph decides they’re not ready to rejoin the team and exits for parts unknown. It’s not an especially teary goodbye, but it feels sad nonetheless, which I think is a testament to how well this episode rounds out Morph’s character and gives them a little closure. It’s also a good representation of the sometimes halting journey of mental health, consistent with the way the show has handled Storm’s claustrophobia and Rogue’s loneliness.

Now That’s What I Call ’90s: Beast saves the coordinates he downloaded off the Sentinel to a 3.5” floppy disk.

Stray observations:

• In addition to clobbering a cement wall more easily than Rogue can, Wolverine also jumps about 100 feet in the air during the first Sentinel fight. Let’s just chalk these up to Wolverine caring very deeply about Morph.

• Master Mold is voiced very differently in this episode, much less robotic and more classic arch-villain. I think it’s a different voice actor, too, but the credits for one-off performances like these are notoriously hard to sort out.

• Master Mold’s revenge plan for Xavier includes linking their brains so that Master Mold can use Xavier’s powers to destroy all mutants. This, I must point out, is basically the plot of X2, the best X-Men movie.

• Beast, hacking into the severed head of a Sentinel, quotes a few lines of “Ozymandias”. Chef’s kiss!

  Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
  And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
  Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

• Cyclops initially thinks the big “Welcome Home” banner is overkill for Gambit and Rogue, who have been elsewhere since the last episode. They’re not here, but the episode spares a line to remind us that they’re somewhere. The show hasn’t bothered with this kind of detailed continuity since season 2.

• On the toilet: Jubilee.

Season 4, Episode 5. Air date: April 27, 1996.

X-Men: The Animated Series employed at least 37 writers over its five seasons, 20 of whom wrote one episode apiece. Of the writers with multiple credits, there doesn’t seem to be much consistency in the quality of their stories. Case in point: the same writer who gave us the season 2 standout, “Beauty and the Beast”, Stephanie Mathison, is also credited for “Xavier Remembers”. I don’t understand how the same person could have written both stories, because this episode is one of the thinnest yet.

At every step, this story commits the cardinal sin of telling rather than showing. Jean (Hi, Jean!) tells us that Xavier suffered a slight concussion (not pictured), which has made him vulnerable to attack from the Shadow King (last seen in season 2’s even worse “Whatever It Takes”). We’re told he fought the Shadow King long ago, but we’re shown only a single shot of that battle. We’re told that this encounter so profoundly affected Xavier that he founded the X-Men, but we’re given no sense of what set this apart from the many other fantastic encounters that characterize his life.

The good guys facing their worst nightmares is a pretty common Saturday morning trope. What’s less common is that the first time this happens, it’s not the team that experiences these visions; it’s Xavier thinking that the team is. When the Shadow King finally becomes strong enough to possess Xavier and torment the X-Men directly, about half that footage is shamelessly reused. The only new nightmare sequence, and by far the best of them, is Storm’s. The ceiling of her attic bedroom starts lowering, crushing everything in its way. Storm recognizes the presence of the Shadow King and refuses to give in to her greatest fear. This is about as good as the episode gets.

I cannot emphasize enough how little the Shadow King possessing Xavier matters. There’s a bit of evil monologuing and then Jean projects herself to the astral plane. She and Xavier, manifesting glowing weaponry, fight the Shadow King until he’s beaten. The fight is lengthy, boring, and badly animated. The characters are just outlines against starry backgrounds. My notes say, “More like the astral lame, right?” I want to believe this was an artistic choice, but it was a bad one. It probably freed up budget for “Sanctuary”.

Xavier closes the episode with the words, “He [the Shadow King] forced me to think through why I formed the X-Men, and why we fight for our ideals and for each other. In short, why I live. For that, I will always be grateful.” But this story has nothing to say about any of those things. It’s a totally unearned conclusion that makes no sense, the ultimate tell-don’t-show.

Stray observations:

• There’s an enjoyable sequence where the Shadow King switches gears and tries to sway Xavier by showing him his dreams coming true. The X-Men, all brightly dressed for a day at the beach, inform him that mutant-human peace has been achieved. “This place is great! No Sentinels!” chirps Jubilee while sipping a drink.

• You’re telling me that Wolverine, a guy who’s alternated between mercenary and government special agent for decades and has seen all manner of terrible things, is most afraid of Sabretooth?

• This is Jean’s first appearance since “The Dark Phoenix” (at least with a line) and Jubilee’s first line since “Savage Land, Strange Heart”. Been a while, ladies!

• When the X-Men are finally roused from sleep, Cyclops is the only one already in uniform.

• Xavier’s astral projection dons classical fencing gear to fight the Shadow King, as he did when he fought Dark Phoenix.

• The flashbacks to the founding of the X-Men, some of which are reused from “Sanctuary”, show Angel once again. Or rather, they show a weird mashup of bird-winged Angel and blue-faced Archangel. This has got to be an animation error.

• On the toilet: Rogue and Gambit, technically. They’re in the illusions and flashbacks, but are otherwise mysteriously absent from the real-world events.