Weird For The Sake of Being Weird
(and the Unfathomable Mystery of David Lynch)
*DISCLAIMER: This is the longest anything I've ever written about anything ever. To those who dare divulge through this madness... I salute you.
PROLOGUE:
After years of hearing about hearing about it; after more than two decades of living in its presence, having never quite understood its following, it happened; I finally gave in to the madness that is Twin Peaks and with the show returning after a much overdue hiatus (25 years overdue), there's not a better time to become a fan than literally right now.
And I didn't just watch Peaks, I literally gave in. I embraced it and became fully immersed in its strange, far-out behavior; I was glued to the weird environment that no show should ever exist in. It's quite literally unlike anything I've ever seen. Peaks stands on a pedestal like no other television show of its kind. It never quite reaches the exciting caliber of something like Breaking Bad; it never quite gets as gleefully bizarre as something like The X-Files, and yet the show somehow still stirs that thrilling excitement while delving into the bizarre world of the supernatural and the unexplained. The show creates a charm and personality that is at times unidentifiable making audiences return (and then return over two decades later) just to unlock the mysteries the show presents, even if you never quite receive the answers you think you're looking for.
That said, there's no getting through to Peaks as a show; as a cult following; as a phenomenon at ALL, if there's no understanding of the mad genius (or just a complete nut job) behind the craft; the show's creator who is either a complete mastermind or a manipulative weirdo who knows how to make things just weird enough that fans stick around just to see what he'll do next.
And weirdo or not, he's got a killer hairdo
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If there's a method to unlocking the essence of David Lynch (if there is such a way), it's by first observing his films and there's no better place to start than the man's early cult classic of the 70s, that gave him his name.
I first discovered Eraserhead when I was about the ripe, ignorant age of 19; an inevitable time for anyone discovering "film" in every essence of the word for the first time. There's definitely a pretentious attitude film students acquire when they first begin studying (the lucky ones become self aware of this when they're young). They learn about the importance of cinematography and might be able to BS a paper on the term "mise-en-scene;" they hold Quentin Tarantino on the highest pedestal imaginable. Now, that's not to say that there's not a worthwhile discussion about cinematography nor is it to say that Tarantino's NOT one of the best of the best, but when you're just scraping the surface of film, there's only so much you can take in without realizing the absolute quality of other filmmakers around you who may just be "too weird" for your young, ignorant-ass 19-year-old self. That said, Lynch is a weird dude and Eraserhead is about as weird as weird gets.
The only reason I ever sat down and took the time to watch the film was because I discovered the magic of being addicted to horror movies; everything from the top-notch films made with practical effects to the down-right trashy slashers. Naturally, in an attempt to feed my horror-movie addiction I went out seeking lists of the most notable horror movies of all time and on most of the respectable rankings, at some point or another Eraserhead would appear. Now, to call Eraserhead a horror movie just doesn't feel appropriate. It's strange in an eerie way for sure, but I wouldn't at all call it scary. Yet that first viewing of the film has stayed with me ever since. I absolutely hated it.
In 1977, the same year Star Wars debuted, Eraserhead had the complete opposite effect of the "excitement" of film, in a way Star Wars captivated with its Blockbuster personality. Everything about Eraserhead, from the slow pace to the bizarre, out-of-left-field directions the plot took; the bleeding food that came to life; the wailing alien baby; the melting pudgy woman who lived in the radiator; it all was so strange and it was strange for seemingly no apparent reason. It infuriated me to no end. Critics RAVED about this movie and to me it was nothing more than a wacky experiment to be weird in a way no other film was... and what I didn't realize was that this was the entire point of Lynch's craft.
This doesn't happen with me for too many films but when it does I know it's a good sign. When a film gets to me and I can't stop dwelling on it for hours or often days, it's something I'm determined to see again, no matter how infuriating the film was the first round. This has happened with more recent films like Only God Forgives or A Serious Man, and my second viewing of Eraserhead was one of the more memorable (the trend seems to be the stranger the better).
And alien-babies are about as strange as strange gets
Watching Eraserhead, after having cleared my head of expectations (to have any expectations for a Lynch project is just silly), it's like I was watching a completely different film. Everything that had turned me off the first time stood out like a bulb in a dark room. Suddenly, aspects like the stop-motion animation felt reminiscent of something out of an early era of filmmaking sans George Mellies. The weird alien-baby made the parenting metaphor stand out in an unconventional way; the strange occurrences that affect our characters were as cathartic as they were creepy. The uncomfortable imagery of the melting lady in the radiator gave just a small enough glimpse into the case for the film being classified as horror; suddenly, the whole thing snapped together like a sloppy puzzle with foreign pieces. I suddenly, for a brief moment felt like I actually understood Lynch, or at the very least I understood why his work was so fascinating to me. It was all still so weird and arguably weird for the sake of being weird, but it was an embracing, loving piece of film and while it would only be the introduction to Lynch's work, it was a film of pure craft that was not only unique for cinema but a piece of work that would directly influence this current season of Twin Peaks 40 years later.
*WARNING: Twin Peaks SPOILERS from here on out*
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Once giving in to the madness that is David Lynch, the possibilities are endless. Your imagination can be prepared for anything he throws at you... If you're ready for it. That said, Twin Peaks is unlike anything Lynch has ever done because the realm of television allows the show to have no boundaries. Because of its episodic format and its ongoing run time the show was able to become everything from murder mystery to high school teen drama; from quirky cafe talk to dark, supernatural clues being uncovered; the show was able to breathe and become its own beast of multiple genres and entities at once. Counter-intuitively, many fans would agree that the prequel movie, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, suffers for the exact opposite reason Twin Peaks the series succeeds; it's a movie, and being limited to only 120 minutes or less, there's no room for that character development; that exposition; that chit-chat about coffee and pie that makes the show such a lovable and damn fine experience. Alas, there's nothing like that show's genre-jumping and it's the same frustration and ultimate adoration that I had while watching that make it stand out beyond anything else in the creator's line of wacky work (regardless of how many times I almost gave up on the absurdity of it all). And in order to understand how I got here; to this glorious place of seeing such an old, weird, nostalgic piece of pop-culture be resurrected 25 years later, we must start at the very beginning.
LET THE SEXY DANCING BEGIN
When I started out, my girlfriend had been such a fan of Twin Peaks. She was a die hard Peaks-head for sure, going on RAVING about how good the show was and without her I may have never dove in to the madness to begin with (dating tip: Date someone to trade shows with [Bonus if they're good shows]). Needless to say, I started the show and to the surprise of my still lingering modern day ignorance, I was NOT pleased. That's not to say it was BAD per se, but considering how groundbreaking everyone called it for its time I could not get past whatever it was Lynch was trying to throw at me.
What began as a depiction of uncovering the mystery behind Marilyn Monroe, TV creator Mark Frost and filmmaker Lynch moved towards a fictitious television series instead, while obtaining the original mystery girl as the primary focus (blonde, beautiful, filled with secrets; met a mysterious death) and so began an unexpected phenomenon.
SEASON 1
The plot of the Twin Peaks pilot is about as formulaic as TV drama gets; a girl is discovered having been brutally murdered and the audience follows a string of clues in order to find out who killed her. Needless to say I was ready to quit in only the first episode; dark and brooding and boiling with mystery for sure, but the personality of a show that's essentially entirely centered around a murder mystery for its run time has never felt so strange and out of left field. We follow not only the detectives and law enforcement who riddle this murder mystery but we follow a bunch of high school kids and some of it is purely soap-operatic. There are moments where the 20-something-year-olds playing teens are sobbing dramatically as the very early 90s synth-piano score comes in and I simply cannot take any of it seriously.
Oh stop crying, Donna.
In fact, the soapy moments are SO overly wishy-washy what with the crying and the dramatic dialogue and the sad, piano-riddled music that I couldn't help but wonder if it was all ironic... My girlfriend can attest to my suspicions that the whole show is secretly a comedy; that Lynch, actually being the mastermind everyone deems him as, is actually SO self aware of his work that he strings along events that are so thematically over dramatic that it's actually difficult to take seriously. On the one hand, I can't argue with the inevitability of having not been a part of Peaks when it aired. There's gotta be something about the show that resonates with audiences who actually experienced it in the early 90s having never seen anything like it on television before, but in 2017? MUCH of the show is wildly campy and authentically silly that for a show about murder (and eventually about dark, supernatural happenings) it all comes across as somewhat hokey and lost in an unknown time period. And yet I can't help but feel like that's KINDA Lynch's point. He paints us a world in this very woodsy, super small town where a dark murder mystery goes down and yet all the while folks are still chatting about pie and silent drapes and malicious plots to take down a lumber mill. It's bizarre and bizarre seems to be what Lynch does best, even when he's (un)intentionally being funny.
When she tells you she'll only do doggy if you act like a dog
One of the most notable aspects of this bizarre notion in figuring out the show's personality is the acting and the dialogue. For whatever reason, the moment a character opens their mouth it is often a moment of awkward acting or clunky dialogue. Whether the camera lingers too long on a take or whether the young actors need to attempt to be melodramatic sans 'Days of our Lives,' it's as if some of these people are acting for the very first time (most of the stars were unknowns before the show) but not because they're poor actors per se, it's more so that Lynch appears to have a fascination with exposing these characters in an uncomfortable placement of acting. Some characters speak and it's as if they're auditioning for the role or they're unsure of what action follows their dialogue... Again, this is the very notion that questions whether or not the heightened drama is so bad it's good or whether this actually is an intentional craft of Lynch's. Obviously once you stick around, it's worthwhile, unless Lynch really is attempting to pull the ultimate rug from under his audience (wouldn't put it past him). Regardless, there's just something about the way the characters speak; that old-timey noir style of smooth talking; the way characters lean back and puff on their cigarettes as they contemplate the murder as if they're talking about jazz musicians. Say what you will about not being able to take some of it seriously, but Lynch & Frost know how to compose characters and dialogue.
Really enlightening stuff.
On top of the characters smooth-talking like they're in a film noir, the show also has a fantastic score by Angelo Badalamenti; the light rapping of drums with the off-kilter jazz horns truly put you in a world that feels like it's the ultimate murder mystery party in the weirdest town imaginable. By sticking these offbeat characters in a setting with this kind of music, the show begins to come alive.
WHO KILLED LAURA PALMER?
As for the season itself, yes the 'who-killed-Laura-Palmer' plot was mysterious and somewhat engaging but it's far and away the personality that this show wears on its sleeve that makes ANY of the mystery feel like not only a phenomenon but a legit cult following, to the point where the show's tagline ("Who killed Laura Palmer?") became a pop-culture reference more than an actual posed question in the show itself (and we don't even get an answer until the next season). Alas, the show existed in a strange world of overly dramatic emotions that swallowed entire scenes whole. We look at moments like Laura's funeral and her weeping father jumping onto her casket as it's lowered into the dirt, wailing in agony as the other characters are at loss for words in utter horror, for the devastation of the character and the sheer lunacy of how the scene plays out... And yet, it's funny. One could argue that most of Leland Palmer's scenes are tragically comical, for some reasons more obvious than others, which again begs the question, is David Lynch secretly the ultimate comedian?
We examine dark aspects of the show like young Shelly Johnson's abusive marriage to the cartoonishly villainous Leo; a plot that would later give way to a lustful affair with bad-boy Bobby Briggs and yet Bobby comes across as one of the show's biggest lunatics with one of the more outrageous performances of the show. Are we to believe that Lynch is just depicting a shattered world of crazy people? Regardless, it's the jumping back and forth, in setting; in genre; in mood; in character, that makes it all worth talking about.
Although some of it is just best left unsaid.
We look at the young, blissfully innocent cast of scandalous high school students and their infinite affairs; Laura (who's dead), Bobby (who was dating Laura, but now having an affair with Shelly), James (who was having an affair with Laura), Donna (a peaking Lara Flynn Boyle & Laura's best friend, later having an affair with James), Audrey (who's just looking to have an affair with anyone) and other shamefully slut-dramatics of the students of Twin Peaks High (half the first season is essentially a soap-operatic high school drama). The other half of the cast relies on the adults; everyone from the sheriff's dept, hotel owners, diner operators and mill runners (who all have their own share of affairs); a contortion of crazy cast members all thrown together in a small town who give this show life. But the one cast member to mention; the glue that holds it all together, is obviously Kyle MacLachlan's special agent Dale Cooper.
Truth be told, I could write this whole novel entirely about Coop and the spunk that MacLachlan brings to every moment he's on screen but this is a given. If the other actors are giving 100% to their roles, MacLachlan brings ten times that amount. And not because he's a great actor (and he is) but because of the charm and charisma he brings to Cooper. MacLachlan sort of represents the Humphrey Bogart of Twin Peaks; the smooth talking genius who won't sleep until he cracks the case; up late at night with a new epiphany, recording his latest theories on tapes, sent to his partner Diane (who the audience never sees in the original run) and yet throughout all the straight-laced detective tropes Coop carries, there's a sensible charm of self doubt and self aware character that is simply human; Coop cracks jokes, he falls in love, he RAVES about coffee and pie; he's just like the rest of us.
Although he PROBABLY has Type 2 Diabetes
By having Coop visit Twin Peaks from out of state the show makes his character that much more relatable to the audience. Here's a town that's filled peak to peak with not just weirdos but cartoon characters; hard working, stern and overtly serious police officers but also a homely one-armed man, a one-eyed woman who has super-human strength, and a lady who talks to a log. These are people who are cut from a totally different cloth who make sense to be living in a very small town in the middle of the woods. Cooper is the balance that brings the audience back to reality and while the show contains interesting aspects without him, it is MacLachlan who makes us want to follow this weird, wacky journey through Twin Peaks, as a town and as a show. Every moment he's on screen makes sitting through even the worst moments of Twin Peaks worthwhile (and there some DREADFUL moments). In fact, the show arguably relies on MacLachlan TOO much sometimes, not hindering the show itself but getting to unbearable points of tedious and silly plot-lines that when NOT focusing on Coop, the show simply drags like insufferable molasses (this often happens in season two). My theory is that Lynch eventually wanted to prove he could make Peaks good without Cooper (but still with MacLachlan) and that's ultimately where we stand with season three... But first we must get through the inevitable season two (and I'll do my best to make it pleasant).
LET'S ROCK
I want to break for a moment to discuss the first moment of the show I was legitimately interested in; the first moment where the petty, pretentious, condescending film student in me gave in to what was being presented, regardless of my former opinions on acting and clunky dialogue (which seemingly wraps up my feelings on all of Lynch's work) and that moment is very unsurprisingly Cooper's dream. The scene is such a groundbreaking moment for the show because not only had nothing quite like it been done on modern television but it was a singular moment which laid the ground work for future staples of the show (including this current season, 27 years later) and includes some of the most intriguing segments of Twin Peaks' entire run.
Like when this dude broke down the dance floor
Every moment of the "red room" sequence was mesmerizing; the particular sofa; the iconic Warhol-ish black & white floor design; the red curtains surrounding the room; the flashing lights; the midget; the backwards dialogue; ALL of it felt like a glorified version of a luxury suite from another dimension; like being personally escorted to the back of a strip club in a parallel universe where everything hones in on this secluded, mysterious room where Cooper is an old man and Laura Palmer herself emerges with cryptic messages about the future. Everything about the scene works because A) it's a dream; it can be as strange as it pleases and B) it's pure Lynch in his element. In fact, one may argue that any red room/black lodge scenes are the centerpiece of all of Lynch's thinking; it's the epitome of his warped sense of vision. It's as strange as it is glorious and it's easily the most notable piece of season one, if only from a visual standpoint. The fact that this room appears again multiple times in the following seasons only make Coop's dream that much more satisfactory. The sequence is so important because it sets the stage for literally everything to follow; all the twists; all the mystery, and it not only ends up being a major plot point in the 25 year gap between these last two seasons, but it's arguably the entire catalyst for season three.
Almost as much of a catalyst as the screen time the coffee and doughnuts get
Once we hit the final moments of the first season, not ONLY do we never find out who Laura Palmer's killer is, but Agent Cooper gets SHOT by an anonymous MYSTERY PERSON (DAMMIT LYNCH, WHY MUST YOU DO THIS)
BANG (literally)
**END OF SEASON ONE**
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And as with all notable television, there almost-always must be a downfall somewhere along the way. With LOST it was the ending (if not the last couple seasons), with Sopranos it was the VERY ending, or lack of rather (though some have warmed up to it over the last decade) and with Twin Peaks, that point is season two (although die hard fans will find reason to defend it). The reality is, season two isn't as good as season one, but the whole thing isn't bad; that would just be ignorant to declare. What's clear is that the season is very much so split between two story lines and though the second story line not only becomes interesting but becomes the catalyst for the entire follow-up season, more than two decades later, it still arguably limps to the finish line.
SEASON 2
If I were to declare a point in the show where I was hooked, I'd say it'd be the beginning of season two, if only to find out who shot Coop (and maybe finally figure out who killed Laura Palmer [though knowing Lynch, we'd have to really work to get there]). Granted, having an episode, let alone an entire season end on a cliffhanger of the protagonist getting shot isn't necessarily original or unconventional but nevertheless it strung the story along enough to keep me going. But more so than the 'who-dun-it' mysteries of the show, it was the psychedelic journey through Coop's visions and the semi-supernatural themes of the show which were MUCH more engaging by this point.
Because what's more engaging than an 8-foot man appearing in your bedroom?
Between Coop's dreams (midgets and giants alike) and the character of Bob (who we'll touch on in a moment), I was led to believe that by this point in the series Lynch had used the murder-mystery of Laura Palmer as a means to guide his audience into a much bigger and much more dark universe. That's not to say it was no longer important to find out who killed Laura Palmer but in discovering that simplistic answer we are also given a much more complex question, or series of questions at that, and I believe that was Lynch and Frost's entire end-goal.
Sure, the 20s-playing-teens continue their share of affairs but the first half of season two really peaks (no pun intended) with the detectives resolving Laura's killer, simply because although there is a definitive answer as to who-dun-it, the "real killer" is much harder to pin-point.
And so, it is with the evaluation of the mystery-character of Bob which leads to the supernatural stuff which is arguably the best stuff of the whole show. When we first meet Bob in season one, he appears to be nothing more than a creepy drifter; a middle-aged man in denim with long, gray hair and corn-yellow teeth who serves no other purpose other than to frighten other characters who can see him. The character's presence is minimal but always a focal point. Every time Bob is on screen, another character sees him and usually screams in terror. We get this idea that Bob is kind of a ghost but his appearance goes a little deeper than that and once we learn the history of the character, simultaneously learning the killer of Laura Palmer, the mysteries begin to unravel and the show sort of takes its first big leap.
The history of Bob doesn't need much explanation by the time we learn about him. Aside from his terrifying appearance he's actually apparently a creepy, rapey dude who stalked people and raped people once upon a peak, and he's a terrible person and he eventually disappears having believed to be dead. That being said, it is the reveal of Laura's killer which bring to light just how bad Bob really is.
Oh come on, HE'S HARMLESS
IT IS HAPPENING AGAIN
One of the best scenes, arguably in the entire series, is Cooper's vision of the giant man during the second Palmer-murder. Much of the town is gathered for an event when the music fades from what's being played on stage to a tune played to the style of the Twin Peaks theme. The lights go dim and a spotlight appears on the woman singing. The woman fades out and the giant man appears to Coop. He speaks some eerily cryptic dialogue, stating "It is happening again." Some of the other characters begin to sob as if they know something has gone horribly wrong; Coop stares at the giant in awe as the piano themes subside. It is a moment of pure emotional trauma for the characters and it plays out alongside one of the show's most terrifying and all time darkest moments.
When the red marker explodes in your mouth
We see Laura Palmer's identical cousin Maddy (not even gonna go into that one) while she's at home when she's approached by none other than her uncle Lelan Palmer (SURPRISE) who gives a devious smile and the audience KNOWS it's about to go down. Leland stares in the mirror and sees Bob staring back; The pieces start to fit together. Leland then terrorizes Maddy and ultimately smashes her head into a wall and essentially just brutally murders her. I always wondered why some of the show was talked about as too dark or controversial for early 90s cable TV; this scene settled that curiosity. It's arguably the darkest moment of the show, pre-season three.
GIVE THIS MAN AN AWARD
So mind you, with this vigorous murder going down at the exact moment that the other characters have this sort-of spiritual awakening in realizing that they have some sort of connection with the murder, I finally come to terms with Lynch's genre-hopping and in a mere moment, all the absurdity is forgiven... For now. There's something about the wildly soap-operatic themes of love affairs between people and people and people and cherry pie; the comical nature of the character's stagey dialogue that contrasts with a moment as dark and sad and as hauntingly beautiful as the one Coop experiences during Maddy's death that immediately separates Twin Peaks from nearly any other show I've seen. It's just a shame the show doesn't hold moments like this for too long. It may take a while to get there but once we DO have those moments, it makes the questionable lunacy of the entire show all the more worthwhile.
And so, Leland Palmer having been possessed by Bob, is revealed as the Palmer family killer. And with Bob jumping in and out of Leland's consciousness, Leland (as himself) commits suicide in prison being unable to live with himself knowing he's committed these despicable acts. The spirit of Bob leaves Leland's body (so we're led to believe) and the show's most major story arc comes to a tragic, strange and ultimately satisfying end. The Palmer family is left with only Laura's mother, Sarah (who will obviously need serious therapy after these events) and Coop plans to leave town after helping solve the mystery... Mind you this all goes down before the halfway point of season two.
BOTTOM OF THE PEAKS
I don't mean to be pessimistic but once the Palmer murder mystery is resolved, season two begins to suffer at a rapid pace. Not sure if it's because the studio ordered more episodes for season two after season one gained so much popularity (season two had a whopping 22 episodes in comparison to season one's 8 episodes), or if Lynch & Frost simply had no idea where to take the series after Laura's killer was revealed but the show sort of quickly slips into this new story line about a new villainous whack-job (who we'll touch on in a moment) and it becomes painfully obvious that the creators are sort of grabbing at straws for the majority of the second half of the season. That's not to say the remainder of season two is terrible, but until we reach the climax of the series, there's lots of filler and not just filler; highly unnecessary filler.
For starters, we have the Windom Earle story line which contains so much nonsense. We get wind (no pun intended) of one of Coop's old partners who's supposed to be some sort of unhinged maniac; Coop was having an affair with the dude's wife or something and now he's out for revenge and he's a suspect for the murder of someone else and he's gone into hiding and yada yada yada and honestly, it's not even that the random plot is that bad but the character of Earle is unbelievably cartoon-ish; Like, hiding out in a secret lair in the woods - maniacally stating his evil plots aloud to himself and giggling like a loon as he raps his fingers together - maliciously plotting to kill Cooper; Like a 1940s villain in a kids' Western TV program; You can practically see him twirling his mustache; THAT kind of cartoon-ish. His plot line does ultimately merge back with the Bob stuff (the good stuff) but it takes some hell and back to get there.
And to be frank, it wouldn't be so bad if there was much else to grasp but unfortunately the other story lines in the remainder of season two don't fare as well either. On top of Coop going undercover with partner/sheriff Harry Truman to trap Windom Earle in his schemes and save a hostage-held Audrey from a sex-casino, or something like that (in one of the better post-Palmer plot lines), we have the following story lines which include (but not limited to):
- Jocelyn, the co-owner of the mill who's having an ongoing affair with sheriff Truman, eventually dying in a dramatic fashion as her spirit gets trapped in a dresser-drawer door knob (because why not); Harry goes into a deep, alcoholic depression.
- Leo Johnson, stuck in a coma, being tended to by Shelly & Bobby which very quickly becomes a sit-com routine of them playing "mommy & daddy" to him.
- James who, after singing a ballad in the style of Boy George on helium earlier in the season, has an affair with an older woman who frames him for killing her husband.
- Audrey who becomes wooed by an enchanting Billy Zane for several episodes.
- Audrey's father Ben Horne (malicious hotel owner and the richest man in Peaks) reenacting the Civil War in his office with costumes and figurines.
- Nadine, the middle-aged cyclops lady with brute strength suffering from amnesia, thinking she's a 16-year-old cheerleader.
You'd need the jaws of life to get these images out of your head.
For one, we meet some of the show's most memorable characters including Lynch himself as the near-deaf FBI agent Gordon Cole who features arguably some of the show's best comic relief; his shared love for pie (I guess it's a detective thing?); his shouting, asking people to speak up; his entire interaction with Shelly Johnson at the diner; everything about him is strange and comical in a way that makes this show truly stand out (and obviously he knows what he's going for, since this is HIS show after all). We meet other characters as well, like a pre-X-Files David Duchovny in drag who has some of the show's most notable dead-pan humor; Something about Duchovny's super-serious monologues while he's dressed as a woman just make everything better.
The world doesn't deserve this Duchovny
We also have Heather Graham's Annie Blackburn, a pleasant though arguably shoehorned-in love interest for Coop, who ultimately is part of the set-up to the season's big ending.
And with the big ending, we have the big supernatural story lines come back into play. Somewhere along the second half of the season, there are some twists. We are left with cliffhangers like Ben Horne possibly being killed or Audrey being trapped in a bank that gets blown up (it'd take too long to explain). But more interesting than that, we have Coop & the gang stumble upon the mysterious Owl Cave and Deputy Chief Hawk helps tie in some old Native urban legends within the small town of Peaks; Major Briggs mysteriously disappears into the moonlight; Donna finds Laura's secret diary and all these clues lead to a showdown at the big Miss Twin Peaks contest. It's a strange place to end the show for sure, but it wouldn't be Peaks if it wasn't strange.
Among all these things, it's the urban legends that are the most interesting, the biggest ones being all the talk of the Black Lodge & the White Lodge. Granted, some of the best clues to these supernatural elements are marked up in make-shift diagrams of the town; hand-drawn maps that help tie in some of the most bizarre aspects of the show up until this point. In short, we get this idea that the midget (from Coop's dream), the giant (from Coop's vision) and Bob all tie in to these lodges, which act as a placeholder for these spiritual dimensions which we've only seen mere glimpses of. Season two comes to an all-time climax when Annie (Heather Graham) has been kidnapped by Windom Earle at the Miss Peaks contest (most definitely a trap). Coop chases him down in hot pursuit and ends up in the middle of the woods at night, at the exact coordinates of where the mysterious Black Lodge is located. Coop essentially walks through a void and disappears entirely. We see him appear in the red room from his dream in season one and in one sheer moment, the entire series comes down to this.
THE BLACK LODGE
The sequence in the red room (now revealed to be The Black Lodge) at the end of the season is one of the most weird and straight up creepiest moments in all of Twin Peaks' run. Some fans refer to the Black Lodge as a portal to hell; a pleasant Warhol-ish living room with dead characters reappearing with cryptic messages and no way out in sight; an endless loop of suffering; an inescapable prison. Save for the recurring midget in the red suit (a fan favorite, no doubt), everything between Laura Palmer's bizarre hand gestures; her milky white eyes and ear-shattering screams, are next-level terrifying for this show. Agent Cooper stares at a doppelganger of himself, also with milky white eyes, maniacally cackling with Bob; cue the strobe lights (it's really wacky stuff).
We see the real Cooper, desperate and attempting to escape from this nightmarish museum of another dimension. Leland shows up (who's definitely dead) and Annie shows up (who's not dead?); She seems calm; Like everyone in the Lodge, she speaks backwards. What's her deal? Is there more going on than what's being shown? Of course there is. It's David Lynch; It's weird for the sake of being weird. The less questions we ask the better.
The most rewarding part of this final Black Lodge sequence is Laura Palmer's cryptic message to Cooper. Among all these terrifying and bizarre sequences, it's her final words to him which leave the audience on a thread which would become that much more savory for this latest season in 2017. In classic-Lodge backwards dialogue, she leaves him with these words: "I'll see you again in 25 years."
BE A LITTLE MORE SPECIFIC THERE, LAURA
Now, did Lynch or Frost have any clue at the time that they'd be revamping Peaks pretty much exactly 25 years later? Most likely not, but the fact that this is one of the last clues of the show before revival makes the whole entire experience pretty damned worthwhile... But before audiences knew it was coming back? It was arguably one of the most frustrating television experiences as a fan, if only for the very final scene of the show.
THE END?
RECAP: Coop chases the bad guy who has kidnapped Annie, his love interest; He ends up in the Black Lodge where he ultimately meets his fate (kinda). Lodge-Laura gives him a final cryptic message as he is allowed to leave (for now).
THE NEXT MORNING: Coop wakes up in bed, surrounded by his fellow police officers, who have now become dear friends (how precious). He asks the sheriff, "How's Annie?" We're given some dialogue about how Annie is safe and the world of Twin Peaks can now go back to normal (as normal as this town gets anyway).
So Coop randomly decides he needs to brush his teeth. He enters the bathroom. He gazes in the mirror. Bob stares back. The audience knows immediately knows what's going down and somehow we're left wondering if maybe this is all just a bad dream. Coop smashes his head into the mirror, shattering it; blood trickles down his face, Bob's matching expression in the mirror as cold, devious and cartoonishly villainous as ever. The police, startled by the sound of the shattered mirror run over to the bathroom; door locked (SURPRISE). Cooper, face covered in blood, gives a wicked smile and repeats to himself "How's Annie?" over and over and over, like a crazy person.
FREEZE FRAME - END CREDITS
**END OF SERIES**
???
???
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WHAT THE F**K, GUYS
This was the end; That's no exaggeration either. All fans know that THIS of ALL THINGS is what Twin Peaks' entire run seemingly ends on; the most bat-sh*t-crazy cliffhanger ending with no resolution in sight and honestly, watching the (at the time) series finale in 2017 was arguably the best decision with television watching I've made since I decided to binge-watch LOST AFTER it was all over, having already known the ending.
I can't imagine the frustration die hard fans must have felt having stuck around with this cult-induced TV show to have it end on the cliffhanger it did. On the one hand, sure it's only two seasons and it's a really crappy way to go out but on the other hand, by doing the ending he did Lynch proves that he's a totally separate entity from the pack, if only for his ambitious nature to just be different. Did he have plans to continue the series and was denied by CBS? Who knows. But the way it worked out in the end was obviously a blessing in disguise. And when Lynch DID finally follow up a year later, he gave fans not a follow-up, but a prequel movie "Fire Walk With Me," which counts the final days of Laura Palmer's life before she was murdered; a movie that's very controversial to Peaks fans for it's straight-laced dark and edgy sense of tone... Now, did Lynch plan on using clues from this prequel movie to be part of the extended universe in his 25+ year follow up? WHO KNOWS. What mattered is that the show left viewers on such a wacky cliffhanger that it's almost insulting to those who followed the series like a ravaging cult member; It's like Sopranos or LOST but before their time; it's the ultimate series finale discussion and yet like I said, for Lynch it's different and for Lynch, different works.
He's going to kill us all
Had the man never made plans to revive the show during the exact time Laura told Coop she'd see him again, I don't know if I could even get on board with it all; it'd be too much time invested with no ultimate payoff and YET, if there's one thing Lynch has been consistent with, it's proving he can hook an audience with minimal plot and SO much damn exposition. The show has never been about the murder; the mystery; it's NEVER been about "Who killed Laura Palmer," it's HOW these random-ass, quirky towns folks come together and how they behave. As with Eraserhead, Lynch films his scenes like he's an extraterrestrial studying human life for the very first time; every interaction is slow, strange, off beat and it's the personality of the show that makes the mystery and all the clues, questions and burning desires to know what happens next, all the worthwhile... But luckily, Lynch wanted to give his audiences some answers... kinda.
THE RETURN
When it was announced that Twin Peaks would be making a comeback, and that Showtime was picking it up no less, the world of TV-goers spoke up (hell, it's why I'm ranting a novel today). The revival of this show is arguably one of the biggest comebacks for television, of all time. And when it was slowly being announced that not just Lynch & Frost but that most of the original cast members would be returning in some fashion (with over 50 cameo guest appearances from other notable celebrities), the hype became real. And honestly, it's not even that the current season is so good per se (though it's absolutely worth discussion), more so it's the idea that a show as small and as strange as Peaks would be coming back. In the current age of television revivals, there's no better time than now but the fact that the timeline of this show's return is happening right now, and 25 years after the show ended on that oddly specific cliffhanger, the timing couldn't be more perfect.
To break down season three (dubbed "The Return" for multiple reasons) and analyze it would just not be fair at this moment. Not only is the season not finished (though only a few left) but there are just too many details, theories and characters to explore. So I will do my best to break it all down thus far, to the best of my ability.
First, we have our opening shot:
The Black Lodge.
We observe Agent Cooper sitting in the same sofa, wearing the same suit, and now indeed much older as depicted in his dream in season one and it's a stupendous way to open (GREAT callback). We imagine Lynch was digging into the two decades worth of anticipation and figured he'd give his audience some kind of explanation as to what's happened in this 25-year gap.
To go into detail would be too good but it would also take up more time (and Bob knows we've already spent a LOT of time today) but once we get into it, it essentially goes down like this:
HANGIN' WITH MR. COOPER(S)
We discover that Coop in the Lodge is the REAL Agent Cooper and that he's been trapped there for 25 years, while the "Bob" Cooper from the season two finale has evolved into a long, greasy haired, leather jacket sporting "Evil Coop" who has been causing all kinds of trouble in the real world over the last 25 years. Now here's where it gets tricky (bear with me here)... This evil Coop has seemingly predicted that the real Coop would one day emerge from the Lodge and enter the real world again to replace him, and so created a doppelgänger "Dougie Jones" Coop; a husky, Vegas gambling type who sports neon-ugly jackets and a hideous mullet-type hairdo. Dougie is used as the placeholder for whom real Coop switches places with... But once emerging, the real Coop, for reasons only imaginable, has some sort of amnesia-dimensia-type of clueless to him. On TOP of this, once switching places, the real Coop is confused for this "Dougie," who is not only a trouble-making gambler, but has a desk job and a nagging wife and child.
So let's review... 3 versions of Coop (all played by Kyle MacLachlan): 1 real, 2 doppelgangers; One evil doppelganger creates a "Dougie" doppelganger that the real Coop switches places with. The real "Dougie" ends up in the Black Lodge where he melts into a puddle and the real Coop, now in the real world (but absent-minded) is confused for this Dougie character (yes, it all sounds like a brain-inducing plot of confusion). This is the entire center point of season three.
If anyone ever questioned MacLachlan's acting before, they'd be silent now. The man's never gonna be Emmy-worthy but to transform into these characters who are so many different shades of personality takes true talent. The dynamic between evil Coop's cartoonishly dark antics; his smug look with not even a crack of a smile, and Dougie Coop's blissful innocence legitimately makes one feel like they're watching two totally different characters. Watching, you really do forget that these are two drastically different performances from one actor and once again, MacLachlan is the glue that holds it all together. Now, obviously the much bigger discussion among fans is the love or hate for MacLachlan's characters in this story line because at the end of the day, this has become a MUCH different show over the last two and a half decades.
IN WITH THE NEW
And when I say the show is different, some of it is literally so unlike the old stuff that you would never believe it was linked to the same universe.
For one, we have nearly an entire lack of soundtrack. Where much of the show's original run featured the strange and very memorable score, here the familiar tunes only come back at specific moments which is nice because it accents those moments leaving a lasting impression, but the majority of the show's segments are entirely absent of score. However, the lack of soundtrack this season is traded for musical segments at the end of every episode featuring a new, modern band play a song at the Bang-Bang bar during the closing credits. This has very quickly become a new staple for the show, a very welcoming tradition, and it is definitely one of the best bits of the season.
For another, save for the rare inclusion of original cast members and the often bleak tone, the majority of the season also seems to be location-jumping and almost none of the action actually takes place in the town of Twin Peaks. We go everywhere from Vegas to New York City but the Peak-parts are small and savory. I do in fact believe this is kind of necessary because once we do get to Peaks, it has never felt more awkward and more at home than it does now.
Because some things just never change.
The contrast in non-Peaks locations and non-Peaks residents actually reevaluates just how bizarre the original town truly is. Every time we focus on the small snippets; the sheriff's department, the RR diner; it's always so strange and uncomfortable and rightfully so. It all has such an awkward personality to it and one is reminded of just how much they appreciate the nostalgia of it all. It's what the entire show was for two years straight and that's what fans have gotten used to and in the end that's WHY so many fans are raging about their disappointment in the latest season (it's mostly receiving positive buzz but the negative criticism is definitely out there).
To put it simply, fans want what they love about the show; the weird town; the quirky humor; Cooper as a witty agent raving about pie and coffee rather than two oddly off-putting characters, regardless of the small hints at love for both coffee and pie. But here's the thing; The Return is so drastically different that it's not even referred to as "season 3." In a sense, it's such a wacky standalone project that it's an entire beast of its own realm, giving Lynch & Frost the opportunity to stretch their legs and create a whole new form of groundbreaking TV and yet link it back to their beloved baby of a cult-hit TV show. And in that case, different is a very welcome thing.
Is this an allusion to Laura Palmer and the red room?
Regardless, it's a glorious, beautiful thing.
For real.
Let's skip ahead to some of the really good stuff. For the first seven episodes or so we play with multiple ideas and introduce brand new plots, many of which are still lingering in a mysterious balance (and for all we know may never be resolved); many themes and visuals so difficult to describe that you'd just have to see it to understand how far-out it really is.
For starters, we have everything from the horror genre; a phantom black cube that appears only to brutally tear people's faces off, and charred, homeless woodsmen who appear out of thin air; We have straight-up comedy; Everything from Dougie Jones (an absent minded Agent Cooper mind you) being mistaken for a genius, to characters outrageously overreacting to events in an overly dramatic fashion in a way that only a show like this could make it seem funny; We also have the strange and flat out bizarre; talking roots, exploding heads, villainous midgets; Everything from vortexes in the sky and glimpses of the parallel universes known as both the Black and White Lodge and it all seems as strange and glorious as ever.
THE WHITE LODGE
I want to discuss the White Lodge for a moment, as we've never truly seen it prior to this season. We follow Agent Cooper travel through the Black Lodge which we've become familiar with at this point and we see him end up at the mysterious White Lodge which, as expected is almost a complete contrast to the Black. First, there's the location. The scenery is shot completely in black & white which is an immediate change in tone to the Black Lodge's vibrant red curtains and zebra-patterned floor. Save for the fact that this Lodge appears to be located in what looks like a giant light house-island in the middle of the ocean, the "living room" space of the Lodge is also a notable contrast. Where the Black Lodge has the leather sofa and clean-waxed floor surrounded by curtains, here the scenery features a more soft, worn out couch surrounded by old antiques and artifacts; like a friendly grandparent's house. Sure these aspects may not seem important to the story but the visually minuscule attention to detail is astounding and to finally see contrast in these versions of heaven or hell or whatever part of the universe these plateaus exist on, is more proof of Lynch & Frost's expanded vision as a completely separate entity than almost any other platform of television.
In the White Lodge we meet a few characters including the Giant from Coop's visions in season two. He always did come off as a force for good, if you will, so if there is some place for him to reside it's fitting that it be the White Lodge. We also meet a pudgy woman who reminds me of the melting woman in the radiator in Eraserhead and we start to see Lynch's past work bleed in to the present. The most interesting character here though is a woman in distress with no eyes.
SOMEONE CALL THE DOCTOR
She's about as "Lynch" as this world gets.
She wears an old-timey dress and looks as if her eyes have been sewn shut with only small indication of eyelids. In Part 3 we see her lead Coop to the top of a very tall tower which nearly appears as if it exists in outer space (more Eraserhead feels) only for her to jump off and descend into the black void, seemingly committing suicide but as an act to save Cooper (from what?). Granted, this is the beginning stage of Coop exiting the Lodges and entering the real world (to replace Dougie Jones -- It all connects -- HOPE YOU'VE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION). Still, as with all of Lynch's work, I can't really make any f**king sense of any of it but it's glorious to take in.
BACK TO THE PEAKS
The more interesting story line though is arguably Evil-Coop being tailed by the FBI. Save for MacLachlan's cartoonishly villainous take on the role, we have the law enforcement hunting him down, including David Lynch returning as the near-deaf Agent Gordon Cole, teaming up with Agent Albert Rosenfield played by the late Miguel Ferrer and honestly, if we're not gonna have MacLachlan as the trusty FBI agent, seeing Lynch and Ferrer as a pair is almost just as good. The two have plenty of screen time and their chemistry is arguably some of the best in this entire series. Sure, they're on a serious mission but between Albert's dead-pan attitude and Cole's simplistic innocence, the two share a buddy-comedy environment that's too humorous not to enjoy. Even when the show gets slow or too strange to take in, these two are always a pleasure to watch.
I will say, among their relationship, the biggest surprise of their story arc is the inclusion of the mysterious Diane, the FBI partner of Coop whom was only addressed via Coop's voice recordings to her when he was on the job. Part of what makes the Diane reveal just that good is we never once saw the character during the original run, let alone heard her voice (she wasn't even mentioned outside Coop's recordings). Her relationship with Coop is obviously an intimate one as she hears all of his personal thoughts on these cases. Therefore once the reveal ends up being the on-point Laura Dern as the stern, miserable, vulgar, chain-smoking, bleached-hair, FBI bad b**ch, her presence is an IMMEDIATE rush of exhilaration making the 25-year wait to see the character totally worth it.
"F**k you, Albert"
Dern is arguably the flat-out best new character and because fans have known about Diane from the beginning, it's that much more satisfying that Dern absolutely nails the role.
And yes, we do have other familiar residents of Twin Peaks as well, with an older Shelly and an even older Norma running the RR diner but it's the sheriff's department that's always the most fun to watch. Everyone from the simple Andy to the bubbly Lucy (who haven't changed an ounce); to heritage-friendly Deputy Hawk (who even receives cryptic phone calls from the late Log Lady); to bad-boy-turned-sheriff Bobby Briggs (SURPRISE); they are easily some of the most engaging past cast members of the entire season. Granted, past youngsters like James and Audrey are reduced to mere cameos (although James get to reprise his iconic song that sounds like a little flute) with Lara Flynn Boyle's Donna being absent due to her body falling apart before our eyes, it's a real treasure to see the old gang back in Peaks which doesn't seem to have changed at all.
WORTH THE WAIT
And with the town being trapped in this frozen time warp of weird personality, it is yet another reminder of just how different the world is outside of Peaks and it strikes a bittersweet note in the hearts of fans -- or maybe just me.
Because returning to Twin Peaks isn't necessarily enjoyable. Sure, it's a pleasure to see these old characters doing the same exact things they were doing nearly three decades ago, but they're also old and not just old but sort of worn out and sad. I get that this is perhaps Lynch's moral on life; people find the town that works for them; they find jobs that keep them going; they grow old; they die. And to see just HOW much these characters haven't changed makes the outside world seem that much more vile.
Take this asshole, for example
Whenever we focus on a non-Peaks segment, the story lines are dark and often VERY bleak. We get everything from bloody crime scenes featuring headless, decaying bodies; midgets brutally stabbing people to death; cars running over small children; characters violently attacking their family members, and again perhaps this is part of Lynch's moral on life and just WHY the town of Peaks feels like a safe place in comparison, even when the most devastating events are taking place. We start to feel the horror elements really come out of Lynch this season and of course much of that is due to Showtime's lack of boundaries but of all these things; all the madness; nothing feels quite as strange or as mesmerizing as the events that take place in Part 8; a staple on the entire series no doubt and arguably one of the most memorable episodes of this entire show.
PART 8
Just when I thought the season was beginning to drag or run around in circles, I watched this episode and reevaluated my entire Twin Peaks experience. It's arguably the best episode this season and easily one of the most memorable episodes of all time.
The episode goes a little something like this...
We open with Evil Coop driving through the night in the middle of nowhere with a companion who plans to double-cross him. The companion goes to "take a piss" and whips around to shoot Coop dead (supposedly)... Here's where it gets weird. We hear the sound of static; We see flashing lights. A group of charred, homeless looking woodsmen appear in flashes as they surround Coop's body desperately digging through his corpse; The spirit of Bob emerges in the shape of a magical orb floating out of Coop's chest. Real wacky stuff.
Smash cut to the Bang-Bang bar bookend where musical guest "The Nine Inch Nails" are introduced (mind you we're like 10 min. in to the episode at this point)... they play an entire song in dark, heavy, bleak fashion in a way that only NIN could (very fitting for this season, let alone this episode).
Smash cut again: New Mexico - 1945. The frame is black & white. The location is a deserted plot of land. A nuclear bomb goes off. Freeze frame. The camera slowly pans through the smoke and travels deep into this explosion frozen in time. Hard cut to: Scrambling images, loud, scratchy notes; an immediate horrific score as if we're being dropped into the middle of a psychedelic horror movie. Mind you, this begins a period of no dialogue for at least twenty minutes...
Cut to the White Lodge: We see a TV screen, if you will. The devilish smirk of Bob appears in a dark bubble of the nuclear bomb. Evil is born. Danger is afoot! TO THE BAT-CAVE!!! The Lodge's residents appear; the Giant is accompanied by the pudgy woman who plan to send some kind of force for good down to Earth to stop the evil (we can only assume); The Giant floats up in the air and spits up a golden light in the shape of a Wizard-of-Oz-style orb; In the heart of this golden light is the classic high school photo of Laura Palmer. Together the Giant and woman send the golden orb through a tube as they watch it sail towards a specific part of Earth we can only assume is Twin Peaks.
And finally the following: Back on Earth, a disgusting toad-like-fly creature is hatched from an egg in the desert. We see the woodsmen stalk people driving in cars. There's only one woodsman who speaks and he breaks the episode's long period of silence by asking the frightened drivers, "Got a light?" his murky, raspy voice terrifying the pedestrians. He asks this question over and again.
Dude, CLEARLY no one has a light.
That's a mouthful of NOPE
*END OF EPISODE*
And honestly... All I can say is "What the f**k?" I mean, literally. Between being shot in black & white and lacking dialogue for most of the episode's run time; between all the subliminal images and warped visuals for extended periods of time, and between all the strange, bat-sh*t crazy events that don't pertain to the story at all, this is about the most groundbreaking the show has been since it was last on the air, more than 25 years ago. People have stated over and again that this show was once praised for doing TV in a way that's never been done before and this is the closest we've come to that unfathomable level since it's inevitable return to the silver screen. There's really no words to describe the significance of this episode's nature.
You can call Peaks as weird as you'd like but almost nothing prior compares to this whole episode and it raises not only questions but connections to not just Twin Peaks the show, but the mind of Lynch & Frost and how deep this rabbit hole goes. Sure, on the one hand you can watch Part 8 at face value and think nothing of it beyond a weird, artistic ritual in being strange (arguably the entire point of my essay here) but if you know Eraserhead (the episode feels like an extension of the film, bringing Lynch's resume full circle) and if you know the mind of David Lynch, even a little bit, you can't help but feel entranced by the whole universe of strange signs and connections.
This MF could LITERALLY be from Part 8
There are more theories about Part 8 than there are The Return's entire season, one of the most popular being that the toad-fly creature is actually Bob in his pure, demonic form inhabiting a young Sarah Palmer who would one day give birth to Laura Palmer hence the Bob-running-in-the-family connection. There's ideas floating around about the woodsmen being dark, spiritual guardians of the Black Lodge, if you will, making the audience question just how big this fictitious world of Peaks really gets and in short, it's way larger than any of us realize and I think that's such a big part of what Lynch is trying to accomplish this season.
Because once examining the remainder of the season (with only a couple episodes to go) we sort of hone in on this reality that maybe this is all building up to be something that's... not that grand or not that important. Granted, you get freaks like myself who spend Bob knows how much time theorizing and reading up on the endless possibilities when in reality, this might all just be another ploy of Lynch's to make a stance on just how strange he actually is because he knows that the weirder material he presents, the more you're gonna have SOMEONE out there who's determined to find a resolution behind all the madness; somewhere buried deep down there's gotta be some kinda metaphor beyond the wacky illusions... right?
GET TO THE POINT ALREADY
And what's up with the puking girl and the screaming toad woman in Part 11?
Without question, the funniest part of the entire season.
Granted much of these bizarre encounters have minute explanation, there's just still SO many questions. And maybe the point is that we should just stop asking and accept the show as is, no matter how strange it gets.
Literally me.
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HERE'S THE POINT
The more I write this and the more I watch the show, the more I find that I'm driving myself crazy trying to make sense of it all when in the end, this is arguably just Lynch's method to storytelling and is indeed WHY the people who do talk about him, talk about him in a cult-like manner. One could argue that Lynch is simply pretentious because he's leading the audiences on to clues they can't quite resolve for the sake of "art" or that he's simply biting off more than he can chew with his wacky hijinks that literally don't equate to anything but I also think part of the brilliance is that it's such an odd approach to human behavior. Like I've said before, it's as if an extra-terrestrial is examining human life for the first time and it makes sense that Lynch portrays characters in such an odd fashion because maybe he's just an odd dude. It's his wacky nature that is so off-beat and so unlike any other filmmaker that makes him such a defining figure in film culture. Sure, it's too strange for most but his work has meaning. Because even when we can't explain WHY things happen, there's an unmistakable amount of charm to his characters and personality to his stories. Sure, the quest in trying to unlock Lynch's mind is half of what makes the mystery so much fun but ultimately, attempting to figure out Lynch's way of thinking would be like trying to evaluate every detail of a Picasso piece; There's a lot to pick apart but it's simply too weird to fully understand making it one of the most subjective properties on the planet; It's the very notion that makes the art of it all so questionably far-out that keeps it as unique as it is. There's a reason why people keep coming back to Lynch and why we've all returned to the town of Twin Peaks 25 years later.
I think I'm finally starting to get it.
EPILOGUE:
In the end, is there a simple solution to any of the mystery? Some of it, sure, but ultimately we need to accept the strange antics of the world of David Lynch no matter what's being presented, and with everything from the truth behind Laura Palmer's murder to The Return: Part 8, Twin Peaks will inevitably be the catalyst to all of Lynch's work. Nothing quite captures the horror-elements in the murder mystery; the comedy in the soap-opera dramatics; the determined but wacky FBI persona; and all the out-of-left-field supernatural occurrences, surprises, questions that have been thrown at us for nearly thirty years and if you wanna dig further into Lynch's career, even longer than that. His career is one to observe and above all his wacky antics, he at least does things with his work like no other filmmaker on the planet and that's something to behold even if we can't understand why.
For only David Lynch truly understands David Lynch
And hey, for all we know, beyond all of its accomplishments, The Return could crash and burn in the season finale leaving questions unanswered, desires elongated and an ultimately sour taste in our mouths; the show wouldn't come back for another season and that's how we would all remember Twin Peaks in the end. That being said, we're all obviously pulling for a better ending than that but if that's how the show bows out, look at it this way... Twin Peaks, the beloved cult-classic TV series, that was way ahead of its time and canceled way too soon, came back to television. It was given a proper network to air on and was helmed by the show's original creators and featured most of the original cast members. More importantly, it gave David Lynch more creative freedom than he's arguably ever had in his entire career, making The Return one of the most "David Lynch" things he's ever done. Like the season or not; let it ruin the whole experience for you, or let it reignite the spark that made you fall for his work in the first place... In the end, it's a miracle the show came back at all and no matter how it's received in the finale, this return will be considered a phenomenon of TV, even if that phenomenon only exists in the wacky world of David Lynch.
...And that's worth celebrating with some damn fine coffee.
May the Lord fire walk with you all
