“Do you recognize me?”
-Laura Palmer (well, at least something that appears to be Laura. Of course, Laura died and set this whole thing off... )
If the original Twin Peaks proved not to be for you, the new
episodes likely won’t be either. Despite the extreme hiatus, having
co-creators David Lynch and Mark Frost return to the series (Lynch
worked in film for much of the maligned S2) has reinvigorated it with
the original DNA.
To start, Twin Peaks maintains its unflinching violence and
terror. The ‘90s series features some of the most visceral, ugly crying
you’ll ever see on the small screen after Laura’s parents find out about
her murder. That kind of raw humanism will likely come, but here, grief
isn’t as prevalent as the emotion that precedes violence—terror. Two
relatively unknown kids on an unusual assignment in New York City
shriekingly succumb to something resembling a Harry Potter
death-eater. Another anonymous neighbor turns up dead in brutal
fashion—missing an eye, missing her own body, surrounded by hardened
blood. Lynch and Frost have always used a slow TV approach to many things, the brutality of evil included. Refreshingly, that hasn’t changed after a quarter-century.
Lynch and Frost’s surrealist/auteur aesthetic has carried
over, too. Longtime musical collaborator Angelo Badalamenti again
provides the scoring, combining the old (that familiar credits sequence)
with new flurries (is that an ARP 2600 analog synth
booming when we fly over treetops or the evil spirits emerge in NYC?).
Dialogue continues to feel Hemingway-esque by being short, succinct, and
at times slow or repetitive. Visually, the camera still lingers longer
than you’d expect on everything, giving us uncomfortable looks at
portraits of Dale Cooper or an RV in the woods. Lynch and Frost rely on
some of their classic techniques, too, like stationary cameras set in a
far corner of a room or unusual old-school effects depicting Cooper
floating through space and time or spirits attacking. And yet, drone
shots establishing New York City also fit the visual language these two
created long before such technology became accessible.
In the most delightful bit of carryover, Twin Peaks
maintains its mysterious oddness. Our story has expanded from
Washington and another world to include South Dakota, New York City, and
Vegas for unexplained reasons. For instance, the two kids in NYC, Sam
and Tracey, sit in a large studio apartment that contains nothing but a
couch, some cameras, and a giant glass cube with a valve open to the
outside world.
“[This place] belongs to some anonymous billionaire,” Sam says. “I’m supposed to watch the box and see if anything appears.”
“There’s a lot of equipment,” asks Tracey. “Is that some sort of science experiment?”
“I guess you could say that," Sam replies.
Elsewhere, Evil Dale Cooper manages to record a phone call and
produce it on a handheld device immediately. Good Dale Cooper interacts
with a barren white tree with a talking brain on top (and the people
around him still talk in subtitles and distorted English). Lawman Hawk
maintains a relationship with the medium Log Lady and follows her vague
instructions, no questions asked. All this makes little sense to a
viewer, but it makes perfect sense within the world of Twin Peaks.
A murderous, grounding element
“I understand.”
-Good Dale Cooper (interpreting the following instructions: “It is in
our house now. It all cannot be said aloud. Remember 430, Richard, and
Linda.”)
Most importantly, Twin Peaks: The Return has a real-world
murder to solve. No matter how off-the-rails the original series seemed
to get, the quest to resolve Laura Palmer’s death acted as a guiding
light for otherwise dissonant storylines involving grieving parents,
quirky FBI agents, and local good/bad entities or otherworldly forces.
In the new season, local principal Bill Hastings (newcomer Matthew Lillard
fitting in seamlessly) learns his fingerprints turned up at the crime
scene for that brutalized anonymous neighbor. He swears innocence but
admits to his wife, “I wasn’t there... but I had a dream that night I
was in her apartment.” Naturally, she responds by acknowledging each of
them have been engaging in affairs and he can rot in jail for life. As
always with Twin Peaks, things—naturally, including the owls—are not what they seem. This feels like enough of an inciting incident/mystery to set off the Rube Goldberg plot Lynch and Frost have in store for 18 episodes.
Of course, things could also unexpectedly go awry in a blaze of artistic glory—this is Twin Peaks,
after all. I didn’t watch the original as it was happening (I blame
slow aging), but I binged the series in its entirety on Netflix a few
years back. That approach really emphasized the stark difference between
the show pre- and post-Laura Palmer revelation (the then-series finale
notwithstanding, since Lynch returned to handle it). “Uneven” would be a
kind way to describe that second season, a 22-episode saga likely
stretched beyond its narrative means by networks wanting to capitalize
on a surprise hit.
But no need to go revisit the past; there’s a reason you’ve kinda, sorta seen Twin Peaks,
even if you haven’t seen it. The original stands as a television
touchstone that has inspired many aspects of the modern-day classics we
all obsess over. Lynch and Frost established the template for
writing/directing TV auteurs (a hands-on approach now implemented in everything from Louie to Mr. Robot). They stand among the first to believe genuine human anguish can be enough drama to move a series (see The Wire or The Leftovers).
The value of a defined aesthetic (Fargo, Mad Men), the ability to shapeshift across genres (Atlanta, Community), the construction of an ever-growing mythology that extends well beyond the screen (Game of Thrones, True Detective, Westworld)—Twin Peaks
did it all first and did it well for a whole season. Lynch originally
didn’t even want to reveal who killed Laura Palmer (famously saying the
network killed the goose that laid golden eggs), drawing
up an ambiguous blueprint that later became a template for Lost.
If this show had come along in the era of subreddits, individual
episode recaps, and endless fan theories, it might have morphed into the
biggest series ever and avoided any business-interest handcuffs getting
in the way of whatever Lynch and Frost had in mind.
In that light, Twin Peaks: The Return feels like
television’s Michael Jordan comeback moment. An all-time great has
re-emerged for a new, more informed generation to see firsthand. But the
question of whether the series can maintain its original peak form will
linger over everything. Most likely, at times it’ll be thrilling
(Jordan’s first stint, when he won three titles capped by an iconic flu game), and at times it’ll feel dated (Jordan's second stint, as those later Wizards teams
never made the playoffs). Either way, let's all enjoy the fact that we
get to wander in the woods of the Pacific Northwest one more time.
Twin Peaks airs Sundays on Showtime, and simultaneously at 2am on
Sky Atlantic on Monday morning in the UK. Showtime has already made
episodes three and four available online for subscribers.
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