#until she was necessary for the plot. like when she and norma talk about their mom it feels so... forced. i cant believe that they actually

[blue-nebraska]

Day seventeen: Shelly and Gordon

This is one of my FAVORITE scenes from the whole show. It’s such a lighthearted scene amidst all the doom and gloom of the terrible Windom Earle plot line. Gordon is hilarious, Shelly deserves the attention, the music score in the background is wonderful, and I even find the interaction between Coop and Annie sweet (though overall I find their relationship feels rather forced). “YOU ARE WITNESSING A FRONT THREE QUARTER VIEW OF TWO ADULTS SHARING A TENDER MOMENT ...acts like he’s never seen a kiss before!”

ID: A black and white drawing of Shelly and Gordon sitting at a booth at the Double R Diner. Gordon is leaning towards her and holding a mug of coffee, while Shelly is resting her chin in her hands. There’s a slice of apple pie with two forks on the table. A banner below reads, “that’s the kinda girl to make you wish you spoke a little French!”

[fakesam]

Twin Peaks: The Return is Gone Way Too Soon

There are so many reasons why a third season of Twin Peaks shouldn't have worked. David Lynch’s last movie came out in 2006. The reboot era has become progressively underwhelming, and judging by the mediocre numbers at the box office this summer, I'm not the only one bored by all the reimaginings. Season Two of the original Twin Peaks was a confused, dull affair that was lost sight of what made the show so unique. A third season, 25 years after the show’s first ending, didn't seem necessary or even wanted at this stage. The prevailing emotion while I was watching the premiere that first Sunday night was curiosity rather than excitement.

And yet here I am, the day after the eighteenth and final part of Twin Peaks: the Return, already missing it dearly. Appointment television basically doesn’t exist anymore, but the show revived this notion with a vengeance. By the time we got to the final stretch, I was planning my Sundays around being home at 9:00, like I was still a teenager imposed with a strict curfew. I had to see the next piece of the story as soon as possible. Discovering which band was playing the Roadhouse at the end of each episode as something I looked forward to as much as any sliver of plot development. I never want David Lynch to explain the meaning behind his work, but I would love the hear the story of how the performers at the Roadhouse were chosen. I just hope the person who suggested Hudson Mohawke and the Chromatics are the same person.

There were so many decisions and ideas that could only be made by the mind of David Lynch. Your beloved Dale Cooper? He won't be himself until the final three hours of the series, trapped inside the body of his Las Vegas doppelganger Dougie Jones, forced to relearn how to drink his beloved coffee or even urinate properly (I don’t care about awards, but Kyle MacLachlan better win all of them for his performance this season). Audrey Horne? She’s reintroduced through a few disconnected scenes with her shitty egghead husband who may or may not exist. The movie that seemed minor in comparison to the landmark television show? It’s more important to the plot of The Return than the original series, honestly. And is there a bigger creative swing in the history of television than the masterful Part 8?

I grew to love the often turtlelike pacing, so unlike anything else on television. The dedication to never rushing into anything led to sumptuous character moments that made a world with interdimensional doppelgangers and talking trees feel as tangible as the laptop I’m typing this piece on. It was a show capable of immense horror (Richard Horne ransacking his grandmother’s house, Sarah Palmer ripping out that dude’s throat out), sweeping romance (Norma and Ed finally got together!), poignant goodbyes (RIP Log Lady), and absurdist comedy (Wally Brando, Dougie and Janey-E’s sex scene) with equal craftiness. I can’t think of another show that could rubberband between moods so swiftly without feeling incongruous - except for maybe “Atlanta” which Donald Glover often described as “Twin Peaks with rappers”.

And on the few occasions where David Lynch decided to make a normal tv show, it was fist-pumpingly brilliant. I mean that literally. As an assertive and awake Dale Cooper told Bushnell Mullins “I am the FBI”, with the signature Angelo Badalamenti theme swelling above the scene, I began involuntarily punching the air like Michael Jordan after hitting a game-winning shot. The delayed gratification of the moment annoyed me at times since we all knew it was coming, but the payoff was perfect.

The two-part finale was everything that made Twin Peaks intoxicating and maddening compacted into two hours. Part 17 was a certified classic. The meeting of the two Coopers has been inevitable since we learned there were two Coopers, but I did not see Lucy being the one to deliver the decisive shot. Seeing the real Diane after spending so much time with her tulpa was great (Laura Dern was fantastic), even if it was only for a few minutes before things got real weird again. The second half of the episode took my breath away with how audacious it was. Fire Walk With Me was pretty divisive when it was first released, and I understood why after watching it for the first time a couple weeks ago. If I watched it without the knowledge of a third season, I would’ve hated spending so much time watching Laura Palmer do things and have things done to her that we already knew about from the original series.

The Return recontextualizes everything the film says to such an extent that you could almost convince me that 25-year wait was planned all along. It’s the history of that film that seems to have brought Lynch back the most. Part 18 was a typically Lynchian descent into madness. I found it bewildering while I was watching it - I’m really annoyed by the treatment of Audrey Horne, how inconsequential one of Twin Peaks’ best characters became -, but I feel better about the episode after sleeping on it. The Phillip Jeffries scene was already my favorite part of the movie, and after last night I consider it the smoking gun for this entire season. Unnerving non-sequiturs - The insistence on not discussing Judy, Jeffries’ questioning of which Cooper is standing there, the first reveal of the Woodsmen - now act as ominous statements foretelling the fate of Dale Cooper.

As Cooper and Not Laura Palmer stand outside of Not Sarah Palmer’s house, as lost and confused as most of the viewers at home, Cooper shakily asks the heavens: “What year is this?”, a question that seemingly unlocks Not Laura Palmer to the despair of the situation, at least according to the primal scream that’s become so familiar. Cooper, who can’t help but try to be everyone’s hero, overstepped his station by trying to stop Laura Palmer’s death from ever occurring. He’s become untethered from all sense of normalcy, with home looking farther away than it ever has. There are forces that even someone as objectively good as Cooper can’t overcome.

This putdown of humanity’s place in the universe also aligns with Part 8’s assertion that the portal between the violent mystique of the Black Lodge and our own reality was created by the invention of the atomic bomb, a weapon of such destructive power that it can only be used once any sense of empathy has been completely drained. Exert too much force on nature, and nature will show your role really is.

It’s a tragic sentiment for what is almost assuredly the end of the series. Even accounting for the few issues I had with the season, I still love the show for inspiring such a level of discussion and thought in its audience. As the world around us devolves further into dipshit-run dystopia, it felt downright quaint to visit a world where ash-covered demons lurk in the margins, Cheeto-loving hitmen kill in cold blood, and the FBI and the police are still trustworthy institutions. To paraphrase Dale Cooper’s farewell to Janey-E and Sonny Jim, Twin Peaks: The Return made my heart full. It won’t be long before I give it a rewatch. Thanks for everything, David Lynch.