Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me

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(Ed. Note: This is joint review of the TV show — primarily Season 3 — AND the movie has been adapted from the RANKING DAVID LYNCH special - there was no indidividual Twin Peaks episode) DISCLAIMER: I’m sorry if you think it’s cheating that I am including the expanded Twin Peaks Universe as one single entry on this list. I’m sorry if you think the only thing that should count is Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me because that is the only Twin Peaks thing that is actually a “feature film.” But also: SORRY NOT SORRY. TPS3 is movie lol. This is my list and I’m putting Twin Peaks at #1, specifically: all of Season 1 of the original TV show, plus the beginning of Season 2 (until the episode where we find out who killed Laura Palmer) and the Season 2 finale. Then of course Fire Walk with Me, and the 18 hour MOVIE that is Twin Peaks: The Return, or Twin Peaks Season 3, if you will (I prefer the former as it gives the masterpiece the gravitas it deserves).

I was given the Twin Peaks Gold Box as a Christmas gift in 2007. The 10-DVD set had just come out and this was still an era when people treasured physical things like that. It was really important and meaningful to me, and I still own it despite no longer having a DVD player. Watching it for the first time was a treasure and a fond memory. The feeling I got when I heard that Badalamenti theme music start the show and everything in between…

…yes, even James in Season 2. I loved it all: the good, the bad and the ugly, the whole kitten caboodle, even though I realize how far it got off the tracks before Lynch rejoined and set the table for The Return. The original TV series is, obviously, far from flawless. As mentioned, Lynch stepped away for long stretches before going fully AWOL after it was revealed that Laura Palmer’s father, portrayed by the great Ray Wise, is in fact her killer. After that, the show took a turn (to put it lightly).

But Lynch never gave up on the world. He returned to helm the stunning Season 2/de facto series finale. So much of the mythology that Fire Walk with Me and certainly The Return is built upon is ignited in that finale, fittingly titled “Beyond Life and Death.” But really, the original series is most notable for merely existing at all. A precursor to the “golden age of television” that was right around the corner, there still hasn’t been a network series remotely this daring. There’s often much made, too much if you ask me, about the “cult of David Lynch.” Critics of this “cult” say its followers are blind: The man can do no wrong. It’s weird for weirdness’ sake. And so on, they drone. Now, I’m a fairly big David Lynch fan (no duh). But I’ve always tried to remain grounded in regards to this. He’s not perfect. But he has made near-perfect art. And I’m a fan of ART first. I see his infiltration of the masses with Twin Peaks as one of his finest achievements in the arts. How many powerful people had to be convinced that the mainstream was ready for something like this. It’s baffling. That, of course, they weren’t ready is kind of besides the point. Someone has to poke the bear.

If Lynch had closed the books on Twin Peaks with Fire Walk with Me, his sixth film released in 1992, that would have been fine. It’s a polarizing feature and was a fairly significant box office bomb, even for Lynch. Fire Walk with Me nonetheless retains an otherworldliness among the filmography. Given the subject matter––you know, just your average super-violent father-daughter incest rape thing––it’s hard to argue this isn’t his darkest tale by a wide degree. It’s perhaps not ripe for repeated viewings. In fact, I did not rewatch it for this review, the only film of the ten. Why? Well, I had given it a replay back in 2017, just before the debut of Showtime’s Twin Peaks: The Return. And, to be honest, I just wasn’t ready to return to this madness quite so soon.

Only David Lynch could mold one of the loftier aspects/thematic devices/main characters (?) of the long-awaited follow-up to perhaps his most beloved work on one of the most random, seemingly meaningless, toss-away lines spoken in a bad Cajun accent in a cameo role by David Bowie: “We’re not going to talk about Judy at all…” Until, that is, the time is right… Say… 25 years later?

I just recently began to rewatch The Return and I’d like to say thank you for this, David Lynch. This needs to be put into the discussion with his greatest work, if it’s not already there. I can recall after various episodes of its original run (May to September 2017), feeling a sense of awe and wonderment and confusion and joy. I say to anyone that’s curious that this is an 18-hour movie. David Lynch made an 18-hour movie when it wasn’t certain if he’d make any more movies again.

It would be dumb, if not downright foolish, to try and hash out the plot-lines or gush over Kyle MacLachlan’s performance in not two, but three distinct roles. Here, the duality of man has fractured yet again in these modern times. And when I got to that final two-hour finale, I found myself on a family vacation. So I carved out a block of time to watch it at the house we were renting on my laptop, alone, in the dark, as the rest of my family enjoyed a sunny day at the beach. I followed Kyle and Laura Dern’s Diane into one more sketchy motel and then onto El Paso, Texas, of course, just as everyone had guessed, and then back to Twin Peaks, Washington, where the series ends on a question… Special Agent Dale Cooper turns to Laura Palmer outside her childhood home and asks, “what year is this?” She screams into the abyss and the lights in the home spark off and the screen explodes into darkness. For a series that was, ultimately, about the passing of time as much as it was about the origins of evil in the universe or anything else, it was a fitting end.

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