Peaks TV: Talking ‘Twin Peaks: The Return’ Parts 1 & 2

The return of Twin Peaks is a lot to process. After each episode, Uproxx‘s Alan Sepinwall and Keith Phipps attempt to hash out what we all just watched.

Keith: So how do we do this? That’s my first question after watching the first two episodes of Twin Peaks: The Return. (Actually, I couldn’t wait and watched the third episode too, but I’m going to leave that out of this discussion.) Whatever Twin Peaks was before and is now, it’s not a Rubik’s Cube of a mystery show that if we fiddle enough we can eventually make all the pieces lock into place.

That said, it’s quick to establish that this isn’t a show wholly removed from the one that ended two and a half decades ago. The opening moments are closely connected to the second-season finale, opening on the unmistakable zig-zag tile and red curtains and then dropping us once again into the moment when Laura Palmer promised Agent Cooper she’d see him again in 25 years, then offering up some familiar images from the old show: the mill, the trophy case, the panicked girl running in the courtyard, then that Angelo Badalamenti theme song.

But it’s not the old show. The first thing that struck me as different about this Twin Peaks was the rhythm. Where the original Twin Peaks at least mostly moved to the pace of a prime time network work soap opera — visiting this sub-plot, then this one, then this one — our first scene in Twin Peaks proper involves Dr. Jacoby receiving some shovels, and it lasts two-and-half minutes. And I’m fine with that!

Alan, I know from your review that you’re fine with that too, but did the pace of this show surprise you? And what else set this apart from the original show for you?

Alan: We’ve still got 16 hours of this to go, Keith — and I thought we had a pact to not watch past these two before chatting, sir! — and I think at a certain point, if the pacing stays like this, it will drive me up a wall. For last night, though, I was just so happy to be back in this universe — and, more importantly, to see that Lynch hadn’t lost his fastball, despite his thin and increasingly alienating directorial resumé this century — that I went along with the shovel-unpacking, the belabored business with the apartment keys, all the lingering shots of the cameras surrounding the glass box, etc. Lynch has described the new season as “an 18-hour movie,” which is a concept and a structure I hate — episodes are important for a reason! — and I will not be shocked in the least if we get the Netflix sag on steroids by the middle of it. But this made me feel like I’d been shot through whatever electricity was coursing through the arm-tree in the Black Lodge.

What was fascinating was how much better the scenes were that didn’t take place in Twin Peaks itself, and/or that featured new characters — or, in the case of Bob as Cooper’s doppelganger, a new version of a familiar character. It was fun to catch up with Ben and Jerry, or Lucy and Andy, and I’m sure you got choked up right along with me when you saw a dying Catherine Coulson looking so frail as the Log Lady, but that was all more on the fan service end of things, at least for now. (And if the revival isn’t modeling itself on soap operas, then I’m not sure what place a lot of these characters have in the narrative, even though I’m hoping to hear Richard Beymer say “pine weasel” one more time.) Whereas the scenes in Buckhorn, or of the mysterious glass box in New York, or Evil Cooper out on the road, all felt alive and exciting in a way most of the reunion material (save Cooper’s conversation with Laura in the Black Lodge) didn’t.

This story’s still connected to the old one, but how did you feel about Lynch and Frost taking the story to so many new locales, with so many new faces? Would you have rather seen Audrey or Norma and the rest right away rather than mysterious interludes in Vegas and quite so much time on the glass box?

And speaking of other locales, how self-indulgent is it of us — while talking about a franchise that, even for those of us who adore it, has long had a penchant for self-indulgence — if we just talk for the next few thousand words about those establishing shots of New York? Who does that? How did Lynch and Peter Deming find a new way to do the most familiar shot in modern cinema?

Keith: I know! I think you described it quite well in your review, but making the New York skyline seem eerie and strange without really altering it in any way is quite the accomplishment. I can’t break down how the show did it, either. Some of it’s just context. It’s the New York skyline setting up something in a David Lynch project. Some of it’s the sound design. Because, as always with Lynch, sound counts as much as image. But beyond that it’s hard to pin down why this New York looks so eerie, but those shots go a long way to creating a sense of danger that carries over into all the scenes with the glass box.

I wasn’t aware that Coulson, who died in 2015, lived long enough to film any scenes for the revival. It was wonderful and moving to see her as a Log Lady who’s now more sad than peevish, and to see the tenderness with which Hawk treated her. And as great as it was to see many (but not all) of the familiar faces we’re due to see over the course of the revival, I’m with you in thinking the most compelling scenes were outside Twin Peaks city limits. Which doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way. I think an 18-hour movie means something different for Lynch than it does for, say, the showrunner of Daredevil, and that the sag we sometimes feel with those shows has a lot to do with trying to stretch not enough story across too many episodes. I’m not sure that’s going to be a problem for Twin Peaks. The first two episodes establish some clear threads it will follow — Cooper’s return, the murder in Buckhorn, Hawk’s search, etc. — but they all feel like they could be discarded in favor of other pursuits at any moment. And it’s possible that some of the old Twin Peaks characters could find themselves in compelling stories of their own. If nothing else, maybe we’ll get the secret origin of James’ severe new haircut.

And at least one moment focusing on an old character produced an image as unsettling in its own way as what we saw in that Buckhorn apartment or The Black Lodge: Sarah Palmer (Grace Zabriskie) alone in the Palmer house watching graphic nature footage. I’m not sure if it was the look on her face or the way Lynch framed the bloody scenes against those decorative mirrors that disturbed me more. And it was far from the strangest image of the first two episodes. That would have to be the creature in the glass box. Or maybe the evolved “Arm.” Or Ruth’s body. Or… OK, there are a lot of contenders. The Arm in particular reminded me that we were watching a show very much helmed by the director of Eraserhead, and for all of Lynch’s development as a director, he’s never abandoned his pet obsessions. Will that work over the course of 18 hours? I know I’m in for the full ride at this point no matter what. What moments stand out to you as most striking in the first two hours? And what sub-plot has you most intrigued to know what happens next?

Alan: I’m assuming James’ haircut is a result of the motorcycle accident that Shelly and her friends mentioned. (Speaking of which, good on Madchen Amick for pulling a reverse Wooderson with respect to all her former co-stars: They get older, she stays the same age.)

I neglected to mention Sarah watching the bloody nature footage. I’m glad she’s back. The show understandably had nothing more for Grace Zabriskie to do once the murder was solved, but she and Ray Wise were such a palpable part of the original that I’m glad the return hasn’t forgotten her.

As for most arresting image, I think I have to take the blurry monster over the Arm. It’s set up so perfectly, given how long all the glass box sequences take to get to its arrival, and even as it’s appearing, we’re all set up to assume that this will be Cooper (because we don’t know that Cooper already appeared in the box while Sam was busy looking for the security guard). So we keep waiting and waiting for it to come into clearer focus as Kyle MacLachlan, and instead it stays this unknowable blurry/smokey human… thing, that then leaps out and ravages Sam and Tracey right when they were just starting to enjoy their evening. Lynch’s career hasn’t lacked for striking images, but that one is going to stay with me for a long time.

Right now, I’m mainly concerned with what will happen with the good and evil Coopers, and am hoping we get to see the genuine article back in the real world soon. Whatever happens with the townies — along with newcomers like Ashley Judd as Ben’s new assistant Beverly — happens, and I’ll take that as it comes. But the “quirky small town is even quirkier and darker than you expect” potboiler of it all is probably the part of the original show that’s been aped most over the last 26 years, and thus the part where I’m most dubious about Lynch and Frost finding something new and exciting to do with it all.

You know the series — and Fire Walk With Me — even better than I do, Keith. Do you have any thoughts on Evil Cooper referencing the David Bowie character from FWWM? About the Arm more or less taking over the narrative function of the Man From Another Place, and/or the Giant appearing in the Black Lodge (and in black and white)? Were there any particular callbacks to the original show that you think I might not have noticed in my review?

Keith: I think you may overestimate my ability to understand Fire Walk With Me and to parse Peaks lore off the top of my head. That said… Here goes! If I recall correctly, the Fire Walk With Me deleted scenes feature a bit more of Bowie’s Philip Jeffries. There’s a scene of him teleporting from a Buenos Aires hotel and a bit more, if I remember correctly, of his visit to a place “above the convenience store,” which seems to be hangout for all the Black Lodge characters, albeit one removed from the Black Lodge. So, like Coop, he’s someone who can travel between dimensions, although he seems to have disappeared after the events of Fire Walk With Me. (Whether or not Bowie’s death scuttled Lynch’s further plans for Jeffries in season three, I don’t know. I’ve always heard that Lynch wanted Bowie to return for a Fire Walk With Me follow-up that never happened.)

Beyond that, I can’t think of anything you missed. And as much as I like The Arm, it is odd that it (he?) has essentially supplanted Michael J. Anderson’s Man From Another Place, one of the series’ most famous characters. Lynch tends to keep working with the same people and Anderson’s still active and even appeared in Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. Did he just decide that a pulsating tree creature would better serve this new version of the show than Anderson? More than anything, I’m struck by how much this recalls Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. as it does Twin Peaks. There’s a scene in that movie in which a character played by Patrick Fischler, an always-welcome character actor who’s also in The Return, has to travel behind a Denny’s-like restaurant called Winkie’s where waits an evil creature of unspeakable dreadfulness, a bit of otherworldly evil manifesting itself in the most mundane of locations. At times, the first two episodes of The Return played like The Horrible Thing Behind Winkie’s: The Series. And I guess if I have any misgivings at all at this point it’s to whether or not that’s sustainable. But, honestly, I’m not that worried. How about you?

Alan: Well, because you’re such a tease, Keith, I started watching the third episode while waiting for your final reply. Only a few minutes in, but I’m already more thrilled and more baffled than I was at any point last night, and I look forward to figuring out ways to talk about it and the fourth episode once we’ve both finished. Lynch gonna Lynch, for good and for ill. I do want to see if this is sustainable over 18 hours. In my piece on the original series’ second season, I argued that the first nine episodes are at least the equal of the first season, and have many of the show’s most iconic moments. But even at that early stage, pre-Palmer solution, there were already signs of narrative wear and tear, of Lynch and Frost going down alleys just because they could, and not because it was a good idea. Nadine was a superstrong teenager for an entire 22-episode season of television for some reason, even while Bob was coming for Maddy and Albert was explaining his pacifist beliefs to Sheriff Truman. Do the two creators have enough material to get us through the summer? And, if not, will Lynch’s stylistic genius render the 2017 version of Nadine joining the boys’ wrestling team besides the point?

I have no earthly idea, Keith. But I can’t wait to find out, and to discuss it all with you.

Look for our conversation about episodes 3 & 4 on Sunday night at 11, after they’ve aired on Showtime proper.

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