Director Report Card: David Lynch (1997)

9. Lost Highway

I have no proof of this but I suspect David Lynch was disappointed by “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” failing to connect with audiences and critics. This might explain the four year break he took from feature films. Two unlikely sources of inspiration would get him working on a new project for cinemas. The first of which was an incident in which someone came to Lynch's door, said his neighbor was dead, and then ran off before Lynch could answer. The second source of inspiration was the infamous O.J. Simpson murder trial, especially the football pros initial defense of a “psychological fugue.” From this combination would arise “Lost Highway,” the story further honed by Barry Gifford. The result would be another film that didn't do much business in theaters and divided critics but, in time, received a cult following and glowing re-evaluation

Jazz musician Fred Madison is awoken one morning by someone at his door saying “Dick Laurant is dead,” the stranger leaving before Fred can see them. Following this, Fred and his wife Renee receive disturbing video tapes, of the inside of their home or them sleeping in their bed. He has unnerving dreams and encounters a ghoulish man at a party. The tapes continue until Renee is murdered, a tape of Fred killing her arriving afterwards. Fred has no memory of killing his wife but is arrested for the crime anyway. In his prison cell, Fred seemingly transforms into an entirely different person. He is now young mechanic Pete Dayton. Released from prison, Pete begins an affair with mobster moll Alice – who looks just like Renee – and is drawn into a criminal plot.

In “Lost Highway,” David Lynch's fascination with the film noir aesthetic almost reaches the point of self-parody. Its initial protagonist suspects his wife is cheating on him and may or may not kill her because of it. The second half of the story sees a femme fatale – soon revealing herself as especially vicious – manipulating a naive young man. The film's story is set among the underworld of crime and pornography. Everyone here has secret motivations and black hearts. As the title indicates, “Lost Highway's” opening credits play over Lynch's trademark shot of headlights streaking down a dark freeway. In other words, this is not like “Blue Velvet,” in which we follow a youthful protagonist into a dark world. “Lost Highway” leads us into the darkness in its first second and never leaves it. This is noir as pitch as night.

This is not the only reoccurring Lynch obsession on display in “Lost Highway.” In fact, more than ever before, Lynch is exploring the idea of duality and double lives. Instead of following a character that merely lives two identities, “Lost Highway” is a film about people who are literally two different people. Fred's faithful wife Renee is also, somehow, conniving seductress Alice. Suspicious Fred is also, somehow, naif Pete. Fred describes his own memory as subjective early on and, similarly, the film traces back and forth between different identities, different worlds. The division in the narrative is emblematic of the division in the characters. “Lost Highway” takes the noir axiom that “looks can be deceiving” and takes it to a rather literal place.

As much as “Lost Highway” touches upon ideas the director has explored before, it's also very different from his previous films. Instead of being set in a small town with a dark side, like Twin Peaks or Lumberton, it takes place in the big city of Los Angeles. Befitting the film's dark-as-night heart, “Lost Highway” does not focus on the glitz and glamour of L.A. Instead, we only see the city's sleazy side. The nightclubs are only smoky. The authority figures are only gangsters or buffoonish cops. The mansions are only home to porno depravity. The sense of urban isolation in “Eraserhead” here grows into a full-blown nightmare of violent crime, dirty sex, and zero loyalties. “Lost Highway” turns L.A. into a hellish netherworld.

The first half of “Lost Highway,” focused on Fred's uncertain descent into murder and madness, is superior to its second. This is largely due to the unnerving central premise of those early scenes. Fred and Renee find their most private chambers violated. First their home is invaded by an unseen voyeur, before their bedroom – that most intimate of locations – is similarly intruded upon. This alone is a disturbing enough premise, the kind of easily imagined but deeply unsettling infringement of privacy that we can all understand. Yet this is all very symbolic too. The video tapes, the personal intrusions, begin the same time Fred starts to suspect his wife is cheating on him. The safety of his marriage is upset by unpleasant thoughts. Once again, Lynch depicts the systems put in place to support us – family, love – falling apart into surreal horror.

There's little doubt in my mind that “Lost Highway” is, at least, partially a horror film. Lynch, once again, assembles a litany of disturbing scenes within a story that, normally, wouldn't fall within the horror genre. The most famous of which concerns the Mystery Man. The meeting between Fred and the Mystery Man has practically become an internet meme at this point. Yet it is a masterful moment. The noise and music of the party fades away as the mysterious stranger approaches him. Robert Blake never blinks as the staccato-voiced intruder which, when combined with the corpse-like pancake make-up, makes him an unearthly presence. The interaction that follows only heightens the movie's themes of invasion of privacy and doubles. It's a great example of Lynchian horror, the uncanny and absurd stepping into an otherwise normal situation. The scene makes no logical sense, instead operating on some sort of deeper dream logic, touching a chord deep inside the mind and heart in a way that creates shivers.

It's also far from the only surreal, unsettling sequence in “Lost Highway.” The Mystery Man first appears as a vision, his face projected over Renee's while she lays in bed. A coffee table is weaponized in an especially grisly fashion. Two other moments come to mind, as Lynch balancing the absurd and unsettling. Robert Loggia's Mr. Eddy, this noir's resident mobster, is driven into a rage by a tailgater. It's a moment that's darkly funny, such a barrage of violence and profanity triggered by such commonplace behavior. It's scary for precisely the same reason, as you can easily imagine yourself becoming the target of such random scorn. Yet the scene that maybe makes me the most uncomfortable has Alice/Renee being stripped at gun point as an audition to Mr. Eddy. It's an examination of the male gaze so prominent in L.A., a body commodifed in as ruthless a fashion as possible. All the glitz of Hollywood is torn away and we have the bare, ugly truth: A terrified woman presented like a piece of meat.

As always, part of what makes “Lost Highway” so unnerving is Lynch's pitch perfect instincts as both a visual and aural artist. This is, of course, a very well made film. As Fred explores the dark corridors of his home, he might as well be exploring the shadowy corners of his own mind. Exploding buildings roll backwards, re-assembling before our eyes. The freak-out sequences feature enough smoke, flashing lights, and splitting heads to leave anyone baffled. Genuinely erotic, soft-focus sex scenes occur on the desert sand and illuminated by headlights. Yet it's Lynch's sound design that makes “Lost Highway” most disturbing. Quiet, rumbling noise runs right into screaming, blaring song choices, leaving the audience's ears assaulted at every turn.

For all their surreal digressions, David Lynch's films usually follow a simple enough story. This is where “Lost Highway” fails, as its Moebius stripe narrative twists and bend in on itself several times. The changing nature of the characters leave you wondering what exactly is happening. Here's my interpretation: The Mystery Man seems to be a Luciferian character. He's the devil Fred makes a deal with in order to escape prison and get revenge on both his wife and the man that seduced her. (Assuming Renee and Alice are, indeed, manifestations of the same characters. Something I'm not sure of...) As with all deals with the devil, this ends badly for the man who agrees to it. This certainly fits in with Lynch's O.J. inspiration. Yet this is just my take on things and hardly explains every element of “Lost Highway.”

With its story so cleanly broken in two, “Lost Highway” essentially has two lead performances. Bill Pullman plays Fred in an incredibly terse matter. It's a performance composed largely of intense glares and whispered accusations. Yet, it must be said, he summons up a fittingly unhinged energy in the part. I never would've guessed that Pullman – a square leading man in so much other stuff – could scream, sweat, and roar like this. On the other side of the transformation, we have Balthazar Getty as Pete. Getty is well cast in the part, in the sense that he's very pretty and seems rather vapid. That fits the role, of a boy being slowly discovering he's way over his head.

The next most important role in the film is Patricia Arquette in the dual role of Renee and Alice. The part requires Arquette to look utterly gorgeous while spitting venom from behind those crystal eyes, two things she's more than capable off. Robert Loggia is incredibly sleazy as Mr. Eddy, a tightly wound ball of unpredictable and dangerous energy. You'd expect David Lynch to cast Gary Busey in a part attuned to the actor's nutty persona. Instead, amusingly, Lynch casts Busey totally against type as Getty's dad, a quiet and concerned parent. That's one of several glorified cameos Lynch includes, such as Richard Pryor as a kindly mechanic and Jack Nance in his last role. (Not-so-glorified cameos include Marilyn Manson and Twiggy Ramirez as porn actors.)

The film has a pretty hot soundtrack too. David Bowie's “I'm Deranged,” a fitting choice, begins and ends the film. Choice cuts from Manson, Rammstein, Lou Reed, This Mortal Coil, and Nine Inch Nails appear throughout the film. (Trent Raznor produced the soundtrack, explaining the overall industrial genre.) The first time I saw “Lost Highway,” I kind of hated it, finding it an often irritating watch. On second viewing, I'm more attuned with its anxious energy. Of Lynch's films, I think it's one of the few that doesn't hang together as a whole. However, it has enough impressive and stand-out sequences that it is still definitely worth checking out. [Grade: B]

RECENT WATCHES: Hotel Room (1993)

Though “Twin Peaks” was a substantial ratings success, however briefly, its co-creators had trouble replicating its popularity. Mark Frost's follow-up, documentary series “American Chronicles,” only lasted one season. David Lynch's next TV show, retro sitcom “On the Air,” was axed after all of two episodes aired. (The rest resurfaced in Japan, where “Peaks”-mania was more long-lasting.) Next, Lynch would be lured to premium cable. HBO, who already had “Tales from the Crypt” on the table, hoped to create another hit anthology show, this one even hipper and sexier. Lynch and his “Wild at Heart” co-writer Barry Gifford delivered “Hotel Room.” Three episodes were produced, aired together on one night, and viewership was such that HBO declined to make more. “Hotel Room's” three half-hour installments were later released on a single VHS tape, making it easy to mistake the show for a movie. I'm going to review it as if it was one anyway.

The premise of “Hotel Room” is that each episode would depict a different event that took place in Room 603, across the long life-span of Manhattan's Railroad Hotel. In “Tricks,” set in 1969, square Moe brings hippy prostitute Darlene up to the room. His mysterious friend Lou soon arrives, further complicating the situation. In “Getting Rid of Robert,” set in 1992, Sasha books the room to dump her boyfriend, a smarmy Hollywood talent agent. Things don't go the way she planned. “Blackout,” set in 1936, depicts married couple Danny and Diane arriving at the hotel during a city wide blackout. Diane is recovering from a debilitating mental trauma, which is only worsened by the long dark night.

After “Hotel Room's” swift cancellation, Barry Gifford would rewrite his unused scripts as stage plays. This points to a pretty serious issue with the show. By confining the premise to a single hotel room, the scope of the stories you can tell are seriously limited. Worst still, the series does not resist its stage-like restrictions. Each of the episodes are largely devoted to people standing around and talking. In “Tricks,” characters monologue right into the camera. “Blackout” is almost entirely devoted to its leads sitting on a bed, having a quiet conversation in close-up. Though almost anything can happen in a hotel room, the show seems fixated on the delivery of bad news. “Hotel Room” seems to take the most boring route with every opportunity it is given.

You can see David Lynch struggling to make his stories more cinematic. The show begins with silhouetted images of people stepping into a white light, a cool visual, while Lynch delivers some typically vague narration. Each episode starts with a shadowy image of the room number, a nice touch. “Tricks” concludes with the very neat image of red lights outside the windows, the only time the artificiality of the set is used for much. There's a nice shot of a candle flickering in the dark room in “Blackout.” yet even Lynch's peerless imagination seems somewhat defeated here. The second episode's director – James Signorelli, previously of “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark,” “Police Academy 2,” and a ton of episodes of “Saturday Night Live” – seems even more disinterested in stretching the limits of the show's singular setting. His episode is flatly-lit and features only the most minor of visual touches.

Of the three episodes, "Tricks" is probably the best. This is largely thanks to the cast. Harry Dean Stanton plays Moe and he's always compelling. His talents are well-utilized in the role of an uptight sad sack who is definitely hiding something. His monologue about a teenage pizza delivery that went steamy, and is clearly emblematic of his lifelong sexual frustration, is the highlight of the entire series. The arrival of Mac, play the fittingly spacey Freddie Jones, takes the episode in a surprisingly kinky direction. The generational difference between the hooker and her john is of minor interest. Yet the episode is still filled with overly vague dialogue, pointing towards a directionless story. Only the last minute twist points thing in any sort of satisfying direction.

“Getting Rid of Robert” doesn't even rise to the minor levels of the first episode. This segment is largely devoted to catty dialogue between its three female characters. Despite all the talking, we don't get an idea of who any of these characters are. When Robert himself appears, more than halfway through, the script meanders a bit more before arriving at some sort of point. There's a decent switch-a-roo and that's where the episode's few laughs especially a moment involving a maid – arrives. The conclusion is mildly surprising and made me chuckle a little. You'll notice none of this is high praise. “Getting Rid of Robert” is, at least, well cast. Debra Unger is appropriately bitchy while Griffin Dunne gets off a few zingers as the titular boyfriend.

The episode of “Hotel Room” I was most looking forward to was “Blackout,” due to its star. David Lynch and Crispin Glover have complimenting eccentricities. After their incredibly bizarre collaboration in “Wild at Heart,” I was excited to see what weird shit they'd come up with together this time. Disappointingly, “Blackout” is easily the worst episode of “Hotel Room.” Gifford's script really lets us down. Most of Diane's dialogue is semi-coherent babbling, the disturbed woman being difficult to follow. That the people they are discussing have such odd names names the conversation even more indecipherable. After listening to the whole exchange, you still only have a vague idea of what happened. Casting Glover as the sane spouse really underutilized the actor's manic talent. He spends the whole episode reacting calmly to Alicia Witt – otherwise known as Donna's piano-playing sister on “Twin Peaks” – as she rambles in a wide-eyed, unhinged way. “Blackout” is “Hotel Room's” longest episode, at forty some minutes. With the circular dialogue and still camera movement, you feel every minute of it. 

I've been curious about “Hotel Room” for years. The show has never been released on DVD but bootlegs, sourced from a Japanese LaserDisc with scratchy audio, are common enough. (And, of course, it's on Youtube.) It's the only Lynch related project nobody seems to talk about much. Having seen it now, I understand why. It's a forgettable trilogy of stories, a word that can be applied to nothing else Lynch has had a hand in. “Hotel Room” is so lame, I wonder if Dave did it as a favor to Gifford or something. Normally, I would bemoan a big network like HBO canceling a Lynch-created project after a single evening but, in this case, I think they might've made the right decision. [5/10]

Director Report Card: David Lynch (1992)

8. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me

Only a year after “Twin Peaks” became one of the biggest shows on American television, it was discarded by the whims of the pop culture public. Viewers drifted away during the meandering second season and ratings never recovered. “Twin Peaks” was canceled but David Lynch couldn't get his head out of that world. In particular, he remained fascinated by the character of Laura Palmer. He wanted to see her alive. “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” would arrive in 1992, well after “Peaks”-mania had died down. Though announced as the first in a series, that would elaborate on the lore of the “Twin Peaks” world, “Fire Walk with Me” would receive utterly toxic reviews and bomb at the box office. Even many fans would dislike the film, disappointed that it don't resolve any of season two's cliffhangers. Now, the general consensus towards “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” is quite a bit different.

Teresa Banks, a drifter and part-time prostitute, is found dead outside the town of Deer Meadow, Washington. FBI agents Chester Desmond and Sam Stanley are dispatched by Gordon Cole to investigate. Little do they know at the time that Banks is the first victim... A year later, in the near-by town of Twin Peaks, Laura Palmer lives a double life. Homecoming queen and charitable pillar of the community, she's also a cocaine addict and sex worker. Since childhood, Laura has been sexually assaulted by a supernatural entity known as BOB, a resident of the mysterious Black Lodge. Now, as she uncovers the truth about BOB's identity, Laura is loosing her ability to balance her day-light normal life and nightmare-inducing nighttime activities.

One of the first images in “Fire Walk with Me” is of a TV being smashed by a pipe, followed by a chorus of screams. This is Lynch's not-so-subtle hint to the audience that we are not in Kansas anymore. Freed from the standards of network television, Lynch can be as graphic as he wants when telling Laura Palmer's story. “Fire Walk with Me” is a sexually explicit film, filled with graphic violence and frankly depicted drug abuse. More than its content, “Fire Walk with Me” is extremely tonally different from the TV show. It lacks the quirky humor and most of the show's supporting cast, with even Dale Cooper reduced to a minor role. None of the comfy corners of Twin Peaks are explored. This essentially makes “Fire Walk with Me” a film without an audience, alienating to core fans but far too steeped in series lore for anyone else. No wonder people hated it in 1992.

Instead, “Fire Walk with Me” is essentially an extended version of the surreal nightmare scenes depicted throughout the show. In fact, it's the closest thing to a straight ahead horror movie that David Lynch has made since “Eraserhead.” A free-floating sense of menace hovers over the entire movie. Otherwise normal scenes are interrupted by nightmarish images. A collection of the show's sinister spirits gather in a room, cavorting and talking among themselves, both in forward and reverse motion. Words strangely enunciate during extreme close-ups of teeth in a mouth. A snarling, talking monkey briefly appears later. Mrs. Tremond's grandson leaps out the shadows, dancing and jerking around while wearing a creepy mask. There's even a legitimate jump scare, when Laura suddenly has corpse paint on her face. In its last third, “Fire Walk with Me” descends totally into shrieking, strobbing, bleeding nightmare logic. Much of the score is composed of whispering wind and discordant noise, further creating an unsettling atmosphere.

Lynch's freaky visions always endeavor to create a specific mood in their viewer but, here, they have an even more pressing purpose. “Fire Walk with Us” takes us inside Laura Palmer's personal hell. This is made almost literal. Two truck drivers take Laura and Donna to an exceedingly seedy nightclub. Everything is bathed in devilish red light and the grinding music is so loud, subtitles are required. This is far from the only hellish sequence in the film. Laura, strung-out and high, witnesses a murder, playing with the grievous head wound. MIKE, the One-Armed Man, tracks Laura and Leland down on the road. The resulting scene is composed almost entirely of frenzied screaming, the frantic and terrified mood quickly imposing itself on the audience. Laura Palmer's life was a nightmare and “Fire Walk with Me” invites us to live inside that nightmare for two hours.

There's a pretty obvious reason why Laura's life is so hellish. Early on in the film, after another frightening encounter with BOB, Laura begins to suspect that the man that has been molesting her since she was 12 years old is her father. From there on, the sense of unease she feels every day only grows and grows. Though she medicates with cocaine, constantly by the end, it's still not enough to kill the pain she feels every day. Normal family gatherings, dinners and car drives, become tense and nightmarish exchanges. Every interaction with her dad is wrought with tension and unease. This is the world of the victim of incest, where the person you are suppose to trust the most betrays you in the gravest way. “Fire Walk with Me” takes all the feelings of pain, anxiety, guilt, and shame and thrusts the audience into that world.

As much horror as the film puts Laura Palmer through, David Lynch ultimately loves his Woman in Trouble protagonist. “Fire Walk with Me” is a film largely about the death of innocence. Laura's teenage, high school life has descended into a personal hell of drugs and tawdry sex, a pursuit of sensation to drive away the pain she feels every day. Yet Laura is well aware of what she's lost. When Donna insists on tagging along on a journey to the sleazy night club, Laura snaps out of her stupor once she sees her virginal friend about to be taken advantage of. The image of an angel, from a childish painting in her bedroom, haunts Laura. It's a hokey, antiquated image and that's precisely the point. Lynch, for once, is using his love of hokey Americana not for irony but a deliberate, sincere contrast. Laura longs for a simpler time in her life, represented by that angelic painting. Because Lynch can only watch her suffer for so long, the final scene allows Laura to regain some of that angelic innocence she so sought.

As much as “Fire Walk with Me” centers around Laura, it is not only her story. Leland Palmer emerges as the second key figure of the film. A classically “Twin Peaks” image of duality, he is both a devoted family and also a sexual predator. There's a reason BOB leaves his victim's unaware of their crimes. Leland himself seems horrified by his own desires. When he orders a threesome with Teresa Banks, and sees his own daughter as the other girl, he flees in terror. A simple scene around the dinner table becomes a moment of unnerving every day terror, as Leland insists Laura washes her hand, washes away the sin he sees there... A reflection of his own crimes. Ultimately, the father is torn in two by his need to love and protect his daughter and the disgusting, criminal lust he feels towards her. In a way, he's as much victim as she is. Ray Wise sweats and grimaces throughout the part, brilliantly capturing this double life.

A big motivator behind Lynch creating “Fire Walk with Me” was a desire to see Laura alive. Sherly Lee felt similarly. Lee previously only had the chance to depict Laura during sunny flashbacks. Here, she portrays Laura during the darkest, most chaotic days of her life. Lee's performance is a raw nerve. This is a girl going through the most extreme of emotions and Lee bravely embraces that. She screams, weeps, moans, and growls from under those golden locks. Never has giddy, drug-induced laughter been so unnerving. Yet even during Laura's calmer moments, Lee hints at the gaping raw pain inside. She has been beaten down by a lifetime of abuse, being accustomed to being used by other people. As close as Lee comes to playing Laura as totally dead inside, she still finds the girl's inner strength. After all, it is a final act of defiance that saves Laura's soul. This endurance, to not give up her tenacity despite so much pain and strife, is nothing short of inspiring. It is a powerful, complex, brave performance.

You'll notice I've spent almost the entire review talking about Laura Palmer and not Chet Desmond and Sam Stanley. This is one of the most frustrating things about “Fire Walk with Me.” The film begins with a lengthy half-hour long prologue about the FBI's investigation of the Teresa Banks murder. Considering the rest of the film is about Laura Palmer, it represents a true disconnect in the script. It's not that these scenes aren't entertaining. Chris Isaak – yes, the pop crooner – gives an amusingly smoky performance as Desmond. Kiefer Sutherland is fittingly nerdy and detail-orientated as his sidekick, a good contrast to Chet's exaggerated coolness. The setting of Deer Meadows is a mirror image – another double – of Twin Peaks, where the local cops are uncooperative, the diner staff is mean, and the coffee is piss. These scenes are full of comically odd touches, like the obscure way Gordon Cole communicates case details or Harry Dean Stanton's hilariously grouchy turn as a trailer park landlord. It's just that these scenes have almost nothing to do with the rest of the movie. This is when you really feel “Fire Walk with Me's” status as a spin-off to a TV show, with certain preconceived commitments to formula and lore.

Not that “Fire Walk with Me” especially feels like its small screen inspiration. David Lynch's exit from “Twin Peaks'” second season, and the subsequent downturn in quality, managed to piss off a lot of people. Kyle MacLachlan was reluctant to return, leading to a greatly reduced role for Dale Cooper, the show's most popular character. (Lara Flynn Boyle, Sherlyn Fenn, and Mark Frost wouldn't return at all.) Chet and Sam were created solely to replace the absent Coop, which the viewer definitely picks up on. The FBI scenes are fun, with Dale's enthusiasm for a mystery and his mystical ponderings, Albert's sarcasm, and Gordon Cole's shouting. Yet it can't help but feel like a tease for fans who wanted more Cooper, gratuitous set-up for a sequel that would never come. It certainly didn't help that this is also where the phantasmal Agent Jeffries appears. In-between David Bowie's goofy Southern accent, references to a mysterious “Judy,” and the film's freakiest freak-out – all within the first twenty minutes! – even die-hard “Peaks” freaks where left a little baffled and frustrated. “Fire Walks with Me” doesn't even really look like the TV show, lacking the trademark Pacific North-West visual warmth.

For years, rumors abounded about a four hour-long director's cut of “Fire Walks with Me.” After years of speculation, that footage emerged as “The Missing Pieces,” a ninety minute presentation assembled for the Blu-Ray. I suspect fans were satisfied with “The Missing Pieces.” It re-inserted many classic “Peaks” characters. Sheriff Truman, Dr. Jacoby, Big Ed and Nadine, Pete, Josie, Lucy, Andy, and Hawk were all cut from the film. There's a lot of oddball but light-hearted comedy, when Pete argues with a customer about what a 2x4 precisely is. Or when Lucy gets confused about who she's on the phone with. The deleted scenes also clarify, a little, just who the hell Agent Jeffries was and what he did. Fans likely would have loved it if these moments where included in the final film, as a few scenes even act as a sequel to the show's second season. Yet I have no doubt that focusing the film entirely on Laura Palmer was for the best. With these scenes included “Fire Walk with Me” would have been a meandering mess. The only scene that should've been included is a moment where Leland, Sarah, and Laura speak Norwegian around the dinner table, a moment of familial bonding desperately needed among all the darkness and decay.

David Lynch directly following his biggest mainstream success with maybe his most confrontational, polarizing work seems to back-up my supposition that the director was ambivalent, if not outright hostile, to his newfound popularity. Booed at Cannes and abandoned at the box office, “Fire Walk with Me” was, much like its main character, doomed to die. But time has been kind to the film. Separated from the hype of a TV show with a cliffhanger-filled non-conclusion, “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me” can be judged on its own merits. What emerges is a bracing psychic horror film about the insurmountable weight of trauma and abuse. With a fantastic lead performance to guide us, and an unyielding atmosphere of dread, “Fire Walk with me” is a challenging and rewarding character study. If not for an unnecessary need to further link itself with the TV show, it would rank among Lynch's best, most disturbing work. [Grade: A-]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.22: Beyond Life and Death

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.22: Beyond Life and Death

Following the resolution of the Laura Palmer murder, “Twin Peaks'” ratings start to flag. (Ironically, the network execs insisted on revealing Laura's killer sooner, for fear ratings would start to fall if they didn't.) The ratings continued to sink throughout the second season, thanks to the downturn in quality, frequent time slot shifts, and preemption due to coverage of the Gulf War. “Peaks” was actually put on hiatus at one point. Only a letter writing campaign from fans got the show back on the air, so it could at least finish out the season. After stepping away for a while, David Lynch returned to the show he created with the season two finale. Paired with “Miss Twin Peaks,” “Beyond Life and Death” was aired as a movie-of-the-week event.

With Annie abducted by Windom Earle, Cooper rushes to locate the entrance to the Black Lodge. Eventually, a cryptic hint from the Log Lady and Dr. Jacoby points him in the right direction. Soon, he steps into the Red Room once again. Cooper soon meets with many of the strange apparitions he's seen in his dreams and visions. This includes Laura Palmer, as well as doppelgangers of himself and others. Finally, he is confronted by Windom Earle, who attempts to take his soul... Before Killer BOB intervenes. Cooper successfully gets out of the Lodge with Annie but awakens the next morning possessed by BOB.

The shooting script for “Beyond Life and Death” originally featured a wildly different version of the Black Lodge, featuring a distorted version of the Great Northern and BOB torturing Windom Earle in a dentist's chair. Lynch threw all that out, returning “Twin Peaks” to the nightmarish dream-logic that defined its earlier episode. Yes, Lynch brings the freakiness back in a big way. There's lots of backwards speech, red curtains, strobing lights, screaming faces, and dancing Michael J. Anderson. As always, Lynch recalls both nightmares and dreams in these moments. Coop's entrance into the Lodge, amid spotlights and wailing winds, is accompanied by a genuinely eerie song about sycamore trees. The close-ups of screaming doppelgangers in thundering shadows has to be among the most aggressively creepy stuff ever shown on network TV.

Though Lynch can always be accused of just throwing in weird shit for its own sake, “Beyond Life and Death” litters its visit to another dimension with meaningful symbols. In fact, many of the themes of “Twin Peaks” are summed up in these scenes. The Man from Another Place says he and the Giant are one and the same, hinting at the show's insistence that nothing is ever as it seems. The use of doppelgangers, nearly identical copies of people with vastly different intentions, speaks to the ever-present theme of duality. Laura, Maddie, and Leland all reappear but act differently, subtly suggesting how people can be two different things at the same time. Inside the Black Lodge, Coop's memories overlap with the present. Annie trades places with the long descend Carolene and Laura, showing how grief still informs the present. It's amazing how “Beyond Life and Death” sums up so many ideas largely with visuals and suggestion.

David Lynch clearly delights in going on these surreal tangents. They occupy nearly the entire last third of the episode... Which means no resolution is provided at all for the various other events depicted throughout the episode. Yes, “Beyond Life and Death” double-down on the first season's finale by throwing in multiple cliffhangers. Eckhardt's puzzle box leads to a bomb in the Twin Peaks bank, with Pete, Andrew Packard and Audrey (who chained herself to the door as a form of protest) directly in the path of the blast. The plot concerning Ben Horne being Donna's actual dad leads to Dr. Haywood bouncing Ben's head off the stone fireplace, his final fate left uncertain. Leo Johnson is still in Earle's cabin, a cage of venomous spiders precariously hanging above his head. Nadine's memories return, throwing Ed and Shelly's plans into disarray. Piling these melodramatic events, one atop the other, reminds you that “Twin Peaks” is as much satire of soap operas as a straight example.

In fact, you really get the feeling that Lynch was not all that interested in “Peaks'” lingering story lines. Once again, I can't help but feel like he's fucking with the audience a couple of times. Not long after entering the Black Lodge, when the episode is arguably at its tensest (and after setting up all those cliffhangers), Lynch devotes a solid minute to Senor Droolcup repeating the word “coffee,” presenting Coop with a fittingly surreal cup of joe. The sequence where Audrey handcuffs herself to the bank door is so drawn-out and slow, featuring an elderly and incoherent bank teller, that it comes off like a deliberate interruption of television expectations. The concluding shot of that sequence, of a pair of glasses blasted into a tree, is similarly absurd.

Filling the season finale with some many cliffhangers was a deliberate move by the show creators, in hopes of creating enough interest to justify a third season. Just the opposite ended up being true. Ratings remained low and “Twin Peaks” got canceled anyway. The die hard fans were left with no resolution, the lives of the show's characters left totally up in the air. And that was the deeply unsatisfying note “Twin Peaks” ended on... Or so it seemed for years. Taken on its own, “Beyond Life and Death” is a propulsive blast of eerie weirdness. It's certainly a hell of a note to conclude on, at least for now. [8/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.21: Miss Twin Peaks

Twin Peaks: Miss Twin Peaks

The penultimate episode of “Twin Peaks’” second season, alternatively known as both “Miss Twin Peaks” and “Night of the Decision,” concerns itself with a lot of plot points. Lucy decides Andy is going to raise her baby, regardless of who the father actually is. (Dick isn’t too broken up about it.) Donna confronts Ben Horne about his affair with her mother and realizes that he is, in fact, her father. Nadine gets conked on the head with a sandbag, suggesting her memories will return soon. Most importantly of all, the Miss Twin Peaks contest goes down. Windom Earle, realizing he needs a “queen” feeling fear to enter the Black Lodge, abducts the winner: Annie Blackburn. Only afterwards does the Twin Peaks PD learn the Owl Cave petroglyphs are a map to the Black Lodge’s entrance.

“Miss Twin Peaks,” or whatever you choose to call it, is another episode largely about moving various plot points into place for the big finale. Yet it does have some pleasures all its own. My favorite scene occurs when Dale Cooper and Sheriff Truman attempt to reason out the exact meaning of the various clues. (While Andy, his simple-mindedness giving him a perpendicular view of the petroglyphs, tries to get their attention.) Maybe it’s just because Windom Earle being such a campy villain has the show on my mind but this scene, in the most amusing way, reminds me of the 1966 “Batman” series. The way Coop deduces out the astrological connection to the Lodges, leaping to chess, and then to the Miss Twin Peaks contest. It’s pretty fun to watch.

Still, as brilliant at deduction as Dale Cooper can be, “Miss Twin Peaks” still sees our heroes carrying the Idiot Ball a little bit this week. Windom Earle has been spying on the sheriff’s department through a recording device hidden in a bonsai plant. Never once did Truman or anyone else consider the origins of this gift, said to be from Josie, with any suspicion. (Despite being on the trail of an insane super-genius at the time.) Its only uncovered now through Andy’s clumsiness. Once the good guys discover that Earle intends to kidnap the winner of the beauty pageant, it never occurs to them to just cancel the event. I know, the show wouldn’t have been able to continue then. But maybe Windom Earle isn’t a brilliant planner. Maybe the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Department is just kind of dumb.

Or, perhaps, they are just distracted with other business. “Miss Twin Peaks” is among the hornier episodes of the series, at least among those not set at One Eyed Jack’s. Dale and Annie meet, ostensibly to help with her Miss Twin Peaks speech. However, they soon end up falling into bed together, to solidify that relationship and bury the Coop/Audrey ship once and for all. Earlier, Lana seduces Dick in hopes of convincing him to vote for her for Miss Twin Peaks. Their fumbling around in a dark closest is, honestly, a little more graphic than I expected from a prime time TV show in 1991.

For its flaws, “Miss Twin Peaks” is a strong-looking episode. This is to be expected as Tim Hunter, one of the show’s best hired guns, is behind the camera. The various talent contest scenes are energetically directed. I especially like Lucy’s dance number, which shows us a side of that character we haven’t seen before. (Kimmy Robertson clearly relishes the opportunity.) The climax of the episode features strobbing lights and lots of chaos, which is well executed. I’m glad Hunter, probably my favorite non-Lynch “Peaks” director, got invited back one more time before the show finished its original run.

I’m sure fans, as fans tend to be, are still divided on the quality of this run of episodes. The show definitely still feels different than it did during the Laura Palmer story arc. Yet I’m not going to apologize for liking this one. At least there are no evil seductresses or pine weasels in sight. [7/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.20: The Path to the Black Lodge

Twin Peaks: The Path to the Black Lodge

“The Path to the Black Lodge” details exactly that. Windom Earle abducts Major Briggs, after he rather foolishly goes for a walk in the woods. Soon, he realizes the Owl Cave petrogylpths are, in fact, a map leading to the exact location of the Black Lodge. Meanwhile, the town prepares for the Miss Twin Peaks contest, the contestants feeling a mixture of excitement, ambivalence, and scheming of their own. Earle is fixated on this as well, for reasons not yet observed. Yet even Dale Cooper is slightly distracted from his case, focusing more on his new love for Annie Blackburn.

“The Path to the Black Lodge” is one of those installments you run into in serialized storytelling. As the story veers towards its conclusion, or at least its climax, the writers have to take an hour just to move all the chess pieces into place. And so we learn the details of Windom Earle's obsession, as he gathers the pawns that give him the information he needs to achieve his goal. Previous plot points, about the Owl Cave petrogylths, are clarified and understood. It's pretty elegant the way the “Peaks” writers, especially after screwing around for large portions of the season, manage to get all their ducks in a row for the upcoming big finale.

In order to make this collection of organizing plot points seem properly “Peaks”-esque, the episode peppers its run time with various surreal omens. Several characters' hands begin to quiver unexpectedly and for no discernible reason. That's a fittingly Lynch-like touch, a seemingly inexplicable element that establishes a certain mood. (This time, the mood being a sense of something bad about to happen.) While in the dinner with Annie, Cooper knocks a plate onto the floor, causing some gravy to drip in a spooky fashion. This is exactly what Lynchian horror is all about: Turning the utterly mundane into something unsettling. I commend the folks behind “The Path to the Black Lodge” decently emulating that talent.

This is far from the only attempt of “Path to the Black Lodge” to return the show to its weirder roots. There's a lot of free-floating oddness throughout this ibe. Windom Earle catches Major Briggs off-guard by wearing a two-man horse costume. One of the last scenes in the episode involves multiple characters sitting around and babbling or screaming incoherently. The Giant reappears to deliver a silent warning to Coop. The last minute of the episode, easily its best moment, has a light reflecting in a circle of rocks in the woods... And BOB's gesticulating hand appearing within, as if he's peeping out from behind a curtain.

Even with all the plot heavy-lifting and lore-building going on in this episode, “Twin Peaks” still has its various various romantic subplots to consider. Presumably because Billy Zane's guest stint was up, Jack has to leave town suddenly. This leads to a tearful departure with Audrey, where she gives him (and us) some unexpected information: She's a virgin. Though a more minor manifestation, it's still an example of “Peaks'” fascination with how nothing is exactly how it looks at first. Audrey has always acted like a teenage seductress and, all along, she's been an inexperienced girl. Honestly, it might be the only really interesting thing about the Audrey/Jack romance. (Save for Mr. William Zane's dynamite smile anyway.)

The second half of “Peaks: Season Two” still feels cheesy in a way the first one and a half didn't. Earle is still a very campy kind of villain, totally different from the very human-type of evil the show has previously encountered. Its comic relief is still goofy in a far less charming way than those original episodes. Yet at least “Twin Peaks” is actively trying to recapture that particular feeling again. After so much time was spent with unambitious story lines and bullshit, the show races towards its finale and tries to conjure those wood-dwelling spirits again. [7/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.19: Variations on Relations

Twin Peaks: Variations on Relations

“Twin Peaks” begins its movement towards the season finale. Both the Twin Peaks PD and Earle examine the petroglyths inside Owl Cave, Earle revealing that locating the Black Lodge and utilizing its power is his ultimate goal. Dale and Annie go on their first date, unaware that Windom Earle is watching them. Earle moves closer within his ploy, getting all three of the town's most prominent females to participate in the Miss Twin Peaks contest. He also kills a random guy, dressing him up like a pawn and leaving the body to be found by Cooper. Which is all part of his villainous plan.

Since I read the comparison, I can't stop thinking about Windom Earle in the context of a retro kid's show villain. This episode makes that comparison especially evident. He goes undercover in elaborate disguises, he spouts long speeches about his evil plans, he seeks magical powers, and he has a ridiculous gimmick. A bad guy killing someone with a crossbow and then leaving his body inside a giant chess piece would've been unimaginable in the first season. Still, I'm having fun with this stuff, as campy (and potentially out-of-place with the show as it once was) as it is.

The emotional core of the series has recovered nicely. I still find Cooper and Annie's romance to be awfully sweet. As the two float on a boat together, we see Cooper opening his heart back up to love. Granted, the series has yet to really sell how heart-broken the death of Carolene left him. All we have to rate the seriousness of this relationship is his words. A flashback or two would've allowed us to get to know this character, and what she meant to Coop, better. All that being true, Kyle MacLachlan and Heather Graham have enjoyable chemistry. Their relationship, so chaste and sweet, can't help but charm me.

The show's comic relief has also become less manic, recovering from the pine weasel related nadir of just a few episodes ago. A wine tasting sequence, in which neither Lucy nor Andy really understand the particularities of the hobby, is goofy but got me to chuckle, I'll admit. (Though the show's insistence on keeping Dick Tremanye around, I do not entirely understand.) Gordon Cole and Shelly Johnson's flirtation ultimately proves to be just that. However, it's still hard to undersell the amusement factor of David Lynch shouting cute lines at Madchen Amick.

Even this close to the end of the season, “Twin Peaks” can't resist throwing in some more melodramatic subplots. By far the weakest addition is the sudden suspicion that Donna is, in fact, the child of Benjamin Horne. That her mother and the motel magnet had an affair at some point in the past. Where the hell this is going, or why it's important at all, I can't tell you. I guess Donna was always destined to be wrapped up some of the show's weakest subplots. I'm also not especially invested in the literal mystery box that Thomas Eckhardt has left Catherine. I guess it's just an inherent side effect of writing a prime time soap that, even when the writers are focusing, they have to throw in potential grist for future episodes.

Still, it's better. Honestly, it's a lot better compared to the slog the show was not that long ago. Improvement of that degree, even if it's far from the heights of the earlier episodes, counts for something. [7/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.18: On the Wings of Love

Twin Peaks: On the Wings of Love

Gordon Cole returns to Twin Peaks to inform Dale Cooper that all the charges against him have been dropped. He is returned his badge and gun, an FBI agent once again. Soon afterwards, Cooper is informed that the strange symbols found on Major Briggs' and the Log Lady's body are also found on the walls of Owl Cave, a near-by system of caverns. Cooper and the Twin Peaks PD go to investigate, though Windom Earle is close behind. (Who, we learn, was also involved with Project Blue Book.) Mostly though, romance is in the air in Twin Peaks. Coop and Annie continue to grow closer, as do Audrey and Jack. Even Gordon Cole feels love's sting, as Shelly catches his eye.

From a plot perspective, “On the Wings of Love” shows “Peaks' focusing back on its mystical lore. Granted, the scenes devoted to Coop, Truman, and the rest investigating a spooky cave is somewhat corny... Yet it is a charming sort of corny. Watching our protagonists get together and dig around for clues in an obscure location feels like a classical sort of mystery adventure, something out of the Hardy Boys. Naturally, the links between Native American mysticism, UFO conspiracy theories, and “Peaks'” particular breed of spiritualism is fascinating. It's easy to get sucked into this sort of stuff, especially if you're someone like me who has always been interested in these esoteric subjects anyway.

The title for “On the Wings of Love” was well chosen. The best scenes in the episode deal with the multiple blooming romances. Though hardcore Coop/Audrey shippers were naturally opposed to the pairing, Dale and Annie actually prove to be a lovable couple. Watching Dale get butterflies in his stomach, telling old jokes and smiling wide, is absolutely adorable. Annie's attempt to flirt back are similarly cute. Gordon Cole's interaction with Shelly is also funny and sweet, even if she clearly isn't sure what to make of his infatuation. (David Lynch's shouting performance has never been funnier.) Lucy and Andy even get a cute scene together, in her stunned reaction to him trying on some spelunking gear.

Of the episode's various events, there's one I'm not too sure about. From the very first episode, Benjamin Horne has been portrayed as nothing but the sleaziest of heels. While one assumes his newfound interest in nature conservation is simply a plot to get back at Catherine Martell, this episode seems to be suggesting that Horne is turning over a new leaf. It's an odd character shift, after almost two whole seasons of someone being a sleazeball and then getting a redemptive arc. Whether or not the show's writers can nail a change like that remains to be seen. (Though, from what I recall, I don't think they do.)

While Windom Earle appearing in disguise to Donna Haywood didn't generate much tension, a sequence where he meets Audrey while disguised as a professor is a little more unnerving. Unlike Donna, who was totally fooled, Audrey seems a little unsettled by this strange man. It doesn't really change Earle being a distinctly different breed of villain than that we've previously seen on this show. One review compares him to a “Batman '66” adversary and that's not a totally baseless point. Yet, again, at least its entertaining. Hammy Kenneth Welsh is fun to watch.

Over all, “On the Wings of Love” is a charming, funny, and intriguing hour of television. I can dig it. [7/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.17: Wounds and Scars

Twin Peaks: Wounds and Scars

The death of Josie leaves Sheriff Truman emotionally broken, the usually stable man drowning his sorrows in booze. Windom Earle continues his villainous scheme, focusing in on the forthcoming Miss Twin Peaks beauty pageant. Cooper does everything he can to counter Earle's mental chess game without sacrificing any human life. Meanwhile, Major Briggs and the Log Lady realize a connection, through their mutual experiences with the spirits of the forest. On a lighter note, Shelly's sister arrives in the town and Dale is immediately smitten with her.

Let us not forget that one of “Twin Peaks'” goals was to explore grief. While Truman loosing his girlfriend is not quite the same thing as the Palmer parents grappling with the death of their daughter, it's still something. In the back-half of season two, “Twin Peaks” feels so divorced from its roots at times. So it's nice to see the show attempting to touch upon some of the program's original themes. Michael Ontkean gets to stretch his acting muscles, crying and raging while deep in the bottle. We, the viewer, might not be sad to see Josie gone but, ya know, at least the show is dealing with the fallout of that realistically.

Yet “Wounds and Scars” is an episode built more around keeping the story going and building on the show's lore. The continued crossover between the occult and government agencies, apparent in Major Briggs and the Log Lady comparing abductions and markings, remains one of the second season's more compelling elements. The scene devoted to Windom Earle, in disguise, going into the Haywood house and talking with Donna is oddly devoid of tension. Still, Earle's hammy villainy is entertaining in a way that the show has been missing here of late.

Season two is also occupying itself with romantic entanglements. Despite the obvious romantic chemistry between Dale and Audrey, Kyle MacLachlan was uncomfortable with his character dating a high school student. So the show cooked up new love interests for both characters. Jack Justice Wheeler, played by a dashingly handsome Billy Zane, first appeared last episode. Here, his obvious attraction to Audrey continues to grow as they go on a picnic together. While Zane does fine in the role, it's clear that the chemistry with Sherlyn Finn isn't quite there. We'll talk more about Annie next time but she is essentially the replacement for Audrey in Coop's heart.

Ultimately, a little too much of “Wounds and Scars” is devoted to more of that awkward, season two comic relief. The plotline surrounding Nadine's regression into her teenage years almost gets poignant, when Ed tries to breech the idea of a divorce with her. This falls apart into goofy comedy in a later scene she shares with Mike. The worst comedy of the episode involves the fashion show put together to benefit the Pine Weasel. The fashion show is painfully unfunny. Once the Pine Weasel gets loose in the crowd, a madcap and aggressively wacky streak shows that is, frankly, kind of embarrassing. This scene does not represent “Twin Peaks” at its most sophisticated.

Ultimately, it's another awkward episode but, at the very least, “Twin Peaks” is showing some improvement after a long period of almost strictly middling episodes. That counts for something. [6/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.16: The Condemned Woman

Twin Peaks: The Condemned Woman

Before “Twin Peaks” can really move forward with its new story lines, it has to put a few others to bed for good. Josie continues to be caught in a web of lies and manipulation, at the mercy of her still-alive husband and wicked sister-in-law. Sheriff Truman and Coop try to help her, even if it increasingly looks like she's the one who shot the agent. Meanwhile, Nadine dumps Ed, opening him up to finally propose to Norma, who subsequently leaves Hank in a jail cell. Ben Horne begins his next scheme and Windom Earle continues the machinations of his master plan.

I've made no secret of how much I dislike the story surrounding Josie. Since “The Condemned Woman” is nearly an entire episode devoted to this particular plot thread, it's hard for me to care too much about it. Josie's reasoning for trying to kill Cooper is shaky, at best. Whether Josie is totally a victim or a hardened manipulator is never really focused on. The various forces pushing or pulling her in whatever direction are all so clearly plot devices. Did anyone actually care about Thomas Eckhardt or Andrew Packard? Did the show put much effort into developing these men, aside from the effect they had on the other characters?

But at least the Josie storyline is finally over. What about the show's continued inability to think of something interesting to do with Benjamin Horne and his family? The utterly ridiculous Civil War obsession being put to bed, Ben Horne winds up with another particular interest. His next scheme involves creating a public fund to protect the Pine Weasel, an endangered species that lives in the Twin Peaks woods, in order to disrupt Catherine's development of the Ghostwood property. It's another example of aggressive comic relief that feels ingenuine, and shows the writers' desperate attempt to do anything with the character.

You'll notice that the various plot entanglements of “The Condemned Woman” don't have much to do with what made “Twin Peaks” so beloved. That would be its melding of a traditional detective narrative with Lynchian surrealism. Perhaps the team behind the show was seemingly aware of this. Within the last few minutes of the episodes, things suddenly get weird for no reason. A spotlight is shown on a bed as BOB appears to scream and grimace and the Man from Another Place appears to dance. This does not feel like a natural inclusion but, rather, an attempt to remind viewers of why they liked this show in the first place. The final moments of “The Condemned Woman,” where Josie's soul is seemingly trapped inside a wooden knob on a bedside drawer, at least flows more with the show's dream logic.

But, hey, at least that particular plot thread is resolved. Also resolved, at least for a while, is James Hurley's romantic melodrama. He has a tearful, kissy farewell with Donna and then gets out of town. I will not miss him. I'm also not too disappointed by Hank seemingly being put out-of-commission for a while too, as I was never a big fan of that particular plot either. Still, due to its focus on the lamer digressions, “The Condemned Woman” probably ranks among my least favorite episodes of the entire series. [5/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.15: Slaves and Masters

Twin Peaks: Slaves and Masters

“Slaves and Masters” is an episode largely devoted to wrapping up two of the plot points that have emerged recently, while other ones move to the forefront. James is framed for murder by the weird couple he's fallen in with but, some quick thinking from Donna, sees that bizarre love triangle resolve itself. Ben Horne's Civil War fantasies reach their logical conclusion and, with the help of some cosplay from his friends and family, he snaps out of it. (Probably the most embarrassing moment that already embarrassing story line has produced.) The more important plot point would be Windom Earle continuing to plot from the shadows, sending taunting messages to Cooper. The FBI agent seeks help from those around him, as he feels a dark cloud approach.

“Slaves and Masters' features one of the more notable directors to step behind the camera on “Twin Peaks.” That would be famous actress Diane Keaton, who had actually directed a couple of things before this. Keaton certainly has a style of her own. There are multiple points throughout the episode where the camera starts out on a close-up on a random object before moving over to another location. She does this with a chess piece and also with a tangled bird's nest. It's a notable visual choice at the very least.

After showing up at the end of the last episode, and being hinted at for quite a while, Windom Earle makes his proper first appearance here. Kenneth Welsh certainly makes an impression, delivering each line with the maximum amount of villainous glee. Clearly, Earle is someone who enjoys plotting his elaborate schemes and enacting sadistic revenge against those he deems unworthy. While not as full-blown terrifying as BOB or the show's other demonic spectres, Earle is certainly a memorably entertaining villain.

Earle's entrance into the show also gives the writers an excuse to consolidate some of the supporting cast members that have hung around. Earle has abducted Leo and outfitted him with a shock collar, forcing the former truck driver to act as his personal henchman. It's definitely a more proactive role for the character than him sitting in a wheelchair, spitting, and mumbling about “new shoes.” It's also a more natural writing decision than the show rather randomly revealing that Pete has been a chess prodigy this entire time. Pete has never mentioned any interest or insight into chess before now. It's clear the show writers were just trying to give Jack Nance something, anything, to do.

The show's other various subplots continue to churn and whirl. I think I've finally figured out why I find the story surrounding Josie Packard so uninteresting. Josie really isn't a good person. This episode begins to hint that she might've been the person who shot Coop at the end of season one. (Yeah, I had forgotten about that technically-still-ongoing mystery too.) Her past is strewn with betrayal, manipulation, and murder. Yet Josie doesn't have the kind of personality that makes such intrigue interesting. She's passive, a constant victim who does nothing but look pretty and sad as everyone else uses or abuses her. Simply put, she's not complex enough to justify why so many people are fascinated with her.

Yet there's never been any mystery as to why I dislike James Hurley's story line so much. James is, on his best days, a sad puppy dog that can easily be pushed around. On his worst days, he's an impulsive, overly emotional, overgrown kid who does nothing but generate romantic melodrama. Making him the center of a meandering side-story, otherwise devoted to characters we've never met and have no attachment to, was a bad choice. At least that revolves here, with some double-crosses and slow motion wails of pain. Let's never speak of it again. [5/10]

Twin Peaks, Episode 2.14: Double Play

Twin Peaks: Double Play

As the dead body found in the police station is further examined, Cooper sees his worst fears confirmed: Windom Earle has, indeed, come to Twin Peaks. Coop explains how he formed a rivalry with the man, over his beautiful wife, and how dangerous Earle is. Meanwhile, the newly revived Leo attacks Shelly but is injured by Bobby and wanders off into the woods. Audrey continues to unravel her father's newfound fixation on the Antebellum era. Doctor Jacoby believes the best way to handle this psychosis is to let it play itself out. Catherine and Andrew Packard still have plans to humiliate Josie, while James is getting further drawn into a villainous plan abroad.

When it comes to long-running anime series, fans often refer to “filler arcs.” Those would be the unimportant and inessential story lines made to fill the gap before the original manga creator can create new material to be adapted. The last few episodes of “Twin Peaks” definitely felt like the filler arc, as the show juggled its various lingering story arcs. And now the filler arc is over. “Double Play” properly introduces Windom Earle, Dale Cooper's deranged former partner and archenemy. During a meaningful monologue, Coop explains why such enmity exists between him and Earle, who is described in histrionic terms as both purely brilliant and irredeemably evil. While you may or may not like this chapter of “Peaks” as much as the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder, at least the show has a sense of forward momentum again.

“Double Play was directed by Uli Edel, a German filmmaker who had already made critically acclaimed work like “Christiane F.” and “Last Exit to Brooklyn.” (He would go on to less respected films, like “Body of Evidence” and “The Little Vampire.”) Edel clearly has strong skills of his own. Picking up where the last film left off, an early scene continues Leo's attack on Shelly. It's a fairly intense moment, continuing the strong horror vibes of a vulnerable young woman in a dark house, pursued by a unhinged lunatic with an axe. It's a rather tense struggle, the empty house making for an atmospheric location and Leo being a properly intimidating attacker.

“Twin Peaks” may be getting better in the second half of its second season but that doesn't mean its healed fully. The story arc around Catherine and Josie continues to drag horribly. The show attempts to breath some life into this plot with two high profile guest stars. Dan O'Herlihy – baritone voiced character actor best known for memorable appearances in cult faves like “RoboCop” and “Halloween III” – appears as Andrew Packard, Catherine's thought-dead brother.  David Warner shows up as Thomas Eckhart, Packard's business rival who tried to have him killed. Both O'Herlihy and Warner are certainly wonderful performers who always bring something to the material but even these guys can't make me interested in these proceedings.

The show is also still struggling to find the particular balance that made the comic relief in its first season delightful and makes its current jokes hard-to-swallow. Andy and Dick's investigation into Nicky's possibly murderous past ends suddenly with Doc Haywood delivering a long, highly melodramatic speech. Ben Horne's Civil War obsession is only growing more cartoonish. Especially insulting is the continued way every man in Twin Peaks falls over themselves when the former mayor's widow is around. You'll notice both of these story lines would basically disappear all together now that the show has more important matters to attend to.

So my opinion continues to be divided, as “Peaks” heads into the next chapter of its second season. You can see the series directly addressing some of the problems fans where surely having with it at this point. Yet flabby writing decisions, like James' on-going adventure in knock-off noir land, are still hanging around too. We are not out of the woods yet – a rather fitting turn-of-phrase – but at least things are improving a little bit. [6/10]