Chris Fried
Contributing Writer
“Twin Peaks: The Return” is one of the best, most ambitious shows to have aired on television. The first two seasons of the show broke conventions in the 90s and forged a new path for serialized series. As this third season neared, premiering nearly 26 years after the previous season’s finale, two questions were on everyone’s mind. The first of which was, “Could David Lynch do it again?” In an era with shows like “Mr. Robot” demolishing narrative convention, was it possible for Lynch to produce an unpredictable-yet-captivating series?
The answer, it turns out, is abso-fucking-lutely. Throughout “The Return’s” 18 hour run is some of the most bizarre, captivating, anxiety-inducing, beautiful moments I’ve seen on film. “Part 8” in particular stands out; almost the entire episode is a quiet black-and-white origin myth, complete with demonic parasites, crazed Abraham Lincoln lookalikes and footage of atomic bomb detonations. I found myself slack-jawed multiple times every episode with how wild the story was and how powerful and disturbing the images were.
The second question is obviously, “Will problems from the original series be resolved?” “Twin Peaks’” second season ends on one of the more frustrating cliffhangers I’ve seen in my time. “The Return”’s announcement excited me because maybe I’d finally understand what happened to each character. With nearly the entire original cast returning, hopes were high that everything would be tied up nicely.
For better or for worse, infinitely more questions were asked than were answered. “The Return” is so radically different in tone, content and format that viewers with no knowledge of the original series are almost on the same page as diehard fans. The viewer’s understanding of the show’s primary conflict is subverted several times throughout “The Return” to such a point that the final episode has no meaning if the viewer is hanging on to their initial understanding of the “Twin Peaks” universe. Even still, the ending is unbelievably frustrating; the final line of dialogue in the series is a question that will forever be unanswered, and I’ve spent literally every day since the finale in agony over this (ask any of my housemates, they can confirm). How, then, can this series be considered “good” or “satisfying”?
Simply put, “The Return” is an 18-hour nightmare. The series’ protagonist, Special Agent Dale Cooper, says as much as he stares directly at the viewer for several minutes during the finale: “We live inside a dream.”
Lynch, who had a hand in writing and directing every single episode (as opposed to directing only a handful of episodes of the original series), has a well-known fascination with dreams and the human unconscious. “The Return”’s events and story progression don’t follow any realistic logic, but instead a strange nonsensical logic that is understandable only if you’re willing to suspend disbelief. Electricity becomes a catalyst for the evil of humanity, golden shovels are the answer to decades of marital dysfunction and creamed corn is the material manifestation of human suffering.
The show’s constantly shifting moods are reminiscent of dreaming as well. An execution in the desert turns into a celebration of life. A heartfelt family discussion in a local diner is interrupted by a gunshot, the most annoying human possible and a grotesque half-breathing vomiting teenager. One of the series’ major antagonists is overcome in seconds by some no-name side character, while a woman walking out of a room takes up nearly five minutes of screen time and all of the viewer’s patience.
“The Return” is Lynch frantically telling us all about some strange, wonderful dream he’s just woken up from. But the problem is that dreams are formless, lacking any real digestible story until you impose one upon them, constantly forcing you to ask questions to which no answers exist.
What, then, is the purpose of a show that tells a story that will never be resolved? To get the viewer to think, to have conversation, to feel any sort of emotion; just like any exciting dream you’ve had. People love to talk about their dreams with their friends, and the popularity of dream analysis seems to imply that we’ve collectively placed value in messages that can be derived from nonsensical streams of images. In this sense, “The Return” is perfect. People will continue asking questions about this show and wondering what it could all mean, no matter what year it is.