When Twin Peaks debuted in 1990, it was a cultural phenomenon. On the surface, it was a classic whodunit: a homecoming queen, Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee), is found dead and a charming, ebullient FBI special agent, Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan), turns up in town to investigate.
Despite the often violent content, entire families sat down to watch, and groups of friends had viewing parties where they ate cherry pie, drank damn fine coffee and dressed up as characters – including wrapped in plastic as poor Laura. The broad appeal was because of writer-director David Lynch and writer-producer Mark Frost’s compelling style, which transformed a small-town murder mystery into an oddball drama, replete with profound tragedy, supernatural forces and complex relationships.
Across two seasons and a prequel movie (1992’s Fire Walk with Me), Lynch and Frost’s uncompromising and unique vision and pastiche of genres and tones – from soap opera to film noir, zany comedy, tragedy and horror – forever changed what television could look like.
Fast forward 25 years and Twin Peaks: The Return landed in 2017 – a third season, featuring 18 episodes, all directed by Lynch. No longer beholden to network constraints, Lynch and Frost used their full creative autonomy to execute a vision entirely their own – and the result is strange, sometimes excruciating, but always compelling TV.
In season three, Agent Cooper is trapped in the supernatural Black Lodge 25 years after the original series’ cliffhanger ending. He’s working to get out and eventually return to Twin Peaks, while his doppelganger, host to evil spirit Bob, is in the real world plotting to prevent Bob’s return to the Lodge.
The Return has more subplots than could possibly be summarised here – outstripping even the original – from the dying Log Lady (Catherine E Coulson) urging the Twin Peaks sheriff’s department to reopen investigations into Laura’s death, to a vicious murder in Buckhorn, South Dakota, that draws the attention of FBI deputy director Gordon Cole (played by Lynch) and his colleagues.
It moves indiscriminately between story arcs, and occasionally timelines and dimensions, and has surreal visual and auditory sequences that beg many more questions than they offer answers. It can feel vexing, even maddening – not least of all in episode eight, AKA Gotta Light?, which particularly pushes the boundaries of Lynchian cinematography with a sonically and visually audacious sequence showing the birth of Bob.
And then, like him or loathe him, there’s Dougie, Cooper’s duplicate (Hellooo oo oo!).
All of this eccentricity and audacity works – better than in season two, which suffered from silly storylines and narrative incoherence after the mid-season reveal of Laura’s killer (a decision forced by the network). The result is bold television that leaves you frustrated, saddened and amused, often all at once.
There’s much to appreciate: MacLachlan’s performance is phenomenal and a whole host of returning characters scratch a nostalgic itch. New characters enrich the world, with standouts including Robert Forster as Sheriff Frank Truman, Naomi Watts as Dougie’s abrasive wife, Janey-E Jones, and Matthew Lillard as a hapless high school principal, William Hastings.
As ever with Twin Peaks, the appeal isn’t the plot but rather its emotional resonance. Often it’s not the dramatic scenes that hit the hardest, but small, simple moments when a character’s fear, sadness or joy is starkly depicted.
For instance, when Ed sits apart from his beloved Norma in the Double R Diner; when the Log Lady dies; when we watch Bobby crying at the sight of Laura’s photo. It also has scenes of unspeakable violence, banal cruelty and screwball humour. Lynch gifts some characters happy endings but others are simply snuffed out – or, like Audrey Horne, stuck in spaces of torturous liminality. For all its surrealism, in this way the show is true to life’s unpredictable vicissitudes.
All seasons of Twin Peaks have in common heart-wrenching final episodes with ambiguous endings. Even as it devastates, there’s something satisfying about this narrative bookending. Still, I’m tempted to watch it all again in reverse order, starting with The Return and ending at the very beginning: with baby-faced Cooper telling Diane over dictaphone that he’s entering the town of Twin Peaks – and that from there, anything could happen.
Twin Peaks: The Return is streaming on Paramount+ (Australia, UK, US)
