The entire first 15 minutes of “Part 3” with Cooper in the purple/red realm is absolutely indescribable. It operated like a lucid dream where one would be lucky to recount its mood half as accurately to someone else upon waking. David Lynch, however, somehow summoned this from his mind and put it on screen, fully realized. Between the girl with no eyes, the hauntingly shrill, yet muffled sounds she made when trying to communicate to Cooper, and the use of jumping back and forth constantly between frames, it resulted in one of the most artful and otherworldly sequences I’ve ever seen on screen. The constant skipping around puts you at such unease to the point where you just have to give in to it. I felt a constant physical sensation of imminent shivering throughout, a release of fear, but I didn’t allow myself to because I invited David Lynch to play on it and pull me deeper and deeper into the strange… trusting to come out the other side somewhere wonderful. Pretty much how I approach any Lynch film.

When I consider the concept of life, I sometimes think of a petri dish with small microscopic organisms, all following a certain set of rules and functions. It’s so alien to us, yet it’s all in our same universe and completely within our access, properly studied. Then I think of the ocean, and how the deeper you go, the more abstract and mysterious the marine life gets (same could most definitely be said the farther you go out into space). To me, this scene was that for me. It exists in the deepest trench of the universe, so far removed from the concept of time and space and our familiar rules. However, despite all of that, the will to thrive as a living organism still extends to this mysterious world. The lady with no eyes notions Cooper to keep quiet when the banging is heard and warns Cooper with a translation of danger if he’s to go towards the strange mechanism, finally motioning him towards a door for safety. Even when she pulls the switch upon the floating construct, the sense of danger is present, and Cooper feeling sympathy for this girl being tossed into space, proves that emotion also extends to this distant pocket of a world. The stars and deep space surrounding Cooper in this moment plays as a necessary backdrop to ‘the unknown’ which is what I’ve always thought of in regards to the blue rose in FWWM, being of the mystery or unknown that people can just never know, not because Lynch is holding it back to confound you but because ‘the unknown’ is a very real thing.

*From the lever pulled, to Major Brigg’s sideways projection, it was very reminiscent to the intro of Eraserhead which I’ve watched again recently. I’m wondering if the mechanism was set to return to the mysterious glass box where the creature is slicing up Sam and Tracey (explaining the forewarned slicing motion the lady makes) and by her pulling the lever, the destination for Cooper to return to the real world would change, hence the swapping of Dougie at Rancho Rosa. This would also explain the number on the mechanism changing as if it’s an elevator.

“When you get there…you will…already be there.” – Ronette

We can assume this relates to Dougie, the version of Cooper that exists almost like an anomaly from all this switching/traveling between dimensions business.

“You’d better hurry…my mother’s coming.”

???

Perhaps by mother, she’s referring to mother nature or whatever higher power dictates the rules of this place. Shooing Cooper like he’s a teenage boy who climbed through Ronette’s second story window suggests that what they’re doing is wrong or betrays the rules, therefore Dougie, becoming somewhat of a third version, manufactured, in order for Cooper to return to the real world. Whatever was constantly banging from beyond this room didn’t seem to want to permit this. My question from here is whether it was Bob or maybe Jeffries that was behind this? Some other supernatural force? In “Part 2”, Bob said he had a plan in order to not return to the black lodge. Electricity, however, became a factor in all of this which reminds me of Jeffries’ disappearance/reappearance in the film, while also explaining Bob’s crashing and vomiting garmonbozia as if it is something he was hoping to prevent. Dougie is revealed to have a numb arm due to wearing the ring and later tells Mike in the red room that he feels funny. I took ‘funny’ as in being something created outside of nature and it seemed fitting that as soon as we were introduced to him, he seems to be in a place where he doesn’t belong. The entire development of Rancho Rosa comes off manufactured as well, but that could just be a mere decision in aesthetics to match the feeling in regards to Dougie.

As Dougie’s head pops in the red room and we’re met with this gray, ugly head, it appeared strikingly similar to the creature the attacked Sam and Tracey. Whereas those two looked straight at it in horror before becoming violently mutilated, Mike makes sure to shield his eyes. Is this the creature that was banging in the beginning of the episode, similar to the banging that occurred before breaking through the mysterious glass box? Does the lady with no eyes benefit in this creature’s presence from having no eyes? Does the creature represent the truth we’re never meant to see or know?

We meet Jade, Dougie’s girlfriend, who ultimately serves as a guide for him, echoing similar instructions to Laura Palmer’s “you can go out now”, but then even her reminder to him that he’s missing his shoes felt like it was taking on a larger meaning as it alluded to the parallel world where Cooper left his shoes behind as he went through the mechanism. Not only does Cooper hold the key to the Great Northern Hotel, an initial token to the Cooper we know, but it also becomes the key to his survival (also having just passed Sycamore Street) as he drops it after a speed bump and the hitman misses his shot. Too much of a comedic coincidence for the universe not to be playing an important role in ensuring Cooper’s safety after this bizarre anomaly that’s occurred. It strikes me as weird too in how over the top and specifically customized that rifle was, like a toy, yet implied as completely necessary. Almost as if the guy can afford to be eccentric when tasked with correcting the universe. A shot that has to count. Jade’s yellow Jeep also stands out blatantly in contrast to the paler color scheme of the neighborhood, making for an easy target.

Is it just me or do you feel overwhelmed with having to keep note of numbers? 430 was the hint from the giant. 253, time and time again, which was the time Bob began to spiral out on the road, also synced by Ronette in the parallel realm. 315 is the room to the Great Northern hotel, but I’m only really noting that because it just another three digit number. 119 is what the addict kept reciting from across the street of the house where Dougie and Jade were. Every time a door is shown with a number on it, I note it but then forget and the only reason I don’t write it all down is because I know the more I do, the more confused I’m going to get in trying to crack whatever it could possibly mean. For now though, 430 and 119 are high on the list of remembering, seeing as 253 may have already fulfilled its purpose as the time of the anomaly and 315 is probably no more than just a room number. Who knows? I’m sure the use of numbers is going to sprout many mathematical theories in the future when the season is all said and done.

Other than reciting 119, the addict at Rancho Rosa was given a significant amount of screen time as she takes a pill, washed down with a bottle of Jack Daniels, but didn’t offer mush else. I suppose we’ll see more of her later on or perhaps she could just represent something. This is an episode by the way, that doesn’t lend itself to material that could all stand on its own and not even in the usual serialized sense. In other words, I actually find parts 3 and 4 to be much more essential to watch together, whereas I felt that part 1 and part 2 are more prone to be watched separately if you wanted to, even if Lynch may have intended for it to be viewed together considering that’s how it was presented. Overall, it’s an episode like this that proves that these 18 episodes aren’t designed to be reviewed week by week, despite the fact that I’ll continue to do so, because it’s not as if I can wrap up a single hour with some self-contained theme or element. It’s all continuing and as previously noted, we’re still in pretty much act 1 of a single film being 4 episodes in.

At the same time, “Part 3” does follow a theme of chance, hope, and the impossible. Cooper has been brought back to our world under the most unusual and unlikely circumstances. I think this is what made his jackpot winnings at the Silver Mustang Casino all the more unnerving. It’s as if his existence has broken the law of probability, which in turn, can extinguish hope when the universe is just committing to your good fortune. As funny or weird as it is, and how Cooper being the subject of such a fringe event puts emphasis on how important he is, this is a phenomenon that diminishes his individual self. He has always strived for and achieved good fortune from his own doing through individual spirit and good nature. Throughout this episode, he’s brought from point A to B to C by the means of being instructed and physically pushed along by outside forces. He knows how to walk and parrot phrases, but he’s generally directionless and I find it pretty impressive that the show has been able to naturally move him along without it being tedious or sacrificing the fact that Jade or the Casino employees aren’t aware of the cosmic jetlag that he’s under. From there, I can only touch on how perfectly eerie it is that the red room is marking particular gaming machines as if in some odd attempt to fix things or for some greater plan. Is it a trick? Is it the white lodge or the black lodge that’s trying to guide Cooper right now? I’ve always been confused in distinguishing the lodges to begin with.

To continue the tour beyond the boundaries of Twin Peaks, we are brought to FBI headquarters, Philadelphia where Gordon Cole and Albert Rosenfield provide a briefing for their agency regarding clues to a killer in Georgetown. Unless I’m mistaken, this case seems unrelated but the show took the time to bring our attention to it. The following items being (and feel free to correct me):

– photo of blonde lingerie model
– pliers
– photo of 2 girls sunbathing
– photo of young boy in sailor suit
– an uzi pistol with a silencer
– jar of seeds/pebbles

After the room subsides, Tammy presents video from New York of Sam and Tracey’s death, where it turns out the creature was caught in a frame from one of the digital recordings. I’m still going with my theory that the security which was gone after having watched this building and apartment for 24 hours a day were under orders to leave, perhaps from the billionaire knowing that the phenomenon would occur that night. I don’t know. At this point, learning of the billionaire’s identity (who I believe Patrick Fischler’s Duncan Todd answers to) is just as compelling as learning of a killer in a murder mystery. The fact that the FBI are clueless on this matter makes it even more eerie, but I will say, it is reassuring to have Gordon and Albert introduced to lead us through the dark. They get a call from Black Hills, South Dakota where Cooper has supposedly been found. Their sense of urgency upon hearing this, accurately portrayed the feeling of not seeing a good friend in 25 years. I loved it.

Another beautiful transition to the roadhouse as we bow out with The Cactus Blossoms’ “Mississippi”. This is a song that reminded me of the beginning of Cooper dropping into the purple realm where before entering the room he had that view of the open water (or sea). From there, the song elicits a feeling of being far away and waiting for an arrival. Again, I just think of Cooper, being the central conflict where as an audience we anticipate his return. Just a reminder, in the season 2 finale, the last shot over the credits is a cup of coffee with Laura Palmer’s face inside. For me, this felt like a transition, whereas Laura Palmer’s homecoming picture, being a symbol of her innocence or how she was viewed at the surface, a cup of coffee would serve as Dale Cooper’s symbol. In my opinion, he is certainly the subject of the show’s mystery now just as much as Laura was.

Some missing pieces:

– Donut disturb. I love that amidst all the confusion and dark subject matter, the show is still seamlessly host to such lighthearted charm. Hawk, with the help of Andy and Lucy. continues to follow the log lady’s clues regarding Cooper’s disappearance. I love how Hawk is playing the straight man who out of the three would have the best chance to cracking this puzzle, yet he’s so stumped to the point of Andy and Lucy being just as competent, if not, more in the chances of solving this. “Let’s sit down…let me sit down” expresses Hawk’s attempt to gain a modicum of traction, yet comically shows him as a step behind. “It’s not about the bunny!/Is it about the bunny?” is also great.

– Dr. Jacoby uses gold spray paint for his collection of shovels. If there was ever a scene to highlight the feeling of waiting and anticipation, this is it. Jacoby is like the Mike Ehrmantraut of Twin Peaks right now.

– I loved Gordon Cole’s office with an enlarged photo of a nuclear explosion behind his desk, properly positioned between him and Albert as they’re getting a bombshell of a phone call. The mishearing jokes from Gordon were also funny. It took me a second watch to catch the radio joke after Albert’s, “The Black Hills…seriously?”.

The unique part of this new season operating like an 18 hour film, is that what’s introduced in act 1 (more or less the first 6 episodes) might not be returned to until act 2 or even act 3 (end of season).  For instance, in a regular movie, the introduction of one character might pop back up again in 20 minutes, whereas here, it will take significantly longer.  It’s a seamless story that’s doesn’t lend itself to be serialized, yet self contained within each hour.  With that, we continue the story straight into South Dakota…

Bill Hastings, the principal is visited by his wife, Phyllis, and told that he will not be released on bail. These two are strange and in this scene seem above and beyond the role of the stereotypical white suburban married couple (“but the Morgans are coming for dinner!”). Their confrontation in the cell felt like a chess match where a larger truth was at stake. Bill tries to spin the intriguing notion that he wasn’t in Ruth’s apartment but the strangest thing is that he dreamed he was, hoping she could rescue him from such a fantastical injustice, despite her making the facts clear that his fingerprints are all over the place. He swears it’s the truth though yet Phyllis snipes back with a “Fuck you!” and goes on to state she knows he’s been there. She’s known about the affair all along. Just when you think he’s going to submit, his entire innocent victim persona slips away and he reveals, in a ferocity, how he’s known about her and George and maybe someone else (Cooper’s doppelganger?).

There’s a little bit of fear in her when he’s saying this but she remains stoic, finally ensuring that he’s going away to prison for a very long time, almost as if saying, “it doesn’t matter if you know, you’re done”. I’d say Bill has been set up. Maybe his dream was him put in an unconscious state by Bob before being brought over to the apartment for a frame job? Or maybe under some form of trance, he actually did do it? I’m clueless, but his final “oh my God, oh my God” seems to suggest that he’s aware his wife had some part in orchestrating his involvement, possibly using his cheating as the perfect M.O. He learned something about his wife in that moment. She states to George directly after, “he knows”. Is this implying something more than just an affair? Because when she returns to the house, she seems completely fine with alt-Cooper being there. “You follow human nature perfectly…” Is she not human? Or is she just unattached and talented at playing a role beyond who she is? And what was that blackened spirit that eerily sat two cells down from Bill? Somehow it’s more creepy that such a supernatural thing happened so close without requiring Bill or anyone else to witness it.

It is at this point, we’re introduced to Las Vegas, Nevada, accompanied by that beloved snare drum scoring in the establishing shot. Mulholland Drive’s Patrick Fischler plays Duncan Todd, a man of exemplary wealth considering he routinely hands a hefty amount of cash to his assistant. Roger, who’s instructed to “tell her she has the job.” For someone who seems to command such power, he goes on to warn his assistant to never get mixed up with anyone such as the man he works for. Does he speak of the billionaire? Or Bob? Also, this is a bit unrelated, but I wonder where David Lynch shot this scene because it’s incredibly reminiscent of Don Draper’s original Sterling Cooper office, a set which has been confirmed to be used by other shows (Better Call Saul included). Regardless, I couldn’t help but think of Jimmy Barrett from season 2 of Mad Men manning this parallel helm.

Bob or Cooper’s doppelganger is shown at a diner with Ray, Jack, and Daria. He seeks information from Bill Hasting’s secretary, who is assumed to know exactly what Bill knows. What does Bill know, beyond the possibility of Ruth and the John Doe’s murder that is so important to a more complex spiritual entity such as Bob? The stress of ‘want’ over ‘need’ is made by Bob (again, explaining the Mercedes) which I couldn’t help think of when Bob grabs Jack’s face and moves his cheeks around. Unless some deeper voodoo is behind that (like garmonbozia/corn meal/love and sorrow), it seemed like something he just wanted to do (not needing), as a way to play with the idea of a much more serious ‘want’ in killing Jack later. Despite the car being wired, Jack, more interested in the wants of his stomach (3 meals in a sitting), doesn’t seem like the guy who would concoct a plan like this on his own. It seemed more under Ray’s instruction, so even with Bob becoming wise to all this, I imagine he could have easily kept Jack around despite his hiccup in following Ray’s orders. Then again, we never got to know much of Jack (never even speaks). Perhaps he’s not as much of a glutton (considering he’s not overweight) and ordered 3 meals in that prior sitting out of anxiety knowing it would likely be his last if Bob becomes aware of their betrayal? Perhaps this was the the obvious tell for Bob, being able to sense fear, that something was off, which could explain him moving Jack’s mouth around as a way of putting two and two and together.

The red room scenes from 25 years ago are subject matter that has launched countless amounts of theories, following themes of Greek mythology, astronomy, life and death, time, all riddled through abstract metaphor. It’s not something finite you can figure out in a paragraph, even if we had all 18 episodes in front of us. People will be interpreting these scenes for years. Nonetheless, I’ll give my best thoughts on what we were shown, and if anything jot stuff down just for sake of reference. One thing being clear, Mike is aware of Hawk’s arrival outside the entrance of the red room. I appreciated the continuity of the sycamore trees having grown since the season 2 finale, much like the shocking change in the ‘man from another place’, which he foreshadowed in saying “the next time you see me, it won’t be me.” ‘The arm’ as a tree/brain creature was nightmarish. It indeed seems to confirm itself when it attempts the strange siren noise that ‘the man from another place’ made in Fire Walk With Me, this time more ventilated. It is also appropriate that Mike, the one-armed man, is present, seeing as the ambulance from the film made the same original sound.

“Through the darkness of future past, the magician longs to see, one chance out between two worlds, fire walk with me” – Mike (episode 13, “Demons”)

“Is it future or is it past?” is our first major hint towards what seems to be happening, being that Bob has escaped the red room (between the lodges) and entered the physical universe. When I think of the magician, is everybody above the convenient store (and yeah, we’re getting very Fire Walk With Me heavy here) tools of the magician? Or a representative? In terms of future/past, there was a lot of repeating throughout this sequence such as the iconic manner in which Laura approaches Cooper and again when she whispers in his ear. Just as well, all of past dialogue from the original series is repeated while we’re clearly watching future, aged versions of these characters, although Cooper technically hasn’t aged from his original dream version, which again begs the question, future or past? Mike asks this question twice as if time is going in a circle, yet straying from its cycle at the same time. Is the concept of ‘future’ or ‘time paradox’ what the giant refers to as ‘has entered our house’?’, or am I thinking too much into what’s obviously inevitable for a premise that takes place 25 years later, no matter what dimension we’re in? One thing that came to mind when Laura seems to get ripped from space, screaming, (especially after Mike’s quote from “Demons”) is her quote from the film:

Other than that, the part where she takes her face off to reveal empty white light, as if performing a trick, also reminded me of the manner in which the boy removes his mask during the convenient store sequence. After Laura’s horrific exit, the curtains blow open to show, as Mike once suggested, the darkness, and from our perspective, we’re pushed through it. As Bob sets off for, what I assume is South Dakota, ‘the arm’ mentions “253…time and time again…Bob…Bob…Bob…go now (Mike listens)…go now (Cooper listens)”. Cooper ends up not being able to follow Mike entirely, so he goes back to eventually find Leland who gives the message “Find Laura”. Mike acknowledges that something’s wrong, alluding to Cooper’s inability to follow and ‘the arm’ which answers with “my doppelganger”. This would explain the version of ‘the arm’ that damns Cooper as “non-exist-ent!”

Was this somehow under Bob/altCooper’s plan? He checks his watch as if he had to drive down the highway at an exact, intended moment before our Cooper falls through the floor into an abyss, ultimately leading him to the mysterious glass box in New York. It’s interesting that this takes place as soon as Sam exited to meet Tracey before both of them coming inside. Was it fate that nobody could witness Cooper’s arrival or is it because Sam wasn’t there, that Cooper got transported elsewhere? Did it not matter regardless? I wonder if we’re going to return to this location later on by the billionaire or somebody and see if Cooper’s arrival was caught on film. Can film even capture such a phenomenon?

Bob kills Daria, which was a very hard scene to sit through, seeing as the scene uncomfortably drew itself out as she tries to escape Bob’s grasp in three helpless attempts, while he squeezes out any remaining information from her that might be of use to him. During this, he brings her attention to a strange looking card. An ace with a peculiar symbol which what seems to have bird pecks or scratches above and below it. This definitely will be an item to put a pin in as we continue. Afterwards, Bob contacts David Bowie’s Jeffries but has reason to doubt whether it actually is Jeffries. All I could say is it’s great how much FWWM tie-ins there are, even Jeffries playing a significant role despite Bowie’s passing.

Gordon Cole might be going deaf, but David Lynch has an excellent ear. I’ll let “Shadow” by Chromatics play the read out which is such a fitting, atmospheric song to go along with the remarkable distance there is between Twin Peaks and the Dale Cooper we know and love.

To show Sarah Palmer attentively watching a gruesome wildlife video, featuring a pride of lionesses taking down a water buffalo, and then roughly cut to the roadhouse with this beautiful track made for quite the stirring transition. It’s here that we find Shelly in a booth with friends, reassuring the audience that despite the drama, the strange, and the horror, life blossoms and still goes on in Twin Peaks. In what I consider one of the most profound final moments of the episode, James enters with a buddy and scans the bar before his eye is drawn to Shelly’s table. Shelly defending James in light of her friends’ slight hesitance towards him and going on to assure that “James was always cool” ended up emitting this wonderfully cosmic feeling that the two characters share between one another despite never having any scenes together in the show’s original run. It goes on to say that to be in Twin Peaks during the time of Laura Palmer’s death, everybody was affected by it, whether directly or indirectly, and 25 years later only they could understand what that meant.

Finally, I love how we’re shown “Shadow” by Chromatics on stage to the point where you’re waiting for something to happen. You’re enjoying the song, but you’re waiting for a return to a certain character or story point to punch out the episode. And you’re waiting…and you’re waiting, and suddenly the credits just start to roll. It’s such a creative way to go out and creates this lovely feeling of endlessness.

Surprise, surprise! The new Twin Peaks will be getting my Better Call Saul treatment for all 18 episodes. Expect big breakdowns in each coming week as I attempt to give my best reaction/analysis to the unfolding mystery and abstract form of storytelling that David Lynch will offer in this completely reinvented revival.

After having seen the 2 hour premiere, I can confidently tell you that in our current time of various reboots and continuations across all various mediums and platforms, Twin Peaks not only manages to avoid the usual traps, but it outperforms itself as a bold piece of art. This isn’t a case of Chris Carter not having the slightest grasp on what to do with a tenth season of The X-Files. Instead, this is something huge. This is a Lynch project that will essentially play out like an 18 hour film spawning from one of the most innovative, influential, and timelessly captivating shows to this day. One that has all the reason in the world to continue its story. We’ve been in an age since The Sopranos where episodic storytelling has been revolutionized where you can deliver story in a continuing manner yet allow it to play like a film every week. David Lynch takes advantage of this marvelously booming era and quite passionately so. A quote from Lynch in a recent Rolling Stone interview:

“Feature films are not having a great time right now – at least the kind of feature films that I would want to see or make. Theaters want money, so they put in films that are going to generate a big audience. But the art houses are mostly gone. I say the new art house is cable television.”

I must say, even though I knew this was going to be something very special, I don’t think I was prepared for how absolutely stunned I was going to be. This was a premiere that made you feel the passage of time. The wonderful dream and terrible nightmare all at once that is Twin Peaks, has remained an abundantly pulsating creature, flourishing for 25 years without our viewership. It’s a world that has not stopped. In fact it has evolved. Closer to Fire Walk With Me, the element of mock-soap is completely non-existent, yet the classic charm and humor of faces, old and new, still triumph amidst a rather darker adaptation of this universe. Conceptually, the show has reinvented itself. You may notice it used very little of Angelo Badalamenti’s familiar score throughout compared to how his music used to dominate, quite stylistically, nearly every moment back in the run of 1990-1991 (and this is not a criticism). We’re in a different wheelhouse now in terms of style. One consisting of a universe which was always so rich and accomplished among its own merits, being too much of a large, qualitative entity to now limit the creative boundaries of where it can go just for the sake of maintaining the former feel of its broadcast origins.

“The Return, Part 1”

First off, the intro:

The manner in which the premiere begins with an original shot, being a first-person sweeping trance across the red room, and then cuts to the season 2 finale scene from 25 years ago, to me, gave this impossible impression that Laura and Cooper may break from their long-existing footage in their current state of time and just continue the show from there. There’s an inevitable sadness when the screen starts to fade on Laura’s “Meanwhile”, as if we should expect Lynch to reach back into the past and operate at own will. Much like Laura’s final pose, the scene is set in stone, and the following passage of time that occurs didn’t just affect fiction, but we underwent those 25 years as well. To follow it up with a fog cast over the woods, and then iconic settings like the mill and the high school, provided a grand sense of nostalgia that was then met with a new opening title. It still has its same adored theme (as well as same font), but that new marvelous shot over the waterfall, dancing red drapes and the dizzying spin upon the red room’s floor offered such a great sense of depth, visually, and suggested that change, while scary, is also a very beautiful thing as we go forward.

Hints from the giant:

– Listen to the sounds (scratching noise from a phonograph)
– It is in our house now
– Remember 430
– Richard and Linda
– Two birds with one stone
– You are far away

Back in season 2, the giant’s hints came to pass sooner than you thought but since Lynch is set to direct all 18 episodes I have a feeling that this is going to play a part all the way into the end (“you are far away”). Of course I reserve the right to be wrong on that (since we could easily not get a precise answer at all), but the fact that it’s in black and white seems to suggest we aren’t anywhere close to what’s being referred to. Also, the giant! I try to put the math out of my head when it comes to how old these actors are now but I’m impressed with who’s managing to show up so far. As we transition to color with those brilliant daytime mountain shots and the fade into the woods, the reveal of Dr. Jacoby taking off his sun-glasses to show off his second, more recognized pair of eyewear, made for such a great introduction. Whatever project he has in store with all those shovels, which he insists on doing alone, is curious as well.

I love that the show is in no rush to explain anything. A fine example of that is the introduction of Sam assigned to stare at the mysterious glass box, almost monolithic in its nature, as he’s set to wait in the event that something appears inside. The prolonged amount of silence and patience that goes into this premise is exactly what makes it so gripping. Before I even continue on that, can we talk about that New York City reveal? Because within the first frame of that, I was in absolute awe. This is unlike anything you would expect to see in Twin Peaks, yet the establishing shot pushing in to the actual building Sam is in, was right at home. It was the first thing I thought of and mentioned at a diner with friends immediately after it aired (each of us ordering a slice of cherry pie), mainly due to being in New York myself, and always being aware of how it’s portrayed in film/television. Not getting the episodes in advance like a professional reviewer (or being one), I wish I could have beaten Alan Sepinwall to the punch, but alas he described it better than I would have in his review:

“There should be no new way to film Manhattan anymore, and no need for anyone to bother for the sake of an establishing shot. But Lynch and his collaborators somehow made it look terrifying and alien, as if they had photographed the city, then traced over it, then did a computer modeling of what they had traced.” – A.S.

The fact that we are bouncing between Twin Peaks, New York, and South Dakota exercises a great level of scope and proves that the story of Bob, the red room, the lodges, and everything else spans beyond the borders of just Twin Peaks. It’s a worldly phenomenon. This has always been implied since the original series to the extent of space and other planets, but with the show being unafraid to explore these new regions with new characters, we’re getting a better sense of just how serious the impact of Twin Peaks’ mysteries has on the outside world.

An anonymous billionaire in New York with incredible resources, no doubt provided by more higher-ups, seem to know exactly of the other dimensions that are the lodges and red room. The first visual connection that I noted is how the lights around the box seem to feature red room-like cloths. So what appeared? As Sam and Tracey engaged in sex, the box goes eerily dark and a blurry human creature is shown which ends up utterly ripping them to pieces. Was the security guard absent because the billionaire knew this after-school employee would provoke the creature’s arrival by inviting Tracey in? Was it a coincidence that they were attacked under fear or under the act of sex? I’ll get more into this in part 2, but for now, I’ll just say I liked how you could feel the cue that something was going to go wrong when Sam and Tracey were getting into it. Those shots of the camera lens’ pulled off the feeling of an imminent arrival in their obliviousness and that something unknown was aware of their actions. Those two were perfectly cast by the way, and the way they delivered their lines was classic Lynch.

^ I’m still reeling over how great this was. Again, it’s so unlike Twin Peaks to traverse the woods and not have Angelo Badalamenti’s usual creeping score to go along with it. Evil Cooper or Bob would be the subject for such a moment with such intense, over-bearing music playing, because he’s a predator in these woods and couldn’t care less of how things should sound. It’s necessarily evil too that he’s driving a Mercedes-Benz, appeasing his every appetite as long as he lives and breathes, in a world he seems to have become way more comfortable in compared to the shorter amount of time he used Leland as a host. Almost too comfortable, as if he’s bored, but he’ll continue to kill and milk it for as long as possible. Man, that reveal of Evil Cooper though really threw me off and I love how they play it up at 1:11 with those reverberations. Kyle Maclachlan is such a menacing presence on screen and I hope Emmy voters are keeping an eye on him. Wow, Bob, wow.

It’s right around the time that Sam and Tracey met their end when we cut to South Dakota where a grisly murder of Ruth the librarian and a John Doe have taken place. I was thrilled with how David Lynch played with pacing, frustrating the audience in such a comedic manner over getting inside the apartment. I love how the lady who called the police, nearly forgot for a moment why she called, when she was more focused on recounting how funny it is that she couldn’t remember her own address. Great actress. I love her “Ohh” when one of the officers puts on his plastic gloves, as if she’s experiencing a police procedural before her eyes. As for the principal being the lead suspect, it’s very compelling how this is all set up, especially for a story that’s revolving around all these new characters. The line between how innocent and how guilty the guy is remains very blurry, which makes the ending of Part 1 an absolute hook as we’re shown a piece of flesh in the trunk of his Volvo. I also appreciated the flashlight blinking for dramatic effect, yet humorously called attention to, much like the morgue scene in the pilot, with the guy apologizing for the blinking lights. In a nutshell, this is the charm that made Twin Peaks so successful to begin with.

Final remains:

– It looks like Deputy Chief Hawk is going to play an important role in getting closer to the mystery behind Cooper’s absence. The phone call with Margaret (the log lady) was very touching. It’s incredible how the original characters feel like a guest to the overall story now, yet they effortlessly fit in, (plot-wise, tonally) and will definitely become more prominent (although I can’t speak for the late Catherine Coulson) as the narrative progresses.

– Before it aired, I realized that Lucy and Andy’s kid is going to be 24 or 25 now and I’m glad on the lighter side of things that their son Wallie was mentioned (born on the same day as Marlon Brando). I’m glad the quirkiness of these characters still remains and Lucy’s confusion over using Sheriff Truman’s excuses for his absence (depending on who needs him) was delightfully fun. I haven’t looked into it in a long time, but I’m forgetting if Michael Ontkean said if he’ll be returning or not. Or whether it’s being kept hush-hush. I feel like the scene with Lucy is kind of a joke on that.

– Ben and Jerry! I like that we’re seeing a more mature Ben who knows better not to sleep with his married secretary, Beverly. Unless, he’s just not revealing this scandal to Jerry considering his defensive reaction citing R-E-S-P-E-C-T could be a possible way to distract his brother’s notion from the truth. If he is being honest, it would follow the theme of how he was trying to do what’s right after his Civil War phase.  Other than that, I enjoyed the entire scene ending with”…is that mother’s hat?”