I recently completed watching two of what have been called the greatest television series of all time, The Sopranos and The Wire. The Sopranos is definitely strong and high up there on the list (particularly because of the fifth season episode “Long Term Parking” in which Adriana is whacked, maybe the most evil scene ever filmed). The Wire suffered through its final season dampening all that had come before—its depiction of a system rotten from top to bottom was well wrought and dramatically satisfying until it ran out of steam.
But they both (and Breaking Bad as well) pale in comparison to David Lynch and Mark Frost’s Twin Peaks, the show that opened the door for these other series to exist. Deeply scary, hysterically funny, a meld of soap opera, slapstick, mystery, police procedural, etc., Twin Peaks is the apex of serial storytelling. With only three seasons, it certainly did not have as much lasting power as the shows referenced above, but that was the fault of audience demand and the meddlesome executives of ABC. The Sopranos soared because the executives at HBO are more fearless than those on network television. But Twin Peaks was a trailblazer that the executives never understood and they forced a mid-season reveal, snuffing it out before its resurgence in 2017 with a third season that is perhaps the single greatest achievement in narrative television.
You probably have heard of Twin Peaks without seeing it. I can only echo the words of the character played by Lara Flynn Boyle in the first episode after the pilot. Donna is describing to her mother her state of consciousness after losing her best friend and falling in love all in a 24-hour period. She says, “It’s like I’m having the most beautiful dream and the most terrible nightmare all at once.” That’s Twin Peaks. I’ll say no more because you should watch it now (and you can on Paramount+).
But I will say it has a reputation, like all of David Lynch’s work, for being inscrutable, impenetrable. It is full of symbols and imagery that do not necessarily elucidate the plot but instead makes the audience think. Most TV audiences at the time did not want to think. Today even, Twin Peaks would be a strain on certain viewers who demand explanations. Heck, most people give up on trying to explain Lynch’s work at all. But one guy didn’t. And he made the greatest Youtube video I’ve ever seen. And I’m not joking.
Youtube is an amazing website/app/social media. In addition to housing what would otherwise have been lost media (rare films, older television shows, news events from the past), it is also a veritable treasure trove for content creators who are often (though not always) funny, insightful, and entertaining. I spend probably too much time on Youtube, but why wouldn’t I when what I have at my fingertips are nostalgic shows from my childhood, comedy sketches from around the world, rare documentaries that might have aired once on television. It’s a gold mine. But, as far as original content, there are giants and there are people barely trying and those in-between.
While he has not uploaded a new video in three years, one of the giants goes by the handle Twin Perfect. Initially dedicated to pieces about the video game Silent Hill, the channel went a very different direction in March of 2016 when he began defending overlooked movies and explaining abstract ones. Then, in 2019, there came “Twin Peaks ACTUALLY EXPLAINED (No, Really).” When I first saw the title, I giggled and didn’t take it seriously. Then, I looked at the running time of a little over four and a half hours and I thought, “You know, I love Twin Peaks, so let’s give Twin Perfect a try.”
There is no way I would or could give away too much of his argument. Watching the original Twin Peaks, the prequel film Fire Walk with Me, and the sequel series The Return are an absolute must before even attempting the analysis and there is not room here to do any of those projects justice except to give you the highlights.
Twin Peaks was born from a pilot script called "Northwest Passage" that writer Frost and director Lynch concocted, never believing it would be picked up. Nestled in the Pacific Northwest, Twin Peaks is a town much like the one in Lynch’s Blue Velvet. On the surface, it has great beauty and eccentric, lovable residents. Underneath, there are dark forces at work in the woods nearby and a criminal underbelly to rival a big city.
Centering on the case of the murder of the homecoming queen Laura Palmer, which was never meant to be solved, it absolutely enchanted audiences when it premiered in 1990. So much so that the cult grew fast. Being ‘90s TV viewers, they expected the murder of Laura Palmer to be wrapped up. When that didn’t happen at the end of the first season (every episode of which is perfect), audience demand for answers flooded the network and Lynch’s hand was forced to reveal the killer midway through the second season.
After that, all the story arcs that emerged from the characters Laura affected (in both her outward good girl image and her seedy, drug-riddled side) got fouled up. Lynch, disgusted with the network, left the show and went off to direct Wild at Heart, which will one day be seen as another outstanding achievement. But when interest and ratings began to slip, he returned to direct a powerful season finale in vain hope of keeping the show alive. When this did not work, he made the film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, much hated then, but now revered as one of his best films. It was full of more mystery and even fewer solid answers for the fans and Twin Peaks flickered out only two years after it emerged.
Twenty-five years after the prequel, Lynch and Frost (and most of the cast) reunited for a third season—I refuse to use the term “reboot” here. Any hopes of answers quickly dissipated, but what he made (especially “Part 8”) is breathtaking. When I say it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen on television, it’s not my usual hyperbole. It makes everything else, including The Sopranos and, I hate to say it, Six Feet Under, look like damp firewood. In short, Twin Peaks is the only television show that is like a great novel or a great movie. Every time you watch it, you find something you’ve never noticed before. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.
It is often said that Lynch’s work is strange, elliptical, heady stuff that asks more questions than it answers. But, using copious quotes from Lynch himself, Twin Perfect argues there is one correct interpretation of Twin Peaks. He says it matter-of-factly and, while one can only guess Lynch’s real intentions, his argument is almost flawless, so much so that, when re-watching the show last week, I couldn’t get it out of my mind and I even found more examples that proved his theory (and his video is 4 ½ hours full of examples). Twin Perfect anticipated this—he begins the video with several disclaimers that his take will forever alter the way one watches Twin Peaks (in a good way). Boy, was he right.
I’ll try to condense what I hope is a respectful summary of his case. He argues that Twin Peaks is a television show that is aware it’s a television show and is, in its own way, about television. Particularly the television of the late eighties in which murders wouldn’t affect characters too long and the solution would always be given in one hour’s time. He paints Twin Peaks as a criticism of television’s biggest problem: the violence is glamorous and no one ever cares much about the victims. With Laura Palmer, Lynch was trying to bring humanity to the sadness of the world that TV often glosses over in favor of quick resolutions. There is also an argument that aligns the series with Lynch’s practice of Transcendental Meditation. I won’t begin to summarize those points except to say Season 3 makes sense to me now. I knew it was brilliant the first time I saw it, but I can’t say I understood it. In fact, I’ve always watched Lynch’s films assuming I wouldn’t understand. I just let them be what they are and that is, in itself, satisfying. But Twin Perfect kind of made me rethink the man and his work.
Now there is so much more to his case than that. If I had to truly summarize his video essay, it would take a ream of paper.
You may ask, “Now, how on earth could a four-hour video of a guy talking be the greatest Youtube video ever?” Well, firstly, his use of footage not only from the franchise but from interviews, audio clips of podcasts, and elsewhere, is presented with seamless professionalism. The dozens of quotes from Lynch are read by him out loud the way Lynch speaks—his voice being kind of a fifties-peachy-keen-Boy-Scout brogue. The way the argument is laid out would make writers of doctoral dissertations toss in the towel. While he does make some cognitive leaps that you don’t always follow, he always justifies his point in such a way that arguing becomes useless. He also turns your attention to things in the show that you might have missed altogether.
It is also, as all great Youtube videos are, funny. The fact that the video has had over two million views (maybe forty of them mine) and over eleven thousand comments is proof enough that the argument is so persuasive, the technical perfection is so dazzling, and the wormhole he takes you down so engrossing that you wish it were four hours longer.
He did two follow-ups after fans asked questions. Those videos, subtitled respectively “EVEN MORE Evidence” and “Responding to the Critics,” are on equal par with the original. The second is almost as long as a regular film (an hour and eighteen minutes) and the final video doesn’t quite make half an hour, but they serve as perfect buttresses to what was already a strong take.
While I may have not been as persuasive here as Twin Perfect was, I strongly urge you to watch this video. If you know Twin Peaks, it is infinitely inventive and, even if you disagree with the explanation vehemently, I think you’d still have a good time. And if you haven’t seen Twin Peaks, well…time to get some hot coffee and cherry pie and get to work.
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