Twin Peaks: 25 Years

It might seem odd that I've written about David Lynch and Twin Peaks more than a few times on a blog about Philadelphia. But in addition to Peaks' characters Dale Cooper and Gordon Cole hailing from an FBI office in Philadelphia, Lynch credit's his years studying at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts as influencing him more than any filmmaker. Living in what's become Philadelphia's cushy Callowhill Loft District, in the early 1970s Lynch described Philadelphia as "the sickest, most corrupt, decaying, fear-ridden city imaginable."

Harsh, right? But to the master of modern day film noir, "it was fantastic at the same time."

Visually, the town of Twin Peaks is about as far removed from Philadelphia as you can get. Set in a fictional northeast Washington that looks more like the outskirts of Seattle than the high desert it is, the town is nestled in the picturesque mountains of the Pacific Northwest. To Philadelphia's explosive 1.5 million residents, Twin Peaks has little more than 5000 (the 51,201 printed on the sign is allegedly a mistake). On the surface, its denizens are those you'd expect to find in small townships throughout the Poconos and the Pine Barrens. Teenagers teeming with anxiety, bumbling police officers, and small-town big shots auctioning off pristine wilderness to the highest urban bidder.

But Twin Peaks has a seedy underbelly, and like everything Lynch aims a camera at, nothing is as it seems. From Blue Velvet to Mulholland Drive, Lynch has set the duality of nature - human and not so human - against the backdrop of an all-but-lost cinematography that delivered Vertigo and Sunset Boulevard. But he's more than just a neo-noir filmmaker: he weaves elements of daytime drama, horror, and comedy into his art; all of which when combined can make the most benign scenes far more disturbing than they really are.

Today is the 25th anniversary of the Twin Peaks season finale, a disturbing cliffhanger which left our hero, Dale Cooper, trapped in the Black Lodge, and his doppleganger possessed by the demon BOB. After bashing his head into a bathroom mirror, he chillingly echoed Cooper's own concern for his girlfriend, "How's Annie? How's Annie? How's Annie?" 25 years ago, Laura Palmer said we'd see her again in 25 years. And 25 years later, here we are with Lynch's production of a third series wrapping up. 

Lynch is nothing if not a man of many mediums. To call him an outsider artist would simplistically undermine the breadth of his art. His works range from paintings recently displayed at PAFA, cinematic shorts like Rabbits, original television shows, feature films, and even a regular voice role on Seth MacFarlane's The Cleveland Show. But more than any of his outlets, the ways in which he's managed to tether so many together may be his greatest, and most unique, masterpiece. 

One can watch Mullholland Drive and assume Betty is actually Audrey Horne, a young woman destined for bigger and better places than Twin Peaks, but lost in a grim Hollywood few outside Los Angeles ever see. After all, the idea for Mullholland Drive began as a spinoff of Twin Peaks, with Audrey's Sherilyn Fenn in the lead role. 

Over the last 25 years, speculations of a revived Twin Peaks have run amok. Whenever fans were ready to resign themselves to their own imaginations, a new rumor would emerge. Not long before the Twin Tweets from David Lynch and Mark Frost - Twin Peaks' co-creators - that announced Showtime's interest in a third season, it had become seemingly apparent that David Lynch not only had no interest in returning to Twin Peaks, but that the show itself might have been a burdensome bore to the man. 

But when those Twin Tweets came, Lynch did what Lynch does best. He made something so incredible banal - Twitter, the internet, social media - into an art form no one had ever known before. Suddenly, we the Tweeters, the Facebookers, the Instargrammers, were interacting with veterans of the cast. Some had moved on from acting, some were still working in minor roles, others were big. But for a brief moment before the resurgence of Peaks Mania broke out, we were speaking with Sherilyn Fenn, Madchen Amick, and Dana Ashbrook as if we were rekindling a long dormant high school relationship through social media. 

To those of us who grew up with Twin Peaks, we felt as thought we were part of their world. And the cast of Twin Peaks told us they felt the same way. The world Lynch created in Twin Peaks, WA was more than a television show, it was a work of art his actors and fans have carried with them throughout their lives.

Since its finale, and its under-appreciated prequel, Twin Peaks has had a wide array of fans. Cop drama fanatics were drawn to the procedural elements brought to Twin Peaks by Hill Street Blues' Mark Frost. Fans of Blue Velvet, Dune, and Eraserhead were curious about Lynch's foray into television. Throughout its various DVD releases, new audiences have come to appreciate the world of Twin Peaks.

Today, the biggest divide between Peaks fans seems to be between those who regard it as a work of art and those who view it as nostalgic '90s kitsch. While there is ample arrogance in the former camp that says you had to live in the '90s to "get it," there is a frustrating level of exploitation in the latter that has used a story about incest, rape, and murder to peddle hipster fashions and ironic photo-shoots. 

How Season 3 will be received is likely more predictable than many think, and those who view Twin Peaks and its inhabitants as quirky caricatures of a bygone era will likely be disappointed. Much of the show's most superficially campy episodes came from Season 2, when Lynch and Frost were all but absent. It had devolved into the Spelling produced soap opera that it was, with Lynch returning for the series finale that brought it back to its roots. 

Lynch has directed every episode of its revival for Showtime, so don't expect any of the shallow drama from Season 2 to rear its ugly head. Those who don't get its prequel, Fire Walk With Me, likely won't get Season 3, and they'll likely find themselves frustrated. There is more to the town of Twin Peaks than a murder and the decadently reckless behaviors of its inhabitants. 

There is something greater, something that has to do with the darkness within all of us, the BOB all of our dopplegangers carry with them. Twin Peaks was never meant to end with the revelation of Laura Palmer's killer, the questions answered in its prequel, and I doubt Season 3 will wrap much up. The lives of those who live in Twin Peaks, detached as they may seem, are our lives. And ours' are never neatly wrapped up in a bow and concluded. They carry on, in and out of the dark recesses of humanity...in and out of the Black and White Lodges. That's Twin Peaks. That's us. 

#SaveTwinPeaks

I feel your frustration.

On October 3rd, David Lynch and Mark Frost sent simultaneous tweets about chewing gum, "#damngoodcoffee." Despite years of speculation, denial, and hope that Twin Peaks would return to television, true fans of the show knew exactly what this meant. The "Twin Tweets" were a not-so-subtle nod from the co-creators that this was, in fact, real. 

The show was deeply rooted in the dualities of human (and not quite human) nature, and its two year run was riddled with parallels right down to its title. But to those who've obsessed over the show since it left the airwaves in 1991, and the silver screen a year later, the pair's messages weren't necessary. After all, in 1990, Laura Palmer told us we'd see her again, and she told us exactly when: now.

On October 6th, Showtime announced it would be picking up nine episodes for a third season. Not picking up where it left off, not rebooting the series with new actors, but with its original cast in tact exactly twenty-five years later, just like Laura (or perhaps her doppleganger) promised.

You don't even need to be an ardent fan of David Lynch to understand how Lynchian the entire situation is. It's not hard to imagine David Lynch, and Frost as well, biding their time throughout the past two and a half decades, dropping hints and toying with their fans, as if this was their exact plan all along. 

Constantly delving into new, unique, and bizarre medium, Lynch's twenty-five year hiatus has fostered the allure of an already-obsessed audience, transforming Twin Peaks' cult following into a collective real-world exposition. We are Twin Peaks.

But things fell apart this month, or so it would seem. It would be redundant to say something strange is happening in Twin Peaks, the show or the town, but what's taking place truly is unique. It's unfortunate, but also somewhat innovative and beautiful. The disappointment began in March when David Lynch expressed concerns regarding his deal with Showtime. Earlier this month he confirmed that budgetary constraints from the premium cable network had terminated his involvement.

Sad, yes, then something unheard of happened when the show's original cast took to the internet. They not only rallied the support of their fans, they invited us into the dressing room. Sherilyn Fenn who played the naughty-and-nice Audrey Horn has been working with the Official Twin Peaks Cast run site on Facebook, diligently answering nearly every question, concern, and comment posted to the page.

Fenn, along with Madchen Amick (Shelley Johnson), Dana Ashbrook (Bobby Briggs), and Sheryl Lee (Laura Palmer) have made this Facebook page an astoundingly personable experience.

Given the show's fan base, its surprising that the site has just roughly 17,000 "likes." But perhaps it's the infamy of both the show and its stars that sets the site apart from other "official" Facebook pages. The show isn't ordinary, and we aren't ordinary fans.

Littering social media with #SaveTwinPeaks, Sheriyn Fenn has proven herself as large a fan of her own show as any of us. Amick joined Fenn in a passionate quest to save a Lynch-backed Twin Peaks by posting a collection of videos with her costars expressing what the show would be like without Lynch at the helm. Sheryl Lee espoused, it would be "like a girl without a secret." 


Despite the large cast's resistance to a Lynch-less Twin Peaks, two of the show's notable cast members, Kyle McLaughlin (Agent Dale Cooper) and Lara Flynn Boyle (Donna Hayward), have said little to nothing. Although it's hard to imagine a Twin Peaks without Agent Cooper, the show's prequel, Fire Walk With Me, managed to succeed with his minimal involvement as well as a recast Donna Hayward.

While some fans have simply thrown their hands up for the last time, it's hard not to wonder if this is all part of a larger plan. With Fenn, Amick, Lee, and others pulling their fans into the town of Twin Peaks, and into the Red Room, the show is getting its third season right now. Lynch casts actors as unique as their characters, and across the internet and social media, the original cast of Twin Peaks is exceeding any expectations a hardened Lynchian holds, the same unexpected and unreal realties that follow the release of any of David Lynch's works of art. 

As I sit on my stoop in Philadelphia enjoying some damn good coffee, wedged in the duality between the grimy neighborhood that gave Lynch his nightmarish inspirations and the beautiful Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts where he learned his craft, I can't help but revel in my own personal place within David Lynch's twenty-five year running masterpiece. 

We are all Twin Peaks.

Laura Palmer's House is for Sale

I loved the 1990s. People recycled, music meant something, and you could smoke at Starbucks. But around the time I was practicing five speed on my dad's "Farm Use Only" Ford Ranger, I discovered the most 90s thing of all time: Twin Peaks.

Dated for sure - right down to Audrey's saddle shoes and Laura's hair - the show that had all of America asking "Who Killed Laura Palmer" was decades ahead of its time. In fact, given the uncompromising weirdness that is the show's co-creator, David Lynch, Twin Peaks may have not simply been ahead of it's time, but out of this world.

Now for about $550,000 you can own the house where it all began. Used in the pilot and the prequel film, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, the Palmer "home" in Everett, WA is for sale. 

The house is largely unchanged. The pink carpet and dated wallpaper are gone, but the wicker chair where Laura sat to write torrid secrets in her infamous diary remains in its place more than twenty years later.

Considering the notoriety this prime time drama received and the cult following it has since amassed, perhaps a fan will do what Brian Jones did with The Christmas Story house. At more than half a million dollars, it's a little pricy for a movie museum, but I hope the new owners decide to reinstall the ceiling fan that haunted Sarah Palmer's waking nightmares.

Fueled by internet speculation, rumors of David Lynch and Mark Frost revisiting Twin Peaks routinely come and go from time to time. Unfortunately it seems that long time fans of a show that lasted only two short seasons are left with endless questions and disturbing images burned into our minds. Exactly how Lynch wants it.

----------------

David Lynch studied at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts on North Broad Street in the late 1960s. He lived in a house on 13th and Wood, diagonally across from the morgue, now part of Roman High School.

He described Philadelphia as "decaying but...fantastically beautiful, filled with violence, hate and filth," crediting the city for the inspiration to make his first film, Eraserhead. Prior to PAFA's upcoming David Lynch exhibit, he returned to the city in 2012. He said, "I remember when the city was gray and dirty and deteriorated and ugly and a real mess and had real character, and now it’s all bright and shiny just like every other city."

His former neighborhood, dubbed Eraserhood by many, is now an odd mix of pricy lofts, an expanding Chinatown, sprinkled with abandoned warehouses, older row homes, and the defunct Reading Viaduct. 

As plans solidify to convert the viaduct into an elevated park, so does the neighborhood's prominence. But like Laura's wicker chair that still adorns the Palmer residence, David Lynch's soul is still in Philadelphia, a city that evoked nightmares in the modest Montanan, ever present in his haunting works of art.