Anticipation prevails. The latest incarnation of Twin Peaks is about to air and I am giddy with fear and worry. The devil in Mr. Lynch hasn’t given me a good scare since Inland Empire. I’m not sure what to expect. Will it be the mind trip of the decade or something softer, like a silky smooth cup of finely ground coffee & cream? Twin Peaks is a show that I only discovered a few years back, when it cycled through Netflix for a brief time, and I am sad that I couldn’t have discovered it at an earlier junction in my life. The imagery and iconography is what struck me; the overall tone and humour; the dreamscape colours of the Pacific North West. Here were the cast and characters I had seen in my peripheral vision while growing up, without knowing them. Twin Peaks was the birth mother of my beloved X-Files. Even the bat shit crazy new show Riverdale states Twin Peaks as an inspiration. And how can we blame it? Blame anyone?
So it is that Twin Peaks continues to come up, over and over again, like the demon of days past. Newer generations of show runners and show creators come out of the woodwork and point to this show as an inspiration. The lady and the log. The coffee and pie. We know the place. We don’t live there, not anymore, but it will be nice to visit again (however briefly).
Welcome back, dear friend. We missed you.