It was 11:30pm. The lights were turned off. I wrapped myself in a blanket and flipped channels on the television, searching for the late night re-broadcast of the Twin Peaks premier. My dog was beside me, snoozing away. I had a glass wine (one that would remain mostly untouched by the end of the two hours). I had intended to watch only part one of the premier. I thought that I would save part two for the following night. No such deal, my friend. It was out of my control. I watched the new Twin Peaks revival and I was consumed by things that unfolded in front of me. I could not look away. And more troubling, beyond anything else, was the fear. The fright. The complete, unnerving and sickening dread that grew as I watched part one and then part two of the series opener. I brought the blanket closer to my face and felt my stomach drop. I sensed the clammy unease that follows most of David Lynch’s films. The sounds of the series remained with me, long after the credits had rolled so that the pseudo-silence of my home seemed to rumble with deliberate and calculated noises. I listened to the sound of the pipes; the creaking from overhead floor boards. The window to my living room was open and I could hear the sound of a vehicle out of street, moving closer and then moving away. What was this? What the hell had I just watched?
Godammit, Mr. Lynch!
I wrote last week that I wasn’t sure what I expected from the Twin Peaks revival. I think like many fans out there, the expectations were fairly high. David Lynch’s work is of the sort that even when his films are not so great, the measure of “not great” is still something akin to absurd brilliance. His films are always worth our undivided attention, frustration, praise and anger. My favorite remains Mulholland Drive. It is this film I have seen more times than I can count and it is the film I revisit most often in my mind. I continue to read essays and critiques of the movie. I watch break down videos and consider theories. I sometimes get the sense that I have come close to unrevealing the mystery at the center of Mulholland drive only to take another step closer, or backwards, or move just slightly of center in one direction or another and all my theories falls apart.
It had been a long time since I had experienced something new from David. His last feature was Inland Empire, released in 2006. I forgot what David Lynch’s films could do to a person. It is that thing he does best. He unravels a person. He sets in motion a mystery and we cannot look away. After the Twin Peaks premiere was all over, I wanted to play the episodes over again from the beginning. I wanted to see it from another angle, see past some of the things I had been shown, as if I could look around the television set and glimpse at this universe.; alternative dimensions; timelines. As if I could pull apart the red velvet red curtains and see what the hell lay just beyond it. But this is all we got. And I had to go to bed. I crawled into bed and stared up at the swirling darkness of the bedroom ceiling and thought: What now?
What now, Mr. Lynch?
What have you done?
(Spoilers) Certain elements have been set in motions. There is a clear empty box in New York and this box is watched over by young man whose job is to sit and watch the box. It does not appear that this young man has survived his job. There is the murder of young librarian and the unrevealing of the possible murderer. Agent’s Cooper Doppelganger is looking for something. The Lady with Log translates the words to a language she alone understands. Agent Cooper has remained stuck in the In-Between Dream Dimension, one that seems to functions like a waiting room. Agent Cooper is visited again by Laura Palmer who explains that she is dead “And yet I live”. Agent Cooper seeks to get out of the In-Between. He throws open the velvet curtains. He lives. Or maybe he doesn’t. Where are you, Agent Cooper? We glimpse at something from the other world, something menacing and violent. We see that the veil that divides the dimensions is splitting at the seams. We get the sense that things aren’t right and we are left sick with dread and anticipation. Like Agent Cooper, we swirl in the infinite abyss. It is the dark space above my bed.
(From the inside of our Cimpoe Gallery Dream Space) -Ileanna Cimpoe