Twin Peaks Out of Order

I am re-watching Twin Peaks out of chronological order, from my least favorite episode to my favorite episode, probably to be concluded with Fire Walk With Me. Partly this is just a fun, different way for me to watch a show that I’ve viewed a total of 5 times (with some individual episodes being watched at least twice that amount). The series obviously has its ups and downs, but this way it will only get better as I go along. I already have the overall plot pretty firmly in my head, so I don’t need to worry about continuity.

I will be writing down brief reactions - a capsule paragraph or so for each - over the next month (I hope to watch 1-2 episodes a day so I can finish in October; had I planned better, I could have done an episode a day starting on October 1 and ended with Fire Walk With Me on Halloween…oh well). Eventually, when Showtime re-airs the series I hope to do an extensive non-spoiler episode guide (as well as an accompanying spoiler post for each episode) compiling everything I’ve written and/or gathered on the show so far, plus some new observations.

I’ve already spent a lot of time thinking about Twin Peaks as a whole, seeing how each piece adds up to something bigger. This is one way for me to look at them from a new perspective.






Summary: Leo awakens from his coma, Coop tells Truman about his past, Evelyn reveals that she framed James, the mayor is reconciled with his dead brother’s widow, Doc tells Andy & Dick the truth about Little Nicky, and Leo stumbles across the cabin of Windom Earle.

So to start with, my least favorite episode...

It was down to this or the Diane Keaton-directed follow-up. Eventually I went with 21 because I always felt it was more boring than the flamboyant Keaton episode, and depending on my mood that's a worse offense. Starting with episode 21 turned out to be a wise move. I haven't watched any Twin Peaks episodes for nearly 4 months (since I got back into the show in March 2014, that's some kind of record). It was such a pleasure to be back in that world of hooting owls, hot coffee, and woodsy decor that I was mostly able to gloss over the tired writing and direction of the episode. Even with subpar material, it’s fun to hang out with the cast: Ed and Norma reconnecting in the cozy diner, Pete as perplexed by forgotten frankfurters as his resurrected brother-in-law, and Coop and Truman lovably luxuriating in the pleasure of one another's company, their relaxed camaraderie in as fine a form as it's ever been. I missed these characters, and time passed in their presence does not feel wasted. I've always been amazed by fans who don't like Fire Walk With Me yet are apologetic about season two, but watching the episode in isolation after a long break I think I can better understand their mentality. Even at its lamest, the show always feels at least nominally "Twin Peaks-y," and there is something comforting about its collection of characters, moods, and motifs. I was even able to notice enjoyable things about plots I don't care for: Hideout Wallie's, despite being the central nexus of season two's most useless storyline (James & Evelyn) is actually a pretty cool locale, and while Ben's Confederate flag-waving war games are pretty pointless the Civil War drumrolls on the soundtrack seem to fit the rustic Twin Peaks mood (probably helped by that roaring fireplace behind Ben). On the other hand, the Lana Milford and Little Nicky denouements are as cringeworthy as ever - sending the widow into the room with her (armed!) wannabe murderer is easily the most thoughtless thing Coop has ever done. Meanwhile, it's nice to see a spooky entrance for Windom Earle; by placing him in an old cabin in the woods, the show finds a way to make this out-of-towner seem vaguely at home in Twin Peaks. Sadly, it's mostly downhill from here. Mostly though, especially in the first half of the episode, I was focused on the ambiance rather than the action and honestly that is probably the best way to get through this episode. I enjoyed episode 21 more this time than I ever have before, though that's not a very high bar to set. One other thing: since I wasn't coming off 20 previous episodes mostly focused around her death, it was pretty jarring to see Laura Palmer pop up under the end credits. Along with the Log Lady intros (which I won't be including in this rewatch, largely because I watched them all on their own after Catherine Coulson passed away), those credits always remind me of the bigger picture, however far the show has strayed from its place of birth.



Summary: Donna and James confront Evelyn (who kills Malcolm), Ben awakens from his Civil War delusion, Albert tells Cooper about Windom’s crime spree, Catherine and Eckhard barter over Josie, Windom leaves Caroline’s death mask for Cooper.

Different directors emphasize different qualities of Twin Peaks. If the previous episode's Uli Edel was taken with the familiar iconography of Twin Peaks - owls, coffee, wood, donuts, etc. - then Diane Keaton seems determined to replicate David Lynch's peculiar visual techniques. Bizarre behavior, odd camera angles, and distracting objects are her stock in trade, but it all feels too artificial, the actors posed like mannequins in lifeless dioramas. Aside from acting, Keaton's background was in photography, and a number of these shots, if frozen, "would like nice on your wall" to borrow Mrs. Tremond's phrase. What they lack is that dynamic "anything can happen" quality that Lynch's work evokes. This was a close contender for my least favorite episode: sometimes Keaton's choices just alienate me even further from the poor subplots, while other times 22 has been a relief from the dull, very TV-ish preceding episodes (hey, at least there's something to look at here). I think my biggest problem is that the staging often obstructs the performances: when Truman and Norma squeeze their profiles into the kitchen's small window I found myself laughing out loud at the awkwardness rather than appreciating what the sheriff had to tell her about Hank. On the other hand, Albert fares really well here, with both Miguel Ferrer and Michael Ontkean ( :cry: ) selling the previously hostile duo's newfound bromance. And Jack Nance's bewildered delivery of the Hungarian dry cleaning anecdote overcomes the irritation of that swinging door. Since I actually watched the previous episode last night (a practice I'll mostly be avoiding on this rewatch), I wasn't really able to see 22 outside of its normal context. So I'm left with the same hang-ups as usual: aside from the visual conceits that don't work for me Windom is quickly reduced to a cackling cartoon, Catherine's and Eckhard's mechanations feel unnecessarily convoluted, and Ben's Civil War drama remains a bizarrely anachronistic dramatic choice (on another note, something sure pulled a fast paint job on his office, didn't they? And all gone by the following day!). At least the Evelyn story is over, although that's little consolation to me as I still have ep. 18 - 20 to go! Why they stretched that plotline out over 5 episodes when Denise only got 3 I'll never know.

That's it for the worst of the worst, as far as I'm concerned. The remaining weak episodes all have at least a few things to recommend in them beyond just featuring beloved characters and partaking of the Twin Peaks vibe: at least a full scene or two worth waiting for. Much as I like the image of Caroline's death mask, I can't really say that about this episode.




Summary: Annie is crowned Miss Twin Peaks and kidnapped by Windom Earle

I initially thought this would be higher on my list, but whenever I tried to move it up I kept thinking "But I enjoy these other episodes more." On its surface, episode 28 should not be so close to the bottom. After all, it contains some truly classic moments like Windom's creepy chalk-white face, as well as fun minor bits like Lucy's solo dance or Shelly & Donna goofing off in the back of the chorus line. And this is an "IMPORTANT!!" episode, setting the place for the entire series' climax - originally aired as part 1 of a 2-hour Twin Peaks finale. There are so many episodes in the middle of the show that go nowhere, so shouldn't I give this penultimate chapter credit for at least attempting to deliver the goods? Yet I've come to realize that I prefer my weak Twin Peaks to be light and inconsequential rather than trying too hard but failing. Once I began re-watching 28, I was immediately relieved that I stuck with my gut by placing it this low. This is an episode I would rather get out of the way early before moving in to more enjoyable fare. Above all, much of it just drags. There are some quick character touches along the way that result in chuckles, but few scenes truly sustain energy and interest all the way through. On a meta-level many of the writerly conceits are thought-provoking: Annie bringing up Laura (and Shelly saying "I think we'll need more than a day" to heal from her death), the contestants "wrapped in plastic" raincoats, the real Log Lady being humiliated by Pinkle & then replaced by Windom Earle in Log Lady drag. But these touches also direct our attention to just how far the show has fallen; bonus points for self-awareness only go so far. If Fire Walk With Me was partly an act of rage for Lynch, and I think it was, 28 seems to epitomize everything he was raging against. There's just a general lackluster feel onscreen (the Miss Twin Peaks contest is particularly lifeless). Even the late-season mythology, which I usually find absorbing, descends into vague astrological goobledygook. And it's often painful to watch the characters behave so illogically. Why don't Cooper and Truman just stop the pageant before a winner is announced? Why can't Andy find Cooper in small and not very crowded Road House? This is an episode that may be "better" than a lot of the really cheesy, pointless mid-season fluff but subjectively this might be my least favorite of the series, almost more so than the grim twins of 21 & 22 with which I launched this rewatch. Given the meta stuff and the fact that is this is apparently the last-ever piece of non-Lynch-directed Twin Peaks that we will ever see, 28 is much more interesting to think about than it is to watch. The same could be said about the next entry on this list, although I'll probably find more to highlight there. Yeesh.




Summary: Cooper comforts Sarah Palmer, the town attends Leland’s wake, Cooper is suspended from the FBI, Nadine returns to high school, Cooper tells Audrey about Caroline, Jean announces a new plan to frame Cooper, Norma finds out her mother was the food critic, and Maj. Briggs disappears into a bright light in the woods.

This was a very hard episode to place. On the one hand, this is where everything begins to irreversibly head south. The show's most compelling and troubling bits of drama are cavalierly swept under the rug, the human tragedy and supernatural flourishes of the previous episode are barely followed up on, and many of the worst comic subplots are initiated. The entire wake scene is an absolute train wreck, just a disaster start to finish, goosed by the chaotic score, which can't decide if it's wants to be sad or funny. And what’s with the cheerful demeanor of the townspeople attending a serial killer's memorial? On this very thread, it's been suggested that the actors may not have even known whose wake they were supposed to be attending, which is entirely plausible when you recall that the killer's identity was still a public secret at the time of production. This only hammers home how rushed the writers were in prematurely wrapping up the mystery that had provided its premise. Incidentally, Sarah Palmer's last scripted line on the show - before being dropped from the cast completely (until Lynch improvised her return in the finale) - is "I need to remember all of this..." Right before they cut away from Laura's tragedy one last time to reveal the mayor and his brother fighting at the buffet table! You can't make this stuff up. When I first watched the series 7 years ago, that moment with the two brothers made my heart sink. Suddenly and helplessly, I could see exactly where this show was going. Apparently director Tina Rathborne felt the same, admitting later that the scene represented an unfortunate turning point for the series and that this episode stood in stark contrast to her previous Twin Peaks venture, Laura's funeral. Indeed, Rathborne seems as confused as the viewer by this material. Similarly to her first episode, she indulges a lot of bizarre character traits (in particular, Hank and Ernie’s aggressive wrestling at One-Eyed Jack's is a wtf? moment). But this time, unmoored in the town's sense of grief and eccentricity, few of these gestures land. She also uses a LOT more musical cues than in episode 3, one of the quietest in the score-heavy series. The wake is not the only scene to descends into a cacophony of distracting cues, adding to the sense that we are trapped on a carousel gone out of control. With all that in mind, it's quite logical for the episode to place so low. On the other hand, this is a really watchable hour of television! Sometimes it's so bad it's good - the moment when Nadine throws the jock 20 feet in the air is worthy of a grade-Z kids' show, even more surreal when you realize that we are only 35 minutes of screentime away from Leland's death. In other scenes, the pathos and humor actually connect; watching it without the distraction of the previous stretch of episodes I was able to enjoy many character moments more than I ever had before. In light of today's unfortunate Twin Peaks news, Cooper's fond goodbye to the sheriff's station crew, especially Truman (with whom he swoons over a Green Butt Skunk fishing tackle) is enough to give the most jaded viewers a lump in their throat. I was also surprisingly on board with the conclusion to the lame M.T. Wentz storyline, silently cheering Norma as she tells off her mother after a lifetime of belittlement. Catherine's appearance at the sheriff's station is also weirdly compelling and layered, a clear lie given unexpected poignance by Rathborne’s musical choice and the realization that her talk of a guardian angel prefigures Fire Walk With Me. And while the episode’s and arguably the mid-season’s most thought-provoking dialogue was unfortunately cut out (it linked fear and love as opposites, and implied that Leland's self-hatred played some role in his possession), the campfire scene with Cooper and Maj. Briggs remains an intriguing teaser for the mysteries and mythology to come. It's amazing to realize, given how much fans conflate all the mythology in their heads, that there are no Lodges on the show until this conversation. All in all, this is a strangely essential episode to understanding Twin Peaks as a whole, but that doesn't mean it deserves to be ranked highly. If I was judging it purely on meta-fascination, it would be in my top 10. Judging it for what it did for the show's narrative, it deserves to be dead last. Instead I'll place it here, fourth from the bottom (although in the future I'd probably rank it slightly higher for those enjoyable character moments). And I'll paraphrase Seinfeld: "It's a loathsome, offensive brute...yet I can't look away."

P.S. Make sure to check out Michael Warren's brilliant takedown of the wake scene. His image captions are as hilarious as they are heartbreaking.




Summary: Cooper learns of Jean’s drug deals at Dead Dog Farm, the mayor’s brother dies during intercourse, Dick suspects Little Nicky is the devil, Nadine joins the wrestling team, and Maj. Briggs returns during a stormy night.

Here's an odd one. This is the "sitcom" episode of Twin Peaks, and it's a toss-up which scene best embodies the winking cheesiness that the show has descended into. Is it Nadine dropping Mike in wrestling practice (a scene whose long awkward gaps would be perfectly timed with a canned laugh track, as the Twin Peaks Rewatch podcast pointed out)? Or is it the appearance of a character who answers James' simple questions with long, ridiculous soliloquies that are simultaneously non sequiturs and info-dumps (speaking of podcasts, the folks at the Twin Peaks Podcast - no relation - helpfully & hilariously dubbed this guy "Exposition Malcolm")? Maybe it's the newly widowed Lana Milford regaling Hawk with her brace-kissing escapades (before he - Hawk, of all people! - succumbs to a goofy pratfall), or Dick Tremayne and Little Nicky in matching jean jackets and ascots fixing a tire, or Andy's infamous thought balloon (if Twin Peaks is initially presented to us as a precious, unique little Gizmo wrapped up under the Christmas tree, then this subplot is the Gremlin that grew from its back to spawn its own foul litter). My vote, however, would go to a bizarrely written, and even more bizarrely directed sequence near the end of the episode. After a bout spontaneous Shakespearean sonnets, Lucy wanders through a deserted sheriff’s station to discover Andy, Dick, Truman, and Doc mooning over Lana. Flute music plays liltingly on the soundtrack and she tells them a story about her clown cousin’s striptease. How the hell did we reach this point and what law of TV physics allows this to exist in the same universe as Maddy's murder? During early rewatches of Twin Peaks, I considered this episode the absolute nadir. That's fair, yet I'm ranking it above several others for a few reasons. For one, the sheer ridiculousness keeps it from ever truly getting boring; also, there are several scenes I quite like on their own merits. One is Audrey's intervention for Coop, which would feel at home in the first season; another is a spooky, quintessentially second-season moment in the Briggs household (we rarely get to see them interact as a family, and it's always good to get more Betty). That scene is capped by a gorgeous shot of rolling thunderclouds that ends the episode on an appearling note. For the most part, however, this feels like the ruined city of a grand civilization, taken over by barbarian hordes who have no clue what to do with its amenities. The characters, locations, and even musical cues are the same (check out the extremely inappropriate uses of Laura's, the Little Man's, and especially Harold's themes) but something at its core is wildly different. Oddly enough, the episode was directed by Caleb Deschanel and co-written by Harley Peyton, the duo responsible for one of my favorite episodes of the first season. Go figure! Whether or not Lana Milford is cursed, the show itself seemed to be hexed at this time; nonetheless, episode 19 is guilty pleasure for many of the same reasons it is an abomination. I've bumped it up a few spots in my rankings - blame the Little Nicky thought balloon hovering over my head right now.




Summary: Norma leaves Hank, Jack arrives in town, James leaves town, Ben launches a crusade to “save Ghostwood,” Windom lures Shelly, Audrey, and Donna to the Road House, Josie kills Eckhardt before dying mysteriously, Bob and the Little Man appear to Cooper, and Josie’s face appears in a drawer pull.

This is the first episode on the list that I can’t comfortably describe as “bad.” For one thing, there are none of the cringeworthy cheese-factor moments that occur throughout the mid-season (including the next episode, which I otherwise consider an improvement). Episode 23 generally feels classier than its immediate predecessors, due in part to the return of Lesli Linka Glatter, the show’s most accomplished and prolific director aside from David Lynch himself. Back on even keel, Twin Peaks re-harnasses its dissipated energy in order to conclude the long-simmering story of Josie Packard and plant the seeds for some new plotlines (Annie, good Ben, JJW, and Windom’s first overt attempt to interfere with the townspeople). We even glimpse the long-forgotten Bob once again! Not to mention the Little Man; it’s easy to forget (given the multiple flashbacks, references, and upcoming reappearances) but this was the first time Michael J. Anderson had shot anything for Twin Peaks since the alternate ending to the pilot in 1989 before ABC had even commissioned a series. Between Bob, the Little Man, and Josie’s memorable appearance in a drawer pull it also feels like maybe a whisper of David Lynch is finally in the air again (Lynch’s direct intervention in a show he had mostly been removing himself from). I always found it interesting (maybe it’s just arbitrary?) that every collection of Twin Peaks’ second season has included episode 23 on the disc with 24/25/26, rather than 19/20/21/22, as if a new chapter has begun. For many viewers this is the comeback episode where Twin Peaks starts to get good again. And yet while planning this list, I struggled to rank 23 even as high as it is; at one point I even started viewing it before changing my mind and elevating it a few spaces. Here’s a good example of how watching an episode out of context can benefit that episode. Following closely on the heels of the deadly 21 & 22, 23 always felt like the straw that broke the camel’s back. By this point in a given rewatch, I am sick of the Josie plot and the episode’s deliberately ponderous pacing usually just frustrates me. The first time I saw this episode, having no idea where it was heading or how long it would stay good or bad, the reappearance of Bob and the Little Man didn’t feel like a comeback, it felt like Twin Peaks jumping the shark. Bob wasn’t scary and the Little Man looked foolish dancing on a bed and what the fuck was with that terrible CGI knob?? At least up, I initially felt, the mid-season slump had avoided soiling the show’s Lynchian iconography but now that too had been dragged through the muck. Tonight, however, I enjoyed the episode more than I ever have before; I’d even be inclined to rank it at least two spots higher. For the first time ever Josie’s dilemma felt mildly engaging to me, not just in theory but in execution. For once it played less as the result of confused writers and a confused actress unsure of Josie’s own intentions and thought process (which was part of the problem, let’s be honest - Joan Chen wanted out, and the staff never had a clear read on her part), and more like what David Lynch intended Josie to be from the beginning: a character who has both been victimized and victimized others, and is supposed to be unsure of what she wants. Unlike those other quintessentially Lynchian inventions Laura and Cooper, the filmmaker was unable to rescue Josie from the show’s betrayals. So he stuck her soul in a drawer pull for safekeeping. The character whose enigmatic expression opened and very nearly closed the series (since ABC almost canceled Twin Peaks in February 1991) may very well return to our screens in 2017. “Josie, I see your face…”




Summary: Maj. Briggs talks about his experience in the woods, Norma and Ed get back together, Nadine beats up Hank, the lawmen stake out Dead Dog Farm, Cooper is taken hostage, Denise and Truman get a gun to Cooper and he kills Jean, Windom leaves a dead body in the sheriff’s station

I can say with confidence that episode 23 is better than 20. But - going into this rewatch, anyway (I may feel differently afterwards) - I decided that 20 deserved to be near the top of mid-season two as far as subjective favorite. Now, that's obviously a relative statement. In many ways this is a pretty crummy episode and by about 2/3 of the way in, I was getting restless. Evelyn popping champagne with James before making out with Malcolm (there is a LOT of the Marsh clan in this episode), Ernie's weird antsiness (which never comes off as funny as it's supposed to), Andy's and Dick's "undercover" investigation into Little Nicky's orphanage (stupidly charming to me on recent rewatches but just lame this time)...all quintessential midseason muck. Whatever doubts I had about its placement, 20 floated up near the best of the worst on the strength of two sequences: the trippy opening with Maj. Briggs and the climactic standoff at Dead Dog Farm. I've become rather fond of Dead Dog Farm over time. The decrepit decor and even the name feel quintessentially Lynchian, and I like its dystopian vibe plunked down in the midst of the bucolic small town. I've also noticed similarities between it and the room above the convenience store in Fire Walk With Me, but we'll save that discussion for another time. As the blonde mounty himself observes, Jean's monologue doesn’t really make much sense (it's about on par with Josie shooting Cooper "because you came here"). But there is a wrongheaded intuitive logic to Jean’s superstitious blame-Cooper paranoia; it’s the sort of emotionally-driven rationale that people generally come up with when they are looking for a convenient scapegoat. Coop himself seems slightly swayed by the force of Jean's presentation; this is key season two/fallen Cooper material here, paving the way to the series climax. Similarly, that bravura opening (a bit cheesy but fun in its video-game graphics) lays nice groundwork for the Twin Peaks mythology. I'd argue that, along with Hawk's speech in episode 18, this is the motherlode of mythology for the mid-season. And it's presented in a much more visually compelling way than its entirely verbal predecessor. That fiery tattoo symbol spinning through space; the major seated on his jungle throne (love the distorted growls on the soundtrack, which can be heard subtly at the episode’s end too); the giant owl flashing across the screen; the artfully stated "skies above and earth below" pivoting from UFOs back to season 1's "darkness in the woods”; Briggs' perplexing delivery of "Is this for the soul? My soul?" as he taps the wooden table (a gesture that makes sense only in light of Josie’s fate); and finally the water dripping from the ceiling sprinkler, linking Leland's death to whatever is haunting Maj. Briggs and threatening Cooper. Much of this is down to Todd Holland's flamboyant direction - the young director certainly had a way with flashy cold opens (he also conceived that traveling shot through the ceiling hole in episode 11). But we also have to tip our hat to Harley Peyton, who receives the episode's sole writing credit. This is the last time in Twin Peaks history, including the upcoming run, that any of the show's four core talents (Lynch, Frost, Peyton, and Bob Engels) would pen an entire episode alone.




Summary: Denise the DEA agent arrives to investigate Cooper, Hawk tells Cooper about the Black Lodge, James meets Evelyn, Dick introduces Little Nicky, Hank tells Ben he’s out of One-Eyed Jack’s, the mayor’s brother marries Lana, Catherine forces Josie to be her maid, and Andrew is revealed to be alive.

This episode has frequently been ranked at the bottom of the entire series. It introduces the dreadful Evelyn and Little Nicky storylines, sets aside a good chunk of time for the who-cares Milford wedding, launches the final, tedious stretch of Josie's storyline, and makes it clear that the last episode wasn't an aberration: Twin Peaks is dead-set on becoming a slightly more twisted Andy Griffith knockoff for the 90s, Northern Exposure with a more ridiculous bent as it emphasizes postmodern pratfalls of a lovable, kooky small-town community. Well, sure - and 18 is definitely a part of my least favorite patch of episodes in the series. But I think it's a lot better than most of the others. Yes, Evelyn and Nicky make their debuts but their scenes become much worse in the next couple episodes. The Milford wedding provides a platform for numerous entertaining little character moments. Josie's bedside confession to Truman may be one of the character's best moments, allowing us to see her vulnerable side even as we remain aware of a complex dark side she is unwilling to reveal to her naive lover. And if the show is going to wander into wacky small-town shenanigans for a while, at least it will do so under the guidance of one of the richest, warmest, and most well-played guest appearances in the entire Twin Peaks: David Duchovney as Agent Denise Bryson. There are three passages in this episode that ensure its place at the very top of the mid-season, and one of them is Denise's debut. Given the times and the show's general tenor at this juncture, Denise could have easily come off as a one-note gag, dated and cringeworthy today. Instead, thanks particularly to the acting and directing, she is one of the more nuanced, believable characters, gracefully walking the tightrope between cheap humor and preachiness without falling into either trap. Another of the three excellent passages comes right before Denise's entrance, as Hawk lays out the show's core mythology. This might initially seem like a throwaway monologue and ok, it's a bit hamfisted, especially the conceit that this grabbag of European esoterica (primarily culled from Theosophy) has anything to do with Pacific Northwest Native American lore. But listen closely, especially to the bit about the dweller on the threshold, and you have an essential key to understanding what happens in the finale and feature film. And of course this is the first-ever mention of the Black Lodge; all in all, one of the more essential info-dumps of the entire series. Amazing to think this scene is tucked away here, in a mostly forgotten episode, overshadowed by the material surrounding it and entrusted to a secondary character. Finally, the third crucial passage is Ben's nostalgic reverie in his office, watching an old film documenting the groundbreaking ceremony for the Great Northern. The acoustic Twin Peaks theme and the blue-tinted monochromatic home movies add to the scene’s charm, capturing the old, yearning flavor of the series in a way most mid-season episodes do not. But the moment also carries thematic heft. Until now, Ben has simply been a loathsome if occasionally charismatic cad; this gesture offers a glimpse into the more vulnerable side of his character, paving the way for his eventual, bungled attempts to become a do-gooder. Additionally, there are a surprising number of other solid scenes scattered throughout the episode: Cooper's whimsical credo about playing off the board (delivered to a baffled FBI supervisor); our first sneering Windom tape, mocking Cooper's "hobglobins" and promising the audience an intimidating villainous mastermind (if only); and Betty Briggs' visit to the sheriff station offers intriguing glimpses into Major Briggs' mysteries while probably allowing Charlotte Stewart more lines than in all of her other scenes combined. All too rare, but as Ben Horne once said (in happier if more malevolent times), "Always...a pleasure!"




Summary: Harry grieves Josie, the Log Lady and Maj. Briggs show Cooper their tattoos, Windom visits Donna in disguise, Cooper meets Annie, Ben holds a “Stop Ghostwood” fashion show, and Dick gets bitten by a pine weasel.

Is this the "comeback" episode? Is it a turning point in the series, and a turning point even in this achronological rewatch? Does it lead away from the meandering trivialities of the mid-season and towards the more exciting, engaged Twin Peaks of the final stretch (and, in our case, eventually the more dynamic first half of the show)? Sort of. I've always characterized 24 as a breath of fresh air, as "springtime in Twin Peaks," now that the least compelling subplots are out of the way and some momentum is starting to build in the Windom Earle and mythology storylines. But truthfully this is more like a breather between two big episodes, even if it isn’t sandwiched between them on this rewatch. There is no single moment that stands out above the rest (I do like the Log Lady and Maj. Briggs reuniting to debrief Cooper about the mysteries of the woods, but the scene’s charms are brief and slight). Instead, the whole episode has a kind of relaxed ambiance about it, thanks mostly to James Foley's graceful, uncluttered, energetic direction: lots of long takes and subtle camera movements to grease the treads, moving us into position for the show's final arc. There is some junk too: the fashion show drags even before the notorious "pine weasel riot" (leading many viewers to rank this episode far lower than I do), and even after all these viewings the John Justice Wheeler-Audrey Horne romance still does absolutely nothing for me. On the other hand, call me crazy but I find Cooper's awkward courtship of Annie charming and - despite its transparently artificial last-minute set-up - kinda believable. I like their first meeting here and the buoyant mood is well-prepared by Shelly’s hilariously send-up of the Miss Twin Peaks charade (if only the writers had listened to her). I am usually just as fascinated by Windom Earle's deceptively low-key housecall on Donna, but for whatever reason (the too-jovial music perhaps) it left me cold tonight. Such are the perils of resting your reports on subjective whims. To flip that script, I usually laugh off Truman's grief-stricken non sequiturs ("that's the good thing about the law it DOESN'T BREATHE YOU CAN'T KILL IT!!!") but tonight I watched his morose temper tantrum with a lump in my throat. Partly due to the sad news of Michael Ontkean's recent depature from the new series and partly because I’ve been more taken with Josie’s story on this rewatch. The yelling still feels a bit goofy but Ontkean's croaking delivery of his follow-up lines (“She came to me!”) hit the spot, as does Truman's bewhiskered, whiskey-soaked hugout with best buddy Cooper. He has lost his lover, but he's still got his soulmate.




Summary: Windom kills a young rocker and places him in a giant pawn, Gordon kisses Shelly in front of Bobby, tryouts for the Miss Twin Peaks pageant being, Annie tells Cooper about her past, and Dick, Andy, Lucy, and Lana “enjoy” a wine-tasting event.

Finally, ten entries in, we reach an episode on which either Mark Frost or David Lynch are actually credited - both of them, for good measure! Of course, these aren't their heaviest contributions. David Lynch checks in for one last (memorable) appearance as Gordon Cole, smooching Shelly before he says goodbye. Aside from his brief, unenthusiastic vocal appearance in ep. 18 (which was very phoned-in...see what I did there?), this is the first time Lynch has appeared either on- or offscreen during this rewatch. Frost, meanwhile, co-wrote the teleplay with Harley Peyton, his only writing credit between the resolution of Laura's mystery and the final episode. The timing is odd, since this 26 mostly feels like filler between the full-swing reboot of ep. 25 & the intensified climactic myth-building of ep. 27. Still, Frost's touch can be felt in the various storylines begin drawing together. Cooper even addresses this subject directly, calling the disparate but merging threads "different verses in the same song." That sense of an intertwined community is something that has been missing for the entirety of season two, even the best episodes, and it's a welcome return (even if it emerges more in the previous episode than this one). Several of the long-isolated characters are crossing paths. We watch Donna hang out with Shelly & Bobby (joined by Nadine & Mike, whom Bobby hasn’t palled around with in a while...for reasons Mike gleefully explains here). The white-haired trio of the Doc, the Mayor, and Pete lend their bemused, skeptical ears to Ben's pitch for Miss Twin Peaks. And Coop and Jack ruminate about love over whiskey and milk, in one of the only JJW scenes that actually works for me (mostly because MacLachlan carries it: I love his matter-of-fact response to Jack's lame "Hindus, amirite?" attempt at wit). There's not much more to say about 26. Aside from two or three highlights, it mostly just chugs along harmlessly. Avoiding the pitfalls of the lower-ranked episodes, it also avoids their occasional heights. We only plunge into deep ridiculousness when a pontificating, smock-clad Windom Earle fires an arrow into Airheads dropout/giant chess piece-bound Ted Raimi (a/k/a Heavy Metal Dude a/k/a Rusty Tomaski as in The Ballad of Rusty Tomaski). But this is so completely, unapologetically cheesy that I kind of go with it. At least it serves a plot function, although "Next time it will be somebody you know" sure feel like a boy-who-cried-wolf cop-out on Windom's part. Exactly one-third of the way through the rewatch, we are mostly done with the show's mediocre batch. From now on we have a lot to look forward to.