Peaks Season: It Is Happening Again!

After 26 years, Donna Hayward’s hometown is now but days away from flickering across our TV screens again to set us back under its dark and dwarf-y spell. Which, honestly AND literally, is probably the single most (potentially) treasurable treasure that could ever be created, in my humble opinion!

So my dormant blog about the very best things in the world is basically court-mandated to now reboot and resurrect itself as well in sync with the miraculous return of Twin Peaks.

I’m gonna be reviewing every season 3 episode of Peaks right here. I am singularly qualified to do this for a myriad of reasons.

Reasons One and Two: I’m connected to the internet and I want to.

Reason Three: In 1991 I was in a school play called The Impossible Kiss, and we got to name our own characters, and I named myself James Hurley. (Such credentials!)

Reason Four: Three entire bulletin boards in my teenage bedroom were devoted to magazine tear outs of Sherilyn Fenn, James Marshall, Madchen Amick, Dana Ashbrook, and Lara Flynn Boyle. (Cast hotties only.) Screencaps of un-recently un-earthed posterized footage proves this.

Reason Five: In triple-threat fashion I wrote/directed/starred in a Twin Peaks movie homage when I was 14. And then repeated the magnificent feat when I was 15. It obviously takes true fandom and vision to saddle your little sister under an unkempt Audrey Horne wig and make her brood badly to Badalementi.

Reason Sixty Six: 26 plus years later, in this “New Golden Age of Television”, as much as I’m fascinated by them, nothing the characters of Frank Underwood or Lady Mary or Olivia Pope have done quite titilates or terrorizes me the same way that Audrey Horne’s itchy palms or Leland Palmer’s living room mirror-play ever did.

I still can’t walk to the dark bathroom in the middle of the night without seeing Killer Bob’s greasy grin in every shadow of my imagination. I came of age in the original Twin Peaks era and, to some degree, everything I ever saw on TV was downhill from there (at least for my inner child). That’s how youth and the loss of it works, I think. We’re all trapped in the amber of our 14 year old infatuations, be they The Beatles or Boba Fett, Bieber or Beverly Hills 90210.

Reason A Million And Seven: I’m a boy fan but I refuse to be a fan boy, and I’m going into season 3 of Twin Peaks with a scorned adult’s expectations and eye. I’m not worried that the lustrous legacy of the original show might be forever tarnished by a new slew of small screen stories because I think the series tarnished itself almost instantly when 1990’s season 2 wandered on (and on) to plot lines and characters it was difficult to care about. And then the follow-up 1992 prequel movie Fire Walk With Me further fanned the flames of Peaks’ penchant for zany-coated lameness.

The world myopically credits David Lynch and Lynch alone with Twin Peaks’ original greatness, but he was but one of two creators, and its other, the more straight-laced Mark Frost, had nothing to do with the creation of Fire Walk With Me, and that film’s lack of both narrative clarity and cohesion with the TV series’ Frost-fostered heyday is glaringly apparent.

Unlike The Sound of Music or Rosemary’s Baby or Mad Men or some other revered “classic”, Twin Peaks was brilliant, yes – but not just brilliant. It was also, increasingly, tainted by the hollowly-quirky and it was frequently obtuse to the point of being boring. So as a die-hard fan who’ll only drink cups of Lynch’s not-poisoned Kool-Aid, I’ve no idea whether I’ll adore or abhor the new season. I’m looking to engage with it openly and warmly but then evaluate it for what it is – whatever and however stellar (or not) it is now.

Using all the prior Twin Peaks productions as their canon and coursework, there’s so much material and magic for Lynch and the back-on-board Frost to resurrect and return to wisely. And plenty for them to excise and evade eternally. I will gush or guffaw, accordingly and responsibly, at how they’ve chosen to revive their long-dead drama.

My next post/s, prior to the May 21 premiere, will explore my personal expectations and wish-list-y hopes for season 3, my disappointments related to the published and extensive cast list, and further details regarding my concerns about Lynch’s overly Lynch-y tendencies.

“It Is Happening Again” warned the giant one horrible night, but it made for the most wonderful episode of television I ever saw, and so I’m so, so stoked for just that kind of “Again”-ness. Aren’t you?

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