Archive for the ‘TV’ Category

Twin Peaks Season 3: What I Hope To See

Thursday, May 4th, 2017

Update: I’m here now.

As both a Twin Peaks fan and an indie filmmaker I’ve spent about a billion hours of my life being inspired by Peaks, in general and in my own work, and wondering deeply what a continuation of the series could/should be.

Peaks was an extremely layered and faceted program. There’s different levels, qualities, and characters that turned all sorts of people into all sorts of fans who’d crave different things for the series’ incredible return. But these are the three things I loved most about peak-quality Peaks and what I hope the new episodes dish up.

High-School Heartthrobs: Structurally, Twin Peaks was a classic soap opera, and that medium mandates beautiful people plummeting into ugly trouble with other beautiful people.

The original series discovered a bounty of stunning and brilliantly unique young stars, and watching them dreamily whisper and weep on Thursday (and then Saturday) nights when I was in jr. high while they skipped their senior high classes to solve murders then sing songs in demon-infested living rooms was definitely my favorite aspect of the show. It was teenager catnip.

Most, but not all, of those cover girl/boy hotties are returning for season 3, and I certainly want to know what’s up with their characters now in middle-age.

But Peaks was a multi-generational show, so I hope Lynch and his genius casting director Johanna Ray retain that aspect and have re-populated Peaks with a new generation of young, unknown, future stars who can sulk and slither through the Double R Diner and then end up on the cover of Rolling Stone or Vanity Fair magazine wearing flannels over Fendi come September 2017. Surely Audrey Horne could have a fascinating high-school aged son with killer eyebrows or Bobby Briggs would’ve, by now, fathered a head-turning daughter as hot-headed as her old man.

I don’t think the writers developed many (if any) winning new characters after the first 10 or so episodes of the original series (Lana, and Lucy’s knocked-up sister – I’m looking at you, and everyone else like you), but if Lynch and Mark Frost and Johanna Ray lovingly do what they’re easily capable of, I’m hoping Peaks season 3 spotlights some fresh new actors at least half as striking and talented as young Madchen Amick and James Marshall and Lara Flynn Boyle were.

Heartache: Structurally, Peaks might’ve been a soap-opera, but internally it played as a coming-of-age indie. All the characters, the young heartthrobs and their elders alike, were grappling with who they were and who they thought they should be in a tiny town that they now realized was blacker and bleaker than they ever would’ve believed.

I like quirk and I’m all for experimental esotericism, but none of that weird weirdness matters or moves us if it isn’t tethered to pain and people we know well and can see shadows of ourselves in.

I don’t want, for instance, twenty more “quirky” long scenes of 90-year-old men who can hardly hear or barely walk toward bank vaults taking up precious screen time.

I want to spend time with James Hurley and find out why he’s back in Twin Peaks and how that feels for him (cause everything always feels so dang intense for the guy). I want to spend time with Norma Jennings so I can find out whether she and Big Ed truly got their happy ending, and how she feels about the reality of that, since she usually keeps her feelings frosted behind her warm, waitress-y grin. I want to know how Cooper and Sarah and Benjamin and Shelly feel about the people and innocence they’ve lost and the new people and problems they’re now faced with.

Any absurdity needs to flow directly from the core characters and concerns, rather than get wedged in via fourth-tier characters whose only purpose is to be zany. Thusly, I most certainly don’t need Michael Cera or Eddie Vedder (two new confirmed cast members) showing up, probably briefly, just because they’re fans of the show so David Lynch can shellac some quirky quip or physical/social impairment over them and flex his comedic brainstorming muscles. It’s superfluous, stooge-y, guest-star-laden stuff like that where, I’m hoping, Mark Frost will crack his writerly whip and keep things tight and on track.

Horror: The final scene of the season 2 premiere where we get a flickering glimpse into that abandoned train car to witness Laura Palmer’s last moments alive – I wasn’t ready for that, all alone in my 9th grade basement bedroom. I’m still not ready for stuff like that, which is part of Peaks‘ power.

Once BOB was shown to be more than just a static head hiding behind a bed, but a vital, vicious, howling man/beast/demon/dirtbag that might show up in even the safest, warmest place you can think of, like atop your well-lit living room sofa, there was no guarantee for safety in Twin Peaks. Not the town, not the show.

Every episode and half the scenes had the potential for BOB to pop up or pop out, and whether he was just laughing, crawling or full-on face-bashing someone, it was always absolutely horrifying. His profane grin always let you know he might flick or fuck or finish you at any minute, or do all three in no particular order – and I can’t think of another grin on earth or in hell that could work in that exact same way.

BOB’s portrayer, Frank Silva, died in the 90s – so the exact BOB we knew and loved (to fear) can simply not return for season 3, sadly. But since smashing unspeakable horror into small town serenity was the very heart of Twin Peaks’ main mysteries, and since BOB was seemingly just a spirit who inhabited human hosts, surely BOB will be back in some way, shape, or form/s.


If BOB is still inside Agent Cooper, or has hopped into someone else we know and love, his presence in one of these actors could deliver us all the BOB that the story would technically require.

But even if Kyle MacLachlan acts sinister and possessed at times a la white-haired Leland Palmer that’s not enough horror for me. Because Kyle is no Frank Silva. I think I still need some sort of snarling, long-haired, denim-clad boogey-man lurking behind every corner and underneath every scene to provide Peaks its full freaky power.

So I hope they re-cast BOB with someone able to channel Frank Silva’s sinister glee, or they re-shape BOB into a new male or even female form, one as wild and wicked and wrong as the original BOB.

Any other character could leave the show forever and it could survive narratively. Maybe including Agent Cooper. But you can’t make a sequel to JAWS without a shark, and you can’t return to Twin Peaks without the eternal, un-killable BOB.

So – I’m fully ready for Lynch and Frost to take me to fresh, new places and give me experiences and content I would’ve never imagined I had wanted, but I need them to do so while giving me recurring servings of new high school heartthrobs, tons of small town heartache centering on old characters we know and love, and the threat of a few BOB-y face bashings.

My next post will investigate the clues hiding inside the giant cast-list for season 3. First and foremost who’s missing from it, and what might that mean for Peaks?

Peaks Season: It Is Happening Again!

Tuesday, May 2nd, 2017

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?

L.A. Story pt. 2

Friday, March 1st, 2013

My body-clock remained on Minneapolis time our entire stay in Los Angeles, which meant I’d wake up at 5:30 each morning, with empty hours to fill before any worthwhile shop would bother opening. So crazily early on Saturday morning we drove to the Chateau Marmont for an old-Hollywood style breakfast.

Two summers ago I’d slowly read a book all about the legendary hotel, so it was interesting to see it in person. It was more Gothic-y and Grandma-ish than I’d thought, but it was a dreamy reminder of the beauty that comes from keeping something the same, for years and years and years.

After I ordered my almond-crusted french toast, I tested the service bell on the wall behind me in the restaurant/bar and wondered how many times Dean and DeNiro and Dunaway might have done the same thing.

Once regular business hours resumed we hit Heath Ceramics hard.

Then swung by the other Lawson Fenning location where I flirted with at least five different chairs, especially this mesh ‘n leather one.

Since chairs don’t ever seem to stash that well into carry-on bags though, I opted instead for this vintage, volcanic-rock pot.

As far as our visit to Charlie’s Angels Headquarters, here’s a close-up of the bolt-holes where the Townsend Detective Agency sign had once hung to!

But the iconic building that was once the pretend home to the sexy sleuthing of Tiffany Wells, Kelly Garrett and the Munroe sisters is now a G-Damned vacuum store.

What a fucking karate-kick in the gut.

During our visit Hurly said, “I guess it’s true. You can’t go home again.” No, I can’t. And neither can Sabrina or Julie or Bosley! Obviously I miss everything about 1980 all the time, but never moreso than the day I stood, slump-shouldered, under that moronic Miele logo.


I Spy

Wednesday, January 30th, 2013

This day is truly a historic one for this great country of ours. The heroically gifted actress Keri Russell returns triumphantly to American television sets, in a full-on drama, dressed in early 1980s clothes for every single scene!

The Artist Formerly Known as Felicity will have brand new things besides Ben and Noel to make her bottom lip shift and tremble so superbly, and I can’t wait to see just what they’ll be.

The Americans debuts/proves life is worth living: tonight at 9, Minneapolis time, on FX.

As Seen On TV: End of Century

Monday, August 27th, 2012

It’s a little too early to tell if the ambitious art tarts on Gallery Girls will finally fill the Lauren Vs. Heidi-shaped holes in our unscripted television-fueled hearts. I mean, The Hills, at its apex, was truly a thing of back-stabby beauty.

One thing Miss Conrad’s show never provided, though, was a store-within-a-show curated by half its cast; offering the opportunity for us boring beings outside the reality TV bubble to cyber-shop ourselves closer to the center of the catty chic action.

Thanks to the End of Century website, I can bring spiky-nippled black cups, and speckled ceramic-spoons, and alien aloe-plant inspired pots into my life.

Their edgy, organic, lower west-or-whatever-side beauty is the real win. Being able to say they came from the shop of those BravoTV mega-bitches is just a merry, meta little perk.

Going Nuts

Friday, August 10th, 2012

Lately I’ve been way too wrapped up with getting two seasons up to speed on the many dirty deeds of Nucky Thompson to be bothered with such underling-ish tasks as shelling my own pistachios.

But the beautiful, Boardwalk-y bag these Bazzinni’s brand nuts come packaged in are worth the extra work.

And makes me hear calliope music and bootleggers being shot almost every time I unfold the pack.

Suddenly This Summer

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

Yeah, so suddenly this summer I’m wearing a brand of sandals I never thought I would.
(Cause the soles are white like a Red Wing boot or something!)

And I’m stocking up on double-bar packs of chocolate from Iceland.

And I’m sporting a Panama Hat two or three times a week.

I’m also rooting hardcore for happy-headed gymnast Gabby Douglas, going Nuts on my iPad, wondering if Fiona Apple isn’t too old now to be freaking her own self out so darn much, and last night I finished  Girl Gone.

What have you all suddenly been up to?

Angels Across The Sea

Monday, April 30th, 2012

The dopest thing I’ve learned so far this year/decade/lifetime is that Charlie had a separate trio of Angels in Paris in 1980. Holy hell!

I don’t know how I never knew that previously, but I now spend 80 to 90 percent of my life imagining what the France-set spin-off would’ve looked like (chic sleek), and what the three Parisian Angels might’ve been named (Lu, Colette, and Therese maybe), and which one of the fatales would’ve had the hottest handbags, and prettiest pied-a-terre, and killing-est karate kicks (it’d be a three-way tie).

Oh, what could’ve been!

Public Television

Wednesday, January 4th, 2012

You really shouldn’t, but if you ever do feel guilty about having a favorite Kardashian or Housewife, redemption is near. Simply inviting yourself into the esteemed halls of Downton Abbey a few hours a year will class up your boob-tube consumption tenfold.

Even I, a born Brit half raised by soap operas, was unsure if I’d take to the upstairs/downstairs drama of the haves and have-nots at Downton when I sampled season one over Christmas. But the series is so warm, well-cast and witty that none of its characters come off as stuffy and not one of its scenes ever feel stale.

Like in real life, every turn in the story twists about in ways which are thoroughly unpredicted yet instantly feel pre-ordained. Three episodes in and you feel you’ve known Lord and Lady Crawley and their three spit-firey daughters your entire life. And that they, and their sweet and scheming servants, are as much your family as they are one another’s.

Season 2 crosses the pond this Sunday onto PBS and marches its characters into the fateful call of the first world war. (Oh, Heavens!) Since everything’s bound to be so different for everyone at Downton now because of that, having already screened season 1 shouldn’t at all be considered a prerequisite for tuning in this weekend and enjoying the story. In fact, I’d think a light haze of confusion might make the war-torn drama go down all the more effectively.

– – –

And, for the record, I don’t actually know much about the Kardashians, but Kelly was and Taylor, I guess, now is my favorite Housewife. (I like ’em leggy and un-lucid, apparently.)

Angels On The Road

Tuesday, December 7th, 2010

To solve last night’s case, Kelly and Tiffany sped through the shadows of 1980 Los Angeles in an incredible orange compact sedan with a pristine plaid interior.

Meanwhile, Kris over-curled her hair to adequately investigate a trigger-happy skin-flick producer; and no one went under cover as a reporter (for once).

Not even Bosley, who mostly stayed at his desk.

Mad Men: The Morning After

Friday, July 23rd, 2010

For many, Sunday night will ooze with indulgence and idiotic indiscretions as slick-sters across America over-toast Draper’s return with three or four cocktails too many at parties both public and dangerously private.

Your doting Treasurer therefore recommends mending your Monday morning hangover with a stacked plate of dry, hard toast and a frosted, full glass of Coffee Time-laced milk. By the time you arrive at the office no one will be able to guess the shameful ways you celebrated Sunday night.

Really, if there’s anything Don’s taught us its the importance of concealing completely one’s unattractive truths.

Overnight your Coffee Time Syrup: Here or Here.

Fenn Fest

Friday, June 18th, 2010

Landing its juiciest celebrity ever, TV’s tartest cherry plucker Ms. Audrey Horne (Sherilyn Fenn) has committed to attending this year’s annual Twin Peaks Fest in Washington state. If Audrey’s showing up, then maybe I should too, finally.

Lucy, Bobby’s Mom, and The Little Man From Another Place will be hanging round the donut table this year as well.

Wow (Bob) Wow!