Original Airdate: April 8, 1990
Writer: David Lynch, Mark Frost
Director: David Lynch
Executive Producers: David Lynch, Mark Frost
Star: Kyle MacLachlan, Piper Laurie, Michael Ontkean, Lara
Flynn Boyle
The pilot of “Twin Peaks” is one of those rare episodes that
refuses to define itself. Do we latch onto the mystery elements? Should we
invest ourselves in the out-there characters? Is this all a parody of a police
procedural? The answer to all the above is “yes, of course,” and as a result
co-writers David Lynch (who also directed) and Mark Frost created a
surprisingly multi-layered show that engaged viewers on several levels, not
just the most shallow and viewer-friendly.
The series opens with the iconic discovery of the body of
teenager Laura Palmer, her body wrapped in plastic lying on the banks of river.
From there, we watch the ripple effects of the murder as they echo through the
town of Twin Peaks. Like most of his work, Lynch seems eager to exploit the beauty
of nature and the town while undermining it in the same beat by exposing the
just-out-of-view rot. In a way, the pilot becomes a series of fascinating,
entertaining vignettes connected by those investigating the case more than a
real narrative. I write this not as a criticism, but with a lot of respect that
Lynch and Frost were able to so easily keep the viewers’ interest through it.
The investigators are Special Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle
MacLachlan) and Sheriff Harry Truman (Michael Ontkean), both straight men in a
town of kooks but both eccentric enough to fit right in. Cooper in particular
is memorable, with his very straightforward style of speech and his insistence
on taping everything he finds on a recorder. The rest of the town seems
legitimately insane to one level or another. And by “insane” I mean
“Lynch-ian.”
The teenagers in “Twin Peaks” seem created to be caricatures
of awful teen movies, and I mean that in the best way possible. In particular,
the character of Bobby (Dana Ashbrook) appears to be a human incarnation of
Satan, plain and simple. If you think I’m overstating, his final scene in the
pilot shows him in prison reduced to gutteral screaming like an animal. The
scenes in the high school seem like they are from the 1940s and the music (by
Angelo Badalamenti) suddenly segues into something that you can’t help but
identify as the successor to the finger-snapping opening of “West Side Story.”
While Lynch really embraces his quirky side in these passages (cutting to a
random student dancing who is never seen again), it also yields the most
emotionally resonant moment in the series. While roll is being taken in a
classroom, Laura’s best friend Donna (Lara Flynn Boyle) notes that her friend
isn’t there. A deputy enters and asks for Bobby (wrong class), and Donna notes
that something is wrong. The deputy takes the teacher aside, and then Donna
notices a girl outside screaming and crying. Donna realizes what has happened
and begins to break down. The scene is done with such beautiful subtlety, all
without using any of the clichés we see so often in these types of scenes.
This beat, 25 minutes into the pilot, could not have come at
a better time. Up until this point the murder really hasn’t hit home for us.
The moment where Laura’s parents find out is handled oddly by Lynch (surprise,
surprise), with Laura’s mother going so over-the-top with her screaming that it
becomes comic.
Frost and Lynch present us with several fascinating clues as
to what happened to Laura, ones that I daresay would make Agatha Christie
envious. From “Fire walk with me” to the girl found walking on the train tracks
to the $10,000 in the safety deposit box, the case seems to exponentially
deepen with each revelation (good girl Laura was on cocaine!). Best of all is
the fantastic sequence where Cooper finds a tiny letter imbedded under Laura’s
middle fingernail, lit ominously with a flickering overhead lamp (something
that has been imitated hundreds of times since).
The entire affair is filled with somewhat restrained variations
on Lynch’s signature weirdness. When a fight breaks out at a biker bar, the
completely-out-of-place singer keeps on going. There are 50 doughnuts stacked
in twos. There’s a random deer head sitting on a table. The kitschy
Native-American paintings all over the lodge. The show isn’t afraid to paint
around the edges of every scene, encouraging the viewer to look closer and to
watch again to see what he missed the first time.
The pilot finds a great balance between the crazy and
relatable and the results are, in their own way, perfect. The world that Frost
and Lynch created here is unlike anything else we’ve ever seen on television
before or since, despite numerous others having tried to recreate its
eccentricities (the most recent was “Happy Town,” which was cancelled before
even airing all of its eight-episode first season). For a little while, that
balance continued. And then it didn’t. Early on in the show’s run the scales
were tipped toward the weird. Viewers stopped watching in droves and, as a result,
Frost and Lynch decided to make the show even more weird and incomprehensible.
Whether this was because the duo were being pressured to cater to what made the
show stand out in the beginning or because they just didn’t care about coherent
narrative is unclear. The disappearing viewers also made the network put
intense pressure on the duo to solve Laura’s murder when the second season was
barely underway, and the resulting revelation (“er…uh…it was evil Bob!”) wasn’t
exactly fulfilling (and most of those tantalizing clues I mentioned earlier
didn’t end up making sense). Many Lynch fans adore these later episodes and
consider them superior to even the pilot, but there’s no question that the show
lost its narrative drive after the uncovering of Laura’s murderer.
Lynch has said that Laura’s murder should never have been
solved and, as if to prove his point, got a Best Director Oscar nomination for
the great “Mulholland Drive,” a pilot that wasn’t picked up that he turned into a
feature by adding a series of perplexing, beautiful sequences that added up to
absolutely nothing and answered none of the mysteries posed by the first two
acts. But I respectfully disagree with him about “Twin Peaks.” To me, the show
didn’t die because he answered the question, it died because they stuck the
landing and then didn’t immediately begin another great mystery arc to drive
the show forward. Time and again, we’ve seen audiences get hostile about
creators toying with their time and emotional investment—the most recent
example being the huge hullabaloo over the lack of closure in the first season
finale of “The Killing,” a PR disaster that scared viewers away en masse and resulted
in an eventual cancellation at the end of the show’s second season. Shows like
“Lost” and “The X-Files” have their detractors, but they held viewers’ interest
for six and nine seasons, respectively, by handing out answers along with new
questions.
But what happened next doesn’t really matter. The pilot of
“Twin Peaks” marked a creative high for network television that it rarely
achieves, engaging the viewers on an emotional and cerebral level. The sight of
Laura’s lifeless face in the plastic, small stones stuck on her cheeks and in
her hair, is one of the most memorable images ever broadcast. You find yourself
humming the music at work and can’t imagine why. The show challenges you, gets
in your head and then haunts it, seeming more dream than reality…and that’s
pretty much the definition of a masterpiece, wouldn’t you say?
The “Twin Peaks” pilot is available on DVD, on iTunes and
on Amazon Instant Video.
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