Gone Is The Songbird: A 'Twin Peaks' Retrospective

Essay / Retrospective

Artwork by NEW WORLD UNDERGROUND

I am re-sharing this piece I wrote earlier this year, as David Lynch’s passing ended up being the catalyst for the quite severe mental breakdown which inspired me to write my novella ‘Libertine Dissolves.’ Now that is published (and available to buy as a paperback on Amazon), it seems only fit to repost this as part of the story of the novellas conception, which I will most likely elaborate on in future content.

GONE IS THE SONGBIRD

To honour the passing of legendary filmmaker, artist, and visionary David Lynch, who passed away recently, I decided to watch all three seasons of his pop-culture landmark Twin Peaks.

Even as a keen Lynch fan, and having seen almost all of his major films, I had somehow not got around to tackling Twin Peaks, outside of the prequel movie Fire Walk With Me, which I saw many years ago, and loved.

Having waded my way through all three seasons, I now have an entirely new understanding of the franchise, and of Lynch himself. Can I recommend you do the same? Probably not. It was, at times, overwhelmingly hard to maintain focus, and not due to the surreal and dreamlike nature of the show (those parts are by far the most engaging), but due to the quality dips in season 2, and some of the bloat in season 3. However, if you are drawn to the show and feel it is a missing part of your David Lynch understanding, as I was, then the tree of Twin Peaks does bear strange and delicious fruit. It’s just something of an arduous climb to pick it.

Season 1 is a wonderful, if dated, introduction to the town of Twin Peaks and its quirky cast of characters. The style of the show feels dated even further than 1991, due to it being somewhat of a commentary/parody of the popular soaps of the late '80s, and it takes a while to become accustomed to what is, at its core, like nothing else ever recorded before or since. This isn't a Lynch movie, where you're strapping in for a couple of hours of disjointed narrative, dream sequences, cool music, and haunting imagery. This is Lynch’s long game, and as a result, it demands considerably more from the viewer than its Hollywood counterparts do.

Each character has their own branching storyline, which is connected to the larger mystery of the death of Laura Palmer. Particularly in season 1, the feeling that every male may be the killer is a highly pervasive one. The wailing grief of the first season is overwhelmingly visceral, to the point it doesn’t remotely match the tone of the rest of the show. We're very quickly informed that the black coffee and cherry pie Americana veneer of Twin Peaks is paper-thin, and that the evil lurking within the town, its forest, and its people is ever-present. Agent Dale Cooper is the antithesis to this cold fact, and is instantly lovable in his apparent naivety, enamoured by the town and, before long, dreaming of buying property and retiring there. His childish wonder is immediately endearing, and he's quickly established as one of the greatest TV leads ever written. There's a lot of David Lynch in his mannerisms and quirks, and in the first season, he feels very much like a Lynch 'self-insert' (although Lynch is literally self-inserted in the form of Agent Cole, who he portrays himself).

The 'dream' sequences (or more accurately, 'Black Lodge' sequences) are incredible, and it's easy to see why the show's design and motifs have become timeless Lynch trademarks, the zig-zag floor, the red drapes, it's absolute Lynch gold. The sequences never outstay their welcome, and I often found myself eagerly awaiting the next one. Being drip-fed mysterious micro-clues via Cooper’s dreams is nothing short of miracle television. Watching this in 2025 was mind-blowing, I can only imagine what it must’ve done for people in 1991. Amongst the TV of the time, it must have felt revolutionary.

Season 1 is world-class television, and a ride every Lynch appreciator needs to take. It’s a real shame that the same cannot be said of the majority of season 2.

The story of season 2 is an unfortunate one. The producers of the show basically forced Lynch to reveal the identity of the killer, which he was vehemently against. Once this huge, critical plot beat is revealed, Lynch essentially leaves the show, and the remaining season 2 episodes are directed by a cast of revolving directors, with absolutely catastrophic results. I’m not going to list the absurd plotlines here, but it is clear to anyone who has had the misfortune of sitting through these episodes that no one who worked on them truly understood what made the previous episodes so brilliant. And how could they? David Lynch’s talent existed in a vacuum, there was no one on Earth doing what he was doing, so these guest directors were almost doomed to fail. However, quite how hard they failed is something spectacular. Beloved characters are reduced to sideshow clowns, with new, superfluous storylines for just about all of them, all playing out in tandem. It’s painful to watch, and goes on for far too long. There are guides online of how to skip these episodes, but I decided not to turn my head away from this TV car crash.

Luckily, our hero director comes back for the season 2 finale. Seemingly still bitter about the show’s trajectory, the final episode is a self-indulgent and horrifying collection of violence and Black Lodge sequences, which feels almost like some sort of revenge. However, it’s incredible, and if you stuck with the weaker episodes, then there is a sense of shared catharsis here. It’s an explosive end to season 2, and also sets the stage for the film Fire Walk With Me.

Said film, a prequel to the first season, sees Lynch move into still darker waters with the franchise. It’s hard to speak too much on without spoiling, but it is (something) of a conclusion to the mystery, and adds a huge amount to the overarching plot and mythos of the show. Panned by critics but beloved by fans, it occupies a curious space in both Lynch’s TV and movie career. As previously mentioned, I watched it as a young man without any knowledge of the show whatsoever and adored it for its stark surrealism and nightmarish tone. However, it is definitely best enjoyed after watching seasons 1 and 2, in release order. Some people will maintain it shouldn’t be enjoyed in isolation, however, I did, and I’m sure lots of others did on its theatrical release. Some Lynch movies are best enjoyed as just a ride through his mind, rather than a game of connect-the-dots. I feel like FWWM is one of those rides.

Season 3, for me, is the icing on the cake. Made years later, in 2017, it actually stands as Lynch’s last big mainstream release before his death earlier this year. And what a final piece of work it is. So many creatives have high-water marks in their careers that they are never able to replicate, their creativity seems to dry up as they age. Neither of those things applied to Lynch. He was still a razor-sharp creative visionary right up until the end, and Twin Peaks Season 3 (The Return) is the proof of that.

Whatever you are looking for from season 3, you are not going to get. If you want a tidy little well-wrapped final season, you are shit out of luck. Season 3 triples down on every insane seed planted by Lynch thus far, and chucks in a handful of grenades to go along with them. The end result is nothing short of an absolute ride through hell. Whether there was genuine spite behind it on Lynch’s end, it feels spiteful. Malicious, even. Twin Peaks is rotting. Gone is the songbird, and in its place are tweakers, drug peddlers, and mobsters. These things were present in the earlier works, but underneath the surface. Now, they have breached the surface, and we’re presented with a darker form of Americana. The nameless dread is closer to us now. The dream we were living in is turning into a nightmare, and we can’t wake up.

I could write at length about a great deal of the plot of season 3, but I don’t want this essay to have spoilers. So all I will say is: it’s darker, it’s more human, it’s more engaging. It contains some of the most beautiful and mysterious sequences of all of Lynch’s films, and it’s nothing short of a tour de force of Lynchian majesty. It asks more questions than it answers. It gets under your skin. And you will feel changed after you have finished it. It stayed in my head for days and days after the last scene. The only television which has successfully delivered the same sort of impact for me has been True Detective Season 1. It’s some of the best TV ever conceived, and the journey through the earlier seasons and the movie are more than worth it. It’s more effort than chucking on one of his movies, but the payoff is the biggest one available.

One of the greatest creative achievements of the modern age of television, by one of the most beautiful minds to ever set foot on this earth.

Rest in peace, David Lynch.