A Pilgrim's Peaks - Episode 1

The journal of my Twin Peaks rewatch. Begin here.

And we’re back! 

Opening on a classically sunny Special Agent Dale Cooper report to Diane that’s filled with his characteristically precise, upbeat observations, this simultaneously mimics his introduction from the previous episode while also being a stark contrast to its mysterious and gloomy ending. That light air carries him through the rest of the morning when he arrives at the police station to a running gag of donuts muffling every officer that Coop encounters and has similarly one-sided conversations with. 

That comic element hides a nice illustration of the power dynamics about his role as an FBI Agent who’s running this murder investigation where the local law enforcement are out of their depth. In more ways than one, he seems to be the only person who appears to be capable of clear communication and thought about potential ways forward. This disparity is so apparent that later on in the episode, Sheriff Truman will call himself Watson in reference to how far behind Cooper’s pace he feels he is. 

All of this is also in contrast to the close, careful listener that he is when in conversation or interview with others, as he continues to bear witness to the threads of various townspeople beginning to fray in their own private ways. The James Dean-esque motorcycle loner who still holds on to an important secret despite his confessions to the authorities. The widow whose inherited wealth stands in the way of the jealous parties who are plotting against her and the mill that is a financial heart to the town. 

Then there are the conversations the Special Agent is not witness to, and the spectrum of violence they encompass. The rich father who only sees his daughter when she’s in the way of his ambition. The contradictory father who speaks volumes on the importance of sharing feelings and openness but who won’t hesitate to slap the teenage rebellion out of his son’s mouth if he doesn’t feel he’s being heard. And then there’s the trucker, whose every action towards his wife is a means of intimidation carrying a threat whose implied violence becomes starkly explicit but likely won’t warrant the level of care and attention given to the dead. 

Violence and trauma make people do strange things. Surviving, or becoming someone who can survive, can force you to change yourself in ways that may seem odd to those around you. There are hints throughout the conversations in this episode that Laura’s life was much darker than everyone would expect of the Homecoming Queen who started a meals on wheels program and volunteered her time to tutor a number of people around the town. She narrates a closing scene where, like walking past a door at night left open to a darkened room, the impression is given that her cocaine habit is only the entrance to further, blacker depths before her audio is cut off to be replaced by the close-up of a Herzog-ian reaction whose cause is left up to our imaginations.

All of this begins to peel back the tear in the wall paper just a little, and in doing so may make you start to rethink some of the kooky behaviors that you’ve just watched. What produced them? A darkness, a light?