A Pilgrim's Peaks - Episode 26
By now it’s been twelve episodes since we’ve seen David Lynch behind the camera and Twin Peaks is really starting to show it. The last time he wasn’t in front of the lens was way back in episode fourteen, which, it’s easy to forget, was two main storylines ago, back when this show was still about Who Killed Laura Palmer. It can be difficult to look past the myriad storytelling issues that are inherent in television shows of this era which have a specific and significant number of episodes to fill from a full season order, but it’s helpful to do so in order to remember who is most fluent in the cinematic language of Twin Peaks.
Unhelpfully, most of the show has been unremarkable in that sense. A lot of what’s passed before our eyes has been the standard coverage that breaks a scene down into wide shots, medium shots and close-ups. If you’ve watched any American television or movies, ever, you unconsciously know this pattern and that’s fine; it works, it’s effective and it’s quick. The invisible nature of it mostly serves to highlight the instances when it doesn’t happen or is ignored entirely as with the single continuous take of Windom Earle delivering a monologue about the White and Black Lodges early on in this episode. It starts out as something we expect but continues to linger on without any cuts and you maybe start to notice what’s happening and take in the cabin, the performances, etc.
There have been a handful of cinematic moments like that scattered across these bumpy last dozen episodes which distinguish themselves from the more practical work happening before your eyes. The most notable sustained highlight of them being the steady hand of Lesli Linka Glatter who managed to channel the best balance of the Lynchian supernatural and Peaks-y soap operatics in episode twenty three where she neatly wrapped up the Josie Packard drama tornado with an elegant supernatural twist.
This episode has a good handle on the more grounded stuff of soapy interpersonal relationship drama with Annie and Special Agent Dale Cooper of the Federal Bureau of Investigation spending some quality time at scenic Lake Makeout and sharing their personal traumas with each other before they mutually invade each other’s personal space. Shelley Johnson and FBI Regional Bureau Chief Gordon Cole also make time with each other at the Double R, a public move that must be at least partially motivated by Shelly being fed up with another meathead Bobby scheme to enter into the Miss Twin Peaks pageant so she can use her beauty to win him them money and a fresh start? At least he’s fairly consistent in his narcissistic self-interest and Shelly seems to be wising up to his modus.
Where the episode falters, and what makes the absence of Lynch behind the camera powerfully felt is the introduciton of a wholly new form of supernatural language to the show that doesn’t fit stylistically with anything that’s been done before on the show. On two separate occasions a blacked out druidic silhouette wanders across a white background. The first time it happens, a starscape appears to fill its void. The second time, a half moon occupies its hood before both fade out and an owl appears. The nocturnal bird of prey, at least, is already a well-established form of the show’s paranormal vocabulary, but the hooded silhouette belongs more to a Joy Division music video or the cover of an adult contemporary album than it does amongst the uniquely stylized otherworldliness of Twin Peaks. The form is jarring because it’s a familiar landmark turning up in a show that’s known for carving out its own weird path through the wilderness of our collective subconscious. The recognizable form feels more contemptuous for its predictability, a fault that would be forgivable if we hadn’t been spending a fair amount of the last twelve episodes wondering where we’ve been going.