Sunday Herald Life - - TV & RADIO -

SHE’S not dead, she’s not wrapped in plas­tic. But where is she, who is she, what year is it?

Along­side a re­mark­able pro­fes­sional cast, David Lynch em­ployed non­ac­tors through­out the ex­tra­or­di­nary re­turn to Twin Peaks that con­cluded with a hi­lar­i­ous, heart­warm­ing, heart­break­ing, head-scratch­ing, hyp­notic and har­row­ing dou­ble bill last week. But he saved the most dis­rup­tive cast­ing un­til the end.

Hav­ing emerged from the ab­surd Dougie Jones fug he’d in­hab­ited (beau­ti­fully) for most of the 18 hours, the eter­nal square-jawed FBI man Dale Cooper had, with the help of cock­ney su­per­hero Fred­die Sykes and his green glove of power, smashed his evil dop­pel­ganger and the hoodoo Killer Bob de­mon within back to the mag­i­cal di­men­sion from which it came. Then Cooper went on a pandi­men­sional res­cue mis­sion him­self, slip­ping through time back to the point Twin Peaks be­gan: the night teenager Laura Palmer was mur­dered.

Lead­ing her through the dark woods away from her fate, the saga seemed perched on the edge of a fairy­tale end­ing. But sud­denly Laura was no longer there, snatched out of ex­is­tence. Not to be de­nied, Cooper ploughed after her, through lay­ers of re­al­ity, un­til he reached a place far from Twin Peaks’ fad­ing glow, a dingy house in a dingy town by a dingy free­way, where lived a woman who looked ex­actly like Laura. She had no idea what he was talk­ing about. But she went with him when he promised he’d take her home.

After an­other end­less drive along the dark lost high­way Lynch scrawled across the last episodes like his sig­na­ture, they fi­nally ar­rived at the Palmer house in lit­tle Twin Peaks, where Cooper sought to re­unite Laura with her mother, Sarah. But the woman who an­swered the door was not Sarah, and had never heard of her.

In fact, this house­owner was played by a woman called Mary Re­ber, who – the clue was out there – is the real cur­rent owner of the real house that’s used for the Palmer house in the TV show. (Lynch stays open to chance and lets mean­ing de­velop: Killer Bob him­self fa­mously came about be­cause of an ac­ci­dent on set.) But while that weird jolt of re­al­ity came fold­ing in, there came yet an­other, as she gave her name as Tre­mond and men­tioned an­other, Chal­font, names open­ing por­tals to po­tent points in Twin Peaks’ past, stir­ring mem­o­ries of an old woman who once gave Laura a pic­ture of a door.

As warned by Philip Jef­fries – the oc­cult FBI man once played by David Bowie, now by The Sing­ing Ket­tle – Cooper’s des­tiny with Laura is an in­fi­nite loop. Fine by me. I’ll watch this en­tire strange, sad and beau­ti­ful thing again and again. Not to try and fig­ure it out. But be­cause, when CGI dragons are sup­posed to be amaz­ing, Twin Peaks un­der­stands there’s more awe, mys­tery and tragedy in a young woman’s face in rap­ture as she drives in a candy-coloured car, listening to the Paris Sis­ters sing “I Love How You Love Me,” for as long as it lasts.

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