Twin Peaks

From the moment I heard that Showtime was reviving Twin Peaks, I had mixed feelings. Like any return to a beloved story, I wanted it to be great but I dreaded it being bad. News that David Lynch would be directing the whole show raised my hopes, and made me more anxious. I waited until all 18 episodes had aired, so I could binge through the whole series and, just before I started watching, I asked a friend what he’d thought of the show. He sent me a text message that read: It’s bloomin’ hard work, but I think it pays off. Episode 8 is a proper WTF! So at least I knew it wasn’t going to be a complete disaster. Armed with that knowledge, I began watching.

(fair warning: spoilers)

The first couple of episodes did seem slow. My friend had said that, where the original Twin Peaks series felt as though it needed more David Lynch, this series almost felt as though it had too much.

We’ve all seen what can happen when a director becomes too revered to be questioned. Ridley Scott and George Lucas did their finest work when they had to fight for their creative vision, but with nobody daring to challenge them, their later films suffered. Was it happening again?

I found myself becoming unhappy with the pacing – I was so eager for the story and wanted more things to happen, but I started to worry that there wouldn’t be enough time (even in 18 episodes) because of those long lingering shots that seemed unable to cut away. The Dougie character was particularly frustrating, as I was impatient for him to snap back into classic FBI Cooper.

Episode 3 did encourage me a bit – the combination of editing and sound design, when Cooper falls onto the island and goes inside to meet the faceless woman, was wonderfully eerie and strange.

But there was still a lot that I didn’t really like. With so many new characters, and plotlines snaking off at tangents, I began to realize that the series would leave me with a host of unresolved issues. And seeing beloved familiar faces now ravaged by age was also rather gloomy – less so with Kyle Maclachlan, though I suppose seeing more of him on screen in the intervening years may have softened that particular blow. The Horne brothers seemed so old, and not very relevant, while the bands at The Roadhouse burned away precious moments of screen-time.

And then I hit episode 8, which was one of the most unsettling things I’ve seen on TV since… well, since Leland killed Madeline all those years ago. The bearded men were a stroke of genius – from that first glimpse of one sitting in the prison cell, they completely freaked me out. The explosion in New Mexico and the intense black-and-white sequence that followed left me wondering how to process what I’d just watched.

In the end, however, it was seeing James Hurley singing at The Roadhouse… that’s when I began to figure out what was troubling me. This new Twin Peaks wasn’t comparing unfavourably with old Twin Peaks. It just wasn’t quite as good as the rose-tinted Twin Peaks in my memory.

In my memory, I’ve edited the series considerably. I’ve fast-forwarded through some of the slower sequences, and I’ve weeded out agoraphobic Harold Smith with his orchids. I’ve completely erased James and his angsty sing-songs, and that daft sabbatical with the wealthy wife and her psychotic chauffeur.

So I kept going, all the way to the finale. And when the real Cooper woke up so perfectly, the Dougie character finally made sense to me. Over all those weeks, he’d raised the stakes, exerting a gentle yet powerful influence on other characters’ lives (especially his family) and in the process making me care deeply about them. I found myself leaning forward in my seat, silently begging David Lynch for a happy ending… and I got one.

Well, kind of.

I also got what felt like the opening to another season of new Twin Peaks. I wasn’t sure about Laura’s plastic-wrapped body disappearing from the shore, and the thought of undoing so much story felt risky. Bringing Laura home to her mother (and, presumably father?) could have been very powerful but I knew it was the final episode… I’d prefer to have seen that at the start of another series. I found myself resenting the cliff-hanger, as well as being unsettled by the deliberate difference in Cooper once he’d crossed over.

But, when I think about it honestly, that’s all just so Twin Peaks.

I know people will disagree with my thoughts on the show, but that’s all these are: my thoughts. Am I glad I watched it? Definitely. There were so many moments that made it all feel worthwhile, even if there were times when I wanted it to get there faster. Like other David Lynch projects, I found it properly disturbing and, like other Twin Peaks projects, I learned a lot but came away with many unanswered questions. But I’m glad I watched it. I’m glad we got to say farewell to Albert, the Log Lady, and Carl. And who knows… maybe in a few years, I’ll look back with my rose-tinted glasses and remember this latest series as being the best Twin Peaks of all.

  

The Bridge III

I resent the producers of The Bridge. Not because of what they did to one of my favourite characters at the end of season 2. No, I resent them because they've made me care. They've made me care so much, that I've violated my own sacred rule about not watching episodes of a crime series until all the episodes are available to stream online.

And now I'm regretting it. I have to wait a whole week for the next instalment, even though my head is buzzing with the story right now. I don't ev

en know if this series will be any good - I may have committed to something that will ultimately disappoint, and I won't know until it's too late...

...because for me, it's already too late. Last night's double bill dragged me straight back into The Bridge universe and rekindled all of the emotional investment I felt through the previous two series. So now I find myself resenting the producers, but there's a way they can make it up to me... if this series is anything like as good as the ones that came before it, all will be forgiven!

Generation War - Unsere Mütter, unsere Väter

I found the recent TV series Generation War both moving, and surprising. From a British perspective, it was compelling to follow a wartime story that invited me to care about a group of young Germans, rather than simply seeing them as "the enemy".

Predictably, there's been a lot of protest about it. The events of World War II are still too close, and too terrible, for anyone to be entirely neutral, and the BBC was forced to air a debate between several dissatisfied parties and the show's producer. There were several key issues:

• The series was too sympathetic to Germans
• The unsympathetic portrayal of East European partisans
• The unlikely friendship between non-Jews and a Jew

Over and over again, the commentators argued that this or that wasn’t typical, and therefore it gave the wrong impression; that it was wrong to show partisans mistreating Jews, because not all partisans mistreated Jews; that it was inaccurate to show Germans disagreeing with the war, because not all Germans disagreed with the war. All too often, we heard people objecting to something because it didn't align with their particular point of view. They implied that the series was somehow "wrong" because it didn't include the things that they wanted it to include.

In a media-savvy age, where everything needs to be a metaphor, it seems there is no room for a story about five wartime friends, unless that story is a perfect microcosm of everyone’s wartime experiences.

That, of course, would have been impossible to achieve. Even the dissenting experts broadly agreed that Generation War was a brilliant and moving drama series. But clearly it wouldn't have been if it had tried to be all things to all people.

Perhaps, when we look at something like this, we need to be a little more generous, and a little less prejudiced. After all, if we can't be patient with someone else expressing a subjective account, there's no reason to expect a patient response to personal views of our own.

Previously, on Twin Peaks...

Some things age gracefully, some age badly, but some don't seem to age at all. Perhaps because it was never really "of its time", Twin Peaks is still weird and wonderful to watch, just as it was all those years ago.

The public hysteria has gone, of course. If you watched it when it was first aired in the nineties, you'll remember the endless discussion, the interpretation and speculation, as we all tried to figure out what David Lynch and Mark Frost were up to. But, perhaps because the overall story was never really explained, the show retains that delicious sense of mystery and potential that made it so compelling.

The comedy still works, along with the deep sense of tragedy as a quiet community comes to term with a senseless murder. And that scene with Leland and Maddie remains one of the most disturbing things I've ever watched on television.

It's not perfect, of course. There are scenes that drag, and characters who grate, but it was ever thus. It's no more flawed now than it was back then.

Above all, Twin Peaks still kindles a wistful desire to experience that slower life, distanced from the troubles of the rat-race and reality… and to enjoy a slice of cherry pie and some damn fine coffee at the Double R Diner.

A Tale of Two Box-sets

A while ago, my brother in law grew weary of recommending TV shows to me, and forcibly gave me a couple of box-sets. Consigned to the pile, and overlooked for a while, were Spiral (or Engrenages) and The Killing - both crime series.

We watched Spiral first. It's very stylish, very French and, despite the rather open ending, season one was gripping. Each episode has short story arcs, with crimes that the team are investigating, while the larger conspiracies unfold gracefully across the length of the series. Though some of the characters are more likeable than others, they all feel true, and it's hard not to be engaged in all of the interweaving threads.

We immediately bought season two, which was even better, and followed it with season three, which was still enjoyable but a little more laboured.

And then we watched The Killing. I'm aware it's a remake of a Danish show called Forbrydelsen, but we came to it cold so I can't compare the merits of the two versions.

The first episode was mostly excellent - gritty, beautifully shot, wonderfully scored - with a few jarring "oh the humanity" moments that almost put me off. Fortunately, we persevered, and the series largely manages to shrug off these "subtitles for the hard of thinking" and deliver a one long arc, that twists and turns agonisingly around a group of disparate characters, drawing them together...

...except, it's actually less than one arc. Just as the last episode builds to a neat climax that wraps (almost) everything up, one deft move scatters all the pieces of the puzzle ready for season two. It's a measure of how good the show is that this wasn't too frustrating.

Season two starts this week, and while I love the ongoing nature of the story, I hope it does what shows like Twin Peaks never quite had time for - resolves!