When Twin Peaks first aired in 1990, it was a revelation. For one thing, it was my first experience of true, out-and-out geekery. I kept a journal with quotes from the show. I talked about it with my very few friends at school. I was a weird kid and it was a weird show and somehow it made me feel like I belonged. Like there’s a place in this world for weird people to do weird shit and for enough people to enjoy it that it gets to keep going.
After watching the whole series again on DVD this month, I love it even more. It is, in fact, now safely situated among my all-time favourite television shows. And today, David Lynch’s tweet pointed me to this article in the Guardian about the show.
Twin Peaks is terrifying. That’s hard to find even in a cable show these days. In fact, I don’t think any character has ever scared me as much as Leo Johnson scared me. (Yeah, I found Leo far scarier than Bob. And I found Bob scary, too.) And let’s ponder for a moment how the part of the weird show that was the most disturbing was the part that had absolutely nothing to do with forward-backward-talking midgets or owls not being what they seem or creepy apparitions that kill people. The most frightening part was the oneÂ about wife beating. Which, frankly, is the way it should be.
The ensemble cast in Twin Peaks is damn near perfect. Each character is believable, with their own past and motivations, and yet the community as a whole is just damn strange.
The score is about as iconic as any number of other memorable aspects of the show. As a teenager I used to listen to the cassette tape in my walkman on the bus to school. It was the soundtrack to my weird adolescence.
Yeah, there were a few episodes in the middle of the second season where everything seemed to go off the rails a little, but then they zeroed in on the Windom Earle arc, and all was back to creepy, creepy normal.
Did you watch the show when it first aired? Have you seen it recently? If not, you should. Soon.