'Twin Peaks: The Return'-Part 8: The Genesis of Good and Evil....I think.

"This is the water and this is the well..."

By Josh McCormack

July 16, 1945. White Sands, New Mexico. 5:29 AM (MWT).

This title card appears fifteen minutes into the eighth episode of David Lynch's polarizing return to the world of Twin Peaks. It marks a significant turn in the already bizarre episode. A nightmarish descent into madness that will continue for the remaining 45 minutes. 

This isn't to say each episode of the new Twin Peaks hasn't been nightmarishly strange in their own right. Quite the opposite. The show lacks a traditional narrative structure and leans far more heavily on themes of darkness and evil in order to make its audience truly uncomfortable. Sometimes this works and sometimes Lynch's pure refusal to play up the original series' hallmark quirkiness or give viewers any kind of clear indication with where this is all going can be frustrating even for a fan of his work, like myself.

With last week's episode, however, it seemed as if the show was heading back toward the style and tone of what audiences saw on ABC in the early '90s. The narrative was far more straightforward, it had a good sense of humor, and it even made callbacks to iconic characters and moments throughout the franchise. It was the closest to fan service that this show has gotten to, and if I'm being perfectly honest, it was my favorite episode of the season yet. 

Now that seems as if it was all an elaborate ploy by David Lynch to subvert expectations as he does so well. To follow up an episode so based in nostalgia with an episode that features the death and ressurection (?) of our main antagonist, a five minute 'Nine-Inch Nails' concert, the first test of the atom bomb, and what seems to be the creation of good and evil itself is so unexpected, yet so fitting with the kind of filmmaker Lynch has proven to be for nearly four decades.

                                             

Following the aforementioned title card nearly fifteen minutes into the episode, a blinding white light flashes on the screen as we hear the screeching strings of composer Penderecki's (a favorite in the Lynch pantheon) Threnody of the Victims of Hiroshima. As the light clears we see the lingering mushroom cloud of the atomic bomb extenuated in chilling black and white as Lynch pushes his camera further and further into the heart of the explosion until it seems as if we are inside the combustion itself. What follows is a frantic collage of psychedelic images mixed with expert sound design. While watching this three minute sequence, I couldn't help but think of this as Lynch's own personal spin on the infamous monolith sequence from Kubrick's 2001.

Colors combust on to the screen, almost as if they are signifying different gateway portals to other universes or timelines opening up in front of our eyes. Images go static and sometimes replay themselves again and again. Dust and debris fly around wildly in black and white in the style of Lynch's 1977 film, Eraserhead. All the while Penderecki's strings become more and more intense. We are witnessing the creation of something uncontrollable and destructive, yet we may not know quite what it is.

Following this incredible barrage of images we see dark figures with raggedy clothes exit out of a fog-ridden convenience store. These seem to be agents of evil brought about by the power of the atomic bomb.

                                         

What we are treated to after this seems to be the creation of evil itself within the world of Twin Peaks. The evil that I am speaking of is, of course, the evil entity known as BOB. Never before did I ever think I wanted to see the conception of this character, but when the strange white creature comes floating out of the nether worldly ether and vomits up a string of venomous bile containing the face of BOB.

Meanwhile in another, mysterious land, surrounded by ocean and emanating with a dark purple aura, there lies a strange castle. Within the castle we see a woman dressed as a 1920s flapper girl and in front of her is the infamous Giant played by Carl Struycken. He slowly walks into a desolate movie theater and watches a screen as the past ten minutes of the mind-bending episode are being played back to him. He stops the projector when he sees the appearance of BOB's face.

He is concerned. Frightened, even. As if it is a last act of desperation, he forces himself up into the air and hovers high above the movie screen, leaning back with angelic grace. Angelo Badalamenti's beautiful score kicks in at this very moment and makes a scene that is not yet understandable, shockingly emotional. 

Gold light flashes from the Giant's forehead and an orb comes floating down to the ground from the harsh light. Below, the flapper woman arrives and catches the orb. When she looks inside the orb, she tearfully smiles as the music swells. And within the orb, we see a face. A familiar face.

It is the face of Laura Palmer.

The woman kisses the orb and sends it into a device which seems to deliver Laura's orb to earth.

In the final ten minutes of the show we are transported to 1956 in which we first see a strange egg hatch and a huge insect-amphibious hybrid comes crawling out. We also see two young kids walking each other on a date. Perhaps this is Sara Palmer and Leland Palmer, who will become Laura's parents.

The strange raggedy men from the convenience store earlier in the episode also make another appearance, this time led by a strange figure who is credited as "The Woodsman", who continuously brings some kind of electric energy wherever he goes with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth constantly asking petrified pedestrians, "Gotta light?".

The episode concludes with the raggedy man violently murdering the employees of a nearby radio station and taking over the airwaves saying one poem over and over again;

"This is the water, and this is the well

Drink full, and descend

The horse is the white of the eyes and dark within"

As this quote is repeated again and again we once again see the strange insect enter the room of the young girl who was walking with the boy (who I again only assume is Sarah Palmer). The girl's mouth is wide open while she is sleeping, and the creature crawls into her mouth. It seems to have found its host for whatever purpose that may be.

There's a lot to take in with this one, folks.

As a pure piece of Lynch experimentation, it is fantastic. I would go as far as to say that is the single strangest hour of American television. It came out of nowhere for fans of the show and I think the two week hiatus is good for viewers, just so that they can process the information Lynch has fed us.

However, this episode, for all its strangeness, does seem to dip its toes into some answers, even if they're not the ones we wanted.

My perception of Twin Peaks: The Return-Part 8 is that we are witnessing the conception of both good and evil within the Twin Peaks universe. When the atomic bomb was set off, it was the strongest display of destruction human beings had ever produced, and according to Lynch, out of that destruction came the arrival of the evil entities from the show's famous "Black Lodge" into our world. As a reaction to this, Laura Palmer was seemingly created as the force for good that would protect those who were in danger.

This would feed well into the perception of Laura Palmer that was introduced in the polarizing 1992 film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. In this film, Laura is a flawed teenager who struggles with addiction and abuse, but ultimately sacrifices herself to the killer BOB in order to protect the ones she loves. It is at this moment that Laura becomes a Christ figure.

I don't know where this might lead us into the future of this series. Perhaps Laura needs to be resurrected in order to defeat the spirit of BOB once and for all. Or perhaps I'm completely wrong and this is just me reading far too much into this weirdness. 

All I know is that with David Lynch at the helm, Twin Peaks will always manage to transport us to a place both wonderful and (very, VERY) strange.