David Lynch’s Impact on Television Is Like a Shared Dream We Dare Not Forget
Few television shows, if any, have conjured more apt descriptions than “Twin Peaks.” I’ve heard it called “hilarious” and “terrifying,” “tender” and “savage,” “inspirational” and “heartbreaking,” sometimes in the same breath. It’s been labeled “stupid” by people I consider brilliant, and “brilliant” by people I consider less than qualified to assess such things. Viewers have combed every corner of David Lynch’s long-lingering frames for extra tidbits of intel and meaning, while others spot those blood-red curtains hanging over black-and-white tiles and can’t change the channel fast enough.
Plenty of TV shows — and yes, “Twin Peaks” and “Twin Peaks: The Return” are unquestionably TV shows — evoke mixed, even contradictory, reactions that can be deemed fair critiques by an impartial observer. But how many of those shows invite a seemingly infinite number of reactions, almost all of which could be justified? Is “Twin Peaks” a “boring” TV show? Of course not… unless, that is, you’re referring to the multiple, minutes-long scenes of people sweeping. Those are boring, even if they could also be described as “amusing,” “spooky,” and “necessary.” Is “Twin Peaks” a “thrilling” TV show? Of course it is… unless you’re talking about when we were all jacked up to see the triumphant return of FBI Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) after 25 years away, and instead we got Dougie (Kyle MacLachlan) standing in front of a statue, holding a stack of files, wobbling to and fro. That’s not thrilling, even if it could also be described as “amusing,” “spooky,” and “necessary.”
More from IndieWire
The only opinion on “Twin Peaks” — or David Lynch in general — that I would feel comfortable dismissing would be one that doesn’t engage with his work. Whether you’re contending it’s “boring” or “brilliant,” if you’re clearly not putting any further thought into Lynch’s rich worlds, then however you choose to describe them doesn’t really matter. Why? Because Lynch’s whole deal was about engagement — connection through friction, comprehension through acknowledging the incomprehensible world all around us, empathy by way of bridging the gap between disparate concepts.
Lynch, who died Thursday, just four days before his 79th birthday, was beloved by critics and fans for never explaining himself. After all, spelling out what his work means would be antithetical to the work itself. Lynch wanted to challenge you — to entice you, to repel you, to bewilder you. He wanted you to sit up on the edge of your seat (like when the disheveled hobo appears from behind the dumpster in “Mulholland Drive”), and he wanted you to go slack in your chair, lost in the reveries he created onscreen (like I did multiple times during “The Return’s” final episode, right before Laura Palmer let out that blood-curdling scream). By slamming two opposing feelings against each other, he got to see what happened next. He got to study the results — in his characters, in us, in the world. Answers weren’t the point, so much as what we made of the questions elicited by something simultaneously new and familiar.
Never was that more apparent than when “Twin Peaks” first premiered. While I was too junior to appreciate it at the time (or even remember my parents tuning in each week), culture critic and author Mark Harris described Lynch’s ABC debut as a “thunderbolt” for television. Here was an avant garde filmmaker, known for “Eraserhead” and “Blue Velvet” — films that couldn’t even air on broadcast television — taking over the airwaves for an hour each week to tell a small town murder-mystery filled with the Black Lodge and Killer BOBs, demons and damn fine coffee.
The first two seasons of “Twin Peaks” inspired an untold number of future projects. “‘Twin Peaks’ basically proved that there wasn’t just one way to make television,” “Lost” and “The Leftovers” co-creator Damon Lindelof said. Despite its relatively quick cancelation, the years that followed saw a slew of shows indebted to Lynch’s strange vibes, from hits like “The X-Files” to fascinating failures like “Carnivale.” By the time the second golden age transitioned into the prestige TV era, everything from “Six Feet Under” to “Hannibal” and “Mad Men” to “True Detective” wore the marks of Lynchian motivations.
By 2017, with so many successors already floating through the glass box that is television, one would think “The Return” wouldn’t be able to level a similar impact as its original incarnation. Well, lightning may not strike twice, but thunderbolts do. Arriving as the Prestige TV era’s pursuit of quality shifted to Peak TV’s obsession over quantity, “Twin Peaks: The Return” blew viewers’ minds all over again. What may not have been a ratings hit for Showtime still managed to take over Sunday night social media. Interpretations were everywhere. Theories flew fast and loose. Every cast member was subjected to extra-inquisitive interviews, and every super-fan who’d become a TV creator was eager to dissect the third season. Critics even loved “The Return” so much they fought over who had rightful claim to include it on their best-of-the-year lists.
To say “Twin Peaks: The Return” is destined to inspire the same creative renaissance seen so soon after “Twin Peaks” would be a stretch. The original pilot was watched by more than 20 million people, a number out of reach for any scripted show in 2017 that wasn’t “Game of Thrones.” Moreover, the seeds Lynch set with his original series were already spread so far and wide that direct accreditation is borderline impossible; it’s more likely future creators cite “Lost” or “The Sopranos” for inspiration than the show that inspired Lindelof and David Chase.
But far more troubling than future recognition is TV’s future in general. It doesn’t matter who gets the credit for the next unprecedented television series if the next unprecedented television series never gets made. Peak TV and the seemingly endless spending it invited is over. Production has slowed. Opportunities for up-and-coming TV writers are hard to come by, and even established creators are being pushed toward I.P. Streamers are asking for shows that demand less — way less — not more. The boob tube, and the mass dumbification its name implies, is on its way back, if not already here.
It’s often been said that the mere existence of “Twin Peaks” is a miracle. Lynch didn’t want to make it, most ABC executives didn’t want to air it, and without the old production method of shooting a pilot before picking up the series, I’m not sure anyone but Bob Iger would’ve ever been able to appreciate it. The same could be said about “The Return,” which fits the industry’s current infatuation with revivals and reboots, but runs counter to the idea that nostalgia should be comforting. (Plus, I doubt any streamer would pony up for an 18-hour season with a budget once described as “stupid high.”) Having them both to revisit now and in the future, let alone experiencing all three seasons as they transformed the culture, is like living in a shared dream; a Lynchian experience all its own.
And it’s one we can’t afford to forget. Being challenged by television isn’t just an invigorating experience when conducted by a master like Lynch, it’s also a vital part of TV’s evolution. We need to be reminded how many different ways there are to make television, especially when the network gatekeepers are telling everyone there’s only one thing people want. Thank god for disruptive series like “Yellowjackets” and “Dead Ringers,” “The Rehearsal” and “I Think You Should Leave,” “Fargo” and “Severance” — the latter of which returns just a day after Lynch’s passing, with a fun and fitting homage to the man himself. While aptly eerie in its timing, the scene is really just the umpteenth reason we’ll never forget David Lynch. Love “Twin Peaks” or hate it, claim to understand it or admit to being baffled, it got all of us to sit forward and wonder what could possibly happen next. That’s what Lynch meant to TV — and we have to keep rising to meet the next challenge.
“Twin Peaks” and “Twin Peaks: The Return” are available on Paramount+ with Showtime.
Best of IndieWire
Sign up for Indiewire's Newsletter. For the latest news, follow us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
Solve the daily Crossword
