On the fractured landscape of TV fiction, in terms of pure creativity and shear audacity, David Lynch's Twin Peaks is the towering summit (summits?!). For us rabid fans Twin Peaks reigns as the most original, most compelling, most memorable television series ever broadcast. Lynch's creations are often unclassifiable, never confined to a single genre, but Twin Peaks, more so than not, is a mystery thriller that also abounds with outrageous humor. The comedy normally arose from his deft handling of the intensely melodramatic atmosphere which he often interrupts with moments of unparalleled bizarreness. David exacerbates scenes of heightened sentimentality with audaciously maudlin music, nudging it into the realm of farce or parody. These tactics often illicit from the viewer a nervous chuckle that then grows into full throated guffaws as the scene plays out to increasingly demented proportions. The program ended abruptly after only its second season, and as it never truly revealed the mystery of Laura Palmer's murder there were substantial questions lurking in the minds of its disappointed viewers. The film set out to answer many of those questions and also manages to raise a few new ones, just to keep things interesting.
Fire Walk With Me certainly isn't Lynch's finest film, and it really doesn't have to be because it only needed to conclude what the TV series had initiated. Freed from the confines of broadcast TV's censorship the film more confidently employs morally challenging, shocking elements. Nudity and profanity are effectively exploited to instill a more palpable, more visceral anxiety. Laura's sordid home life, which was only suggested in the series, is here fully revealed in all of its Freudian horror. The series leisurely developed its quirky rhythm by relying on its recurring hour long format for its unusual pacing, often taking three or four episodes to reveal a plot line. It was almost random in it's approach to narrative, jumping from one character to the next as the story veered and strayed. The film, however, is a much more focused character study with nearly every scene centered on Laura Palmer, with a single arching story line, progressively escalating in dramatic intensity.
Fire Walk With Me very nearly succeeds as a fully independent film that is not entirely dependent on our familiarity with its particulars, yet it does derive much of its impact by how masterfully it takes advantage of our prior knowledge of the heroine's demise. Many films are built around the conceit that its destination is no secret, and a gifted storyteller makes that ride worthwhile. Lynch makes it thrilling. And hypnotic, and gorgeous, and entirely unique. There's no one even close to him for exploiting an audience's willingness to suspend disbelief, elegantly balancing an impossibly absurd combination of outlandish fantasy and soul gripping realism. His stunning visuals are matched by his irresistibly compelling audioscapes. Importantly, he is diligent to keep us acutely aware that what we're experiencing is in fact a contrived, fabricated illusion, which is exactly what a true artist aught to do - acknowledge the artifice of his (her) creation while dazzling us with superb technique. David understands intimately the magical & unspeakable role that cinema plays in the human psyche, and he tailors his art to our deepest desires, fears, and mysteries. It doesn't always make sense or obey common rules of logic but it is always thoroughly captivating. So even if you're baffled by the oblique plot and convoluted structure you can still be helplessly entranced by the macabre parade of lurid paranoia that marches across the screen. David Lynch's images and sounds are the best in the business.
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