Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me

Assorted notes on Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, with spoilers.

The blueprint for how to do the movie for your TV show.

I never saw The Passion of the Christ but I probably don't need to now.

'92 dork-Kiefer in a bowtie is my ideal man after, like, literally Jason Momoa.

Cambogrozia. Gargonbozia? Garbopozia. God I seriously can't remember. (pain and sorrow)

Can I admit that I was afraid to watch this movie? I'd heard it was much darker than the series, and one of Lynch's darkest films generally. And it was, but anchoring Laura as the subject as she endures and fights against a whole history of intergenerational abuse makes it as much a horror flick as a particularly savage boxing movie, in which Laura goes twelve with the heart of darkness and preserves her soul in a shattering stalemate. That's a fucking superhero for you.

Okay, but I'm legit afraid to crack into The Return now that I've watched this and the original seasons, because the few scant clips of it I've seen chilled me right to the bone.

As ever, Lynch goes straight for the stem of my dreams. He goes there and he does things and it feels almost unbearably intimate and it's somehow exactly what I need.

Sheryl Lee is astounding, and has one of the all-time greatest screams.

Donna is so traumatized by Laura's death, so suddenly forced to grow up, that she transforms overnight from doe-eyed Moira Kelly to steel-jawed Lara Flynn Boyle.

James Hurley remains the absolute worst.

Badalamenti's jazzy intro theme is one of my favorite things he's done.

I'm realizing the tone of this review is a little flip, but maybe that's because it's hard, it's really hard, to talk about Laura Palmer. This is the realest depiction of intergenerational family abuse I've seen, Black Lodge and all; and until you've lived it, or love someone who has, you have no idea what it costs that person to make the buck stop with them, the enormous awful cost of fighting the virus of family abuse instead of passing it on. This is the deepest kind of heroism, a heroism of the deep self, born from wild psyche and enraged conscience, forged in invisible, unbreakable bravery. Laura will live in my heart forever, and if she lives in yours too, I'd say she forms a tiny filament of solidarity between us.

“I pass the test,” she said. “I will diminish, and go into the West and remain Galadriel.”

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