Jacques’s review published on Letterboxd:
agonising. haunting. daunting. heartbreaking. yet despite that, it’s still one of the greatest works of empathy ever made. everything I expected and more. it transcends time and space, relief and pain, life and death, heaven and hell. it subverts every single thing you thought you knew about the twin peaks universe. presents new ideas, buries old ones, and the questions remain. but at its core, it provides the audience with the onus of having to watch laura palmer’s slow yet forceful mental, physical and spiritual decay into a pool of her own blood at the hands of her father. it’s subtle until it isn’t. painful viewing. seeing a dying girl’s aimlessness in the last few days of her life, latching onto people, drugs, sex. as a cry for help. as a remedy for her suffering. as something to make her feel like she’s finally in control of something in her life when all agency has otherwise been stripped away from her, and when deep down she knows the fate that she has to eventually meet and what that’ll mean for her. it’s tragic as a story by itself, but watching it as not just something constantly being alluded to like it is on the show, but as something which horrorises you face on without escape, is something that will stick with me forever. we know what’s about to happen, yet we can’t look away. this isn’t the romanticised version of laura palmer anymore, this is her in flesh and bones, with all her traits and traumas following her wherever she goes. we can’t feign pity anymore for the unfortunate death of a homecoming queen. we now have to live with the brutal actions and inactions that lead to the rape, abuse, and murder of a young girl. there’s no sugarcoated comfort for the viewer. there’s barely any hope. this is just the pure harrowing anguish of laura palmer represented on screen, in life and in death.
I wish I could have more words for this. but right now all I can think of is laura palmer’s beautiful face, long after she’s gone, staring at the pervasive angel that was so largely absent in her own brief yet tormentous life. realising and feeling a sense of comfort, closure, or redemption in death despite having lived in constant hell. maybe there’s greater pleasure in dying than there was in living. maybe it wasn’t for nothing. maybe things will be better on the other side. maybe she’s now finally safe from all the evil which consumed her and led her to this inevitable demise in the first place. maybe it’s peace finally being afforded to her. but that very real, very human, very existential dread with which she dealt with day in day out is something that will never heal. why had life been so cruel for her? do you cry or smile?