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Tuesday, September 01, 2026
A Lifetime of Rewatches (Thus Far)
Friday, June 19, 2026
Twin Peaks Shadow Box
Thursday, June 04, 2026
That Miniaturized Director I Like Is Coming Back in Style
Monday, April 13, 2026
Invitation to Consider Invitation to Love
During the first season of Twin Peaks, we see several characters watching Invitation to Love, a soap opera that seems as crazed and histrionic as Twin Peaks itself can be. This gave me a thought today: If the characters in Twin Peaks watch Invitation to Love, do the characters in Invitation to Love watch Twin Peaks?
In real life, Mark Frost took the helm for the Invitation to Love sequences, all shot over the course of one day for later insertion into Twin Peaks. Reportedly, co-creator David Lynch didn't like Frost's overt parody of the soap opera genre, so the device was allowed to fade out. It's too bad; it's a nicely Shakespearean conceit, and I would have loved to see it return in, well, The Return.
Back to the meta question: The answer, for me, is yes, Jade and Montana and the others are just as enthralled with the drama of Twin Peaks as the people of Twin Peaks (the town) are with the world of Invitation to Love. The symmetry is just too perfect to ignore.
What brought this question to mind today? I stumbled across Nestflix, a website dedicated to shows-within-shows. According to Nestflix, Invitation to Love ran for 10 seasons!
Saturday, February 21, 2026
Cole Position
Thursday, January 16, 2025
In Dreams, He Walks: David Lynch, 1946-2025
Or that's one interpretation. Lynch's work is full of delicious ambiguity; it demands our full attention and cries out to be re-watched for new meaning. Despite that ambiguity, though, I believe a couple of themes shine through his body of work.
Thursday, November 10, 2022
Cooper's Tulpa
Saturday, March 13, 2021
The Words Behind the Pictures
Having seen all the films that Charlie Chaplin has directed, I suppose it's no surprise that he's also my most-seen writer, too, given the amount of control and involvement Chaplin had in his films.
The next three names in the list--Maltese, Foster, and Pierce--all wrote a bunch of Looney Tunes shorts.
Ben Hecht, next on the list, has a fascinating filmography, writing superb films like Notorious, Spellbound, Scarface, Design for Living, Stagecoach, The Thing, and Strangers on a Train, but also z-grade stuff like Queen of Outer Space, the 1967 version of Casino Royale, and Switching Channels.
Felix Adler wrote Three Stooges shorts.
Ian Fleming makes the list thanks to James Bond and Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang.
David Lynch, of course, writes or co-writes most of the material he directs.
Clyde Bruckman is another writer of Three Stooges shorts, but also features from comedy greats such as Buster Keaton and Harold Lloyd.
Woody Allen, like Chaplin and Lynch, writes much of his own material.
Stephen King makes the list, I suspect, because of "story by..." credits for the many adaptations of his novels and short stories.
Laurent Bouzereau produces short documentary "making-of" subjects that appear as special features on many of my discs.
Orson Welles, again, is another film polymath.
George Lucas makes the list thanks to Star Wars, Indiana Jones, American Graffiti, etc.
Sylvester Stallone, I suspect, is here thanks to the Rocky and Rambo franchises.
Elwood Ullman is another Three Stooges writer. What a fun job that would have been...
Richard Matheson is a well-regarded prose fantasist, SF author, and contributor of teleplays to The Twilight Zone, among other shows. Here for adaptations, much like King, I suspect.
Ethan Coen is of course one-half of the famous Coen Brothers writing-directing team.
And finally, David Cronenberg is another director who writes much of his own material.
Tuesday, March 26, 2019
David Lynch: The Treachery of Language
From the What's So Great About That? YouTube channel comes this pretty interesting essay on David Lynch's relationship with language.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
I Do Declare
Sunday, September 30, 2018
Lynch's Lights
The episode was directed by Jennifer Lynch, daughter of one of my favourite directors, David Lynch. She's clearly carved out her own visual style, and I like it.
Wednesday, August 15, 2018
Stuff I Wish David Lynch Would Direct
I wouldn't be able to resist asking him to look at the screenplay for Toilet Chase, though...
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Season 4
Monday, January 01, 2018
Movies I Watched in 2017
Since 2012, I've kept track of the films I've screened each year. This year I watched more movies than ever, as my Letterboxd statistics confirm:
As you can see, I watched a little over 600 films, comprising almost 675 hours of viewing. (Many of the films I view each year are shorts, some just a few minutes in length. This screen capture also shows the 2017 films that impressed me most, though of course most of the films I watched in 2017 weren't actually released in 2017.
Here's a breakdown of how many films I watched each week, and my favourite days for viewing films (Sunday by a long shot, as it turns out).
Only about eight percent of the films I watched this year were released in 2017. I reviewed only ten of them. I knocked 32 films off my watchlist, but added over 400. And here you can also see my ratings spread; I don't give out too many 4.5 or 5 star ratings.
Here are my most-watched actors and actresses of 2017. Charlie Chaplin and Edna Purviance are right up top thanks to my attempt to see all of Chaplin's films. I'm pretty close - just one or two left on the list. Sly Stallone is up there because I marathoned all the Rambo movies. Basil Rathbone ranks high on this list because I watched all of his Sherlock Holmes movies.
And here are the directors I followed in 2017. Alice Guy is one of the early pioneers of film, though she's not well-known to the general public today.
Three people liked my Logan review! Sweet validation. The most obscure film I watched, for those wondering, was The Medical Aspects of Nuclear Radiation (Unknown, 1950).
Letterboxd doesn't keep annual statistics on the release dates of the films I've watched, so here's the breakdown:
Wednesday, September 13, 2017
Earl's Directors
Saturday, September 09, 2017
Some More Thoughts on Twin Peaks: The Return
In my last post about the return of Twin Peaks, I neglected to mention some of the factors that contributed to my admiration for the third season:
- Each episode completely captured my attention, holding me riveted to the screen. It's been ages since any television show achieved that feat.
- Miraculously, the production team kept the show's secrets held very close; no episodes were spoiled.
- I never knew what was coming next. Having watched countless hours of film and television, I've gotten very good at spotting formulas and predicting character and story arcs well before their conclusion. I utterly failed to predict anything about Twin Peaks.
- I didn't dare hope for it, but Major Briggs' beautiful vision about Bobby's future from season two actually played out in season three. Bobby's redemption and growth were beautiful to see.
- I absolutely love that several important characters from the show's first two seasons had pivotal roles to play in the unfolding of season three, particularly Deputy Andy, probably my second-favourite character, who has a great extended moment in one of the later episodes.
- I loved the many touches of quirky, absurdist humour, most especially Sheriff Truman's pop-up wooden computer and Carl Rodd's superheroic action van.
- Episode 8, in which Lynch and Frost take the audience inside a nuclear explosion to witness the birth of evil, is perhaps the most insane and spectacular thing I've ever seen on television.
- This season of Twin Peaks frankly captures the passage of time and refuses to gloss over its impact on the aging original cast. How could we ever have expected Dale Cooper to just pop out of limbo and join his law enforcement buddies as if only days had passed? He spent 25 years in there, while in the outside world people got old, died, or otherwise moved on. It's easy enough to wonder why Donna Hayward, for example, rated not a single mention on the show (save for one line of dialogue in archival footage), considering her importance in seasons one and two. But there's a simple explanation: she left Twin Peaks behind and built a new life.
- Perhaps most importantly, I appreciated the show's unflinching refusal to compromise its own artistic integrity. There were no easy solutions or lazy storytelling choices to be found, even when making the hard choices upset the audience, including me.
Monday, September 04, 2017
That Gum I Like Never Went Out of Style
Last night, Sean and I watched, bewildered, as David Lynch and Mark Frost stayed true to their most genuine and frustrating form, refusing to provide Twin Peaks audiences with closure and instead ending the series - probably forever - on a shriek of confused, helpless horror.
Like Sean, I was disappointed by what felt like a meandering and almost cruel final hour, especially after the tease of the penultimate episode, which seemed to promise a reasonably happy, if strange, ending for characters I've loved for nearly 30 years. In that second-to-last hour, our heroes converge on Twin Peaks to rid the world of the malevolence of BOB. It's as funny, surreal, and thrilling as anything in Lynch's ouvre - but it's not enough. Dale Cooper, aided by the mysterious figures of the White Lodge, travels back in time in an effort to prevent poor, sad, lost Laura Cooper from being murdered on the fateful day of February 23, 1989. And at first, it seems to have worked. But just as Dale is leading Laura home to her mother, she slips from his grasp, vanishing with a scream, presumably whisked away by Judy, the Mother of Evil. And this is where the show failed for me last night on an emotional level - but with the benefit of a night's sleep and some difficult reflection, I have to admit that the last hour of Twin Peaks is thematically consistent and supports a dark, difficult vision that I didn't want to recognize on first viewing.
It's pointless to summarize the plot of the final hour, except to say that Dale never gives up trying to save Laura, and that is what dooms him. He finds himself, apparently, in a Texas of a different time, or a parallel world, or perhaps just a different dream state; in any event, gone is the confident, pure-hearted FBI agent we saw return so briefly in episodes 16 and 17. In the final act, Cooper is adrift, he's given a different name, and he's lost much of his joy. He uses excessive force on a trio of goons, holds an innocent at gunpoint, and shows not a flicker of delight when presented with a cup of coffee. He's not evil, but he's not the same man we knew and loved. (How could he be, after all he's experienced?) In this reality, in fact, he seems to be Richard, a callback to the very first moments of this season, in which the Giant and Dale converse in the White Lodge.
Cooper finds Laura, though she doesn't seem to think she really is Laura at all, but a woman named Carrie Page. She agrees to go with him to Twin Peaks anyway, as things seem to be bad for her here; there's a recently-murdered body in her house. Even after Dale has supposedly saved her, it appears Laura can never escape violence and darkness.
Much of the episode is spent on the long drive from Odessa, Texas, to Twin Peaks. There's barely any conversation; at one point, Carrie wonders if they're being followed, but the anonymous headlights of the vehicle behind them merely pass by.
Eventually, Dale and Carrie arrive in Twin Peaks, which is strangely devoid of traffic, though the episode doesn't call attention to this. They park in front of the Palmer home, and Dale, still intent on a quest that should have ended 25 years ago, insists on knocking on the front door and delivering Laura home.
But Sarah Palmer doesn't answer the door. It's a woman we've never seen before: Alice Tremond. Confused, Cooper wonders if they bought the house recently from someone else - the Palmers, he's certainly thinking. But the homeowner says she bought the house from Mrs. Chalfont...who, fans will remember, was the strange woman who lived with her grandson above the evil convenience store of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. Cooper and Carrie walk back across the street. But after a moment of though, Cooper suddenly asks "What year is it?" And then someone - presumably Sarah Palmer - screams "LAURA!" from inside the house. Carrie screams, and I think this is where she realizes who she really is and the awful fate that's in store for her. She's awakened to the horror of her new reality, and her terrorized cries reverberate as the lights of the Palmer house flicker off, plunging all into darkness; roll credits.
Though presented obliquely, like much of Twin Peaks, the plot is really pretty simple after all; Judy, the Mother of Evil, won't let Laura go, perhaps, as revealed earlier, because Laura is the embodiment or avatar of good in the universe, as shown earlier this season. Dale Cooper is, perhaps, her White Lodge-appointed guardian, and has been all along.
Even before this finale, I realized that this third and final season of Twin Peaks was rich with layered commentary on the state of the world as it is today, as it was in some imagined Golden Age, and the nature of artistic creation itself. For example, throughout this season, Lynch and Frost teased their audience with meandering scenes of hyper-reality that seemed to have little purpose. To wit: several minutes spent watching a nameless custodian sweep the floor of the Roadhouse, the finale's endless scenes of night driving, side conversations from several characters about trivia that leads nowhere, the false foreshadowing of a young woman's underarm rash, Big Ed drinking coffee in his garage. These moments stand in stark contrast with the many episodes of horror, violence, hilarity and surreal quirkiness that define the show. I believe Lynch and Frost deliberately create this contrast to make their audiences squirm, to force us to feel the discomfort and loss of control that the characters in the show feel.
In the real world, nothing makes sense; only in constructed drama do stories pan out neatly, with satisfying conclusions and narrative closure. For all its madness, Twin Peaks is, in this way, perhaps the most realistic story ever told on television. We, the audience, feel like we deserve, if not happy endings, then at least some kind of ending we can understand and put in a comfortable box. I'll admit that I was, even if unconsciously, hoping for that, too, last night. I didn't get it, and I was disappointed.
But on reflection, even though I was hoping for better days for Dale Cooper and his friends, I realize that would have been somewhat cheap, and perhaps even monstrous in light of what I think Lynch and Frost are really trying to communicate: evil is forever with us, but we fight it anyway, with love, even if in the end it's hopeless.
Twin Peaks is full of warmth and love, even in the midst of unspeakable horror and tragedy. The show is full of people of genuine goodness, epitomized by Dale Cooper and his fellow agents in the FBI and by Sheriff Truman and his deputies in Twin Peaks. Even the show's villains, from BOB on down, are sympathetic in some way; troubled pasts are inferred, and even BOB himself didn't ask to be born; as revealed in this season's mind-blowing episode 8, human beings, through the atomic bomb, unleashed BOB and his cohorts into the world. BOB and Judy are forces of nature as much as they are villains.
But the suffering they cause is all too real. Laura Palmer's long arc of horrifying inevitability is all the more heartbreaking with the show's final revelation: Laura is doomed, was always doomed, is forever doomed, despite the valiant efforts of all the good people who try to help her.
And yet those good people keep trying, even after she's died.
It's possible that I'm rationalizing the finale somewhat, that I've overthought the ending to compensate or wish away my initial disappointment. I hope that's not true, because the disappointment is still there, but I've shifted the blame to my own perceptions rather than perceived deficiencies in the work. I think it's important to remember, too, that all along I've been utterly delighted by this third remarkable season; I admire its determination not to pander to a nostalgic audience, to create an entirely different sort of television show. Say what you will, but there is nothing else on TV like this, and maybe there never will be again.
When Twin Peaks went off the air back in 1990, I was rueful. In just a few months, that show became as important to me, if not more so, than Star Trek, not just as television entertainment, but as a lens through which to make sense of a troubled world. I never expected it to return, and I regard this season as a tremendous gift. It will haunt me for a long time.
Sunday, June 04, 2017
Episode 5
Saturday, May 20, 2017
A Nice Surprise in Twin Peaks: The Missing Pieces
Friday, May 12, 2017
My Dinner With David
On rails I descend into the shadowy evergreens, leaning forward in the roller coaster car, the wind whipping my hair back. In the distance, a dark mansion awaits, candlelight flickering through its many windows.
The rails take me deep inside the mansion, braking casually at what appears to be a way station. I climb out of the car and step onto Aztec-patterned green tile. To my right, exercise equipment under bright fluorescent lights; to my left, a narrow hallway laden with change room lockers.
I head down the hallway, only to nearly collide with David Lynch, his trademark hair standing straight up as if he's just had a scare.
"Earl," he says. "Can you tell me how to find the bathroom in this place?"
I point to the door to my left: MEN.
"Ah," he nods, pushing the door open, beckoning me to follow.
I examine myself in the mirror while David does his business at the urinal. When he comes to wash his hands, he asks me a question:
"So what do you do, Earl?"
"Uh, well...I'm just a copywriter, I guess. But...I can't even tell you how excited I am to be here. Even if it's just to move props around or whatever."
David shakes his head.
"You are so much more than what you think you are," he says. "We all are."
"Well, I guess I've done some speech writing, too..."
"That's not what I mean."
David leads me to an ornate dining room, a huge space crowded with crates and boxes of props; there are stuffed owls here, but they are not what they seem. We sit at a round oak table, and for some hours, we talk. We discuss the importance of dreams, the beauty of truth and love and how they are our best weapons against the darkness.
After the conversation, I take the roller coaster back to Sylvia. She listens, amused, as I regale her with the details of my visit. She tells me she's happy for me, but that it's time to wake up...and I do, at about 5:20 a.m., with a strangled sob of joy.

















