This Saturday will mark the five-year anniversary of Twin Peaks: The Return airing its final episodes. As many of you know, I consider the series created by David Lynch and Mark Frost to be the greatest television drama of all time, so such an anniversary calls for some celebrating. I've already done a post on its best episodes (not a mere top 10, mind you - I ranked all forty-eight of them), so today's post centers on interpretations and theories on what it all means.
Now, there are few challenges with such a list, chief among them the question of how much art should be interpreted. There's a lot to be said for enjoying the mystery and not trying to find answers to everything - I hate it when people debate "what really happened" in movies with ambiguous endings, for example, because the whole point in ambiguity is that we won't know what happened and it's left beautifully unanswered for a reason. So, this post won't be all "I think the haunted doorknob in season 2 episode 16 is a direct clue about Mike's identity, meaning that Mike and The Giant are really the same person and they're Laura Palmer's real father" -tier theories (yes, I just made that one up as an example).
It's much more general than that - possible explanations for some of the symbolism and mystery in Twin Peaks, that is fun to write about fully well knowing that it may be slightly right or very, very wrong as none of us know (or should know) what was going on deep in Mr. Lynch's brain when he created this world. Many of these are theories that I've read somewhere and gotten ideas from them, whereas some are ideas that came to me personally when watching and analyzing the series, trying to engage in the mysteries and find meaning for the more obscure events while still enjoying the interpretational ambiguity of it all. A few of these are semi-'obvious' interpretations that Twin Peaks fans have largely agreed on (I've included them so that this post could give something to the many who have watched the series without any clue of what might be going on - Hi, Mom!), whereas others are quite out of left field as a means of adding to the discourse.
Oh, and a spoiler alert is in order!
10. The 'Fire Walk With Me' -poem is what happens in The Return
"Through the darkness of future past
The magician longs to see
One chants out between two worlds:
Fire walk with me"
Having first appeared in Cooper's (Kyle MacLachlan) iconic dream in Zen, or the Skill to Catch a Killer (season 1 episode 3), this oft-repeated poem is a major part of Twin Peaks lore and even the namesake of the 1992 prequel movie. As I'm not only a fan of Twin Peaks but also a fan of poetry, I've spent my share of time trying to figure out possible meanings behind these bone-chilling words.
One idea that I'm quite proud of is that the poem, to some degree, foreshadows what would take place 25 years later in Twin Peaks: The Return. In the psychedelic climax of The Return's penultimate episode Part 17: The Past Dictates the Future, Dale Cooper appears to (for the lack of a better term) go back in time, crossing paths with Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) and apparently altering the course of history as her murder never happens. Of course, the imagery and narrative structure are so cryptic that this is just one common interpretation of what happens, as one can't really be sure.
But whatever the case may be, the visual of Cooper taking Laura's hand and walking through the woods with her is quite chilling. And my take is that this course events just might be what the poem had prophesized all along: "Through the darkness of future past" (Coop appearing from the future into a dark moment in the past) / "The magician longs to see" (This one can be seen in any number of ways - maybe the magician is the viewer, longing to see what happens while giving the story direction and meaning with one's own interpretation?) / "One chants out between two worlds" (Cooper reaching out to Laura from a different reality) / "Fire walk with me" (Laura being the 'fire' that fueled the murder investigation and thus the whole story, being asked by Cooper to walk with him to safety).
9. It's a statement about dreams
Having watched all of David Lynch's feature films, as well as the documentary David Lynch: The Art Life (2016) and many of his interviews, I can say one thing for certain: the man is seriously into dreams. He's always talking about finding meanings from one's dreams and the importance of having dreams, and dreamlike imagery as well as dream-related stories have made it into damn near all of his works. Twin Peaks is no exception, as dreaming plays a big part in the series - most famously in Cooper's dream in season 1, where he first sees the Red Room and gains a clue that eventually leads to him cracking the case of Laura Palmer's murder.
From what I've gathered, Mr. Lynch believes that we shouldn't brush our nightly visions off in a mundane fashion ("Haha, I just had the craziest dream last night, you'll never guess what happened! So weird! Anyways, what's for breakfast?"), but rather enjoy them and finding meaning from them. When listening to Lynch discuss the subject, you almost get the vibe that he enjoys dreaming more than being awake, and thus has a philosophy of almost 'living in one's dreams'.
And I believe that this strange worldview is one of the major points made in Twin Peaks. So much important stuff happens in dream sequences - in shows like The Sopranos (1999-2007), dream sequences are used to help characters come to certain realizations from their subconscious, but Twin Peaks goes beyond that as the dream sequences are every bit as narratively important and eventful as the 'real life' sequences, if not more so. The quote "We are like the dreamer, who dreams, and then lives inside the dream", coupled with the fact that Cooper literally solves the Laura Palmer murder thanks to remembering what he found out in a dream, really makes it seem like Lynch wanted to make a point about the importance of dreaming by making a series where dreams are more or less the answer to everything.
8. No one knows what the f**k is going on - except for the Log Lady
This is a bit similar to the Bran Stark theory I had throughout Game of Thrones (2011-2019) - for years and years until the final seasons aired, people complained about Bran's story arch being boring and unnecessary alongside the more epic and important storylines. And I would always argue this - for whatever reason, I always felt that on some level Bran's storyline was more important and epic than any other, albeit in an unconventional fashion, and that he would have a massive part to play in the endgame. I don't really know what fueled this - it just felt like Bran's storyline was different from all the others in a somewhat profound and magical manner. And I feel that exact sense of unconventional magic when watching The Log Lady's (Catherine E. Coulson) scenes in Twin Peaks.
Sure, she's a weirdo who gets messages from her log, but then again - the log is never wrong, now is it? I believe the Log Lady to be the wisest, most on-top-of-things character in the series, and that log of hers is connected to some legit truths about the Twin Peaks universe. Her role in Twin Peaks: The Return highlights her importance in David Lynch's vision, as the terminally ill actress was asked to film her scenes ahead of schedule because the scenes were so important and had to be recorded (thankfully she was up for the job, shooting her scenes despite dying about two years before The Return was released). Episode 1 of The Return is dedicated to Catherine E. Coulson, the actress behind the Log Lady, whereas Episode 15 (the one where the character passes away) is dedicated to Margaret Lanterman - the 'real' name of the fictional Log Lady character. That, if anything, feels larger than life, and extra proof of the character's unique place in Twin Peaks lore.
7. Jowday is David Lynch's own personal Godzilla
This one is quite straight-forward, as I came to this conclusion by myself but I've later noticed how a ton of people on the internet have the same idea. Basically, I reckon that the cryptic and surreal imagery in Gotta Light? (Twin Peaks: The Return, episode 8), the hands-down strangest TV episode ever made, gives somewhat of an origin to Jowday, the mythical figure often seen as the ultimate 'big bad' of the Twin Peaks story. And that origin is strikingly similar to that of Japanese movie monster Godzilla.
You see, the original Godzilla (1954) film was a strong statement against humanity's need for violence and war, and nuclear warfare in particular, with the implication that the monster was born due to radioactive pollution from nuclear tests. And I believe that Lynch was making a similar point when writing and directing the nearly-incomprehensible Gotta Light? episode.
After the episode's fairly conventional first act is over and The Nine Inch Nails have performed in the Roadhouse (more on that later), the escalation begins as we flash back to 1945 and see visually spectacular footage of an atomic bomb going off, for a very long sequence. After this, the episode deteriorates into even more experimental and incomprehensible storytelling, but I want to focus on the A-bomb sequence here. I believe that this seemingly disjointed scene figures into the story like this: humanity's testing and use of atomic bombs reached a new level of evil, and this was the catalyst that awakened the being known as Jowday. All of the evil seen in Twin Peaks, from the creature BOB (Frank Silva) possessing Leland Palmer (Ray Wise) and murdering Laura Palmer, to the overall happenings in the Black Lodge and the Red Room, stem from Jowday, who in turn stems from that moment.
Or, David Lynch just wanted to add a cool atomic bomb sequence into his arthouse fever dream episode. Really, all of this is just grasping at straws.
6. The Roadhouse is a meeting point between all realities (including ours)
The Roadhouse plays an absolutely fascinating part in Twin Peaks: The Return - essentially, Lynch wrote and directed The Return as an 18-hour movie, and then just split it into hour-long segments that always end with a musical performance in the Roadhouse. While this may seem like a mere strategy to give thematic endings to otherwise disjointed episodes, many have speculated that there are deeper meanings to these scenes. I believe that this has to do with Lynch's obsession with different worlds, gateways between worlds, and worlds-within-worlds that always find a way into his works. The Roadhouse is where the worlds meet - not just a convergence of the Black Lodge / White Lodge realities and the "real world" of the Twin Peaks story, but the real-real world as well.
After all, for all the experimentation in Twin Peaks, the series isn't particularly meta or fourth-wall-breaking - except for a few select instances in the Roadhouse. For example, after twelve episodes of somewhat famous real-life artists performing at the Roadhouse at each episode's end, episode 13's performer is the character James Hurley, performing his cheesy 'Just you and I' song from season 2, which is a blatant nod to the song's real-life reputation as a piece of the Twin Peaks soundtrack. And, in episode 16, the presenter who always presents the artists by name, simply says: "Ladies and gentlemen, Audrey's dance!" - which is the name of a famous track from Angelo Badalamenti's Twin Peaks soundtrack. Then, a band starts to play Audrey's dance as the character herself is swept into a strange trance, in a moment that completely feels like our reality crashing into the fictional world of Twin Peaks.
Also, I believe that it is a nod to the Roadhouse's otherworldly nature that while the performers are acts we know from real life, they're always just slightly different in the fictional world of Twin Peaks. There's no way in hell that it's a coincidence when Nine Inch Nails are introduced as "The Nine Inch Nails", despite the band's name not having a "The" - the way it is said just feels intentional, especially considering that the Nine Inch Nails performance is the one instance where the episode doesn't end with the Roadhouse scene, but rather continues after it to escalate into all sorts of otherworldly sequences. Similarly, Eddie Vedder is introduced by his little-known real name, Edward Louis Severson III. There's just something odd about the way the Roadhouse scenes are built, and I always got a sense that those are the scenes where all the different realities, including ours, are connected.
5. It's a metaphor for violence on TV
This one doesn't come from me - I've gotten wind of this interpretation from YouTuber Twin Perfect and his video Twin Peaks ACTUALLY EXPLAINED (No, really). The video is, naturally, four and a half hours long, and I've watched the whole thing because of course I have. The metaphor-for-violence theory isn't the entire thesis of the video, but it is a massive part of it, and while I don't fully subscribe to everything that the video states (Twin Perfect really ties everything, all of the characters and locations and events et cetera, to be a part of this one big metaphor), I do believe that he is onto something, and it has affected the way I view Twin Peaks (again, as one possible interpretation, because none of us are ever going to really know everything Lynch was getting at).
To boil it down to basics, the theory stems from Lynch's outspoken outrage at how violence is treated in fiction. Nothing wrong with violence in movies and TV, but it's the way it's often handled that grinds the gears of my favorite filmmaker: he has often stated that he hates how violence is often handled as a light and entertaining topic. In many crime shows and detective movies, it's a bunch of fun and intrigue when a murder happens, and a badass action scene when a hero shoots the bad guy's henchmen dead. Lynch's take is that you shouldn't use violence in TV and movies unless you really deal with what a big deal it is, showing the psychological toll that killing someone has on a human, for example.
And that might just be the point, or one of the points, behind Twin Peaks. Think about it - a girl is murdered, and the whole town loses its shit. We see people in shock, people crying, people feeling physically ill, and all sorts of trauma stemming from this murder, as it dominates the psyche of everyone who knew Laura Palmer for a long time. And throughout the series, as more violence occurs every now and then, the psychological toll is always there. It's funny how many people who enjoy light murder mysteries et cetera don't like Twin Peaks for how violent and dark and twisted it is, but I believe Lynch has a point - in a way, a light murder mystery where someone dies and it's a whole bunch of fun to gleefully solve this murder is more fucked up than this series, where an honest look is taken at how messy and complex the aftermath of a murder truly is. Violence should be a serious and dark thematic device, not a tool of mindless entertainment.
4. The ending is - and bear with me here - happy? (But in a fucked-up way)
I don't remember where I first read about this interpretation, but I've stumbled onto it a few times and it always fascinates me. While the ending of Twin Peaks: The Return is so incredibly next-level cryptic to the maximum that its meaning feels near-impossible to decipher, one thing that seems pretty clear on the surface is that it should induce more panic and terror than joy and closure. After all, Dale Cooper arriving at the Palmer house only to discover that totally different people live there, as he asks "What year is this?" in a mind-boggling manner and Laura Palmer (or the person who looks exactly like Laura Palmer, it's all very unclear) starts to scream, just feels quite bleak.
But there are people who insist that it's actually, at least by Twin Peaks standards, a 'happy ending' - and they may be onto something. Basically, the take is that while the event of Laura Palmer's murder was reversed in the previous episode, something else went very wrong in the timeline, as Jowday will always find a way to spread darkness from the Black Lodge. And this is why it's very good that Dale Cooper left the reality/timeline/setting he had been in earlier, and arrived in whatever the hell the setting of the final scene was. By asking "What year is this", our favorite Special Agent is immediately starting to crack the next case, solve the next mystery. The thesis is that forces from the Black Lodge will always be trying to stir up their evil, but no matter what time and what reality, Dale Cooper will always be there to keep them at bay, which is a comforting thought.
3. It holds a mirror to what we want from television
David Lynch has always been one for exploring genres. Just look at his films - Wild at Heart isn't a mere comedy, but a philosophical film that asks the question "with infinite creativity, what all can the comedy genre be?". The same goes for Lost Highway and mystery, The Straight Story and character-driven drama et cetera. The original two seasons of Twin Peaks feel like a deconstruction of the soap opera genre, with Lynch actively pondering what the genre and its conventions really mean while writing a series that fits into the genre while also checking several other boxes. But another way to look at it is that Twin Peaks is an elaborate parody, an experiment meant to showcase how ridiculous and over-the-top the soap opera genre is, as means of getting TV viewers to reflect on the entertainment they choose to consume.
This would explain why the soap-opera elements are so incredibly over-the-top, even when they don't often seem to fit with the whole "murder mystery" / "supernatural worlds-within-worlds symbolism" vibe. The same theme of making viewers question what they want continues throughout Twin Peaks: with the prequel film Fire Walk With Me, Lynch plays around with the very concept of prequels, as fans were expecting backstories and answers and were instead treated to more mystery and little connections. And, with The Return being released in the height of Hollywood's nostalgic-reboot craze, Lynch really plays around with the concept of reboots and nostalgia, constantly subverting the expectations of viewers who might've expected a conventional return for their favorite characters and the Twin Peaks world they know and love.
If this is what Lynch intended with Twin Peaks, it certainly worked on viewers like myself: watching the series really made me ponder what makes soap operas so popular and specific as a genre, and what I should expect from prequels and/or reboots as an invested viewer.
2. The series never was about "who killed Laura Palmer"
This one is quite well-circulated and fairly agreed-upon, but that just means that it's a good take - and one that blew my mind back when was first watching the series and realized this viewpoint. Basically, the series that broke into massive cult fame with its "Who killed Laura Palmer?" mystery, was never about just that. The people who complain that the series got sidetracked after moving away from 'whodunit' territory into new things have just missed the point of what story David Lynch and Mark Frost meant to tell all along.
The way I see it, the Laura Palmer case is a 'gateway mystery' into larger things. We spend a large chunk of the first season and the first half of season 2 following this mystery, with viewers like me worrying that whodunit-stories often end up feeling a bit anticlimactic when the final episode reveals the killer to be just one of the suspected characters. However, Twin Peaks pulls perhaps its greatest curveball in episode 7 of season 2, where the killer is revealed in unconventional fashion halfway through the season. And it's not a climactic, loose-end-tying reveal, but rather a twist that technically answers one mystery but opens up several new ones.
So, the killer was Leland Palmer - or rather, the being BOB inhabiting the body of Leland Palmer - or rather, the higher-up being Jowday pulling the strings to send BOB to inhabit the body of Leland Palmer who then kills Laura Palmer. Or something like that - like pretty much everything in Twin Peaks, the details can be seen in any number of ways. Point is, the individual mystery that people thought the series to be about is solved halfway through the story, in a way that introduces us to the larger true mysteries of Twin Peaks: who is BOB? What is Jowday? What's up with the Black Lodge? Why do these dark and mysterious forces do what they do, and how do we keep them at bay? What is the role of dreams in all of this? And why is there a polar bear on the island?
Wait, that last one is from Lost. My bad. Point being - the show's main mystery never was "Who killed Laura Palmer?", that's just our gateway into bigger things.
1. The light within the dark
On some level, every analytical Twin Peaks fan seems to see this as one of the show's main themes and meanings - it's the specifics where things get muddled. On some level, it's hard to deny that the story, lore, imagery and symbolism in Twin Peaks has something to do with duality (black and white, good and evil, right and wrong etc.), balance between extremes, and specifically the light found within the dark. This makes too much sense to be a coincidence: just look at the mythos involving the Black Lodge and White Lodge, the role of Laura Palmer's goodness opposed to the evil of the beings behind her demise, the upstanding way in which Dale Cooper and company arrive to counter those dark forces, the evil within the woods of Twin Peaks and the heroic Bookhouse Boys who keep an eye on it, the way Angelo Badalamenti's soundtrack features glimpses of ultimate hope and beauty amidst overall bleak and dark musical motifs, the use of lighting and shadows in the cinematography, the atmosphere of the cozy and homelike Double R Diner in the midst of the corruption-ridden double-dealing town, and so much more.
Twin Peaks really goes into both extremes, as the series features some of the most upsetting and disturbing imagery I've seen on television, but also many of the greatest payoffs and most heartwarming moments I've seen in any medium. By exploring themes of light within the dark, Lynch and Frost manage to create a series that truly feels like just that - the moments of hope and optimism feel so much more real and earned when contrasted to the dark and gruesome events in the series. They created such an intricate web of violence, lies, cruelty and greed with story elements like the Packard Sawmill saga, Leo Johnson's (Eric DaRe) abusive behavior, the beings from the Black Lodge et cetera, that the presence of established positive thematic devices such as coffee, cherry pie, Douglas fir trees, dreams, Eastern philosophy etc. feels like an ultimate comforting blanket, a warm safe space within the unsafe fictional world.
There's a lot to be unpacked, many layers to peel, when analyzing Twin Peaks. I've put a lot of thought into how I personally see the series, and what meanings I have found from it all, and the beautiful idea of light within dark has been the most substantial and powerful takeaway I've gotten from it. For me, that is the one individual theme that Twin Peaks is all about more than anything else. Even in the darkest places, light can be found, and this is a profound sentiment when trying to stay optimistic in the era of climate change, Covid, the war in Ukraine and what have you. Thank you, David Lynch.
Thank you for reading! Tune in next week for my ranking of Jordan Peele's films, including his newest release Nope (2022).
Thank you! One of the greatest show!
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