Twin Peaks TV Show - Diane Keaton wuz here - Twin Peaks Photos & Videos, Twin Peaks Reviews & Twin Peaks Recaps | TWoP

Recapped by Djb · Aired 02-08-1991

With little going on in the early 90s besides a few small roles in little-known indie films like Father of the Bride and The Godfather: Part III, Diane Keaton pretty much had all the free time in the world, it seems. Fresh off a string of directorial triumphs that included an episode of China Beach and the 1996 Kubrick-produced, Oscar-winning feat known the world over as Belinda Carlisle: Runaway Videos (check the IMDb…I swear I'm not making this up), she helmed this late episode of Twin Peaks, a show in such a dire spiral that it was hard as hell to point fingers at one person alone for an entire episode collapsing under its own artsy pretension, compromised artistic notions, and disappointed expectations. In other words, the perfect training for her once-and-future stint with the Ephrons.

A wildly overwrought as-I-walk-through-the-shadow-of-the-valley-of-Milton-Bradley opening montage lands us smack in the middle of a giant chessboard, where we weave rather ominously past life-size pieces like we're in the front car of Disney's new thrill ride roller coaster, the Geekland Adventure. Whee! After this can we go on X-treme Checkbook Balancing and then run straight to catch the end of the Bargain Shopping For Aluminum Siding Parade? Please? Please can we?

Cut to a slow pan up from the floor, past patterned black stockings, a hand with red painted nails and a wedding ring, and up to the veiled-in-black face of Evelyn "Crimes Of The Heart" Marsh, looking generally distraught. I feel you, Ms. Marsh. Over at the front door, a policeman grills Brother Malcolm on the "kid," who Malcolm only remembers is named "Jim." Evelyn eventually calls over from her perch on the bottom of a mysteriously-appearing staircase, informing Brother Malcolm and the policeman that the drifter was named "James Hurley," and that he told her he was from "Twin Peaks." Brother Malcolm continues that "he was probably long gone by the time Mr. Marsh pulled out of the driveway," grabbing, as he did, onto a drifting chunk of plywood (which, for some reason, has a name of its own…"Donna Hayward") and swimming down the birth canal as fast as his just-sprouted opposable thumbs would take him. To freedom. Freeeedom! Anyway. The policeman has a wacky hijinks of a time spelling "Jaguar" because we don't get enough in the way of blundering law-enforcers back in town (which, from the show that made us all want to slap up a yellow "Have you hugged your FBI agent today?" sign on our car's window pane, isn't really that big of a surprise), and then turns the questions to how Evelyn met this James Hurley in the first place. She recaps their first meeting, and Officer Dunderhead Number Sixty Billion promises to check it out. Office Dunderhead leaves. Brother Malcolm makes with the threats, warning Evelyn, "I'm not sure I can tolerate a nervous co-conspirator." She turns to face him and sighs, "I just want it over with, all right?" The ABC programming department, hardly able to track down so much as a leaf of Major Dad stationery beneath the crates of unsold second-season merchandise of the "Shape Of My Eckhardt: A Sixteen Month David Warner Calendar" or Cooking With The Guy Who Played The Mayor's Brother That One Time variety, all yell out "Word, Evelyn" in an eerie unison and order ten extra episodes of American's Wackiest Toaster Explosions to fill in an upcoming hole in the schedule. We want it over with too, Evelyn. We all do.

Many's the dramatic strings that ship us over to Wallie's (oh, how Diane lobbied and lobbied to change the name to "The First Wives Club" for just one episode, but alas…) where a tableau of six uniformed men hold cigars and gaze off in one direction at nothing in particular, the reason for which I am still today attempting to discern. Oh, Diane. You sure did invent art. Yes, you did. Some kind of lilting soprano aria blasts from the soundtrack. What this song really needs is some kind of a "runaway video" treatment of some kind. Anyone around here had any solid experience working in that delicate art of the so-called "runaway video" want to throw some tips in our…oh, hello, Director Keaton. They say in heaven love comes first. But you learned all about that back in your runaway video days, now didn't you? Into the frame skulks James "Baby Boom" Hurley followed by Donna "The Little Drummer Girl" Hayward, Donna quietly asserting, "James, we can't get out of this by ourselves. We're gonna need someone to help us." James recaps for the casual observer with no feet and a recently broken remote, "I didn't do anything. Malcolm killed Mr. Marsh. I'm being framed!" A bartender slides into the frame and asks Donna if she would like anything to drink (though she can't because right now she's with child and blah blee blarg oh ha ha ha, really), and she shoots back one of her patented as-a-test-case-study-for-the-young-Doctor-Atkins-I-really-ought-not-to-eat-or-drink-anything-at-all-unless-of-course-it's-bacon glare (y'know, that glare) and chokes out a polite enough "no, thanks" that sends the bartender packing. Donna pulls James over to the bar and suggests calling Ed, but James initially refuses. So she suggests it again, telling him, "We've gotta keep moving." James wants to take his chances talking to Evelyn, trying to convince Donna, "She'd listen to me, though. I know she would." Donna senses the extreme sexual tension that existed between James and Evelyn (and, in sensing it, is the very first) and plays the jealous once-girlfriend in asking, "Why?" Pause. Pause. Pause. Answer, James! I guess the words "she loved me for my good, sexy lovin'" shouldn't come easily to someone so young, but come on; I just sang an entire verse and chorus of "Mad About You" and even storyboarded some quick ideas for a runaway video during that endless break in the action.

Donna makes for the phone, and before she would be expected to take two steps away from Slater Fetus, she enacts her side of the fake conversation on the fake phone: "Hi, Ed? Hi, it's Donna. Listen, I don't have a lot of time, but I think James is in trouble." She starts in about the woman and the car and the house and the accident, but is soon forced to employ her every last skill in the field known as "ACTING" when a local law-enforcer type walks right up to Donna and tips his cap. Donna pretends that she is having a casual conversation with an "Annette," and even the purely fictional Annette, to whom Donna is gabbing on an unplugged phone, hangs up in a grand hurry for fear she'll be associated with this criminally dead-end subplot for the reset of her fictional existence. Said policeman then makes his way to the far end of the bar and mutters, "Excuse me," and the six uniformed Maytag Men at the bar turn in unison and respond, "Hi, Frank." Art? Art.

The soapy noir spin-off potential of The Marshlands finally gives way to a show called Twin Peaks, as we turn up at the sheriff's station. In the interrogation room, Cooper and Truman stand imposingly above Bobby "My Unstrung Hero" and Shelly "The First Wives Club" Johnson, barking questions about why exactly Bobby would have been at Shelley's house after Leo came to. Bobby reverts to the very same bratty teenager characterization he has adopted each of the three or so dozen times he's been brought in for questioning, until Truman presses him for answers and Bobby finally spills it all: "Look, here's the deal. Shelley and I are together, okay? We have been for a long time. Since before Laura died…" I'm sure he said more, but I'm a little too busy holding my hands over my ears and bellowing songs of the "Mary Had A Little Lamb" variety at a high-decibel volume during Bobby's proclamation of love for another. Cooper too seems disturbed by this turn of events, and he stares at a conveniently-appearing chess board and volleys, "Bobby, where were you the night the mill burned?" The…mill? That was this show? Cooper posits, "Leo tried to kill you. Maybe you shot him." But Bobby IDs Hank as Leo's original shooter in keeping with his lover-not-a-fighter routine, though he doesn't know what the connection between Hank and Leo could be. How ambiguous. Duh. Truman turns the questions to Shelley, asking her if she has any idea where Leo could be. She has no idea. Truman tries to put her mind at ease in telling her, "I'll assign a couple of my deputies twenty-four hours a day. " Bobby tells Truman to "skip the deputies" because he knows as well as anyone that the rapidly expanding and contracting size of the Twin Peaks police force stipulates that "twenty-four hour surveillance" involves a two-hundred watt bulb for the porch light and a complimentary copy of outtakes from Cops. Because really…three people work at that station.

Doing his tired rebel swagger thing out the door of the interrogation room, Bobby walks by Albert "The Only Thrill" Rosenfield, who immediately reclaims the show and the planet as his own, calling after a departing Bobby, "Get a life, punk!" Heh. Albert shares a huge hug with Truman, which would be vaguely gay if not for the vigorous, manly slapping of the other's back. Actually, it's vaguely gay anyway. After the intros, Albert announces that he was given his "invite back to Twin Peaks," and pulls a document out of his silver briefcase that should be the Nielsen figures showing Twin Peaks has now fallen behind several late-night shows on the UPN, a netlet suffering from the obvious programming detriment of not being in existence yet, but still killing in this timeslot nonetheless. But, according to Albert, that's not why he's back. The document turns out to be a glossy eight and-a-half by eleven of Windom Earle, wearing a fedora and sporting a Hitler-esque moustache. No wonder they've been unable to track down the man's whereabouts, using as they are this outdated photo of Windom Earle snapped at the "You Can Be A Rat Pack Member" costume photo booth inside the Excalibur. Albert tells Cooper and Truman that he's back as per Gordon Cole's request, "as he so succinctly put it, 'I'M WORRIED ABOUT COOP!'" Albert is so proud of his imitation he almost bows. Giggles everywhere. Even here. That was so Miguel's idea, overruling the director's suggestion that instead of imitating Cole, Albert should speak the words backwards and in German, all the while wearing a clown suit and crabwalking around the room through a giant pool of grape Jell-O. Because she's real arty like that. Albert unfolds a map of the U.S. on the table, pointing at a black half-circle drawn in marker straight through the middle of the country. Is that supposed to be a "C" for Cooper? That man really holds a grudge, y'all. Anyway, Albert fills us in that "Earle's been sending gift wrapped packages to police departments in major law enforcement agencies. Each looks like mail bomb but they turn out to be harmless. The deliveries were paid for by a phony credit card signed Windom Earle." Each box contains one article of clothing, all once belonging to Caroline. Officer Doom's little slideshow continues with a photo of the dead vagrant, and Truman notices that his finger is pointing directly at a chess piece. He asks how that can be, considering the rigor mortis and all. Albert? The man knows everything: "Rigor mortis goes from head to toe, but after two days it leaves the body from toe to head." The man is a fount of knowledge. Director Diane sighs with regret that no one thought to wait a few more days and give that a try with Sofia Coppola. Nah. That never would have helped. "Daddy?"

Some really unnecessarily lush strings kick up abruptly (I'm sorry, is this Brahms: Runaway Videos or am I missing something?) as Cooper has a private moment by the window. Albert walks up behind him, putting a hand on Cooper's shoulder (is there one overarching stage direction for "vaguely gay," or did they have to stipulate a specific set of actions each time?) and tells him, "He's making his move, most definitely." So are you, friend. Or so it seems. Or so it vaguely seems. Albert then changes the subject to the topic of clothes (natch), deadpanning out of nowhere, "About the uniform…Replacing the quiet elegance of the dark suit and tie with the casual indifference of these muted earth tones, it's a form of fashion suicide. But call me crazy. On you it works." He tugs at Cooper's collar. Wow. I take back everything I said earlier. Well, the "vaguely" part, anyway.

Back outside in the middle of nowhere, a pan across a cluttered wood cabin lands us on the face of Windom "Look Who's Talking Now" Earle, playing some kind of long, Pied Piper-esque flute not even in vague time with the like-sounding instrument on Badalamenti's soundtrack. It feels very much like a clip from a movie I saw once on Mystery Science Theater 3000, where a big band is playing and a saxophone is wailing, but the saxophone player in the band is sitting in a chair snapping while the sax sits in his lap. It looked exactly the same as this does now. But with more robots. Oh, but there's Eric DaRe. I guess I stand corrected. Windom, looking far more the sex-offender type of psycho evil guy than the special-agent-hunting type of psycho evil guy, wears a flesh-colored unitard kind of footsy pajama ensemble, looking like he's one artist's rendering of the small intestines away from resembling Slim Goodbody's unkempt, hard-drinking brother, uh, Rupert. He stands up with his Soundtrack Defying Flute, dancing around the log cabin. Why, for the love of Kay Corleone, won't someone please make him stop doing that? Seriously, why am I standing on the observation deck at Ass National Park right now? Put. Those. Away.

Windom notes Leo, lying in the back of the room on a slab of wood, and he sits down near him. "Ah, you're awake, then!" So jaunty. "I trust you've slept well! While you slept, I learned all about you!" From inside the shirt (well, the top half of the unitard, anyway…it's all just one long shirt after all. One long, form-fitting shirt, now with a special Ass Accentuation Pouch in the back, for better ass clarity. Shudder), Windom The Crazy Grampa pulls out a mug shot with Leo's face and commences in reading the back: "Drug trafficking! Arson! Oooooh, attempted murder! Domestic violence! Now I am partial to that!" Leo makes for an awkward escape, but as soon as he stands up, Windom slams him in the back of the knees with the aforementioned synch-free flute, and Leo hits the floor. Windom puts the multitasking flute to Leo's throat and makes with the threats: "Well, Leo! I've cleansed your wounds! You're on the mend! I've removed the proverbial thorn from your paw! Ha ha ha! Leo! Leo the Lion! Rooooar!" Jeez. If he wanted to be any more of a cliché villain, he could have at least gone and tied Leo to some nearby train tracks and stood off to the side rubbing his palms together while a black-and-white locomotive chug-a-chugged down on his prey. Windom ties a necklace around a struggling Leo's neck. He stands up then, gleefully informing Leo, "Now come over here! I've made you some gruel!" Of course he did. Windom ought to go ahead and have some too, for it might satiate his need to continue recklessly chewing down the small plot of scenery the ABC set people have handed over for this one last corner of soundstage that hasn't been permanently co-opted by those opportunistic boys from Coach. Windom hits a button and Leo's necklace, and what is apparently a shock collar goes into overdrive. Leo screams. Windom feeds him gruel. Awwww.

Cut to an inordinate close-up on the face of Ed "Father Of The Bride" Hurley, staring directly into the camera and murmuring, "It's been twenty years, babe." Since the last time there was an actual advancement in your character's existence, Ed? And don't you ever be calling me "babe" again unless I see a ring first, buddy. He turns his head slightly (I guess he wasn't speaking directly to me, after all. [Blush!]) and faces Norma "Looking For Mister Goodbar" Jennings, with whom he is lying in bed. She stares back, and makes with the pathos in her own right, she does: "I tried not to think about it. I just spent more and more time at the diner, trying to make the place work, because I had nothing else." She blah-blahs that she threw herself into her work so she didn't have to have another life, and we pan back to Ed, adding that he turned "all of [his] Christmases into a week full of Mondays," which is either a tremendously mixed metaphor, a line from "I Just Called To Say I Love You," or the last page Ed ripped off of his "Garfield Comic Of The Day" desk calendar that sits in his office over at the Gas Farm. He hates Mondays, too. Because it certainly wasn't a viable line of dialogue, if there is one thing it most definitively was not. That Garfield. So fat. Norma tosses her tackle into Ed's deep thought, and she's able to fish out some kind of meaning, anecdoting the day away, "I bought you a present last Christmas." A bolo tie. Of course. If she was so hell bent to buy him something he already had too many of, why didn't she just go ahead and buy him a gas station? Or a wife? Oh, more: "I walked over to your house to give it to you, but I couldn't go in. I just waited." She apologizes that she didn't, and Ed frets about the time they've lost. They turn to face each other (they're naked under there and it's not okay), and some smoochery begins. And for once, I'm happy for the impending arrival of Nadine "The Other Sister" Hurley, who busts through the front door with a yell of "Eddie!" Nadine starts to make her way out of the bed in a real hurry, but Ed tells her that he might as well talk to her now. They sit up in bed, and Ed moves permanently ahead of Josh Saviano and also the entire cast of Wings as early 90s B-list television personas I have no resounding need to see shirtless. Like, ever, ever again.

Nadine walks into the room, accidentally ripping the door right off the hinges in the process (because we get it, is why). She crosses the room without a word, and climbs into bed on Ed's other side. Okay, that was pretty funny. She hands Ed a trophy and frets about being disqualified from a cheeleading competition this afternoon, and as Ed tries to sympathize he mindlessly hands the trophy off to Norma. Not bad, not bad. Norma mutters a hello, and Nadine responds that she owes her an apology, because, "I really pounded Hank, and I am sorry. But I thought he was gonna do something to Eddie, and I sorta got mad." She then climbs out of the bed and makes for the non-door, stopping just before she makes her exit. She turns back to the bed as The Louise Dombrowski Blues kicks up anew, and Nadine admits, "I know about you guys. And it's really, really okay. Because I don't have to feel so guilty about me and Mike." She leaves. Ed and Norma exchange a glance. Can I add Frank Fontana from Murphy Brown to my non-shirtless early 90s list? Thanks.

A brief shot of The Trees That Do Moodily Blow takes us inside the Packard house, where Josie "China Beach" Packard (yeesh…sorry about that one, but you see how hard it is to maintain this particular nickname theme, no?) sits at the kitchen table with Cooper and Truman. Truman tells her that "the Seattle police want answers, and I have to tell them something. They know you were connected with Jonathan." Josie asks how he was killed, and we pan over to the AP story screaming "Asian man killed!!!" as the headline from last week's episode. Cooper fills in that blank: "He was shot three times in the back of the head." Josie takes Truman's hand under the table, as Cooper stands to get more coffee. He finds the percolator that recalls the glory days of a fish within it, and takes a deep breath because Diane Keaton is a very, very clever woman. The swinging door swings, and in comes a gigantic pile of dry cleaning as carried quite awkwardly by Pete. The kitchen door swings open and closed not short of fifteen times while Pete and Cooper stand behind it, Pete filling Cooper in that he was helping Josie out because "Katherine has been running her into the ground." The phone rings, and some wacky dry cleaning hijinks ensue as Pete hands the parcels off to Cooper. Ring. Hello? It's for Josie. Cooper, meanwhile, conveniently uses this moment to extract a fiber from a black article of clothing. Josie picks up the phone to hear Eckhardt's evil-as-British voice on the other end, and he tells her, "I was wondering if we could get together." Pause. "Did you hear what happened to Jonathan? Dreadful. Dreadful." Word. The scourge of the killed Asian man. Or should I say "KILLED ASIAN MAN!!!" The three exclamation points were what really killed me. Cut to the kitchen, where Katherine, eavesdropping, utters a sinister, "Welcome to Twin Peaks, Mr. Eckhardt." The convo ends, and we cut to Eckhardt ripping off his incredibly Price Club sunglasses and reporting to a bizarrely mannish woman standing nearby, "She's run back to Katherine Martell. I'm so disappointed." She-man barks something in, I think, Russian, or perhaps some kind of Scandinavian strain befitting her insanely Nordic build.

And over to Ben Horne's office, Johnny Horne (!) looks perfectly contextualized in his native headdress gear while rocking back and forth in front of Ben and Doctor Jacoby. Jerry "The Other Brother" Horne stands off to the side looking quizzical, while Audrey "The Girl With The Crazy Brother" Horne (it was one of Director Diane's TV movies…whatever, look it up) stands besides him. Oh. And there are also five teenagers wearing numerous shades of marching-band-maroon and holding snare drums. Whatever. I just recap it and the checks roll in, people. Ben prattles on about the spoils of war blah Honest Abe blech, and Jacoby makes his way over to Audrey and Jerry, telling them he can't really sense any progress. Jerry walks Audrey out into the hallway and tells her, "Now, there are certain advantages to leaving him insane." He continues on that there are certain "projects" of Ben's that Jerry would like to continue in his brother's mental absence, but Audrey wrecks her uncle's opportunist ploy with the simple statement, "I've examined his will, Jerry. If my father becomes incapacitated, it all goes to me when I'm old enough. And I am old enough, Jer, and he is incapacitated. I get my way either way." Jerry suddenly decides that "what's happened to the man is a tragedy," and if they're trying to make literal some specious brother-against-brother metaphor, well, then they've taken things a step too far. Shut up, Diane Keaton. Wow. There's something I thought I'd never have to say. Except during Marvin's Room, of course. Cue five billionth chorus of "Dixieland." Did I lose a bet?

And back at The First Wives Club, Evelyn Marsh drinks alone. Donna approaches her from behind and introduces herself. Evelyn, still in her "funereal stripper" ensemble (she jumps out of a cake shaped like a coffin, 'haps?) from earlier, turns to face Donna and announces, "I remember you. Get the lady a drink. One with a little umbrella in it." Ooooh, cocktail appropriateness burn. Whatever. Donna tells Evelyn to leave James alone, and that he is "a good person." Evelyn lobs a high soft one in formulating her response with agonizing slowness, "James was good at two things," and I know instinctively I would have been able to conjure some fabulously Rocky Twin Peaks Picture Show audience-supplied retort if every hackneyed "fetus" reference hadn't already been blown. Sorry. Anyway, he was good at "the car and me." Ew. Donna yells, "I'm talking about our lives!" Evelyn responds that life won't get better if they can get out of one silly little jam, and Donna reaches right into the future and channels my recapping ass, insisting, "You really like to make everything sound pointless and stupid, don't you?" Wow. No comment but the one that's already out there. Brother Malcolm walks up just then, letting Evelyn know that the car is out front, and he pushes her out the door and pins Donna to a barstool, leaning in real tight and whispering, "Sorry about your friend, honey. There's nothing you can do. So why don't you trundle off to your little town, safe in the knowledge that if I ever see you here again, I'll kill you?" Er, trundle? He walks off too, and Donna shrieks after him, "Don't do this to him! Please! Please!" Oh, pipe down, Diet Riot. Just turn around, back quietly off the set, and we'll try and forget this ever happened. Oh, how we shall try.

I think it's fair to say that the moody trees aren't the only thing about this episode that blow, and that non-auteurist stamp whisks us back to the police station, where Albert indulges us in a what-I-did-on-my-forensics-vacation slide show, showing Cooper the threads he stole off of Josie's coat and filling Cooper in, "Either Josie Packard pulled the trigger or she's loaning her winter wear to the wrong kind of people. It's a perfect match." Albert also proposes that the three bullets currently lodged in the back of Jonathan's head will match the one taken out of Cooper's abdomen, because the world was starting to run out of reasons to hate Joan Chen and Richard Gere then was not yet too fossilized to date a woman the age Winona Ryder is now. Cooper hopes that Josie is not the "beautiful Asian woman" being described in connection with Jonathan's murder (though their minds would probably all be a lot more at ease if they sprung for further analysis and realized that Josie lacks at least two of those three characteristics), opening the floodgates for more rat-tat-tat Guy Friday Albertspeak. Here's some now: "Coop, as you know, Truman and I have had our differences in the past. But the big lug's got his heart in the right place, if nothing else. And I'm not above feeling a little sympathy for the stalwart and the dull." The point? "Our Sheriff's got a serious problem with his girlfriend." Uh-oh. Did they just find out she isn't really Asian, either?

By Djb

Packard house. Josie answers the door in her subservient French maid outfit, replete with un belle chapeau, oh la la, and discovers Mr. Eckhardt standing before her. Katherine appears behind her. Eckhardt expresses surprise at the invitation to Katherine's home, and as Josie attends to them, they prattle on about "art" and "money." Katherine asks why he killed her brother, and Eckhardt claims that he could find a reason to "kill for love." Katherine grabs Josie's hand and shows Eckhardt her manicured hands. Why? This I do not know. He kisses said hand and she flinches and walks away. While Josie listens from the kitchen, Katherine asks what Eckhardt would like in return for her giving him Josie. Katherine yells into the kitchen, "Josie, Thomas and I will have our main course now." Josie turns toward the camera, holding a tray with the head of a pig with an apple in its mouth. Ooooh, the stark imagery. From the same creative mind that put Juliette Lewis in a film as a carefree, learning-disabled teenager with a heart of gold. From the same creative mind that put Juliette Lewis in a film at all.

Evelyn Marsh (I know. I can't believe it either) sits in one of her many wooden rooms, blowing smoke rings and stubbing out her cigarette, until James crashes in through a sliding door and demands, "Why'd you do it?" He advances on her as she tries to tell him that he has to leave for his own safety, but he backs her to the couch and pushes heonto it. She admits to doing it all. Why? "For the money, out of fear, because I wanted to do it. Not exactly what you wanted to hear, is it, James?" And then they kiss again because they're bad, so bad, but Malcolm shows up behind James with some kind of blunt Clue weapon, spilling James onto the floor and pinning Evelyn against the couch. "He broke into the house. He was angry, he was crazy. He killed Jeffrey. And he came back to kill you." He continues on that she was ready for him, and that they'll tell the police, "You shot James. You shot him in the head." That would so be the least sacrifice available to right the many, many wrongs of this entire woeful subplot. But I'm not saying it wouldn't make for an excellent start.

The Patriotic Pan Flute Of The Belabored Confederacy rambles on as usual inside of Ben's elaborately-decorated office, where Doctor Jacoby's plan to reclaim Ben Horne unfolds. Ben, Jerry, Audrey, Bobby, and Jacoby act out The Civil War According to Strom Thurmond: A Fourth-Grade Play, in which the bad doctor comes to surrender the North to Ben and allow for secession to occur. Bobby, relegated to Trumpet Guy, has much time to sit in a clearing in the corner, musing, "I thought the North won the Civil War." Heh. Ben and Jacoby shake hands and the war is over. Ben looks around all dazed and collapses on the floor in the middle of the office, the rest of the assemblage running over to see what's wrong. He opens his eyes and sees the rest of the crowd standing above him, and he reports, "I had the strangest dream. And you were there. And you. And you." Get it? He goes on to report that "there was a war. And I was General Robert E. Lee. And somehow, in spite of incredible odds, I won." He kisses Audrey's hand and tells them he feels great, before noticing the outfits and asking, "What're you doing in those clothes?" Everyone cracks up, so scarily optimistic that they'll be able to move on from this wasteland to a somewhat more engaging subplot someday soon. Do not weep for the cast of Twin Peaks. For they are already dead.

Windom Earle stares into a cracked (natch) mirror, pasting on a fake moustache and mutton chops because he's, I think, going to some kind of Monkees-oriented costume party, and his favorite one is Davy Jones. How much more psychotic he'll feel inclined to become when everyone there thinks he's come as Micky Dolenz. Behind him, Leo sits at an elementary school desk, and Windom demands without looking at him, "Work slowly. And with care. Everything must be written with a steady, uncompromising hand." He walks over to Leo and notices he can't write at all, considering his slight learning impediment of having spent several weeks in a coma, and he hits the shock collar a number of times over. Leo screams. Windom kisses him on the cheek and gives him a bite of a cookie. Awwww. He then shows Leo a piece of paper which, mysteriously, has photocopied pictures of Donna, Audrey, and Shelley on it, and announces, "Pretty words for pretty girls. Which one shall be my queen?" Windom has Leo lick an envelope, and in doing so hits the piece of paper starring the three girls, which flips in the air and falls to the floor in agonizing slow motion.

James unconscious. Evelyn unwilling. Malcolm in the middle. Donna, "I looooooove him!" Malcolm, "What are you doing here?" Donna, "I called the cops!" Evelyn: "I can't kill him!" Donna: "Boo hoo hoo!" The slo-mo Bar Mitzvah Video effect kicks up, and Evelyn shoots Malcolm. Goodnight, Malcolm.

And, finally, to the Great Northern, where Cooper whistles a happy tune and walks toward an elevator I'm not sure has ever been there before. To drive home the point of the narrowing action I'm sure I never would have gotten otherwise, Cooper flips open his wallet and takes out a black-and-white Glamour Shot of a non-sex symbol with feathered hair and bangs and pines, "Caroline." Two men were willing to die for this woman? I guess Pittsburgh is as depressing as everyone says it is after all. The elevator doors slide open and Windom walks right past Cooper and to the concierge. He hands her the envelope and announces in the official national accent of the sovereign nation of Foreignia, "For Ms. Audrey Horne, please." He's never going to get away with this Lon Chaney thing at all…that didn't sound a thing like Mickey Dolenz.

Up in Cooper's room, the once-special once-agent hangs up his neutral-toned coat and turns around to note a white mask with glowing eyes peaking out from underneath Cooper's blanket. Horse's head already taken, Ms. Corleone? He walks toward the bed with the obvious level of closing-moments trepidation, and when he picks it up, his own tape recorder begins to play. Oh, great. What's Diane going to do now that the crazy man has taped over Cooper's "I like several types of shoes" diatribe he's doubtlessly offered the poor woman. Anyway, Windom blathers as such: "Breathtaking, wasn't she?" See, Earle, after the crumbly black-and-white photo with the eighth-grade graduation hair, I wouldn't go phrasing your proclamations of her beauty in the form of a question. I'm just saying. More: "Funny, isn't it? After all this time. After all that happened in Pittsburgh. I still love her. And I know you do, too. Now, Dale. Listen carefully. It's your move." Cooper looks through the eyes of the mask, Diane pats herself on the back and makes off to negotiate her contract for Runaway Badalamenti, and we fade once again to blah.

By Djb

Over in Truman's office, the soon-to-be-single cuckold throws darts at a dartboard that has just appeared mysteriously for the purposes of Truman throwing darts at it. Cooper enters, and Truman lets him know that they've tracked down some further information on the drifter: "Eric Powell." Cooper mouths the word Powell, and then rather grimly informs Harry that Powell was Carolyn's (actually, it's "Caroline." In this scene, anyway) maiden name. Which kind of blows holes right through Cooper's much-ballyhooed picking-up-a-random-drifter theory but, then, feh. Cooper returns to the chess board and frets, "I've never beat him, Harry," and Truman reassures him with the most awkward segue in television history since Sandy Duncan became Valerie's kids' new mom in one afternoon, letting him know, "You got a need for a chess expert, we got one of the best right here in town." We…do?

By Djb

But then, I have a sneaking suspicion that if Cooper had experienced a sudden, pressing need for a calligraphy expert or someone well-versed in the finer artistic aspects of hand-sculpting Hummel figurines out of common household materials, he wouldn't have had much trouble with that either. Because this turn of events is all very convenient, now isn't it? Over at the (otherwise completely empty…you're gonna have to get out of bed sometime, Norma) Double R, four chess sets are set up on the counter, with Pete Martell standing behind them pronouncing "checkmate" on all four boards at once. Cooper's impressed. Oh, there's Norma now. Maybe she'd like to ask the freeloading homeless men if they would like to build their rec room in someone else's basement. Or they could, y'know, actually order something. Cooper tells Pete that he is "involved in a chess match of considerable importance," and he would like "to stalemate the game, losing as few pieces as possible. None, if that can be arranged." Pete accepts. You sure no one's hungry?

Norma kneels on the floor near the kitchen, scrubbing a plastic ice cream cone with a rag. Approaching footsteps walk all ominously along the floor, crashing through the swinging doors on which is a sign informing the common diner-kitchen-crasher, "Keep out." Oh. It's just Shelley. Norma apologizes for not coming over when she heard about Leo, "but with Hank gone it's been a madhouse." Yeah, and the whole boning Ed thing, but that's really none of my business. Well, until the part where I had to see him naked. Shelley takes the rag from Norma's hand and starts cleaning the plastic ice cream cone, asking rather sheepishly, "You, um, don't need any help, do you? I feel safer, Norma." Norma asks when she can start, and Shelley hardly pauses: "Now?" Big hugs, and Shelley's back at the Double R. But just then, Truman makes his way over and tells Norma he needs to talk to her. He takes her behind the kitchen door, and the entire conversation occurs in the frame of the tiny window of the door. He tells her that ambiguous Hank's ambiguous illness is almost cured and his ambiguous stay at an ambiguous hospital will be drawing to a close in the ambiguous time frame ambiguously known as "soon." Norma tells Harry that she doesn't want him back this time, and Harry reassures her, "We're charging him with the attempted murder of Leo Johnson. Add that to breaking parole, and Hank's going away for a long time." For some reason, that makes her feel better. Perhaps he promised to put a bunch of his deputies on the case.

By Djb

Twin Peaks TV Show - Diane Keaton wuz here - Twin Peaks Photos &amp; Videos, Twin Peaks Reviews &amp; Twin Peaks Recaps | TWoP

Twin Peaks TV Show - Diane Keaton wuz here - Twin Peaks Photos & Videos, Twin Peaks Reviews & Twin Peaks Recaps | TWoP