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Ahem. Hi. Your regular recapper couldn't be with us today, so I'll be your substitute. I couldn't find any kind of lesson plan, so I'm going to show a nice filmstrip and, if you all behave yourselves, we can play kickball after lunch. You in the back row -- get that chewing gum out of your mouth. No, I don't care what your usual recapper lets you do. Don't make me write a note to your parents. Before we get started, I suppose I should give you a little bit of background. Much like Djb, I owe my set of Twin Peaks tapes to a patient mother. However, mine are not from the original airing, but are instead from the show's first of many appearances on Bravo. And this was back when you had to pay extra for Bravo, and it didn't run commercials, and I was off in my junior (I think) year of college. My mom loves me so much that she subscribed to Bravo and taped the episodes for me. So a big round of applause for my mom.
Now, as you may or may not know, Bravo got David Lynch to film some special "introductory" segments for each episode, featuring that wacky Log Lady. Let's get right to it, shall we? I press play on the VCR, and immediately see a trail of ants making a living bridge to cross a river. This must be an episode that Lynch directed himself; this bug's life stuff is straight out of Blue Velvet. The ants carry off a big beetle. Gross! I don't remember this episode at all...Oh. Sorry. This appears to be the end of some kind of nature documentary. My mom must have programmed the VCR to start recording a little early. I seriously would have bought that as the start of an episode, though. Ah, here comes the showFor real now, honest. The Log Lady sits in her living room and performs the following monologue. I'm just gonna transcribe the whole thing, so that you know exactly what you missed if you never saw these segments. Won't take long. "Is life like a game of chess? Are our present moves important for future success? I think so. We paint our future with every present brushstroke. Painting. Colors. Shapes. Textures. Composition. Repetition of shapes. Contrast." So far this is clearing things up a lot, isn't it? The Log Lady thinks life is like chess, because of the brushstrokes we use to paint the future. Got it. "Let nature guide us. Nature is the great teacher." Well, I just learned a few things about ants, Mrs. Log Lady, so I'm still with you. "Who is the principle? Sometimes jokes are welcome. Like the one about the kid who said, 'I enjoyed school. It was just the principal of the thing.'" The end. Thank you, David Lynch, for teaching us to laugh and love. So now you know that, if you missed all of the Log Lady segments, you didn't really miss much.
Previously on Twin Peaks: Coop got a Bookhouse Boys patch and was accused of drug trafficking, and Major Briggs disappeared. Credits. Ah, the days when there was no teaser before the credits. I don't know why Djb is being so generous and letting me recap this episode. Admittedly, I haven't watched these tapes in a while, so I'm not exactly sure which episode this will be, and this is mid-second-season, but even the worst episodes had their share of tasty surreal weirdness. I think. The show starts with some rockabilly, which seems promising, and then we see James puttering along on his motorcycle while the credits continue. Oh, God. Kill me. The screen is filled with James. I'm not pausing the tape. I'm typing this all as we continue to stare at James moving down the deserted highway. Still going. We're up to the producer's credit, so it can't last much longer. More credits. More James. Will this never stop? James finally speeds up and passes the camera truck, and we cut away. This episode was directed by Duwayne Dunham, who also directed the second episode. Poor guy; his parents didn't know how to spell "Dwayne." And as if that weren't bad enough, imagine this: last time he was on the set, he was handed a script with lines like, "There was a fish in the percolator," he filmed Audrey's introduction to Coop, and then provided our first scare-tastic images of Bob. So he comes back a year later and getswell, you'll see. I'm just sayin', poor Duwayne. And also: poor, poor me.
Cut to the sheriff's office. Mrs. Briggs is telling Truman that Major Briggs has vanished mysteriously before, and "it's always been work-related." She asks Coop if the Major's latest disappearance was work-related, but Coop isn't sure. She asks if the Major left suddenly. Coop says, "We were speaking philosophically, and I left to answer the call of nature. When I returned, he was gone." Mrs. Briggs says that it's "very significant" that they were in the woods. Truman asks how so. Mrs. Briggs leans forward and says, "Confidentially, he talks about them constantly." The "snap along" theme starts up as Coop asks if Major Briggs was "attempting to contact some element that lives in the woods, as a part of his top secret work." Mrs. Briggs says that's classified. That would be a yes, then. Coop says that the Major has a "Renaissance passion for exploration," and Mrs. Briggs grins and says, "That is how he sees himself." She touches on the idea that sometimes it's hard to be a woman, giving all your love to one Renaissance-exploring-type man, and Truman politely thanks her for talking to them, because he doesn't really wants to hear about the Briggs' marital problems. Which is a tactical error, since that conversation would be more interesting than the things Truman actually does for the remainder of the episode. Oh, I'm not bitter about this at all. Not yet. Wait till I've reached the fourth act; then you'll see some bitterness. Anyway, Mrs. Briggs offers to call back with information about the notes Major Briggs left on his bedside table, because I guess that stuff isn't classified. After she leaves, Coop whispers to Truman that the "flash of light [he] saw was a powerful force that exists in those woods." The door opens, and Andy and Hawk enter. Andy has a wedding present for the Milfords. Do we care? No. Hawk mentions that "Dougie's weddings are a seasonal thing, like the return of the salmon." Then a nervous woman's voice comes through the intercom. She says, "There's a call for a Dale Crouper." Truman explains that the voice belongs to a temp they hired while Lucy helps with the Milford wedding. Ah. Wackiness. Perhaps it's Mrs. Wiggins, taking a vacation from that lovable but confused Mr. Tuddball. The temp puts the call through: it's good ol' Gordon Cole, phoning it in from Bend, Oregon. Which is where what's left of the interesting storylines have been stashed. Cole just wants to let us all know that Cooper has his full support in this pesky investigation. Cooper says "Thanks, Gordon," and Cole says, "It ranks poor with me, too!" See, he's still hard of hearing. Notice the hilarity? Me neither. Cole mentions that the DEA is sending in a "top dog" to investigate. Coop asks who, and Cole pauses before saying, "It's Gordon. It's Gordon Cole!" You might think that this running gag would get tiresome. And you're not exactly wrong, but if you fast-forward to the "Andy's obligatory pratfall" section of the episode, you'll realize that the comedy in this scene is actually rather subtle and refined by comparison. Coop repeats the question, much more loudly, and Cole says that the investigator is a certain Dennis Bryson. Coop tells Truman that Bryson is "a good man, Harry. No nonsense." Cole reassures Coop by saying, "Let a smile be your umbrella," which may or may not be a code for something, and hangs up. Coop looks directly into the camera and says that it's "time to face the music."
“ Hardy says 'it's show time,' but neglects to turn into a spooky carousel or a snake or in any other way resemble Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice. ”
Cut to some kind of ancient Apple laptop. Aw, it's so cute! And I don't associate it with Jeff Goldblum, which makes it even more attractive. Coop enters the conference room and takes a seat opposite Hardy and the other two inquisitors, one of whom is the owner of the aforementioned laptop. Hardy says "it's show time," but neglects to turn into a spooky carousel or a snake or in any other way resemble Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice. Instead, Hardy asks for Coop's defense. Coop firmly declares, "I have no defense. I am completely confident in the rightness of my actions. Some of it occurred of outside Bureau guidelines, [and] I will pay the price for that, but I am completely innocent of any criminal wrongdoing." Hardy gestures to the guy who's making a transcript, who closes up his laptop. Hardy says that he expects "a Bureau man to stand up for himself." Coop grins and says, "I know the moves I'm supposed to make, and I know the board." Hardy makes a "could you speak a little less metaphorically" gesture, but Coop ignores it, adding, "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I've started to focus outside the edge of the board. At a bigger game." Hardy asks what game, and Coop says, "Not chess, Mr. Spock: Poker!" No, not really. That would have almost made sense, compared to what he does say, which is: "The sound wind makes through the pines. The sentience of animals. What we fear in the dark, and what lies beyond the darkness." So, Coop's going for the insanity defense, I take it. Hardy, who I'm liking more and more, asks what the hell Coop is talking about. Coop says he's talking about seeing beyond fear, and looking at the world with love. At this moment, I ache for Albert. More than usual, I mean. Hardy tries to scare Coop with the charges against him, but Cooper maintains his Zen attitude. Hardy says that "the move is up to the Canadian government, and the DEA investigation which begins today." Hardy adds that he may recommend a psychological work-up for Coop. "May?" Coop calmly thanks them all, briefly stares at his gun and badge without any particular emotion, and leaves the room.
A bell rings at the high school. Hey, look at all the 1990 fashions! Oh, and there's Norma, trapped in subplot number 73. Remember kids, if you attempt to overdose on sleeping pills, you may wind up as unfunny comedy relief on a show that lacks any tension from which one might need to be relieved. Hey, the more you know, right? Nadine approaches Donna, who's wearing clothes that, even at size 0, hang on her as if they're Dawson's XXXL shirts. Needless to say, there's some plaid involved. Donna asks if Nadine has heard from James. Nadine hasn't. Nadine wants to know if Donna is still seeing Mike. Hey, remember Mike? The blonde mullet? Obviously, Donna, and the audience in general, hasn't seen him in some time. Nadine thinks that she and Mike may have some "chemistry." Like, with each other. And then Mike comes down the hall. Donna's pale. Like, more pale than I am, and I didn't think that was possible. I suspect she's resorted to using leeches to suck out some of her blood, 'cause those oxygenated corpuscles are making her feel all puffy and bloated. Mike strolls down the hall, and apparently he got a haircut while he was gone for the past, what, year or so? He nods to Donna, and Nadine says hi to him. Nadine giggles to Donna about the cuteness of Mike's "buns." Donna plays along as much as possible, and asks if Nadine is still seeing poor, poor Ed. Nadine explains that Ed likes to stay in and Mike likes to go out, and so on, and the bell rings. Finally.
James. Still. On his motorcycle. Don't ever get off of it, James. Just keep going. As fast as you can. Never stop and actually interact with anyone, and we'll get along fine. Oh, damn, he's pulling up at a bar called "Wallies." Not "Wally's." Apparently two guys named "Wally" founded this place. Or something. I don't know. Yes, I'm trying to delay the moment where James sinks into his horrible, stupid, bad, bad, bad subplot. He was bad enough when he was involved in a story that we sort of cared about. Do you blame me? Oh yeah, and there's a nice convertible parked outside, too. I don't know what kind, because I'm, like, a girl and stuff. It's shiny. Does that help?
Inside, there's this blonde at the bar who has hairsprayed her 'do into some kind of awning for her forehead. I sob, because I know where this all going to lead. James takes a seat to her and asks for a beer. I have restrained myself from making Fetus Slater jokes, because they won't be as funny as Djb's and it'll just be pathetic, ["Oh, nonsense. Though I will say that some studies say it's okay to have a drink after the second trimester. Which we must already be in, seeing as this scene has already been going on for well over six months." -- Djb] and I'm sure he'll add some comments in here about Fetal Alcohol Syndrome himself ["Hey, look at that. I guess I just did. Hi, Strega! Hi, everyone!" -- Djb] The blonde says hi, James says hi, the blonde asks if James is "headed somewhere," and James says, "I'm sorry?" because he's not sure if the blonde is asking whether or not he's a breach birth. Okay, so I made one fetus joke. It was there. The blonde tries to delve, James assures her that he's all right, the blonde laughs that "men are always all right, right up until they pull the trigger." Eh? Is that some kind of innuendo, or is sheI'm thinking way too hard about this, right? Okay. She goes over the whole "nice, quiet neighbor" description that people always use when they find out they live door to a serial killer. Why is she talking about this? I. Don't. Know. James says, "I'm only quiet on the outside." I can't make fun of that line. I can't. It makes my brain seize up if I try to think about it. Nonsensical non-bantering non-continues. Except for the part where it actually does continue. The blonde asks if James knows about cars. She says that she drove her husband's Jaguar into a ditch, and she wants to get it fixed before hubby returns. James claims that he might be able to help, and the blonde introduces herself as Evelyn Marsh. James asks if he can play something in the jukebox before checking out the car. Like, maybe a restful little lullaby, huh, James? He goes to the jukebox, and Evelyn swings around on her stool so that we can admire her thigh-high stockings, which are pulled down so that they're more like knee-highs. As Nico sang, "Cause everybody knows, she's a femme banal." Or something like that.