Eureka! Man alive. Great day in the morning. Gee, Djb, why all the generic-proclamations-of-joy-befitting-a-grizzled-1890s-prospector, right here in the prologue to this recap, eh? Here's why: Sars bought me the entire Twin Peaks series on VHS for my life-alteringly cool Christmas present (or, as Amazon has since decided, considering their rather haphazard delivery schedule, my "life-alteringly cool Purim present"). Hence, I'll be using these tapes exclusively to recap the rest of the series. I know. I'm really, really sorry, mom. Your taping skills so many years ago were not in vain. You were a very, very good mom. As long as your relevance lasted. So, um, I guess that means that Sars is my new mommy now. Right? Well then, yippee-ki-yay! I done struck gold! Hee-haw! Ahem. Sorry.
Fade in on a panning shot across a really starry night sky in the much-visited land of Stock Footage Of Excessively Starry Night Skies, a doubtless retroactive shout-out to the fact that the first, like, sixty episodes of Roswell began the exact same way (not to mention the dozens of other shows in the history of the televisual medium that center around space and the prospect of life beyond our own planetHence, I'm almost surprised when the words "The Truth Is Shout-Out There" don't appear on the screen before I get on with my recapping day, which should begin in earnest in the unlikely event I should ever get around to closing these here parentheses). A voice whispers "Cooper," and the Class Trip To The Planetarium music (which, on this show, is defined as "every note ever heard on the soundtrack not including Julee Cruiseand sometimes that which includes Julee Cruise) kicks into high gear. Out of this I've-seen-more-realistic-renderings-of-the-night-sky-with-a-few-white-pegs-on-my-Lite-Bright-set background, a yellow symbol depicting three interlocking triangles comes spinning toward the camera. Spinning through space, spinning, spinning, spinning. Ooooh. I'm in a trance. Hypnotized. Your wish is my command, Mr. Lynch. I will find On the Air to be hilarious. I will deem my small-claims lawsuit for the $7.50 I am still owed for Lost Highway to be "frivolous" and finally drop it. I will alsohuh? No, I'm fine. I'm back. Well, that was scary.
“ Get the cheescake, Rose, for I remember a time that Ma ate all those raw vegetables at the nursing home picnic and began uncontrollably ”
Spinning, spinning, spinning. When the CGI triangle thingee finally spins out of space and into the camera and bursts apart, General Zod and his marauding band of Superman-hating intergalactic travelers are finally released into the world to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting "Houston," whichoh, wait. That's actually not what happens at all. Actually, the shot becomes all engulfed in flames, flames which slowly clear to reveal behind them Garland "Major PainHa Ha, Duh" Briggs sitting on an ivy-covered throne, surrounded by really green trees and bushes and not really green dry-ice smoke. He sits perfectly still, and a voice-over indicates, "I remember stepping from the flames, a vague shape in the dark, then nothing. Till I found myself standing by the cold remains of our campfire two days later." Another voice-over we recognize as Doc Hayward's garbles on with that far-away you're-having-a-dreeeeeeeam reverb I haven't seen used unironically since the Golden Girls faded from the three-chaired kitchen table and into their last flashback episode ("Get the cheescake, Rose, for I remember a time that Ma ate all those raw vegetables at the nursing home picnic and began uncontrollably") before the style was co-opted and killed by the fine folks at Wayne's World, "Major, there are some new techniques that might help us break through your amnesia." Briggs retorts in his convoluted MajorSpeak that his memories are "immune from regression," and that he knows the memory of his disappearance lives somewhere in his mind, but the knowledge remains "beyond [his] reach." Garbled Cooper drops in to ask if Briggs remembers anything else. "Very little," Briggs recounts, "Save for one disturbing image ofa giant owl." Cut to a brief montage of super-faux-artsy proportions, containing an owl flying through a blinding white light, a shot of a man's neck tattooed in red with the compliments-of-the-OPEC-product-placement-department triangular symbol, and a camera flashbulb, and just like that we're inside the interrogation room of the police station, which contains a seated Briggs and an alternately pacing and standing Doc Hayward, Cooper, and Truman. The good doctor shows the assemblage a Polaroid of the area behind Briggs's ear and notes, "Three triangular scars behind the right ear, in perfect proportion." See that? Mom always said you're supposed to wash behind there. One can only hope that the Major was wearing clean underwear when he was abducted and hadn't eaten within a half-hour of said abduction, as mom also frequently advised. And no, this time by "mom," I do not mean "Sars." For once.
Truman tries the hard line, having asked this question so many times I can't believe there isn't a Twin Peaks drinking game centered entirely around it, "Exactly what does your work involve?" But guess what. It's classified. Drink! However, Briggs continues that he thinks sometimes there are secrets that outweigh the human need to conceal information. I wasn't aware that that was a basic human tenet, but I guess I'm more inclined to believe it; after all, the American government just told me it was true. So off we go with the not concealing: "Are you familiar with Project Blue Book?" Yeah, isn't that the name of those thin volumes of lined paper the proctor gives out to college students taking essay exams? It's a little more difficult than the standardized "Project Scantron Sheet," but at least the former has a ring to it. Cooper has a different idea, and it turns out he's right and I'm not. Such is life: "The Air Force investigation into the phenomena of unidentified flying objects." Briggs confirms that the project was discontinued by the government in 1969. Hee. "Sixty-nine." Oh, man. I am eleven years old. "But there are those of us who continue in an unofficial capacity, examining the heavens as before. And in the case of Twin Peaks, the Earth below." Iwha? He's still working on a government op that ended in 1969, and he continues wearing his uniform and taking home a paycheck from Uncle Sam? Looking for aliens? Aliens that live below the Earth? Below it? Ladies and gentlemen, your tax dollars, hard at work. Besides which, if we all got paid for performing our job the way it would have been done in 1969, I would be recapping this show on a computer as large as this entire room. Briggs only manages to choke out the sentence, "We are looking for a place called the White Lodge," before the door opens and reveals two men sporting strange military uniforms with really fey chapeaux that make them look less like intervening government agents and more like the groomsmen at Guy Ritchie's wedding. The men tell Briggs to come with them and Truman tries to stop them, but the Major realizes he must go and bids everyone else farewell. Once alone, the three remaining main characters (when was the last time you saw that many people we care about in the same room at the same time? A quality episode emerging?) stand close and regard the Polaroid of Briggs's tattooed neck. Close-up. A drop of water splashes onto the photograph, and Cooper looks up to note that it's from a leaky sprinkler head directly above them. SprinklerCam gives them quite the close-up, and the sound guys lean in with their mics for a raucous sound effect of the interior of the sprinkler system. Remember, future directors of the planet: pointless callbacks to the effortlessly quirky visual style of the show's glory days are still pointless. Say it together.
Checkmate
“ Andy offers to 'tell Lucy,' but Dick leans in as close as the ABC censors would allow and tut-tuts, 'This is strictly a man's job.' Here's hazarding that's not the first time he used that line. Nice hat. Shut up, Inspector Gay-dget. ”
Speaking of which, donuts. On the table to the phone. No one's eating them. But they're there. Because we get it. Cut to Truman's office, containing Denise "The XX-Files" Bryson and Ernie "So Peripheral I Got A Migraine Just Trying To Look Directly At Him" Niles. Denise files his nails and begs, "Make the call." Ernie goes for the phone and backs away several times, brushing away Girlie Mulder's hands, which keep coming down on his shoulders, I guess because "transvestite panic" was such a hot-button issue for comic and cultural exploration contemporary with the original airing of this show. Cooper enters and actually takes a donut, asking the two, "So, have we set the buy yet?" Girlie Mulder pronounces Niles "gun shy," which inspires Ernie to defend himself in that alternately Welsh/Geri-on-Facts-of-Life accent of his: "Gun shy? Ernie Niles is as bold as can be! Let me at him!" In a brave flourish which would probably be rendered all the more brave if I could remember a damn thing about how this subplot shakes out, he grabs for the phone and begins dialing the fake TV "555" exchange of his choice. Someone on the other end picks up, and Ernie asks for Jean Renault. Ambiguous Canuck Frenchmen Drug Smugglers have secretaries? Maybe it's -- say it with me, long-time readers -- Sylvia Horne. That joke doesn't even make sense anymore, and yet I never tire of it. Ernie is put on hold, and takes this moment to put his hand over the phone and beg, "Don't make me do this. This is suicide. I know. Please." Etc. Pause. Ernie: "Hi, Jean. I've got that big out-of-town buy, here." Cooper gives the thumbs up. Oooh. Go Mr. Big Maybe Welsh Man. Ernie Niles ain't just a river in Egypt, after all.
Andy walks in the front door of the police station and bids Lucy hello. Around the first corner past her desk, he walks into Dick "Love Triangle, Pick Triangle, It's All The Same" Tremayne, bedecked in a monochromatic beige outfit with a matching private investigator bowler cap. He shushes Andy before he even has a chance to ask what in the holy hell, then pulls him into another hallway behind a glass door so Lucy can't hear themtalk. Dick asks where Andy has been hiding, and Andy responds that a cat was stuck in a tree. Dick doesn't care, launching right back into the dumbest televised subplot concerning a child since the series premiere of Passions, bringing us all up to speed: "Fortuenately for us, my apples have borne more palatable fruit." Heh. "Fruit." Sorry. See "sixty-nine" explanation from before. The one about me being eleven. Dick continues that he visited the adoption agency to find out what happened to Little Nicky's parents, but unfortunately "they've been sealed and returned to the orphanage." The parents? Oh, the records, I guess. Andy frets that they'll never know what happened to Little Nicky's parents (though clearly the prognosis from this end is that they DIED OF BOREDOM), but Dick pulls up his collar and promises to sneak into the orphanage and gather more information. Andy offers to "tell Lucy," but Dick leans in as close as the ABC censors would allow and tut-tuts, "This is strictly a man's job." Here's hazarding that's not the first time he used that line. Nice hat. Shut up, Inspector Gay-dget.
On Andy's iteration of the word "Lucy," the mentioned Ms. Moran looks up from her desk, but by the time she makes it to the door, the two men are gone. While she stands staring into the empty hallway, Cooper approaches behind her, walks to the water cooler (wow. Direction that actually makes sense. What's going on?), and asks, "Any luck?" Lucy shakes her head: "I checked the personals columns and every national newspaper on the list, and I didn't see anything that looked like a chess deal or find any mention of the name Windom Earle. I'm sorry." Cooper fills his cup with water from the cooler and ends the chat by walking away, thus making Kyle MacLachlan and the chick who looks like Victoria Jackson the only two human beings left in America who stand around the water cooler talking about what's going on on Twin Peaks.
Double R. The belabored melodrama that is Norma/Ed escalates further when she drops her perky and optimistic into his pensive and sad when she approaches his booth to refill his coffee cup. She smiles: "Is everything all right, Ed?" He tells her that things "couldn't be better," handing her the check, on the back of which is written, "We need to talk." So talk, then. Does Ed think he can finally woo the love of his life to betroth herself to him forever if he just becomes as maddeningly ambiguous as the man to whom she's already married? Wow. Short scene.
Chez Johnson. Shelley "The Cook, The Thief, The Wife, And The Lover" Johnson shovels some hideous-looking black gruel down Leo's gullet, food that he probably wouldn't eat even if he weren't in the same culinary family of "undesirable vegetable" as that which she's trying to feed him. In the background, the theme song and opening phrases of the long-forgotten Invitation To Love ring out from an unseen TV. I love that Todd Holland makes no secret of the fact that not only has he gone without directing this show since way back in Episode 11, but also that he hasn't so much as tuned in since that very same week. Do the words "luckiest man in show business" leap to anyone else's mind? Bobby "Jock, Strapped" Briggs saunters through the living room, throwing back a beer, and sits in a chair to Leo while Shelley wails in frustration and kicks the floor. "Dammit, it was your turn to feed him, Bobby." Bobby reads a newspaper and mutters something about "practice," and Shelley tells him to expect to clean up when he gets back. Bobby, for some reason, believes this to be the perfect time to drop a bomb: "I ain't comin' back?" Eh? Bobby continues: "You're looking at Ben Horne's new boy. Do the words 'golden opportunity' mean anything to you?" Have you checked out either of their rsums in the past ten years or so? Apparently the answer to that question is a scarily resounding "no." Central Park West wasn't even a manganese opportunity. Bobby continues that he doesn't have time to "give Leo Johnson a bubble bath." Shelley asks, "What about me, Bobby? Do I not have anything better to do?" Bobby deadpans it: "Not that I can think of." Shelley administers a quite believable stage slap and Bobby takes off. She screams after him and continues stomping the floor. Which does suck, because of the beautiful children they'll never get to have. But come on. Like this relationship had any damn chance of actually working. Sigh. Each day brings a new beginning, and every hour holds the promise of an invitation to love. Cue strings. Thanks for dragging that soapy thematic device out of mothballs. Cut to Leo. Apparently, Todd Holland missed the memo that close-ups of Leo's eyes fluttering no longer scare anybody at all.
Checkmate
Oh, but this right here does. In fact, it scares just about everyone. The sound of a ringing phone accompanies a pan of moodily foggy mountains, and a VO advertises, "Big Ed's Gas Farm." Cut to inside The Marshlands, where James "Babe In The Woods" Hurley talks on the phone, telling Ed, "I need a favor. I need you to get all the money out of my savings account." We can barely hear Ed respond from the other end that it's only "twelve dollars." Thank you, Lynch/Frost, for at least paying him only what he's worth. Plus a twelve-dollar bonus for remaining unborn and not disrupting the production schedule with a visually obvious and time-consuming birth like an early-season Gillian Anderson would, for example. But just as Slater Fetus begins to explain his current predicament to Uncle Ed (who may one day pass it along to the rest of the world, because I honestly don't know what the problem is, myself), Evelyn enters the room in these absolutely gigantic sunglasses that I've only seen really old women wearing over their real glasses when they drive their huge old Chryslers practically into innocent bystanders at four miles-per-hour in the Food Lion parking lot. "Hell's Grannies," my brother used to call them. Banter of the most incomprehensible variety. Evelyn asks James why he left Twin Peaks, and I finish patting myself on the back following my impassioned cry of "Popular demand!" to find James smack in the middle of describing his woes: "I loved a girl who died. Her names was Laura. I thought I knew her, but I didn't." Isn't he, like, three miles from Twin Peaks right now? It surely seems to me Evelyn might have heard about the grisly girl in plastic and what have you. Blah blah his life sucks, and even shots of Evelyn provide no relief from looking at James, as he is reflected in pretty splendid detail in her sunglasses. His entire body. Hell, men on Mir are using those things to put in their contact lenses, while a team of history experts makes haste to add them to the list of man-made object visible from space. James adds that he tried to ambiguously "help," but in his efforts to do so, "another girl got murdered." And so he wanted to get on his bike and "take off, go as far as the thing would take" him. As far as it would take him? What brand of motorcycle is that anyway, The Adobe? He's around the block, people. I'll bet he didn't even dial a fake area code before punching in the "555" to ring the ol' gas farm. What. Ever. James moves closer and takes off Evelyn's sunglasses, nearly thrashing through the floor in that Money Pit kind of way, what with the sudden added weight on his tiny, incipient organism frame. He notes that she has a black eye and asks, "Why do you let him hurt you?" Whatever. She got that trying to put those damn things on. They kiss madly. Evelyn hears a car pull away and tells James, "Jeffrey's leaving. I need you. Will you help me." Cut. CUT!!! Is this scene directing itself, or what? Or perhaps Todd Holland has gotten waylaid, running though the Marsh house and shooing away extras and other assorted personnel who have accidentally stumbled in from over on the Double R set or maybe the one of the Great Northern. Because he's around the block. The traffic light stays on red. Remember the traffic light? Todd Holland does.