31 January 2020

Damn Fine Coffee

A few weeks ago, I began watching Twin Peaks in earnest. The first time I watched it, I was pregnant, distracted and not open to the experience. I ended up stopping halfway through the second season. This time around, I stopped trying to figure everything out, let my questions subside and took in the story in a more "gestalt" fashion. Not surprisingly, the show began to click for me. By entering the flow of the narrative and not resisting the presence of supernatural beings or hokeyness and camp in an otherwise dramatic show, viewing became more enjoyable and comprehensible.

So...what do I think is going on?

The entire show is a metaphor for an existentialist view of existence. Characters create their own purpose - or become victims of circumstance. The serendipitous twists and turns also leave even the most purposeful of characters adrift. The overarching theme seems to be how each character reacts to their fate that ultimately drives their growth (or stagnation).

Within all of us is a capacity to morph into better or worse versions of ourselves -rising above our pain and suffering, or succumbing to our most destructive vices. Even the incorruptible among us, like Agent Dale Cooper, can and do fall prey to darker forces that can render us unrecognizable to those who care about us.

The uncovering of the true nature of the mysterious white and black lodges becomes the main thrust of the show after the initial mystery of who killed Laura Palmer is solved. The lodges are discussed as singular places initially, though there is slowly a revelation that they are connected or may even be one in the same. That duality of "light" and "dark" forces is not only contained within an external location but also within us all.

The horrors of existence are portrayed in a Sartrean hell of "other people" throughout the series, culminating in the truth behind Laura Palmer's psychological pain. The revelation that her demon-possessed father sexually assaulted her repeatedly is laid bare to a chilling extent in the post-season 2 movie, "Fire Walk With Me." Although his actions are linked to an inexplicable evil that casts a dark shadow on the bucolic village of Twin Peaks, in a wholly materialistic interpretation, his demonic possession is actually an undeniably entirely human abuse of power. Sexual assault, physical and emotional domination and manipulation occur with enough regularity that one could only hope there's some sort of demonic possession at the root - a neat explanation to excuse people's heinous behaviors.

The question then becomes for me: what if the darkness that haunts Twin Peaks is humanity itself? If we were all hermetically sealed, atomized players, many of our daily miseries would fade away. There'd be no worry about being judged for our appearance, actions and interests. This question is partially answered by the character Harold. He is a young man content enough to read, tend to his flowers and never venture from his home. His compassion for Laura is evident, but by letting her into his world and guarding her secrets, he destroys himself. Similarly, as Heather, a former nun, emerges from the sequestered life in a convent, she allows herself not only to be emotionally available to others, but vulnerable to their attacks as well. With an acceptance of love from Cooper, she also has her life endangered by the psychotic Windham Earle.

Years ago, I waxed poetically about the quote attributed to Albert Camus, "Should I kill myself or have another cup of coffee?" I referenced Cooper's line about his first cup in Twin Peaks - "This is a damn fine cup of coffee." Coffee ends up being his link to who he was when he is Dougie Jones. A love of the drink carries through and provides a thread that runs between his lives. Furthermore, this mutual pleasure in a good cup of joe foreshadows the much more disturbing shared memory that links the incarnations of Laura Palmer. Ultimately, despite Agent Cooper's best attempts to right the wrongs that led Laura toward destruction, he is unable to better her lived experience. The moral that bleeds through here is the existentialist dilemma posited by Camus' coffee quote. The Sisyphean task that is life can never be avoided - there will always be trauma and pain as long as we're alive, no matter how we try to avoid or prepare for it. Suicide only negates the problem, it does not solve it.

Finally, early into my rewatch experience, my partner mentioned that David Lynch is into transcendental Buddhism. This piece of information helped to shape my interpretation of various aspects of the series as well. For those who criticized Lynch's inclusion of unnecessarily long scenes of silence between characters or of someone performing a mundane task on screen (like sweeping the floor for an extended period of time) the following quote came to mind, “Zen does not confuse spirituality with thinking about God while one is peeling potatoes. Zen spirituality is just to peel the potatoes." Alan Watts, Zen Buddhist practitioner, has perfectly translated Zen Buddhist spirituality here for Western audiences - being "bored," trapped in the mundane is the whole point of the practice. To be in the now - to experience everything as it is currently without constantly trying to change it, escape it or wishing it were something else is the end goal of the practice of mindfulness.

Even the magical realism aspects of the show fit in with the tenets of transcendental Buddhism  -there's something inexplicable in the Twin Peaks universe (and our own). Perhaps it's an overall transcendent being, like God or some other higher, supernatural power that provides this fuzziness. Or maybe it's a reflection of the general nescience humans are saddled with as finite beings in a vast universe that will always remain beyond our full comprehension. 
"I carry a log — yes. Is it funny to you? It is not to me. Behind all things are reasons. Reasons can even explain the absurd. Do we have the time to learn the reasons behind the human being's varied behavior? I think not. Some take the time. Are they called detectives? Watch — and see what life teaches." - Margaret Lanterman, "Log Lady"



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