What year is this?
2017.
Jeez.
Can you believe that over 25 years has passed since the original Twin Peaks?
Who were you 25 years ago?
Were you a teenager with the world at your doorstep?
Perhaps you had just turned 30 and were dealing with the reality that you live in a nightmare?
Maybe you were approaching retirement and looking forward to reclaiming your life from capitalism?
Or maybe you were non-existent?
Suffice to say, you are not the person that you were then.
You will never be that person again.
You are you today.
You are not the you of yesteryear.
And yet instead of being mindful and focusing on where we are at a particular place in time and space, we often dwell on who we used to be, and who we will be.
But we cannot change the past, and we cannot control our future.
It's a theme prevalent throughout this return to Twin Peaks.
Lynch and Frost explore the sheer terror of time and the role it plays in fostering anxiety within their audience.
At the root of anxiety is our past and our future.
It can either be brought on by thinking of mistakes, or because of some sort of trauma we experienced, in the past; or it can be brought on by thinking of things yet to come and things we do not yet understand.
As such, there is no better time to be than in the present. For better or worse, you must stay in the present to have any chance of warding off this anxiety.
This is very important to remember as you sit down and watch what is, effectively, an 18-hour movie. There are no 'episodes' here, there are 'parts'.
This is a key distinction. If you attempt to sit down and watch this with 'episode' in mind, you will be left confused, annoyed, frustrated, and unimpressed.
An 'episode' is a chain of events happening in a sequence; but a 'part' is something that makes up a whole thing.
The whole is full of anxiety and things we cannot control - these are the combined parts. Those parts have happened, will happen, and are happening right now.
Those parts needn't be in any particular chronological or sequential order.
After all, anxiety's relationship to time is so powerful that we can relive the horror of our past in the present; while, almost simultaneously, we can feel terror as we ponder our future.
It's all so strong that we can even ponder the future of a past that we cannot have.
There's nothing truly sequential about these moments - lived or un- lived - that invade our present in an arbitrary manner over the space of a whole day, week, month, year or longer.
And yet despite how all over the place these parts may be, they still make up who we are; they still make up the whole of our existence.
The usage of time isn't something entirely new to Twin Peaks, especially THAT Fire Walk With Me scene in Laura's bedroom, but time has never been more important than in The Return.
Note that this is not season 3 of Twin Peaks. It stands alone from the original show, much like 'Fire Walk With Me'.
It is a 'return' - but a return to what exactly?
It is not the return of your beloved Twin Peaks of the 1990s.
Lynch and Frost are dealing with a rabid fanbase that, on one hand, demands new intrigue and new lore; while also wanting to explore old locations and characters.
As such, The Return is caught in a struggle between the lore's past, present and future.
But Lynch and Frost also want to remind you of how important it is to be mindful.
Interspersed within terrifying and turbulent scenes are moments of sheer, undiluted presence of mind.
You will see two characters sitting and mindlessly staring at an object in silence.
You will see otherworldly happenings.
You will see someone sweep the floor for two minutes.
You will see extreme violence.
You will see a musical performance.
Twin Peaks: The Return travels between realism and surrealism like the flick of a light switch.
That may not be something new for those familiar with the original show, but there's an inescapable feeling of discomfort throughout that is missing from the more formulaic original.
It plays with your anxieties over time: fear of time being wasted on scenes with seemingly no purpose, fear of not being in control of the story, and fear of whether or not you will reach the end having understood what you have just watched.
Whether you choose to accept or reject that you do not understand the whole, and whether or not you are able to make peace with that choice, will likely dictate how much you enjoy The Return.
Unlike the uncertainty and mystery within the original Twin Peaks run regarding Laura Palmer's murderer, which likely left you deeply intrigued and whimsical, this 18-hour movie's uncertainty and mystery is full of inescapable darkness and palpable anxiety.
Will we see this?
Is this going to happen?
Will this be resolved?
What is happening?
This is an existential crisis playing out in front of your eyes – both for you and your beloved characters.
It is uncomfortable viewing, but with some of the most satisfying pay-offs I have ever felt.
Remember: parts, not episodes.
Now, to get to the review part.
Actually... I think too much time has passed.
I have other things to do, other places to be, and other memories to dwell upon.
Come to think of it, what year is this?
2017.
Jeez.
Can you believe that over 25 years has passed since the original Twin Peaks?
Who were you 25 years ago?
Were you a teenager with the world at your doorstep?
Perhaps you had just turned 30 and were dealing with the reality that you live in a nightmare?
Maybe you were approaching retirement and looking forward to reclaiming your life from capitalism?
Or maybe you were non-existent?
Suffice to say, you are not the person that you were then.
You will never be that person again.
You are you today.
You are not the you of yesteryear.
And yet instead of being mindful and focusing on where we are at a particular place in time and space, we often dwell on who we used to be, and who we will be.
But we cannot change the past, and we cannot control our future.
It's a theme prevalent throughout this return to Twin Peaks.
Lynch and Frost explore the sheer terror of time and the role it plays in fostering anxiety within their audience.
At the root of anxiety is our past and our future.
It can either be brought on by thinking of mistakes, or because of some sort of trauma we experienced, in the past; or it can be brought on by thinking of things yet to come and things we do not yet understand.
As such, there is no better time to be than in the present. For better or worse, you must stay in the present to have any chance of warding off this anxiety.
This is very important to remember as you sit down and watch what is, effectively, an 18-hour movie. There are no 'episodes' here, there are 'parts'.
This is a key distinction. If you attempt to sit down and watch this with 'episode' in mind, you will be left confused, annoyed, frustrated, and unimpressed.
An 'episode' is a chain of events happening in a sequence; but a 'part' is something that makes up a whole thing.
The whole is full of anxiety and things we cannot control - these are the combined parts. Those parts have happened, will happen, and are happening right now.
Those parts needn't be in any particular chronological or sequential order.
After all, anxiety's relationship to time is so powerful that we can relive the horror of our past in the present; while, almost simultaneously, we can feel terror as we ponder our future.
It's all so strong that we can even ponder the future of a past that we cannot have.
There's nothing truly sequential about these moments - lived or un- lived - that invade our present in an arbitrary manner over the space of a whole day, week, month, year or longer.
And yet despite how all over the place these parts may be, they still make up who we are; they still make up the whole of our existence.
The usage of time isn't something entirely new to Twin Peaks, especially THAT Fire Walk With Me scene in Laura's bedroom, but time has never been more important than in The Return.
Note that this is not season 3 of Twin Peaks. It stands alone from the original show, much like 'Fire Walk With Me'.
It is a 'return' - but a return to what exactly?
It is not the return of your beloved Twin Peaks of the 1990s.
Lynch and Frost are dealing with a rabid fanbase that, on one hand, demands new intrigue and new lore; while also wanting to explore old locations and characters.
As such, The Return is caught in a struggle between the lore's past, present and future.
But Lynch and Frost also want to remind you of how important it is to be mindful.
Interspersed within terrifying and turbulent scenes are moments of sheer, undiluted presence of mind.
You will see two characters sitting and mindlessly staring at an object in silence.
You will see otherworldly happenings.
You will see someone sweep the floor for two minutes.
You will see extreme violence.
You will see a musical performance.
Twin Peaks: The Return travels between realism and surrealism like the flick of a light switch.
That may not be something new for those familiar with the original show, but there's an inescapable feeling of discomfort throughout that is missing from the more formulaic original.
It plays with your anxieties over time: fear of time being wasted on scenes with seemingly no purpose, fear of not being in control of the story, and fear of whether or not you will reach the end having understood what you have just watched.
Whether you choose to accept or reject that you do not understand the whole, and whether or not you are able to make peace with that choice, will likely dictate how much you enjoy The Return.
Unlike the uncertainty and mystery within the original Twin Peaks run regarding Laura Palmer's murderer, which likely left you deeply intrigued and whimsical, this 18-hour movie's uncertainty and mystery is full of inescapable darkness and palpable anxiety.
Will we see this?
Is this going to happen?
Will this be resolved?
What is happening?
This is an existential crisis playing out in front of your eyes – both for you and your beloved characters.
It is uncomfortable viewing, but with some of the most satisfying pay-offs I have ever felt.
Remember: parts, not episodes.
Now, to get to the review part.
Actually... I think too much time has passed.
I have other things to do, other places to be, and other memories to dwell upon.
Come to think of it, what year is this?