I’m in the middle of a big project where I’m reading and watching a lot of material (a lot) in the hopes of being able to sit in a room and say something coherent about it all. As a part of that process, I’ve been rewatching a lot of television I haven’t seen in a while, and am trying to sort through what makes it a worthwhile item of discussion, how it connects to other shows, and say something cogent about why this particular show is a relevant part of my List of Giant Things I Need to Read and Watch. (Note: you may think that should have read “Giant List of Things,” but indeed, no. It is a requirement to be Giant in order to be on this list.)

As a part of all this, I’ve decided to take Fridays and write about a show on that List of Giant Things. I spend a little time every day sitting down with a word processing document. Might as well use some of that time for the LoGT instead of The Real Housewives of New York City, ya know what I mean? (Note the second: this does not necessarily mean that I haven’t watched The Real Housewives of New York City. I find Bethenny’s cheekbones mesmerizing.)

So, up first on the LoGT project – Twin Peaks, 1990-1991. Largely produced and created by David Lynch and Mark Frost, although some disputes during season two caused David Lynch to leave until returning to work on the final episode.

I first saw the pilot of Twin Peaks in my college dorm room a few years ago, and I remember watching the synthesized strains of the hypnotic opening credits and rocking back in my chair. “What on earth is this?” I wondered, as a machine slowly rotated around the points of a giant buzz saw, blowing sparks everywhere. The pilot introduces the community, the main characters, and what seems like the central focus of the show. Local high school student Laura Palmer has been murdered, and Agent Dale Cooper and Sheriff Harry S. Truman are going to find out who did it. That first, extended-length episode does essentially what you’d expect, outlining the relationships between Laura’s friend Donna, her boyfriend Bobby, her lover James, and all the other minor characters at the diner, the Great Northern Hotel, the gas station, the sheriff’s department. It’s also intensely melodramatic and returns constantly to the overwrought main theme, which never slips quietly into the background noise, but rather slaps you upside the head with its straining, electronic violin and keyboard anguish. read more…