Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (David Lynch, 1992)


Laura Palmer has doe eyes, and when she meets the big bad wolf, her pupils dilate, her eyelids flutter and they fill with tears. Is that what love is? She surrounds herself with coloured light, distorting the true face of God, because we cannot look into the eyes of Our Father without losing hold of what he really is.

I don’t remember what happened yesterday, and I couldn’t make sense of it if I did, but I do know how I felt. Feelings are even more elusive than events, but they are my own, and they are contained. Where will I spend my last hours? Will you remember me in the morning?

She asked how she even got into bed last night, and I didn’t know how to answer. I’m not ashamed of what happened, but I’d rather not talk about it. I don’t remember you being so soft and vulnerable, even though you were so bold last night. We can be one, but you can never be me.

Where was I? Oh right, there was a dream, and you were there, and you were there, and you were there. It was quiet, and yet everyone was speaking very strangely. All through our life we are walking through the valley of death, and its shadow is continually upon us. Of all my commentaries there is but one that agrees with me, but that makes no difference.

The man cracks a smile and leers. He revolts me, but I fear the day when he no longer looks at me as though I am all his, and nothing is coming between us, not even clothes.

Kiss me one last time, I need your breath inside of me.

6 responses to “Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (David Lynch, 1992)

  1. Sometimes I ask myself, what would it mean to make movies that read Robin Wood from the devil’s (angels’?) party? [to paraphrase William Blake’s well-known aphorism ‘Milton was of the Devil’s party without knowing it’, etc]

    I mention Wood all the time, because though he’s sometimes crazy he’s always right. And that’s an aphorism of mine that I know cannot be true of a critic, though it might be true of a great artist; but Wood is also a visionary and he argues with such devastating authority and capaciousness, his criticism is automatically canonical.

    And he hates Lynch, and (for his purposes) rightly so. I am sure that Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me is a profoundly conservative film, which would fill Wood with grief, and is also a profoundly great film–great enough, perhaps, that even with its profoundly Woodean theme of dissolution within the patriarchal nuclear family it can also disprove Wood’s optimistic, very Blakean hope that liberated energy can lead to enlightenment, freedom, love, happiness. Mind you, Wood is reading Blake optimistically (naively?–but I mean that in the profound, Schillerean sense of ‘naive’) and not, as Paglia does, as a prophet of badly-contained despair. Clearly Lynch is in the other camp here– at least until . . .

    Let me ask you something: do my eyes and memory deceive me, or can you spot a dangling loose thread on the arm of the angel’s costume? –Many people, I am sure, think this film is kitsch. A detail like that would help confirm this in their mind, though very few people would be so silly as to think Lynch just made a boo-boo. The more I think about it, it’s a Kieslowskian detail. The mundane and the transcendent? A way of saying: yes, this angel is an actress in a costume, but also, this is the angel that overlooks you now? Lynch’s way of saying: I am so committed to this, even a church basement angel costume can be an emblem of my hopes? A supreme Dreyer-esque defiance of his critics, of those who lack his–faith, as it may be? This is one of the supreme films.

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