Political Meanings and Leanings of Twin Peaks

The Politics of Twin Peaks. Amanda DiPaolo and Jamie Gillies, eds. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2019.

American filmmaker, David Lynch, is mostly known for his strange and surrealist cinema. Whether we are looking at his early short films, or his first feature length film, Eraserhead (1977), or his masterpiece, Blue Velvet (1986), Lynch has always created a world wholly unknown to us. His audience is invited to the party but they have to enter at their own risk, because Lynch has created a dream within a dream, and they never know if that dream might become nightmare.

Lynch’s films have elicited countless critiques, be they mainstream and popular or academic. Most of the reflections deal with purely cinematic aspect of Lynch’s films, but new collection of articles, The Politics of Twin Peaks, delves into the political aspects of Lynch’s work. Edited by Amanda DiPaolo and Jamie Gillies, the collection offers an interesting range of political subjects and theories in an attempt to reveal and understand the possibility of politics that are utilized by Lynch. These include party politics, gender, humor, as well as spirituality. The collection looks at both the original series, Twin Peaks, and Twin Peaks: the Return, which was made over 25 years later.

Since the town of Twin Peaks is described as small, rural place, it’s only natural for the authors of several pieces to focus on the notion of the American Dream, and how it might be represented in the series. In the introduction to the collection, Amanda DiPaolo and Jamie Gillies write that “At its very core, Twin Peaks is about politics of American culture. With its focus on small-town politics and life outside of urban centers, rural and suburban values play a big part in the overall Twin Peaks narrative.” This is true, and it’s visible in many ways, most notably in the behavior of the FBI agent, Albert Rosenfield (Miguel Ferrer), who outwardly and with pure loathing makes fun of the inhabitants of Twin Peaks. This wouldn’t be far from the truth, since many are either simpletons or exhibit violent tendencies toward women specific to the rural areas of America. But, like DiPaolo and Gillies imply in the introduction, this would be a far too simplistic way to look at it.

There are many different equally important themes that are running through the series but one thread that binds them together is nostalgia. FBI Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) is the vehicle through which we, the audience, experience of the return what seems to be the Garden of Eden when things were better and sweeter. Of course, return to Eden is never sweet but mostly bitter, and things are not always as they seem.

In Chapter 1, “The Nuclear Anxiety of Twin Peaks: The Return,” Ashlee Joyce focuses more on the ironic use of nostalgia and by looking closely at the Cold War and nuclear war (mainly present in the episode titled, “Gotta Light?”), she asks what is this world that Lynch is looking back on? Perhaps a world that is always tinged with darkness despite the fact that there is always good, old-fashioned cherry pie on the table.

Similarly, Amanda DiPaolo extends this pattern of nostalgia in Chapter 2, “Is It Future or Is It Past?: The Politics and Use of Nostalgia in Twin Peaks,” by giving us a multidimensional picture of nostalgia. She claims that Lynch’s use of nostalgia is “two-fold. For the viewer, our own sense of Americana and the perceived golden age portrayed by the town, sounds, and its residents made us want more of the same. … Yet, outside of Cooper and other federal law enforcement visitors, for those very residents of the town itself, nostalgia’s best use is exemplified as a coping mechanism for people who have lived through various degrees of stress and trauma.” Everyone in the series engages in some form or other of nostalgia, and as DiPaolo notices, everyone’s lives have various complexities, especially emotionally and psychologically. Again, like with most of Lynch’s works, every person has a secret linked in some way, to different objects.

Some of the discussions of politics in the collection are merely theories, and it is very difficult to see whether they can be applied to Twin Peaks. In “Rural and Suburban Lynch: Characterizations of Hard Times in Reagan’s and Trump’s America,” Jamie Gillies looks at the possibility of class differences in America and how that is strongly reflected in Twin Peaks. This may be somewhat true simple because the characters happen to inhabit a particular time, particular social and class circumstances, or put it simply, particular lives. They are bound to have some kind of firm existential structure. But is Lynch really intending this? Even Gillies writes that “David Lynch’s film oeuvre is decidedly non-political.” So, how can we then conclude that his work has anything directly to do with Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Obama, or Trump? Lynch is difficult to categorize to begin with and attempting to put a political (that is, party politics) meaning onto it is not seeing the painterly and dreamy quality of Lynch’s mind. As Dennis Hopper correctly said, “He [David Lynch] is an American surrealist.”

Other articles in the collection carry similar messages as Gillies, however not as strongly, and offer a different insight into the minds of the characters. Some of the most visible issues is of course, the violence against women in the series, as well as the issues of gender. Both Stacy Rusnak and Benjamin Kruger-Robbins delve into the problem of masculinity and femininity in the series, which is not so black and white. Lynch likes to play with tropes of both the feminine and the masculine and often times, the traditional roles are rearranged in such a way that they suggest the break of the tradition. In the usual Lynchian fashion, he restores them, keeping the order alive. But the movement between order and disorder never ceases.

Many academic disciplines are represented in this collection, and it was pleasant to read that philosophy too figures prominently. In particular, it was rather intriguing to see the exploration of “spiritual ways of knowing,” namely Dale Cooper’s Zen philosophy. In “Zen, or the Art of Being Agent Cooper,” Darci Doll looks at the “paradox of Daoism” – the idea of imperfect knowledge of reality is all we have. After all, Cooper uses reason but decides also to “go with the flow,” as Doll writes. This, too, is an unusual approach that we see with Lynch and can only lead to more questions.

Perhaps one of the most surprising and welcome explorations in this collection is the article on humor in Twin Peaks. This is often neglected, and Martin Fradley and John A. Riley aim to change this. In “”Dirty Bearded Men in a Room!”: Twin Peaks: The Return and the Politics of Lynchian Comedy,”” we see a meaningful look at what makes Lynch’s work funny. The jokes are off the wall and sometimes confusing but somehow, Twin Peaks fans understand it. As Fradley and Riley write, “…Twin Peaks’ absurdist comedy revolves around the tension between plausibility and implausibility, the ontological challenge posed by the gleeful illogic subsequently inviting (uneasy) laughter.” We don’t know whether we should laugh at any of it, and the most uncomfortable moment for the viewer when Lynch combines humor with violence. But that is one of the key elements in most of Lynch’s work – the interplay between good and evil.

Although some of the articles in the collection push the theoretical boundaries and gently impose particular political leanings and meanings on Twin Peaks and Lynch’s vision, it is a very good collection of essays. The authors are clearly in awe of Lynch’s works and even if the critical imposition exists (as it’s true of any application of academic discipline onto the primary source), what makes this collection worthy is that the contributors treat Lynch with respect that he deserves. At no moment do we get the feeling that what we’re witnessing is a pure deconstruction for its own sake. Rather, the contributors carefully evaluate elements of Lynch’s distinctive approach. One of the collection’s strengths is its inter-disciplinary approach. These critiques and evaluations will spark an interesting and productive dialogue among different academic disciplines, as well as continue the admiration and love of Lynch’s unique cinematic and American vision.

An excerpt of the book is available here.

Print