There is something about David Lynch’s work that people cannot place a finger on — an air of intangibility. Watching his stories unfold is like taking a deep dive into your elusive, subconscious mind. Half of your body remains intact and the other half wanders out to a different dimension. It feels like plunging into the deepest depths of the unknown. Perhaps one word that could possibly describe all his works is “dreamlike”. Be prepared for a transcendence into a magical realm. Being part of Lynch’s journey means riding a bike blindfolded down a maze. You don’t know where the dark winding routes will take you, but you are willing to follow through even if your senses betray you.
“Lynchian” is an adjective that honors Lynch’s approach to creating films and TV shows. There is no consensus as to what it means, since the sweeping, atmospheric mood he emulates on screen is challenging to describe in words. The Oxford Dictionary defines “Lynchian” as blending the “surreal or sinister elements with the mundane.” This jarring dissonance is commonplace in Lynch’s playbook. Lynch has repeatedly set his stories in small, quiet, idyllic towns. The idealism of living in a bubble is contrasted by disturbing and bizarre elements. It would not be a stretch to draw parallels between the term “Lynchian” and Lynch’s own childhood. In the documentary David Lynch: The Art Life, Lynch recounted a disturbing encounter he experienced when he was a young child. Raised in the small, quiet town of Boise, Idaho, he and his brother once witnessed a wounded woman stumbling across their neighborhood street. This haunting vision is echoed in several works of Lynch’s. In the first episode of Twin Peaks, set in a seemingly tranquil town, a dazed and wounded woman walks across the rail bridge with a rope around her wrist. It is an eerie scene which prompts the audience to question how this all happened. There appears to be a common underlying theme in Lynch’s works: a persistence to dig deep into the dark underbelly of picturesque suburban America. Perhaps Lynch was attempting to make sense of his past. His way of reconciling with these inconclusive past events is to represent them in his art. Lynch’s art is elusive and dreamlike, just like the personal experiences he hints at but never truly explains. Another way of thinking about the exploration of darkness in an idyllic suburban setting is about pondering over the interior versus the exterior facade of human life. One of Lynch’s favorite motifs was houses. In the Dark Enlightenment Interview with David Lynch, he explained, “I love houses. I love the idea of inside and outside… it could be horror in there, or it could be really nice.” This fascination with what pokes through the surface drove Lynch to create stories of surrealism that can only be defined as Lynchian.
Twin Peaks comes to mind when thinking of art that is quintessentially American and timeless. Twin Peaks is the ultimate trendsetter. It is a classic. It is arguably the first big murder mystery television series in history. The show premiered on ABC on April 8, 1990. During and after its two-season run, the show gained a massive cult following. One reason why Twin Peaks occupies such a special place in the television pantheon might be because of its uniqueness compared to other shows from the 1990s, back when people had to hold their breaths in suspense for a week while waiting for the next episode. Twin Peaks’ avant-garde, evocative storytelling sets it apart from other television programs of its day. Each scene is suspenseful and imbued with a cloak of ambiguity. One scene plucked out of an episode is a story of its own. However, it is a story with a cliffhanger. The audience is left with more questions than answers. In the pilot episode, eerie tension is masterfully crafted by Lynch. There is the iconic classroom scene, where students are informed of a sinister tragedy. Out of nowhere, an unidentified student screams as she runs down the school courtyard. We never see her again on screen. It is deeply unsettling, yet it prompts us to construe the scene with our own critical thinking and imagination. That is what Lynch does. He creates absurdity by encouraging the audience to contemplate beyond what is displayed on screen.
Twin Peaks is set in a fictional yet perfectly Pacific Northwest town — wintry and brooding. The show follows an eccentric FBI agent who investigates the murder of local teenager Laura Palmer, Homecoming Queen and one of the most beloved and popular figures in town. Her unexpected demise has created a tear in this town’s public image. Who could do this to her and why? Lynch explores the interior and exterior of Laura Palmer’s life throughout the show’s two seasons. We move in and out of her family home, and it slowly dawns in on us that her true life drastically departs from what we previously pictured. In the first season, we are introduced to the people who are presumably the closest to Laura. As the saying goes, it is always those who are the closest to you that can hurt you the most. In a small, conspiring town, any of the characters could have done the unthinkable. As Twin Peaks is somewhat of a classic “whodunnit” tale, the audience at first distrusts certain characters, then forgives them once another suspicious source arises.
But since this is a David Lynch creation, this show cannot be compared to any other murder mystery shows. Twin Peaks transcends genres. The show flirts with metaphysical qualities, soap opera features, and campy horror tropes. As the show goes on, it only becomes more surreal and dreamlike. When we are first introduced to Dale Cooper, there is an inkling that the show might be heading into an unexpected direction. Cooper drives through Twin Peaks, holding his tape recorder, talking about trees, the weather, coffee, and cherry pies. He subverts our expectations of what we expect of an FBI agent: serious, professional, and stern. Dale Cooper is partly responsible for why Twin Peaks is incredibly iconic to this day. His lines are instantly memorable, and people from the show’s fandom often repeat his coffee order– “black as midnight on a moonless night.” His unwavering innocence and playful nature encourages the audience to have hope that there is some goodness in this dark, twisted world.
There is also the Red Room that sets Twin Peaks apart from other shows that label themselves as murder mysteries. This is when Lynch embraces surrealism, unabashedly displaying his true colors. Otherwise known as the Black Lodge, the Red Room is an extradimensional space that is connected to the forest in Twin Peaks. Lynch likes to set his stories inside a proscenium frame. The Red Room is a perfect example of this as it creates a fourth wall between the audience and the actors. “I just love the stage with curtains and a rectangle or a square. It’s defined space,” Lynch once commented on the device. In a renowned Red Room scene that feels like an organic and authentic dream of Cooper’s, we revisit Laura Palmer, but she is not how we usually recognise her. Her sentences are scrambled and disjointed. The red curtains are drawn. Angelo Badalamenti’s funky jazz soundtrack plays in the background. A man dances in a peculiar way across the zigzagged floor. It is confusing and does not make sense… except it does… if we surrender ourselves to the distortions of a dreamlike state.
And that is why we have an appetite for the magic that David Lynch casts upon us. His curiosity to explore the inexplicable nature of a human soul is extraordinary. Like Lynch, we should learn how to let ourselves dream. So let’s put our blindfolds on, set our foot on the pedal, and venture into the dark maze together. Let’s revisit Twin Peaks.
Emily is an exchange student from the University of New South Wales in Australia. She is an undergraduate Arts/Law student at her home university. At Georgetown, she studies English.
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