MY 1992 REVIEW OF TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME

MULTIGLOM

twin-peaks-1992-07-g 2

I was all set to rubbish Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me when I found myself in a pot-modernist dilemma. Only a couple of years ago, Twin Peaks – the TV series – was consigned to the dustbin of passé after a fleeting burst of cult popularity. The film had a hostile reception at Cannes and flopped dismally at the American box-office. Director David Lynch’s brand of small-town Dirty Surrealism suddenly seemed oh-so-five-minutes-ago, as they say in these feverish fin-de-siècle times.

So imagine my consternation when I found myself warming to this infra-dig artefact. It begins with the destruction of a television set, as if announcing goodbye to the small screen, hello Panavision. Where the TV series kicked off with Laura Palmer’s corpse washing up on the riverbank, the movie slips back in time, introducing us to a previous victim of the mysterious serial killer “Bob” and then jumping forward…

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