N. Needleman wrote:I never thought I'd hear someone claim that David Lynch's use of a white horse (or any symbology) "breaks continuity" in Twin Peaks.
This isn't Star Trek, it isn't even Lost. There are almost no definite symbols with definite, explicit purposes in Twin Peaks; so much is up for interpretation. The white horse can symbolize any number of things, and it does betide catastrophe for Cooper. That is not a "continuity error". Using a subjective symbol in a way not previously established just because you didn't think of it doesn't "break continuity".
Thank you! I really get confused when discussion of Twin Peaks drifts toward debates over sci-fi/fantasy style world-building issues. I can't remember who said it (it might have been Bob Engles at the USC thing), but someone quoted Lynch responding to the writers' questions about how the red room 'works'--"There are NO RULES in the red room!" It's just not how TP (or Lynch's work in general) functions.
His concerns are aesthetic, poetic, and emotional and his primary tool is pure intuition. When he talks about whether something is "correct," that is what he's talking about.
Now, that isn't to say there's nothing to discuss! I can imagine someone reacting to the above and saying, "Well, fuck it, then. It's all just random! What's there to discuss?!"
I profoundly disagree with anyone who would contend that Lynch's work is random. The trick to discussing it with any coherence is to approach it with the proper tools. The tools that work with meticulously built fantasy worlds or science fiction, etc. will only lead to dead ends and frustration. There's nothing inherently wrong with that mode of storytelling, if that's what floats your boat, but with Lynch it's just the wrong tool for the job!
Yes, Lynch loves to drop clues. But Lynchian clues do not serve the same purpose that clues do in, say, Doyle or Christie. They don't need to
lead anywhere concrete. Clues, for Lynch, are about being primed to receive. Clues peak our interest and get our senses going, so when things happen, we're sensitive and vulnerable and they hit us extra hard. That's all they need to do, so it's not a
flaw when the story contradicts a clue down the line--it's either irrelevant or it's about (and this is also one of Lynch's favorite themes) how life is messy and impossible to figure out.
So, what we have in the first couple of hours of TPTR is mostly the planting of clues. We're being primed. It's not so much
world-building as it is
tone-building. And it's important.
The story here is of a great man who has fallen and must be redeemed. Things are amiss. They're amiss because Dale Cooper is out in the world doing cruel, unspeakable things. An important foundational premise of Twin Peaks is that internal horror leaks out into the surrounding environment. Coop's struggle is not his alone because he's out in the world. This, to me, speaking poetically, is a profound truth.
So every scene, as we're reintroduced to the series, carries a heavy weight. A somber quietude. A sense of dis-ease. Something's wrong. Something is missing.
And yet there is the glorious scene in the Road House. It is not accidental that Lynch placed this scene at the end of the first two hours. Here is a scene of life continuing on--of simple, human-sized,
life. We get hints at drama, there's a definite bittersweetness to it, but it is feee of that
weight. This is Lynch telling us that, yes, something important is very wrong, but there is also life happening. Don't forget. There is music, and there are love stories, and for 25 years the folks in Twin Peaks have continued to
live lives. And we'll meet them. We'll get there.
But, right now, we are far away. Listen to the sounds.