While Twin Peaks fans have been mourning the loss of Log Lady, Catherine Coulson, we’ve also been eagerly anticipating the reboot and wondering how it’s going to fill that log-shaped void. Twin Peaks was a sensation when it premiered in 1989; no one had ever seen anything like it on primetime national television. What strikes most folks on first viewing, understandably, is how bizarre the show is. (One of my favorite bits of dialogue: Dale Cooper to Sheriff Truman: “Who’s the lady with the log?” Sheriff Truman: “We call her the Log Lady.”) An FBI agent who employs Zen Buddhist detecting techniques? A dancing dwarf in a red room? A giant who gives cryptic clues? A schizophrenic one-armed shoe salesman? What the hell is going on? (Given the nature of the “Black Lodge,” that might actually be the right question.)
A few things struck me on second viewing. First, the second season (or let’s say everything after the Laura Palmer plot has been “resolved”) is not as bad as I remembered. It helped that I skipped all the scenes involving James and Nadine. Heather Graham was not as terrible as I had first thought—her stilted delivery could generously be ascribed to her character’s awkward attempt to readjust to society after a spell in a convent—and her character actually is an intriguing love interest for Dale Cooper (although Cooper’s IQ seems to plummet precipitously once he turns doe-eyed suitor.) But the second season’s bad guy, Wyndham Earle, is a poor man’s Hannibal Lecter and a tired cliche compared to the chthonic terror of Bob.
And that, I think, is what made the Laura Palmer story arc so deeply satisfying. All the Lynchian weirdness spiced up what is, in essence, an ancient and archetypal story. Twin Peaks is a medieval allegory. Bob is the dragon terrorizing the village. Laura Palmer is “virgin” princess (the Prom Queen) made sacrificial victim. Dale Cooper is the Knight in shining armor, defender of the good and upholder of an ancient code of honor. Sheriff Truman is the trusted squire and noble companion. Andy is the Village Idiot. Benjamin Horne is the gluttonous King (are there any scenes of him not eating something?) and Catherine the malevolent Queen. The Log Lady is the Mystic (or maybe her log is? Or Sergeant Briggs?). Harold is the Hermit (J’ai une âme solitaire.) And so on. The whole dramatis personae is effectively a Tarot deck (an idea some clever artist has actually exploited.) Twin Peaks at its best taps into deep, powerfully unshakable archetypes—the weirdness is the just the garnish.