“She’s filled with secrets.”

“If everything else falls apart and I’m broke, in 20 years I’ll still be able to do Twin Peaks conventions.” – Miguel Ferrer, 1990

As Radiator Heaven reminded me this week, has it really been two decades and another century since TWIN PEAKS made its stunning network debut? Being an immense fan of David Lynch, I was intrigued to see how his dark sentimental subversity would translate to the vast wasteland of banal programming. Obviously it translated well, PEYTON PLACE meets BLUE VELVET as Lynch’s populist surrealism fit perfectly within the tube frame. Co-created and written by Mark Frost, who brought his dialogue and narrative gifts to the series, TWIN PEAKS was an unlikely cultural phenom in the Spring of 1990, one of the great years of my life and decade. This seemed like the perfect bellweather for the coming decade after the Reagan hum of the neon ’80’s. And this was the only television show that I would stay home for on a Saturday night. And I did, consecutively for its groundbreaking first season run.

David Lynch directed the two hour premiere, still perhaps the most audacious film ever created for home viewing. I was hooked instantly by Angelo Badalementi’s lush, twangy, achingly beautiful music and the small-town tapestry that Lynch and Frost had weaved for the show’s eclectic cast of characters. The ostensible plot revolved around the brutal mysterious murder of high school sweetheart Laura Palmer (“Wrapped in plastic”) and its effect on the unique Northwestern populace. One of the strengths of the series is that it never let you forget that Laura’s death was an ongoing tragedy and would not be sated by time — the moment when Laura’s mother (Grace Zabriskie) screams into the phone when learning of her daughter’s fate is one of the most indelible, disturbing things I’ve ever seen (I get chills just writing about it). The premiere had numerous Lynchian touches such as Bobby Briggs and friend behind bars as they scowl and bark at good bad boy James Hurley and the mythical Log Lady whose name tells you all. Then there’s that stop light…and Who Killed Laura Palmer?

Of course, that’s only the beginning of the show’s strange journey as Agent Dale Cooper arrives on the scene in black suit and thoughtful attitude; Kyle MacLachlan’s charismatic performance is the glue that sealed the show, and his introduction, dictating his thoughts to the unseen “Diane” as he waxes on the trees and his accomodations, lets you know immediately that Cooper is our hero. He’s a great lead, with his no-nonsense approach and humanistic tendencies such as the pleasure of a damn fine cup of Joe and his concern for the Tibetan people. Balancing his exotic big-city ways is Sheriff Harry Truman, played with strength and warmth by Michael Ontkean, who probably doesn’t get the credit he should as Cooper’s loyal legal companion. The entire ensemble cast is fantastic and each character inspired a cult of his/her own. If forced to choose, I’d pick Cooper and the wicked Benjamin Horne, played with staggering gusto by Richard Beymer, a long way from his humble roots in WEST SIDE STORY (1963). I also dig Colonel Briggs (Don Davis), the sensible spiritual military man trying to reach out to his troubled son, Bobby. But everybody had their moments, and Piper Laurie more than matched Ben Horn for willful duplicity. It was great to see Jack Nance (ERASERHEAD) as her ineffectual husband along with Russ Tamblyn as the oddball shrink who took care of Laura. And yes, TWIN PEAKS was also a very erotic show, Lynch’s sexual themes running alongside the humor and darkness. The siren sextet of Sherilyn Fenn, Lara Flynn Boyle, Sheryl Lee, Madchen Amick, Joan Chen and Peggy Lipton stirred up the hormones as well as the mystery. I love it when Cooper spots Josie Packard (Chen) and asks Truman, “Who’s the babe?”

There’s so many cool things about TWIN PEAKS that it’s impossible to list them all here, suffice to say I became a devoted viewer, eschewing dates or parties for my weekly Saturday night ritual that usually left me frightened by the end of the episode, particularly the reveal of the show’s supernatural villain, “Bob.” I drove around town in my 1964 Cadillac, blasting Badalementi’s best-selling soundtrack and while I never became the kind of fan who would go to conventions, I felt the series was embedded in my esthetic DNA. The mere fact that David Lynch was able to transmute his weird vision into America gave me hope for the decade. The guest directors always surpassed my expectations, especially the Tim Hunter episodes. The show definitely “jumped the shark” in the erratic second season, but there was still brilliance to be witnessed. When I had the pleasure of interviewing Lynch ten years later upon the release of MULHOLLAND DRIVE, I cautiously limited my TWIN PEAKS questions but he didn’t skip a beat, reflecting in his wonderful mid-western twang:

Were you happy with the way Twin Peaks ended?

Oh, it could have gone on forever. The problem was we never meant to follow the murder for a long time. The Black Dahlia has never been solved… these things keep pulling you, and you keep thinking about them and it’s beautiful. So once it’s solved, it really kills the magnet. It’s terrible. We were put under so much pressure by ABC and people in general to solve that, that we killed the goose that laid the golden egg.

I think the little man dancing in Twin Peaks is the weirdest moment in TV history.

I remember where I was when I got that idea. I was at CFI on Seward Street, and we were cutting the pilot for Twin Peaks; I don’t know what time of year it was. We left the cutting room and it might have been summer, it was still light, and I was leaning up against the car talking to Duwayne Dunham who’s the editor… and the car, the metal was warm, my elbows were on the roof, and it was not too warm to be uncomfortable, and Bango! Here it comes.

And yes, Michael Anderson’s “Dance Of The Dream Man” is still the weirdest moment to ever appear on the American home screen. I recall watching it, feeling that blissed-out dream state that only David Lynch could pull off. But below is the scene where I fell in love with TWIN PEAKS, not just because of Miguel Ferrer’s famous introduction as Albert Rosenfield, but the great moment between Dale Cooper and Harry Truman at 0:58-1:06. The sweet decency of the characters combined with the world’s grim darkness made for the most subversive, brilliant television show of the 20th century.