screenwriting

‘Twin Peaks’ Recap: Parts 14 & 15

norma&ed_part15.jpg

By Caitlin Malcuit

Parts 14 and 15 together make for a poignant two hours, running down the list to check off a host of emotions. You’ve got heartbreak, you’ve got grief, you’ve got delight—rollercoaster sure does work as a metaphor here, because the lump in your throat and tears in your eyes are physical reminders of mortality. It’s red curtains for all of us, eventually.

Part 14: I Cannes Dream about You

The fine folks of the Twin Peaks Sherriff’s Department and the FBI bring each other up to speed on their respective storylines, but not before Gordon Cole nearly deafens Lucy with his shouting. Frank Truman reveals they have the missing pages of Laura Palmer’s diary and that there may be two Coopers out in the wild.

Albert elaborates on the Blue Rose nomenclature to Tammie; the case of origin involved a woman named Lois Duffy, who shot her doppelganger. The double, with her dying breath, utters, “I’m like the Blue Rose.” Agent Preston observes that such a color rose does not occur in nature—the fake Duffy was “a tulpa”—a manifestation of Lois, separate from her own consciousness. We, the audience, slowly realize this conceit indulges Lynch’s passion for transcendental meditation.

Diane is questioned about her last encounter with Cooper to see if Major Briggs ever came up in conversation. She claims that he did not, and learns about the ring found in Briggs’ stomach. Turns out Janey-E is Diane’s half-sister, who lives in Las Vegas with her husband Douglas Jones. They do not get along. In turn, Cole gets Las Vegas agents Wilson (Owain Rhys Davies) and Headley (Jay R. Ferguson) on the horn, asking them to round up Dougie and Jane.

Cole loudly announces to his colleagues that, “Last night, I had another Monica Bellucci dream.” Yeah, honest-to-god, it’s Monica Bellucci, even more cryptic here than she was in “The Matrix: Reloaded.” In his dream, Cole joined Bellucci and her friends for coffee at a Parisian café. Dale Cooper materialized, his face indistinguishable. Monica woefully recites a philosophical text: "We are like the dreamer who dreams, and then lives inside the dream. But who is the dreamer?" Cole is compelled to look behind him, following his companion’s gaze, and sees his younger self. This triggered a memory of Phillip Jeffries sudden reappearance in “Fire Walk with Me.”

Deputy Chad runs out of opportunities to sneak in conference room lunches when he’s arrested by his co-workers, who have their lunch on the table, taunting him.

Bobby, Hawk, Andy, and Frank head to the forest and Jack Rabbit’s Palace, coming upon a clearing with fog swirling about. A young woman’s body lies on the ground, but she’s still alive. Her face is eyeless; this is the woman who helped Cooper escape his interdimensional limbo. As 2:53 hits, a vortex appears in the sky, all staring at it—only Andy disappears. He drops in to the black and white from the premiere. The giant arrives, projecting a brief film that shows Andy the creation of BOB, Laura, as well as Cooper and his evil double. The vortex disappears as the sheriff’s team snap out of their daze. Andy reappears with the young woman in his arms. Our usually cyclical, repetitive deputy lays down the facts: the tall man is called the Fireman, who explained the woman is very important, and people want her dead.

Lucy and Andy get Naido (per the credits) set up with nice cozy pajamas and keep her in a cell, where Chad and a bloodied drunk also sit. Naido starts clicking and cooing, and the drunk grunts as well. Chad screams at them to shut up to no avail, and starts mocking them with ape sounds before he screams.

James Hurley, taking a break from his security detail at the Great Northern, shoots the shit with his coworker Freddie (Jake Wardle), obliterating walnuts with his grip. They’re heading to the Roadhouse for James’ birthday, but James has another b-day request: the story behind Freddie’s green, rubber-gloved right hand.

After a night of drinking at a London pub, Freddie was compelled to tackle a stack of boxes in an alley. But once he jumped, he levitated. Like Andy, he saw a vortex and was dropped into the Fireman’s room. Freddie was instructed to stop in a hardware store and pick up a lone green rubber glove that would grant him staggering strength. From there, he’d travel to Twin Peaks to seek his destiny. The clerk didn’t want to sell an opened package with a single item, but Freddie paid and decked the clerk, breaking the guy’s neck. The glove wouldn’t come off even with a doctor’s assistance. Freddie figured he’d head to Twin Peaks, but to his surprise, his plane ticket had already been purchased.

James decides to check out a noise in the hotel boiler room, but we’re spared a Winkie’s jump scare and instead find Sarah Palmer depositing herself at the Elk’s Point #9 Bar to get her Bloody Mary fix. A trucker zeroes in on her, but Sarah’s not amused by his (un)smooth talk. The jerk keeps hounding her, escalating with threats, but Sarah does him one better: she pulls off her face. The trucker stares in horror into a dark void as a floating mouth sasses, “Are you sure you want to fuck with this?” She fixes her face back in place and rips out the trucker’s throat. He drops to the floor as Sarah campaigns for an Emmy, acting as if she’s mortified. The bartender thinks something is fishy, but she icily replies, “Sure is a mystery, huh?”

At the Roadhouse, we’re back to another mystery: Where the hell is Billy? Megan (Shane Lynch) chats with her friend Sophie (Emily Stofle) about his last-known whereabouts. Megan and her mother caught sight of him in their yard, frightening them both. He dashed into their kitchen, bleeding from his mouth and nose before taking off again. Sophie’s face and the music darkens as she asks, “What’s your mother’s name?” “Tina,” Megan replies.

Part 15: Lights Out

Golden shovel in hand, Nadine Hurley marches down the highway and stops at Big Ed’s Gas Farm. Following her conversation with Dr. Jacoby, Nadine tells Ed that she came to a realization: she’s changed. She loves Ed so much, but, as she puts it, “I’ve been a selfish bitch to you all these years, and you’ve been a saint.” Nadine knows that Ed always pined for Norma, but kept them apart out of spite, taking advantage of her husband’s guilt. She just wants him to be free and gives her blessing to the couple. After one last embrace, Nadine swings her shovel over her shoulder, strutting out into the sunset.

Ed, overcome with newfound freedom, bolts to the Double R Diner as Otis Redding’s “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long” swells, probably the best, most breathtaking musical moment of the show. He rushes up to Norma, telling her everything’s changed, that they’re free to be together. For the Double R’s owner, that’s great and all…but Walter’s here. Ed’s face drops, and so do our hearts. He slumps onto a stool as Norma tells her beau that she’s selling the franchise to him, holding on to the original location. The regulars are her family, and she wants to take care of them. Walter storms off.

Ed sits in silence—practicing his Transcendental Meditation® Technique, no doubt—but Norma’s hand slides over his shoulder. He swivels around and they hold one another, together at long last. Ed says, “Marry me,” to which Norma smiles, “Of course I will,” as Shelly warmly looks on, coffee carafe in hand.

Mr. C arrives at the Convenience Store. Led by a Woodsman to the floral wallpapered space Cole saw in his vortex trip, they venture to a new realm beyond the store: a motel. A woman with a shadowed face brings Mr. C to Philip Jeffries, occupying the form of a large steam teapot-type machine. C wants to know if he sent Ray to kill him—Jeffries did not call Ray, and never spoke to the doppelganger five days prior because he doesn’t have Mr. C’s number. The conversation steers toward someone named Judy, first mentioned by Jeffries back in the 1989 FBI HQ incident. C wants to know who Judy is, but the teapot claims they’ve already met. Jeffries knows her whereabouts, however, and spouts out coordinates via steam signal. He fades away, leaving Mr. C to answer a telephone, teleporting him back outside.

Cooper’s double is greeted by Richard Horne, pistol drawn. Richard says he recognized Mr. C back at the Over the Top farm. His mom had a picture of him in his FBI glory. “Who’s your mom?” Mr. C asks. Richard answers, “Audrey Horne.” Ruh-roh!

Mr. C beats and disarms Richard for threatening him, then makes the young man enter the truck. They’ll chat when they ride. Practicing driver safety, C shoots off a text that reads, “Las Vegas?”

In the forests of Twin Peaks, Steven Burnett and Gersten Hayward clutch each other under a large tree, the former twitchy from his high. He loads a gun to Gersten’s dismay, threatening suicide because his life is a mess. The pair are discovered by a man (Mark Frost) walking his dog, and Gersten scurries off, clutching her head as she hears a gunshot. The man walks back to his home at the Fat Trout Trailer Park, telling Carl what he saw.

At the Roadhouse, James and Freddie enjoy their night out when they spot Renee (Jessica Szohr), the crier at James’ show. Hurley the younger dares to say hello, and is promptly hassled by her husband Chuck. For some reason, James blurts out that he likes her, taking a punch to the face in kind. Chuck and his pal gang up on James and Freddie steps in, striking the men with his gloved hand. This lands the bullies in intensive care, James and Freddie in a jail cell, and starts another howling session in the Twin Peaks Sheriff’s Department.

In Las Vegas, Agent Wilson rounds up the wrong Dougie and Jane Jones. Todd Duncan asks his assistant Roger to find Tony Sinclair, but both are shot to death by Chantal. One down, one to go, she tells Hutch.

The true Cooper gets a piece of chocolate cake from Janey-E, enjoying it along with an airing of “Sunset Boulevard.” The mention of character Gordon Cole causes Cooper to pause the film in shock. His eyes are drawn to the electrical outlet on the wall and he crawls toward it, fork outstretched. He inserts the handle into the socket, blowing out the power as Janey-E screams in fright. 

The Log Lady calls Hawk once more to let her old friend know that she’s dying. She knows that it’s her time, but there’s always room for a little fear. Margaret and Hawk have a shared knowledge though, that death is “just a change, not an end.” They exchange their final good nights, and, after Hawk hangs up, a good-bye, Margaret. 

Audrey Horne has made it as far as the foyer of her home where Charlie waits. He’s even ready to go, coat on and all! Audrey still experiences periodic dissociative spells, blinking in confusion. It’s almost as if she can’t head out the door, descending into a pissing match with Charlie. He threatens to take off his coat and just forget about going to the Roadhouse (he’s still so, so sleepy, after all). Audrey feels like she’s meeting a different person, demanding to know who he is. Charlie sighs, removes his coat and plops on the couch. Ms. Horne can’t take it anymore, and rushes at Charlie and chokes him.

So they don’t make it to the Roadhouse. Ruby (Charlyne Yi) sits slumped in a booth to check out The Veils’ performance. Two bikers approach, but she says she’s waiting for someone. They lift Ruby up and set her on the floor. She crawls through the crowd, screaming violently as the concert comes to a close.

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The Time Presents Itself: 'Twin Peaks' Premiere Is A Beautiful/Terrible Nightmare

By Caitlin Malcuit

For the return of “Twin Peaks”—sorry, “Twin Peaks: The Return”—to feel like a waking nightmare couldn’t come at a more prescient moment. Perhaps, to prepare, you buzz at the small pleasure of a slice of cherry pie and cup of black coffee at 9 p.m. But by 11, those treats all sit in the pit of your stomach, churning in an acidic swirl of red and black. It feels like the evil that seeped out of the Black Lodge, smothering more lives in more places with some insidious smog. Time and narrative don’t feel so linear or certain. What the fuck do we know about anything anymore?

The two-part premiere looks and feels like the whiplash fever dream of a David Lynch feature, but the crack-of-the-neck twists unfold in excruciating slow motion. A looming dread, twitchy apparitions, and pulsing sound design may feel more at home in “Silent Hill” or “Jacob’s Ladder” than what “Twin Peaks” fans are used to. The knowing kitsch of the former incarnation is 25 years in the past, and the present is the gritty, slow-burn of prestige drama that everyone cribbed from Lynch anyway. That’s not to say we don’t encounter aesthetic mainstays—the title theme sweeps over white water and rushing waterfalls until the Red Room bleeds into frame. And that’s where we find Agent Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) once again.

Following the replay of Cooper’s dream, Dale and the Giant (Carel Struycken) sit in crisp black and white. The latter implores Agent Cooper to “listen to the sounds” of a scratchy, crackling phonograph. “It is in our house now,” the Giant warns. “It is?” asks Cooper. The Giant replies, “It all cannot be said aloud now. Remember 430. Richard and Linda, two birds with one stone.” I understand says Cooper, even if we don’t. Yet.

For now, the Black Lodge is where Cooper stays. BOB, possessing our beloved agent’s body, roams free to terrorize mortals, grizzled and hardened, his hair a greasy mop with an equally greasy snakeskin dress shirt and leather jacket. His is a world not of diner pies and donuts, but the seedy, steamy underbelly of South Dakota’s rolling plains. BOB machinates the breakdown of high school principal Bill Hastings (Matthew Lillard), philandering with Ruth Davenport, the librarian who he’s now accused of killing. Bill’s predicament echoes that of Leland Palmer, whose poor, wretched soul we glimpse in the Lodge.

South Dakota isn’t the only new stopover we make in this return. In Las Vegas, a businessman hands over a bundle of cash and requests that his subordinate Roger “tell her she has the job.” In a New York City warehouse, a young man watches an empty glass box, seeing nothing until he sees something, all right. These new times, places, and faces channel Lynch’s creeping, anxiety-wrought approach to horror in “The Return,” punching you in the face before waltzing your numbed body around the living room.

There are some chisels taken to this darkness, however. They’re found in the familiar faces of Twin Peaks, population 51,201. The man who lifts his dark shades to show off his signature red and blue glasses? Dr. Jacoby (Russ Tamblyn) is roughing it in the woods now, accepting a delivery of shovels instead of tropical tchotchkes. Andy (Harry Goaz) and Lucy (Kimmy Robertson) are still together, and their now-adult child shares a birthday with Marlon Brando. Ben Horne (Richard Beymer) is still parked behind his desk at the Great Northern Hotel, while his brother Jerry (David Patrick Kelly) is all about edibles. These moments are few and far between, and for a brief while, we feel certain again.  

Staring down the uncertainty is Chief Deputy Hawk (Michael Horse), who fields a call from the Log Lady, Margaret. Played by the late Catherine E. Coulson, Margaret lets Hawk know her log has a message to share. “Something is missing, and you have to find it.” Hawk knows that he and the log are on the same page, but the poignancy isn’t in the potential that they’ll get Cooper back. No, it’s that final goodnight that Margaret bids Hawk, done in the quiet, human charm that “Twin Peaks” does so well. The heart aches to see Coulson say goodnight when she truly means goodbye.

Finally, what would “Twin Peaks” be without a stop at the roadhouse? We find Shelly (Madchen Amick) having a girls’ night out as James (James Marshall) strolls in, making flirty eye contact with one of her pals. Another friend says he’s weird (she’s right), but Shelly defends him, saying James “has always been cool” (he’s not). They all smile sweetly at one another, while a stranger (Balthazar Getty) directs a finger gun and a wink at the former Mrs. Johnson. For now, everyone is having a good time as the Chromatics sing us out with their new track “Shadows”—The Bang Bang Bar will have a host of rotating guest performances for this season. For now, it’s a welcome respite from the menace of the last two hours. It’s like having the most beautiful dream and the most terrible nightmare, all at once.

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Set Phasers to Love Me: Saying Good-Bye To ‘Community’

By Daniel Ford

Death has never come easy for NBC’s “Community.”

The show not only had to contend with the constant threat of its own cancellation, but also featured several deaths that the misguided, passionate, weird, contentious, and loveable-despite-themselves band of community college misfits had to wrestle with.

I thought the show was dead when Dan Harmon left. There were three brilliant seasons of television that hardcore fans would forever be happy with and the ratings were such that it seemed cancellation was inevitable.

It was kept alive by NBC. David Guarascio and Moses Port did an admirable job keeping most of the show’s spirit alive in Season 4 under near impossible circumstances. But still, it wasn’t the “Community” that I, or any of its #sixseasonsandamovie-obsessed fans, had grown to love and expect. When the finale of that season ended, I figured the show would finally, and deservedly at that point, be put down for good.

I should have known not to count “Community” out. Dan Harmon was even re-hired to run the show’s fifth season. How crazy is that? Was there something mystical in that hashtag that Jedi mind-tricked NBC executives from seeing the abysmal ratings? It’s not that Harmon had a personality transfusion and would now be willing to play nice with others and develop a “normal” show for the network.

The fifth season premiere of “Community,” and the finale that followed, were the closet in execution and spirit to those incredible first three seasons. While the season as a whole was uneven, I appreciated the bonus hours I got to spend at Greendale, a place I had come to inhabit more so than my actual community college in Queens, N.Y.

Season 5 felt like a long good-bye and an attempt by Harmon to right the ship that he had himself capsized. Donald Glover said farewell, choosing his budding rap career over Troy and his river of tears and sissy sneezes. Chevy Chase’s character Pierce made a brief appearance before he also kicked the bucket and joined his mother in that big energon pod in the sky.

Some storylines were resolved. Some weren’t. It ended the way it should have. You can’t argue that the characters are in a better or worse place than when they started. “Community” was at its best when it mirrored the real world (even those episodes that involved zombies or a KFC flight simulator). None of these characters were comfortable in their own skin because their creator has never been comfortable in his own skin. No one should be 100% comfortable in their own skin because real brilliance and creativity comes from grappling with how best to deal with yourself while having to live in the real world. The friends you make along the way—even when they drive you crazy or try to torpedo your game of Dungeons and Dragons—make that journey tolerable and lead to express yourself better than you would alone.

“Community” is dead, but it lived a full life and should be mourned in peace and tranquility, not anger. We’re not in the darkest timeline because that timeline is one in which the show never existed. Five seasons of the show are a gift, one that can easily be enjoyed on multiple platforms for the rest of time.

 As Shirley would say, “That’s nice.”

The 2014 Academy Awards Telecast Shows No Love to Writers

By Daniel Ford

…or viewers for that matter.

Every year, I use the Oscars telecast as an excuse to wear a suit and tie, drink decent scotch, and beam out snark to a handful of Twitter followers (Check out Writer’s Bone’s Twitter feed for our favorites from last night).

While there were some wonderfully sweet (Bill Murray taking a moment to honor Harold Ramis (and then apologizing for interrupting like a gentleman) and weird moments (Kim Novak (channeling The Yellow King), there was a certain lack of…appreciation for the things that matter most (no, it was not movie heroes). Specifically, there didn’t seem to be an appreciation for the screenwriters who gave all of those actors and actresses something worthwhile to say while fervently hoping to win a shiny gold statue.

I was not alone in noticing this trend:

Was it me or did ANOTHER producer and director FAIL to thank the effiing WRITER. #TheOscars
— Doug Richardson (@byDougRich) March 3, 2014

Writer’s Bone essayist Dave Pezza pointed out that many of the films that were nominated were based off of excellent source material, but the authors of those books weren’t given proper credit (with the exception of Best Picture winner “12 Years A Slave” whose producers and cast gave proper respect to Solomon Northup).

I was excited to get to the adapted and original screenplay categories, for obvious reasons, and the fact at that point I wanted Ellen DeGeneres to throw a hot pizza in my face so I could feel something again.

And then Robert De Niro stepped to the microphone. Here’s what he said:

“The mind of a writer can be a truly terrifying thing. Isolated, neurotic, caffeine-addled, crippled by procrastination and consumed by feelings of panic, self-loathing, and soul-crushing inadequacy. And that’s on a good day.”

What the fuck??? I mean, what the fuck? Seriously, what in the holy fucks of fuck?

You know what the worst part is. That was written by a writer! A writer who thought that would get a laugh! Someone on the Oscars writing team wanted to put those words into a movie star’s mouth and broadcast them to millions of viewers. De Niro also couldn’t have been happier to deliver those lines—which is more than we can say for the lines he’s delivered in some of his recent movies. Each word escaped his lips joyously like chocolate-flavored battery acid.

We're beginning to think the script for the #Oscars looks like a Mad Libs page. Example: This show ______-ing ______ huge _____. #Oscars
— Writer's Bone (@WritersBone) March 3, 2014

Listen, writers can be easy targets, I get it. But writers are a lot of other things too. Writers are hard-working, dedicated, passionate, and are consumed with the same desire to entertain and enthrall viewers that actors and directors have. They are certainly more capable of attracting a viable audience than a cheap, exploitive selfie (#dontretweetcannedgarbage).

If the Academy wants people to care more about their awards, they need to employ writers who think more of themselves than the ones on display last night. It would be great if they could find someone that has interacted with an actual human being more recently than 1999.

And you know where a lot of those writers are, Hollywood? Writing great television shows like “True Detective.” Writers who are writing about broken, neurotic, and crippled human beings instead of living out a lame, uninspired stereotype.

Go find some talented writers ASAP or you can enjoy your sad, lonely, boring plunge into irrelevance.

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