𝟭𝟬𝟬 It's been almost a year since I first watched Twin Peaks, the TV show that introduced me to my favorite director of all time. Putting into words what this show means to me is hard, hell, even putting the show into words is hard (this may or may not be my third attempt at writing about it). After years of rejecting any interest in the medium for the sake of video games, in 2022, I started to fall in love with cinema. This came after two years of sparse exploration of what consisted mostly of films you’d find on the top 250 of IMDB. After moving to the U.S, movies became some sort of a refuge from my loneliness. A way to see more about the world than I ever thought I could, and to shut any depressive feeling from mind. While I’ve always been fascinated by storytelling, (as a kid, I used to dream about telling stories through video games) I always had disregarded cinema besides the usual Marvel flick. To my surprise, movies began to give me purpose during the last couple years. Still, I left 2022 with quite a closed lens of what this artform could do. I like to think of 2023 as a formative year. It’s the year I opened my mind, and changed a lot of my preconceived ideas about film, and nothing exemplifies this better than Twin Peaks. When I first started to get into film (and filmmaking), my idea of the perfect character and the ones I’d like to create was centered around hard-boiled, cold blooded killers; males, similar to Walter White (without a hint of irony) – the strong, silent type. Most of these ideas changed with time. Not that I stopped liking films surrounding this type of character; quite the opposite actually, but as I watched more and more films last year, my worldview broadened. From the approximately 291 films I saw last year, nothing stuck with me as much as Twin Peaks. The ease with which Twin Peaks surrounds many characters is incredible. Every character from Cooper to James (“he’s always been cool”) is a wonder to watch. It’s been said by many before me, but Lynch understands humanity in a way no one does. His films, especially The Return, approach the human condition in a way I’ve never seen before. Pinning down The Return to one central theme is impossible. It encompasses sexual abuse, generational trauma and the inescapability of it, the duality of people, and much more. It’s a multi-faceted work. The one that every artist can only dream of making. What fascinates me most about The Return is it being the result of decades of a great artist’s work. This is Lynch’s magnus opus. Every single one of his films has led to this. The Return feels as much as a maturation of his already great style as it does of Twin Peaks. Its experimental nature significantly contributes to this. Twin Peaks is one of the most groundbreaking shows of all time. Its impact is unmeasurable. Without it, we wouldn’t have masterpieces like 𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘦𝘧𝘵𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, and 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴. The Return takes that to a new level. The phrase “long movie” gets thrown out at shows a lot, but The Return is one of the few correct cases where instead of being used as an insult, it is a compliment. Its structure and odd pacing allow it to transcend the boundaries set by television for years. It is not as much a show as it is a film, making it something else, something that works outside of the norm, an outlier. I don’t think I would be the person I am today without Twin Peaks. As someone who aspires to one day make movies, I wish I could direct something that makes someone feel the way Bobby seeing Laura’s picture makes me feel. I wish I could direct something as heartwarming and beautiful as Ed proposing to Norma. I wish I could direct something as haunting as the final scene. I already valued Twin Peaks for broadening my taste in cinema, but rewatching it has made me appreciate it even more. Not only is this the greatest season of television or film, but also one of the greatest achievements in any artistic medium.