I’ve been watching the first season of David Lynch’s show, Twin Peaks. It’s been years since the show aired and yet, during all that time, I somehow missed it. I’ve seen many of his movies, so I was prepared for the intensity and the dark-angled view of life’s edges and eccentricities and outright naked rawness through which he turns the lens on humanity. The recognizable musical arrangements as well as his absolute obsession with the colors green and red, make the show familiar territory for any Lynch fan.

However, two things struck me.

The first is that the show is set in fictional Twin Peaks, Washington, but was filmed in North Bend, Washington, a half an hour away from Seattle, where I now live. Now granted I’ve only been in the actual town once, but I walked around it quite a bit and ate in the very café which serves as the centerpiece of many scenes in the show. I have also been to the falls that appear in a few shots as well as a backdrop for the opening credits.

The second is Lynch’s uncanny ability to brutally and without apology penetrate through the superficial levels of human niceties and get right to the ribbon of uniqueness that sets each on of us apart. He seems to hold a parallel fascination with what holds us together and what separates us in our relationships with each other. He grabs onto the tentacles of our deep-seated alienation and squeezes it for all the blood has can extract. He dips us into the deepest, coldest darkest water he can and holds us there until we admit that we, too, are just as crazy or afraid or odd or horny or dangerous as his characters.

And doing that in the place I now call home makes it all the more alluring (for me) to watch.

In fact, I cannot look away. And he knows it. He’s the Diane Arbus of filmmaking and making us uncomfortable is part of what drives him. This discomfort lands us in territories of feelings and thoughts and even dreams that feel both forbidden and in many ways, we think, better off forgotten. We prefer to skate along the surface of life, ignoring as much as possible, the subterranean murkiness underneath. But like a carnival sideshow barker at the old time fairs, he appeals to our voyeuristic tendencies and beckons us to come and look at the freaks inside the tent.

Of course, the freaks are us.

So then, what is it that draws us inside? Curiosity? Fascination? Empathy? Horror? Probably all of those things. Lynch turns our absolute confusion over life’s meaning on it’s head by showing us the absurdity of those little daily things that most of us most pass by with little or no consciousness. He’s almost screaming at us to wake up and look at the FULL range of human experience, soak it in and look at it in all it’s unadulterated glory.

He wants to immerse us in the full gestalt of life and he does this by exaggerating his characters until they almost become caricatures. This technique shines a big magnifying glass on all the blemishes, quirks, secrets, scars, wounds so that we can really see them. You can actually feel this discomfort on both a physical and an emotional level as it seeps in and spreads over your being like a pool of oily liquid. Then once Lynch has you there, he lingers for awhile, plays with the music or some lighting effects and just makes you wait it out. Because he doesn’t work with the same timing we’re used to with other shows or films. No, he operates in his own self-created world with it’s own set of rules, and by entering into it, you’ve agreed to follow them.

It feels a bit manipulative, but somehow also ingenious. No one even comes close to exploring these realms in the way he does. He is bold and brave and willing to go places few others dare to go.

Which brings me back to where I live. Though I’ve only lived in Washington State for a year, I can see how it was the perfect place to film Twin Peaks. Why? Because as sophisticated as the city of Seattle appears, it, and the area surrounding it, still make up the wild, wild West, and as they have for centuries, people come here to get away from the conventions and restrictions of other parts of the country. There’s more space and less pressure to conform, which can and does result in a fair amount of bizarre behavior. People who might not feel comfortable or fit in somewhere else, might find a cozy little neighborhood or town out here where their odd taste for clothing or strange hobbies and behaviors will be tolerated.

I suppose that’s a good thing. It’s certainly never dull. No, instead, it is lush and ripe with a broad range of human expression, especially when you tune in and are receptive to it. If you’re not sure what I mean by that, try looking at the world around you the way Lynch does. Penetrate the layers. Push past the obvious. Submerge into the depths. And see, really see what is right in front of you. You may be surprised and disturbed by what you see, but at least you will finally be seeing. And that, my friend, is what it means to truly be alive.

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 26th, 2008 at 4:42 pm and is filed under Awareness, Being, 3-D, Psycho-Spiritual, Perception. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.