Twin Peaks
Episode Nine

Episode Report Card
Major Problems

Meanwhile, over at the police station, Lucy sits at her desk as the sound effect of a pestering fly -- that would be a lot more realistic if the scene called for a sound effect of a pestering fly to pester Lucy -- flies around Lucy's head and, well, it pesters her is what it does. Wow, Djb. You know what the best thing about sentence construction is? Learning it. Or so I am told by friends in the know. Andy, who had been pacing back and forth past the front door of the station, finally enters and approaches Lucy's desk. Of course, to wacky comic effect, he still has a piece of tape affixed to his forehead. Sliding back the glass door that separates her from the rest of the non-bulletproof world (because "Shoot to kill...the secretary" is so often the rallying cry of any great battle), Lucy tries to snark that there are no messages for "Deputy Brennan," but this time he gets angry right on back. He informs her that he tried to donate sperm, but found out that he was sterile ("Sure, I thought it meant I didn't have to take a bath, but the doctors told me the truth!") So, he's curious to know just exactly how Lucy plans to have a baby if Andy was unable to provide his necessary half of the genetic material to do so. Not that a woman can't have a baby without a man in her life, of course. Wouldn't want to be anti-feminist, now would I? WOULD I? Er, anyway. Lucy slowly stands up from her chair and leans in to Andy. I think we're supposed to be unsure as to whether she's going to plant one or kick his ass, but she chooses the all-important "Quirky Clause," instead reaching out and ripping the piece of tape off his forehead. She slams the glass shut and sits down quietly. Hmmm...a Lucy/Andy love triangle? Doesn't that sound like fun? Or would it make any room with the three of them too close for comfort? Where, after all, would they put the shark? How would it procure the necessary room it requires to jump?

Truman's office, where, in actuality, I'm not sure we've ever been. A large animal head sits proudly mounted on the wall with a sign affixed underneath reading, "The buck stopped here." Yuck yuck yuck. What was it Albert said about "the usual bumper crop of rural know-nothings and drunken fly fishermen"? Oops, sorry. I think I'm supposed to side with them. But Albert is so FUNNY. What to do, what to do? But there is someone I am not siding with from the perspective of character necessity or overall plot relevance, as we cut to Hank, standing alone in Harry's office looking evil, ambiguous, and ambiguously evil. He wears that costume well. And often! Apparently, he has just come into the station as part of his parole agreement, by which he needs to "sign in" each week. He does. He leaves. Cooper asks how long Harry and Hank had been friends, and we learn that the two grew up together and that Hank used to be a Bookhouse Boy. Until, that is, the dark force of evil and the far darker force of vague characterization crept stealthily in to slowly transform Hank into the sort-of-evil, sort-of-bad guy he has emerged into today. But these musings are presently interrupted by Lucy delivering a message via intercom: "Sheriff Truman, I have Ben Horne on the phone for you. Would you like me to transfer him to you? Well, not him, but his phone call?" Heh. Echoes of the pilot. Yay, pilot. Lucy picks up Ben's line and slowly informs him that she'll be transferring the call into Truman, and then shoots back to Truman to tell him, "I have transferred Ben Horne to you. It's the line with the light that's blinking." I can't help thinking that Audrey's danger is only increasing during these wacky phone hijinks. Maybe Sylvia Horne should be brought back from her administrative assistant-hood at numerous temp agencies around the Hollywood area and show Lucy how to use the phone system with all great alacrity. Lives are in danger here. Truman picks up. Ben, still wearing those awesome polka-dot socks and sipping a glass of wine, informs Truman that he just figured out Audrey is missing. Truman informs Cooper. Cooper's concerned glare informs Badalamenti, and the Drama Chord kicks up anew.

Some actors can deliver any line, really. Thus the dizzying thrill and subsequent chuckle when Jerry Horne enters Ben's office with the health insurance policy Ben took out on Katherine, "unsigned." Ben looks on in incredulous horror and utters the pearl, "Un?" Nice. They quickly mastermind their next necessary move, which is to contact the Icelanders as quickly as possible and soothe their fears about a fire on their land: "Let's get those pickled Icemen on the blower." And if Jerry didn't walk to Ben's desk and pick up the phone with all great haste, I'd probably think that statement meant something very, very naughty indeed. As Jerry dials, Leland finally hits pause on his perpetually blasting soundtrack of Jerome Robbins' Broadway (I was going to say Fosse, but, well, it's 1990) and enters the office with a spoken message. And so he speaks, with all great authority: "This mill fire will no doubt put contract signing on hold for a moment, so we must insure that the moment, our moment, does not pass us by. I therefore recommend that we make a quick but cordial follow-up phone call to Iceland." Jerry puts down a shushing finger in time to let Leland know that they're on it. Iceland picks up the phone. Turns out they've already heard about the fire. From Leland Palmer. To great comic hilarity, Leland indicates himself proudly when the Brothers Horne look up in horror. As the brothers lapse into damage control mode and swear for the productive future of their development plans, Leland notices a BOB flyer on a side table in front of the fireplace. Scary music (you've heard the theme before. Trust me) kicks up even as Ben remains in pre-scary-music-mode, informing his Lawyer of the Damned, "Let's take you off of damage control and let you concentrate on something you can handle. Like my tax return." Which is a pretty funny line, but would have been a heckuva lot funnier if Leland were actually, y'know, an accountant. No matter now, as Leland stares into the picture of BOB and observes, "I know him." Oh, you sure do. Leland finally takes a visit to his good friend, Plotsy McFunTimes, monotoning, "My grandfather's summer house on Pearl Lakes. He lived right next door. I was just a little boy. But I know him." Creepy. Leland dashes off to tell the Sheriff, and as soon as he departs, Ben slowly delivers what might just be the best nugget yet: "Jerry. Please kill Leland." Ah, if only the scene had ended there. But, for some as-yet-undetermined reason meant to imbue this scene with more drama than ultimately necessary, Jerry doesn't even believe himself when he asks, "Is this real, Ben, or some strange and twisted dream?" Hey, Jerry? This scene isn't in black and white, you're not shirtless on a beach, and I don't get a complimentary gift pack for sitting and listening to your faux-deep musing. So, with no voice-over whispering "Obsession" following your infinite poetic wisdom, I'm sayin' get thee to the cutting room floor nearest you. Too bad, though, because otherwise that scene was perfect. Where's the eleventh hour VCR fuck-up when I actually need it?

Pathos for the sake of pathos follows itself into the next scene, where Shelley stands in Leo's hospital room listening to Doc Hayward fill her in on the kick-ass stir fry she could probably make from the big vegetable her husband has become. We learn that the surgeons were able to remove the bullet from Leo's spine, but that he lost so much blood it induced a coma they're not sure he'll be coming out of. Basically, they don't know anything. The good doctor attempts to comfort her, telling her that they can "maintain his current state. Offer nutrition, life support. Beyond that, the only ally we have is time. I'm sorry, Shelley." She says she's sorry, too, but I think mos

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8Next

Twin Peaks




Get the most of your experience.
Share the Snark!

See content relevant to you based on what your friends are reading and watching.

Share your activity with your friends to Facebook's News Feed, Timeline and Ticker.

Stay in Control: Delete any item from your activity that you choose not to share.

The Latest Activity On TwOP