David Lynch
Twin Peaks: The Return

The final act, the curtain has fallen on the dream and we have all woken up with a sense of unease and disorientation. David Lynch and Mark Frost have put the last period on their creation, but a period that deforms to take the shape of mathematical infinity. "The Return" was so much, an eighteen-hour film dense with Lynch and his world, details that seemed insignificant acquired very important meanings and seemingly out-of-context characters had their reasons. There is no rational and logical explanation to be found for the ending of the story, or the dream of the girl at the end of the road, of Twin Peaks because doing so means entering an infinite spiral that can only lead to madness or dissolution like Phillip Jeffries in a cloud of smoke inside a giant teapot. In the end, it wasn't just a simple return to the town of the twin peaks where "the world hasn't arrived yet," it was much more, perhaps a dream in which real elements diluted in a sea of grotesque fantasy and disturbing nightmares. But from the very first frames, the glass box in a New York loft, it was clear that this return would be decisive, perhaps, certainly more exciting and disturbing than the previous twenty-five years. The final scream that tears through the quiet night of a suburban street will remain forever imprinted, the awareness that the whole cannot have an explanation but one must surrender to the fact that the whole can be intangible and manipulable by one's own consciousness.