Twin Peaks turns 20 this month. Last week, to be exact. It's one of the earliest shows to annoy people for all the right reasons: it was cryptic and surreal, funny and melodramatic. It seemed to have pointless tics that annoyed all the practical, linear people who did not understand why Agent Cooper's reaction to pie and coffee is so funny. The people who hated Twin Peaks thought the people who loved it were pretentious trendies, and the people who loved it thought its critics had no imagination. Before Twin Peaks, you either watched a show, or your didn't. Afterwards, you had to choose sides.
Or not. I exaggerate. Still a great show.
By the way, Laura Palmer's house is up for sale. Short-sale, $425K. Hope the new owners don't mind the supernatural difficulties. It's a great living room, but how do I get the white horse to leave? And why does it smell like cigarettes and murder upstairs in the closet?
It wouldn't have been Twin Peaks without Angelo Badalamenti's score, which contains some of the loveliest, saddest and most frightening music ever commissioned for TV; here's an interview with the composer discussing how the music came about. If it's true . . . well.
