From Rocks and Bottles to the Red Room: My Favorite Episode
As I mention in the most recent episode of Back to the Double R, Episode 3 of Twin Peaks is my absolute favorite. While the pilot episode may be objectively the best, this one is the one that really gets me. Why? It all comes down to two scenes that to me sum up everything the show is about.
The first is the one in which Cooper deploys his rocks and bottles technique. This scene is a joy to watch. It perfectly typifies Dale Cooper’s character—precise and rule-bound, but operating from an entirely different rule book from everyone else. It exemplifies the quirky humor of the show and playfully captures the relationship between our Special Agent and the local law enforcement, who are simultaneously amused, confused, and in awe. It’s got a few slapstick laughs with Andy getting hit with a rock, which point us toward similar scenes in future episodes. And, as recap of the previous episodes, it is an ingenious device for detailing who most of the primary characters in the show are for people who missed the previous episodes or who were having a hard time keeping up with the many, many characters. Above all, it’s so much fun.
On the flip side is the terrifying domain that Cooper visits in his dreams, the Red Room. The first time I watched Twin Peaks, this was the moment that really made me sit up and pay close attention. Since my early childhood, I’ve had vivid, cinematic dreams. And when they’re scary, they’re truly terrifying. One of my earliest memories is of a nightmare I had when I was maybe 5 years old. At the time, I lived in Spokane, Washington, not so far from the fictional town of Twin Peaks. In my dream, my father and I were at Riverfront Park. It was a place I loved to visit as a child, not least of all because sometimes, as a special treat, we got to ride the antique carousel (now encased in a glass building, but back then exposed to the open air). In my dream, the horses had all been removed, and a crowd was gathered around. A beautiful blonde woman in a dress made of white feathers was standing on the carousel, now serving as a sort of makeshift stage, with her hands tied behind her back. Holding hands, my father and I approached.
“What are they doing?” I called out.
“They’re burning Cinderella!” yelled someone in the crowd.
People approached her with torches and touched them to her feet. Instantly, the woman in the feather dress was engulfed by flames. I screamed and screamed and tried to run toward the carousel but my father held my hand tightly. In a moment, the flames were gone, and Cinderella still stood on the carousel, but she had turned to (or perhaps was encased in) stone.
I won’t over-analyze this, but the parallels to our favorite show are pretty obvious here. Sometimes her arms bend back.
At the time I first saw Twin Peaks I had been having a lot of dreams in which people moved slowly, spoke strangely, and fixed me with piercing stares that were more menacing than their words or actions. The Red Room was a place that felt incredibly familiar, and while Lynch’s other works (especially Lost Highway) had triggered similar responses, none ever did so as potently as Cooper’s dream. I guess you might think I wouldn’t want to spend time with a show that made me feel like my nightmares do, but you’d be wrong. Like I said in our most recent episode, Lynch’s dreamscapes have helped me make sense of my own mind, and to see my vivid dreams as a source of creative energy.
The combination of this scene with rocks and bottles in a single episode captures everything I love about Twin Peaks: the quirky humor and the dark surreal visions, side by side. It’s a balance that’s hard to strike, but Episode 3 gets it just right.
