Twin Peaks, Season 2 Episode 20 (or episode 27)

By Jill Duffy, girl reporter [continuing her issue by issue look at Twin Peaks]

Rusty is dead!

Wait, who the hell is Rusty?

At any rate, some dupe named Rusty got nabbed by Windom Earl. Earl built a gigantic pawn chess piece has put Rusty on display inside it, in public park.

When Deputy Andy sees this and hears Rusty’s friend identify the body and talk about his deceased friend, he cries – no, he wimpers. Is that to point to how ridiculous the scene is?

We learn that Windom Earl may be in search of the Black Lodge more than he is after Cooper. Earl tends to think out loud, which is annoying and cliché, but serves to explain what the hell is going on.

Despite poor dead Rusty and the evil villain Earl, there’s some real creepy stuff afoot once again, thank goodness. Twin Peaks had substance to its uncanny style, and I want more of that.

I think what makes the uncanny parts work is that it’s not always explained. So much of the show very explicitly answers the questions it poses, as I’ve pointed out before. We learn what Bob is, where he came from, and where he lives. We learned and saw with our own eyes how Bob kills. But we never learned why the creamed corn disappeared from an old woman’s plate only to show up in the hands of a little boy. Neither have we ever been told who the giant is and why he comes to warn Cooper. The uncanny works.

Donna looking into her past by sorting through old photos, is in her family’s attic, where a fan whirls and creates a strobe effect, reminiscent of the fan clicking and whirling when Laura died. A few peoples’ hands start shaking violently at different points in this episode for no reason. A slow pull-out shot of Cooper and Annie as they are having a sweet conversation, overlaid with dark music, is juxtaposed with a close-up of them kissing, then a crash, as dirty diner dishes shatter on the floor, followed by one more close-up of disgusting goop dripping in slow motion from the broken coffee cup, with a spooky audio cue of a looping thud, like the telltale heart.

Later, as Annie and Cooper kiss a second time, the giant appears, with a frantic face, shaking his head, mouthing “no,” and waving his hands. Another reason moments like these are creepy is because they happen in the same scene as an exceptionally tender moment.

It’s also that we don’t know what’s going to happen when the giant appears. Is Bob taking another life? Evil is certainly stirring, but how? Why is the giant telling Cooper, “no!”?

Then, we see a shot of the woods and Bob crosses from the other side into the real world.

U2 360 and Rock's Battle for Intimacy in Stadiums

[Scott talks about U2 again, but since he knows we do not have so many U2 fans around here -- myself included -- he makes it a lot about the whole notion of live concerts. I wanted to do a review of Planetary 27 today, but the day got away from me. Expect one shortly, and thanks Scott for filling in.]

There are many who would consider themselves hip in the musical sense who would be quick to turn their nose up to stadium rock. They might champion clubs or small theatres as the only place to really hear music; the only place where a band can truly make a connection with the audience. Such aspersions are easy to make when one lives in a large city where, on any given night, several hot, up and coming acts can be found performing to packed houses and seeing them is as easy as catching a train across town. However, it’s not quite as easy for those of us who live a more rural existence. For me, Washington DC would probably be the closest locale to see such a performance and that would mean a 5 hour drive NOT including beltway traffic.

So, for many of us, the only chance we have to see a ‘real live Rock N’ Roll’ show is to catch the major artists who stage massive arena and stadium tours (and, usually, this still involves a drive of at least a couple of hours). Perhaps the most challenging venue for an artist to achieve a true connection with the audience is the stadium. Since the Beatles first played Shea Stadium only to be drowned out by the screams of their fans, major artist have struggled to be ‘heard’ in stadiums. The first step was simple: play louder. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that, to the people in the cheaper seats, the band themselves might as well be ants.

Free Form Comments

Say whatever you want to in the comments to this post -- random, off topic thoughts, ideas, suggestions, questions, recommendations, criticisms (which can be anonymous), surveys, introductions if you have never commented before, personal news, self-promotion, requests to be added to the blog roll and so on. If I forget, remind me. Remember these comments can be directed at all the readers, not just me.

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AND you can use this space to comment on posts that are old enough that no one is reading the comments threads anymore.

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WRITING FOR THIS BLOG. If I see a big free form comment that deserves more attention, I will pull it and make it its own post, with a label on the post and on the sidebar that will always link to all the posts you write for this blog. I am always looking for reviews of games, tv, movies, music, books and iPhone apps.

Uncanny X-Men #240

[Jason Powell continues his issue by issue look at Claremont's X-Men. This is an especially good entry. ]

“Inferno: Part the First — Strike the Match”

So begins “Inferno,” the 1988 X-Men fall crossover. This is the one everyone hates. To sum up the history at this point: 1986 was the year of the first X-over -- “Mutant Massacre,” a flawed but entertaining comics event built around a suitably momentous occurrence in the franchise’s history: the large-scale massacre of an underground mutant population. It wasn’t meant to be the start of a yearly tradition; but the commercial success of the project guaranteed that Marvel would attempt to duplicate it in 1987. Although “Massacre” occurred during the summer, the following year saw it placed during the autumn months – hence, “The FALL of the Mutants.” Unlike “Massacre,” this second event was tied together by concept rather than story, with each of the three core mutant titles (X-Factor, New Mutants and Uncanny) seeing tragedy befall at least one member of the team (Angel, Cypher and all of them, respectively). “Fall of the Mutants” was shrewdly economical, eschewing the bloated excess that ultimately weighed down on the latter parts of “Massacre” in favor of something quick and clean: three issues of three titles (with the middle installment for each series being “double-sized”), and then done.

By contrast, the number of Marvel comics published in the latter half of 1988 that tie in to “Inferno” is in the dozens – a horrible display of excess on behalf of the company, one which would be repeated many times in the following two decades. (Every aspect of “Inferno” promotion is over the top – on the core series, including Uncanny X-Men, the art department even pastes the word “Inferno” over the line usually reserved for “The Uncanny” – the first such textual manipulation of the logo since “The Uncanny” was added in the first place, eight years earlier.)

"Failure is to form habits"

I am teaching Walter Pater today and thinking about habits. I am also thinking about General Tso's Chicken: My wife goes to this Chinese place all the time and I, by default, always got General Tso's chicken. I would sort of pick at it, and stop, and pick at it again, and then still be hungry, but would not finish it. I asked her why that was and she came back with "You don't like it." And I realized with a little shock that she was right -- I did not like it. And yet I kept getting it, just out of habit I think. The habit was stronger than my dislike of the thing, to the point that I did not realize I disliked it until someone pointed it out. And I thought about it again, as I noticed leaving the house that I had some comics on the table I had not read yet, comics I picked up Wednesday (I won't say which ones because I am tired of getting hate mail when I say I do not like a comic book). And there was that feeling again -- I had not read them yet because I did not LIKE them. But then why did I BUY them? Habit. Scary little thing, habit. I am digging things like facebook's statistics that tell me how often I post and what the most recurring words are and so on -- and I wonder how much of my media consumption is habit and how much is enjoyment. I feel like the pure "habit" media is a small percentage, but once you realize you can think you like something when you actually don't -- well that is the thread that unravels the whole thing in a way, or at least has the potential to.

Where is habit overrunning your good taste in your life? What needs purging and why?

(Also -- I feel like Plok's style has infected mine more than a bit here. Interesting.)