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About Demimonde

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  1. Random thoughts before the end: 1) When Richard is incinerated, something drops down the rock and lands on the ground, something that sounds hard and pingy--gold ball? 2) I love that Chantal tosses one dead bag of Cheezypoofs away and grabs another off the floor, and it's already open. Between being probably on the rag and eating all that sodium how is she not bloated all to hell? 3) I think that when Janey-E dismisses Sonny Jim's question as to whether electricity had anything to do with Dougie's coma, she's just trying to keep darkness and ugliness away from her son. She knows that sticking a fork in a light socket is a Bad Idea, but she's trying to protect Sonny Jim from the horror of Dougie's shock. Interesting that no one calls Sonny Jim by anything but Sonny Jim. Except a Mitchum Brother, I forget which one. That is, like, his official name. The only other time I've heard that is in the Kirsty MacColl (RIP) song "Don't Come the Cowboy With Me, Sonny Jim." It seems to be a breezy Britishism. 4) When Diane receives the smiles All text and collapses emotionally, Laura Dern's face absolutely transforms and she becomes her mother, Diane Ladd. It's uncanny. Her ability to control and calibrate her beauty is astonishing. All the Emmys!! 5) Interesting but perhaps not relevant that we think Cole is alone in that room of unfathomable tech, until Diane enters and it's revealed that Tammy and Albert were there the whole time. I found the reveal a bit creepy. Also, it's so hot that we see Albert go for his gun and aim it, and Tammy already has hers out and is firing. Dang, girl. She's slow as a high-school close dance until it's time for action. I also loved her facial expressions as Diane told her story. The mixture of sympathy, horror and cool information-gathering was really great. I've come around on Chrysta Bell for realsies. 6) Wondering whether the All text not only activated Diane's memories but compelled her to reveal all. She glanced at it during her monologue and it seemed to steel her a bit to tell the next part, the worst part. In general, I've been thinking about evil since the beginning of this season. As a writer and voracious reader, I've always thought that a villain who is evil, know's he's evil and wants to do evil is uninteresting. After all, people we see as evil in our lives, micro or macro scale, think they are doing good. No villain is interesting who's like, "I want to take over the world and make everyone suffer and be real bad hahahaha!" But in this season, and over the course of the series, I suppose, Lynch is showing us the face of true evil that knows it's bad, strives to be as vile and destructive as possible, and thrives on the effects--pain and suffering. He's succeeded in making that idea compelling, although it is without the shades of gray or contradictions of the soul that fuel good fiction.That is a stunning and monumental feat. Whatever happens tonight, we will always have Lynch raising the bar for television, for narrative and for active engagement with his audience that gives not one inch of ground of his artistic vision.
  2. Agreed, 100%. Whatever happens tonight, we'll always have Chris, Jake and each other. It's been a crazy ride. I can't wait to go whooping to the finish as the car slows, hair mussed, out of breath, and thinking how lucky we are to be alive right now.
  3. And another thing. I have long thought that Philip Jeffries is the monkey in the room above the convenience store at "one of their meetings." He is the only one unaccounted for when the movie cuts back to the meeting and we see a pale (thin white duke) creature with up-brushed hair. The shots go directly from Bowie to the monkey. Jeffries with his up-brushed hair, pale in his white suit, and the white monkey intoning "Judy." That was his disguise. I can't find an image, sorry.
  4. I have a million thoughts about this AMAZING episode, but I wanted to mention something in re a thread that ran through another podcast (sorry, guys, I'm faithful to you in my way, but I have been with others). I think it was the podcast Diane that talked about the way the bad guys go out this season. If you're a shitty person who has a shitty soul you go out like a chump, with a shitty, sudden, stupid death. The contrast of Richard Horne being bug-zapped in distant focus, with no poignancy, no music or closeups, was contrasted so beautifully with Chantal and Hutch's Bonnie and Clyde style death--slow, close up, right after an intimate conversation that cements their bond. They had soul, even if they had no hearts, and their awful, protracted deaths pay honor to that, even with a tiny bow, considering how awful they were. Something I've wondered for some time. Could Chantal and Hutch have been brother and sister? Maybe I've watched too much Game of Thrones, but did we ever have confirmation that they were a couple? Because they weren't intimate onscreen, and their shared last name might have been a family thing. Hutch encouraging Chantal to make out with Mr. C could have been an expression of desire to see his sister happy, as with getting her extra ketchup and a dessert. Or I could have missed it.
  5. I think the answer to that, if we ever get it, will more accurately be what is Judy. We never hear Judy referred to as a "her" or "she," always by the name. Or it's Briggs, hence the lack of female signifiers. Lynch would enjoy a cheap Wizard of Oz joke, as well as the doubling.
  6. Ooh, I love that. So, all those "Where's my Original Recipe Coop?" people can stop fretting. They got their wish. I never really subscribed to that. I am a very gullible viewer and don't speculate or prognosticate, so I was just along for the ride But seeing OG Dale hit me hard in the heart place.
  7. I have no idea. Innate Dougie kindness? Black sky and stars, like the ones he fell through? The connection I made while watching was with EvilCoop massaging Jack's face to death, and it made it really uneasy.
  8. So Norma's endless paperwork actually had a payoff. DougieCoop has had A DoubleR cherry pie, but not THE cherry pie, the organic, locally sourced, free-trade fancypants one Norma makes. I wonder if she has any jurisdiction over the franchisees, like for example designing a logo for the Vegas outlet that sends a little kiss to Ed Hurley and their doomed love. The doubling of the child's drawing-type suns has been bothering me, but that's a kind of beautiful explanation.
  9. Ah, well done, thanks. I couldn't find a tree close enough to him in shots from other angles, so I was a bit freaked out. Yes, it's obviously meant to represent Audrey, a presence long anticipated but ultimately dry, tangential and disappointing.
  10. Man, poor Jake and Chris. They will never live down missing that Band-Aid. Such is the rabbit hole as dug by David Lynch. Blink and you'll spend 20 minutes justifying a completely trivial piece of non-information. A propos of nothing, probably, I'm becoming obsessed with Lynchian food and drink. Creamed corn, turkey jerky (evil, gross, pain, sorrow, change for the worse). Cherry pie, baguette with Brie, smoked cheese pig (delicious, embodiments of life as enjoyed, devoured, relished, lived). Coffee (life-sustaining, its proper creation and appreciation an indication of virtue). Fine Bordeaux--I have no idea; that seems to be solely Cole's thing, although he had 4 bottles (!!) on the coffee table. I like my wine but lordy, can that man put it away. Though I do believe he savors it convivially, in company. Vodka (escape, drowning of/in memory, an obliteration of the self and muffling of misery; a solitary pursuit).
  11. Upon rewatch, I noticed something creep into the tippy upper right hand corner of the frame when the oldest kid sees Miriam. Between when he says "There's someone there" and "Go tell mom." It looks like some kind of skeletal finger thing offering maybe a key? The camera does not move--the thing moves into the still frame--and I could not account for a tree branch or twig, as the kid is in the open road. I'd love to get your thoughts, even if your thought is, "She's gone mad." Oh, p.s., Ronnette Pulaski's trestle bridge in the center of the shot.
  12. The ceiling fan gave me the screaming meemies. But otherwise, like most normal people, I had a hard time following this episode. Coupla things: Dian's nails were full-on Red Room/Black Lodge, red, black and white. Ben Horne's hilarious woodcut of BEN on his desk shot in reverse so we see the letters backwards. Also, something that's been bothering me in all the Great Northern scenes is that no one seems to stay at the place. In seasons 1 and 2, the hotel was always populated and bustling, but all we've seen in The Return is Ben in his office (black, white and red Native glyph thingy on the wall behind him) taking calls and macking on Beverly. No sign of guests, no talk of guests, the need for supplies or food, staff issues or problem or VIP guests. Just Ben. Sometimes Beverly. I'm starting to wonder whether Vegas is real and Twin Peaks is the dream. Bobby's dream? "The policeman's dream"?
  13. Dirty Cooper already knew Ray was being paid to betray him, possibly by the warden, considering the empty gun, which really, he should have checked. I think the three sigils on his phone (one was "FIRE"; interesting) were the "three legs of the dog"--people to whom he sent the blackmaily information. Still have no idea whether the cicada frog was good or evil. And speaking of good and evil, as much as I loved this episode, the Manichean creation myth seemed to take place a bit late. I mean, evil...already existed? As a girl in the world, I can tell you, bad guys out to do bad things to women is a thing, and has been since the dawn of man. Gailbraithe brings up a good comparison with Begotten. In that, the forces are primal, timeless and infinitely recurring. Beyond the graininess, lack of text and Lynchian manipulation of sound, Begotten makes that struggle hopeless and horrifying. It cuts deep. In TPTR, well, it seemed to represent either a renewal of the primal moral and mortal forces or the birth of them. Which horse has left the stable by 1945. My only cavil, really, except for NIN, who can shut it.
  14. Hiya, I'm new. I started rewatching Twin Peaks recently and in a search for podcasts, found Twin Peaks Rewatch, of all things. AND you both turned out to be so smart and savvy and fun to listen to. Lucky 7 me! I avoided posting because my random thoughts would be buried among so many eagle-eyed viewers and clever speculators. But after part 7, I haven't marshaled my thoughts yet, but I'm thinking about doppelgängers. Big Electric Brain Trees, good and bad, baby Electric Brian Tree. Three little boys (Lynch doesn't seem to be interested in little girls much; ugh, that came out wrong)--one neglected but curious and resourceful, one wise and interior-focused (who may or may not exist); one innocent and playful and dead. I'm thinking about brothers--the Hornes, the Renaults, the Trumans. Are we all images of the connections we make, or are we informed and shaped by those connections, or both, or what? There is a wonderful Agatha Christie book about a complicated murder that could have been resolved easily had the detective (I believe it was Poirot) simply questioned the maid. The fiendish idea was that the humble servant wasn't worth bothering with as she was, if you will, below suspicion. ( The title of a cheesy but entertaining John Dickson Carr mystery.) The title is "Why Didn't They Ask Evans"? I don't know where Lynch or Frost stand on Christie but I don't think nomenclature in Lynch's work, in particular, is accidental. I could swear the Baby Electric Brain Tree said "Freeze his hand!" so the scrape of meat "frozen" to the gun made sense to me. Take "made sense" in its context.