Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. (15.)
Directed by David Lynch. 1992.
Starring Sheryl Lee, Ray Wise, James Marshall, Harry Dean Stanton, Grace Zabriskie, Kiefer Sutherland, Kyle MacLachlan, Dana Ashbrook, Madchen Amick, David Bowie, Chris Isaak, Miguel Ferrer, Moira Kelly, Peggy Lipton. Available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection. On September 13th. 129 mins.
Fire Walk With Me is one of those rare films that I was on the right side of history for. The negativity of its reception in 1992, a year after the TV series had been cancelled, is almost legendary: the booing at its Cannes premiere (though apparently, that's a myth), Tarantino accusing Lynch of disappearing up his own backside and the box office flop. But I loved FWWM when it came out and, along with a few key episodes of the series, I've returned to it regularly over the three decades. Over that time it has become quite the thing to reevaluate it. Some have even declared it to be Lynch's masterpiece. But, the last couple of times I've seen it, I've started to wonder if those non-existent Kanz booers might have been on to something.
But let's start with what's good about it: and what is good about it is it's a David Lynch film. The gangs all here: crackling electricity, cryptic dialogue, weird inversions of 50s Americana, coffee, cigarettes and an almost inexplicable sense of menace. When it came out there were a lot of complaints about it not giving people what they expected, which was a big-screen extension of the stuff they liked in the series. But seen now as a David Lynch film, it gives the fans exactly what they expect and want. If this is indeed his backside, it's a damn interesting one offering limitless delights that do not dull with repetition.
Instead of more of the series, the film continues the world-building of the FBI and the Blue Rose cases; throws in a few random scenes featuring cast favourites but mostly concentrates on the Palmer family and the last seven days of Laura's life. And there's great, great stuff in it. The scene in the Pink Room nightclub where you can't hear the dialogue. Harry Dean Stanton as the owner of the Fat Trout Caravan park. HDS is always at his best in Lynch films. His performance as a lovestruck patsy was heartbreaking in Wild In Heart and here he is endearingly grouchy. His delivery of the line, "It just means..I've more shit I gotta do now," is one of my favourites in all cinema; and it's not an especially great line.
So, it's a good film, no dispute, but there are issues. There's a moment early on that throws your confidence in the film. For the first 35 minutes, this prequel follows two FBI men Chester Desmond (Isaaks) and Sam Stanley (Sutherland) investigating the murder of Teresa Banks (Pamela Gidley) a year before Laura's murder. After the pair are introduced to each other by Gordon (Lynch) at an airport a mad lady in a dress does a stupid dance for them, a form of code that Desmond will decipher for Stanley in the next scene. It's a truly terrible scene, painfully wacky. I've always hated that moment but now that the film comes accompanied by The Missing Pieces a full 90 minutes of deleted or extended scenes, many of which are damn fine, you wonder why the hell he included that one?
The bulk of the film is following the last seven days of Laura Palmer. The prequel is always something that will be greeted with scepticism when it comes knocking on your door but Lynch seems to have had a noble motivation for this – to do right by Laura Palmer, and the actor that embodied her. After playing dead wrapped in plastic, a figure seen in flashbacks or photos and Maddy Ferguson, Laura's identical cousin, in the series, Sheryl Lee is rewarded with a powerful central role that is almost a showreel, requiring her to pull out her entire thespian range, though with a strong emphasis on being terrified and semi-dressed. At the very end of the film, Lynch also comes through for Laura, by returning her angel to her and suggesting some kind of redemption.
Other than that though, what does the film achieve? It's been a while since I watched the original series but I still kept spotting bits that visualise things mentioned in the series. So it all ties up but is it really consistent? In the series, Laura's death is a great shock and its investigation lifts the lid on a dark side of the community that almost nobody knew about. But in the film, Laura is such a hysterical mess, and so hopelessly addicted to cocaine, you wonder how anyone could've failed to notice, let alone clung to the image of her as a goody goody Homecoming Queen. The film breaks the restraints imposed by mainstream TV, but the nudity and violence weaken the connection. And by making explicit what was only hinted at on TV it sacrifices what made the TV series so appealing – the beautifully transgressive delight in sneaking in something naughty to a place it didn't belong.
As mentioned before this edition comes with the addition of The Missing Pieces, an hour and a half compilation of deleted and extended scenes and I can't help but notice that this has coincided with my lowering appreciation of the released film. The footage that was cut out is generally at least as good, quite often better than what is in the film. And because FWWM clearly asserts that this is a mystery that will only expand and never be solved, most of the footage here seems kind of random. Why have this scene from the room of red curtains, not this one? Why this disturbing vignette from within the Palmer household, rather than this one. Only in its last 15 minutes does the film gain a strong direction, becoming a gruelling horror film.
Lynch said he wanted to make the film because "I couldn't get myself to leave the world of Twin Peaks." And I'd argue to a large degree he never has. He's always had a certain way to his film making but prior to this, there was a variety to his projects: there was the student film; the historical melodrama; the big-budget sci-fi epic; the thriller; the erotic road movie. From here on in the rest of his cinema career would be – The Straight Story excepted – variations on the David Lynch Film.
There's a final issue with FWWM, and that is the third season of Twin Peaks. The Return took many of its cues from the film while making it largely redundant. It's sprawling, indulgent, flabby, wasteful and constantly teeters on taking that murky ride up its own backside, yet is totally enthralling and compelling and slightly miraculous and one of Lynch's finest achievements. After that, Fire Can Go Walk with itself because given the choice I'd rather be back in season
Extras and Specs.
Restored 4K digital transfer, with 7.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray, both supervised by director David Lynch
Directed by David Lynch. 1992.
Starring Sheryl Lee, Ray Wise, James Marshall, Harry Dean Stanton, Grace Zabriskie, Kiefer Sutherland, Kyle MacLachlan, Dana Ashbrook, Madchen Amick, David Bowie, Chris Isaak, Miguel Ferrer, Moira Kelly, Peggy Lipton. Available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection. On September 13th. 129 mins.
Fire Walk With Me is one of those rare films that I was on the right side of history for. The negativity of its reception in 1992, a year after the TV series had been cancelled, is almost legendary: the booing at its Cannes premiere (though apparently, that's a myth), Tarantino accusing Lynch of disappearing up his own backside and the box office flop. But I loved FWWM when it came out and, along with a few key episodes of the series, I've returned to it regularly over the three decades. Over that time it has become quite the thing to reevaluate it. Some have even declared it to be Lynch's masterpiece. But, the last couple of times I've seen it, I've started to wonder if those non-existent Kanz booers might have been on to something.
But let's start with what's good about it: and what is good about it is it's a David Lynch film. The gangs all here: crackling electricity, cryptic dialogue, weird inversions of 50s Americana, coffee, cigarettes and an almost inexplicable sense of menace. When it came out there were a lot of complaints about it not giving people what they expected, which was a big-screen extension of the stuff they liked in the series. But seen now as a David Lynch film, it gives the fans exactly what they expect and want. If this is indeed his backside, it's a damn interesting one offering limitless delights that do not dull with repetition.
Instead of more of the series, the film continues the world-building of the FBI and the Blue Rose cases; throws in a few random scenes featuring cast favourites but mostly concentrates on the Palmer family and the last seven days of Laura's life. And there's great, great stuff in it. The scene in the Pink Room nightclub where you can't hear the dialogue. Harry Dean Stanton as the owner of the Fat Trout Caravan park. HDS is always at his best in Lynch films. His performance as a lovestruck patsy was heartbreaking in Wild In Heart and here he is endearingly grouchy. His delivery of the line, "It just means..I've more shit I gotta do now," is one of my favourites in all cinema; and it's not an especially great line.
So, it's a good film, no dispute, but there are issues. There's a moment early on that throws your confidence in the film. For the first 35 minutes, this prequel follows two FBI men Chester Desmond (Isaaks) and Sam Stanley (Sutherland) investigating the murder of Teresa Banks (Pamela Gidley) a year before Laura's murder. After the pair are introduced to each other by Gordon (Lynch) at an airport a mad lady in a dress does a stupid dance for them, a form of code that Desmond will decipher for Stanley in the next scene. It's a truly terrible scene, painfully wacky. I've always hated that moment but now that the film comes accompanied by The Missing Pieces a full 90 minutes of deleted or extended scenes, many of which are damn fine, you wonder why the hell he included that one?
The bulk of the film is following the last seven days of Laura Palmer. The prequel is always something that will be greeted with scepticism when it comes knocking on your door but Lynch seems to have had a noble motivation for this – to do right by Laura Palmer, and the actor that embodied her. After playing dead wrapped in plastic, a figure seen in flashbacks or photos and Maddy Ferguson, Laura's identical cousin, in the series, Sheryl Lee is rewarded with a powerful central role that is almost a showreel, requiring her to pull out her entire thespian range, though with a strong emphasis on being terrified and semi-dressed. At the very end of the film, Lynch also comes through for Laura, by returning her angel to her and suggesting some kind of redemption.
Other than that though, what does the film achieve? It's been a while since I watched the original series but I still kept spotting bits that visualise things mentioned in the series. So it all ties up but is it really consistent? In the series, Laura's death is a great shock and its investigation lifts the lid on a dark side of the community that almost nobody knew about. But in the film, Laura is such a hysterical mess, and so hopelessly addicted to cocaine, you wonder how anyone could've failed to notice, let alone clung to the image of her as a goody goody Homecoming Queen. The film breaks the restraints imposed by mainstream TV, but the nudity and violence weaken the connection. And by making explicit what was only hinted at on TV it sacrifices what made the TV series so appealing – the beautifully transgressive delight in sneaking in something naughty to a place it didn't belong.
As mentioned before this edition comes with the addition of The Missing Pieces, an hour and a half compilation of deleted and extended scenes and I can't help but notice that this has coincided with my lowering appreciation of the released film. The footage that was cut out is generally at least as good, quite often better than what is in the film. And because FWWM clearly asserts that this is a mystery that will only expand and never be solved, most of the footage here seems kind of random. Why have this scene from the room of red curtains, not this one? Why this disturbing vignette from within the Palmer household, rather than this one. Only in its last 15 minutes does the film gain a strong direction, becoming a gruelling horror film.
Lynch said he wanted to make the film because "I couldn't get myself to leave the world of Twin Peaks." And I'd argue to a large degree he never has. He's always had a certain way to his film making but prior to this, there was a variety to his projects: there was the student film; the historical melodrama; the big-budget sci-fi epic; the thriller; the erotic road movie. From here on in the rest of his cinema career would be – The Straight Story excepted – variations on the David Lynch Film.
There's a final issue with FWWM, and that is the third season of Twin Peaks. The Return took many of its cues from the film while making it largely redundant. It's sprawling, indulgent, flabby, wasteful and constantly teeters on taking that murky ride up its own backside, yet is totally enthralling and compelling and slightly miraculous and one of Lynch's finest achievements. After that, Fire Can Go Walk with itself because given the choice I'd rather be back in season
Extras and Specs.
Restored 4K digital transfer, with 7.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray, both supervised by director David Lynch
- 7.1 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray, supervised by Lynch
- Alternate original 2.0 surround soundtrack, presented in DTS-HD Master Audio on the Blu-ray
- The Missing Pieces, ninety minutes of deleted and alternate scenes from the film, assembled by Lynch
- Interview from 2014 by Lynch with actors Sheryl Lee, Ray Wise, and Grace Zabriskie
- New interviews with Lee and composer Angelo Badalamenti
- Trailers
- English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
- PLUS: Excerpts from an interview with Lynch from Lynch on Lynch, a 1997 book edited by filmmaker and writer Chris Rodley
