Through the darkness of future’s past
The magician longs to see.
One chants out between two worlds:
“Fire, Walk with Me.”
Cousin Franz: To make good erotica, one must be convinced sex comes from God. To make GREAT erotica, one must be convinced sex comes from the Devil. David Lynch sees sex as a monstrous, sinful force that ruins angelic suburban girls and screws the wings right off them. Only a burning, cleansing ritual of purification can restore them to their state of grace. At least, that’s one possible interpretation of what happens to poor, tortured Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) in “Fire Walk with Me.”
This is the 2 hour-and-15 minute prequel to “Twin Peaks” that Lynch released after his epochal show’s abrupt cancellation- and which was greeted with nearly universal confusion, masquerading as contempt. Fans who wanted the solution to whatever the heck was going on the phantasmagorical logging town, (population 51, 201) were disappointed in the shambling, odd, (secretly brilliant) movie they got. To get conclusive answers, they had to wait a quarter of a century for Showtime to revive “Twin Peaks.”
Just kidding! There will NEVER be any answers to “Twin Peaks”! QUESTIONS have answers. DREAMS have none. Don’t judge “Fire Walk with Me” for the movie it never was; judge it for the dream it turned out to be.
Hank: What? Is that David Bowie? Who’s this Diane that Kyle McLachlan keeps talking to? Huh? Why is Chris Isaak here? Why is Chris Isaak not here anymore? Why is there a white horse? Wasn’t David Duchovny supposed to be in this? Dwarves who talk backwards? Redrum? Why does that lady carry a log? Babe, do you know what’s happening?
Beatricia: I never understood the appeal of David Lynch. Just uncork the ZzzzQuil and pass out in front of “Happy Days.” Same thing.
Trent: A truly educational experience that helps us understand the Dark Ages of 1992, when there was no Internet and one had to sit through a whole hour of some coked-up girl’s pretentious whining to see two minutes of her nipples. And of course this is all set in some place called “Twin Peaks.” They might as well have called it “Tits Town.”
Tracey: WELL. On the one hand, “Fire Walk with Me” is gross, repulsive male-gazing fetishism, David Lynch’s elaborate, bullshit excuse to tie down Sheryl Lee and have her writhe around in lingerie while the obscene threat of incestuous rape hovers around her. On the other hand…she’s sorta… dreamily and poetically hot… isn’t she? I hadn’t been so confused since “Blue is the Warmest Color.” Let’s just pretend this casts a much-needed spotlight on the trauma suffered by victims of molestation, and give Lynch a pass on the majorly creepy vibes because it’s “art.” Wait, I’m not supposed to say that out-loud.
Grandpa Felicius: The fools will never know. IT WAS I KILLED LAURA PALMER.
Blurbarella: “Great Erotica– David Lynch?– David Bowie?– David Duchovny? Phantasmagorical Logging Town– Pretentious Whining– Laura Palmer– Two Minutes of her Nipples.”
4 out of 6 Cherries