The Series’ 15 Best Scenes

It was the defining moment in the series: Pete Martell (Jack Nance), embarking on a morning fishing expedition, stumbles across the body of Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) on the bank of Twin Peaks, Washington’s Wind River. He promptly calls Sheriff Harry Truman (Michael Ontkean) and announces: “She’s dead… wrapped in plastic.” Immediately underscoring how unimaginable the crime is in this town that’s been hidden from the rest of the world, Pete’s unsettled delivery of those words set in motion one of the greatest murder mysteries in television history.

It’s in the series’ third episode where Agent Cooper first encounters the red-curtained waiting room to the Black Lodge. Before canvassing its chevron corridors, Cooper first encounters Mike (Al Strobel), the “One-Armed Man,” as well as his villainous counterpart Bob (Frank Silva), who promises to “kill again.” Once he’s inside the mysterious antechamber, however, he not only exchanges cryptic words with the late Laura Palmer — “I feel like I know her but sometimes, my arms bend back…” — but meets the Man From Another Place (Michael J. Anderson). The Man’s dance to Angelo Badalamenti’s jazzy score remains one of the series’ iconic images, but it’s the nightmarish surrealism of the sequence that informed audiences that “Twin Peaks” was no ordinary television show.

The Season 2 premiere marks the first appearance of The Giant (Carel Struycken), an event which by itself makes the first scene of the episode notable. But Lynch, directing the script he wrote with co-creator Frost, exploits the show’s day-per-episode structure by slowing down time to watch Cooper respond to being shot in the Season 1 finale, and momentarily not be able to do anything about it. The senile waiter (Hank Worden) is too preoccupied with delivering Cooper warm milk to realize that he’s critically injured, and Lynch masterfully draws out tension as the waiter painfully lingers, hangs up the phone already connected to Deputy Andy Brennan (Harry Goaz), then abandons the FBI agent. Cooper eventually narrates his predicament (“Being shot is not as bad as I thought it might be, as long as you can keep the fear from your mind”) before the Giant offers three riddles that lead him towards the identity of Laura’s killer. The scene perfectly captures the show’s expert juxtaposition of small-town mundanities and mystery-solving suspense.

A key linchpin in the drama on “Twin Peaks” is the inability, or unwillingness, for parents in the sleepy community to understand and engage with their children — and vice versa. For most of Season 1, Bobby Briggs (Dana Ashbrook) was a petulant ne’er-do-well, and every encounter with his father, Marjor Garland Briggs (Don Davis) offered a new chance for conflict. But a man of principle and extrasensory belief not unlike Agent Cooper, Briggs seemed determined to bridge the gap with Bobby, and accomplishes the task in just this one scene, where he describes a dream he had about his son. “My son was standing there. He was happy and carefree, clearly living a life of deep harmony and joy. We embraced — a warm and loving embrace, nothing withheld. We were, in this moment, one.” Despite their many differences ending his story with the revelation, “I awoke with a tremendous feeling of optimism and confidence in you and your future,” he brings Bobby to tears, and the audience with him, offering the kind of encouragement and support every child wishes they could receive from a parent.

From his first arrival in Season 1, Albert Rosenfeld (Miguel Ferrer) treated the residents of Twin Peaks with an almost comical level of condescension and cruelty, leading to more than a few verbal altercations and a punch from Sheriff Truman. Just as another of his insults threatens to lead to a return engagement between Truman’s fist and Albert’s face, the FBI agent unexpectedly explains his worldview, which runs counter to his abrasive demeanor: “I pride myself in taking a punch and I’ll gladly take another because I choose to live my life and the company of Gandhi and King. My concerns are global,” he tells Truman. “I reject absolutely revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love. I love you, Sheriff Truman.” As he departs, Cooper assess his colleague succinctly: “Albert’s path is a strange and difficult one.” Series viewers would never look at him the same way again.

Lynch has always had a knack for creating images that get under the skin, but this dialogue-free shot of Bob slowly climbing over the couch as he stares down the lens of the camera has been a dream-haunter for 35 years. Approximating the sensation of sleep paralysis, viewers are forced to watch as Bob gets closer and closer, as flashes of black — almost like blinking — interrupt his advance. Maddy reacts with absolute terror, standing in for the audience as they are similarly caught in Bob’s gaze. With good reason, it’s become one of the most famous, and unsettling, images in the series’ history —which is why still today, and even without all of the context of the show, it’s difficult to watch.

The resolution of Laura’s murder was met with so much anticipation — and from some quarters, impatience — that the show’s ratings would sadly never recover afterward. But the writing of that revelation by Harley Peyton, Robert Engels and “Twin Peaks” co-creator Frost absolutely sticks the landing with a scene that fully encapsulates the series competing dynamics between evil and goodness, accountability and forgiveness, shoe-leather investigation and spiritual transcendence. Ray Wise’s performance as Leland Palmer continuously keeps MacLachlan’s Cooper on his toes, but the incredible power of the scene comes from journey they embark upon together, purging Bob from Leland as he’s confronted with his crimes, and then shepherding the guilt-stricken Leland to a better place: “Look toward the light, Leland.”

In 1990, it felt mostly unimaginable to have a nonbinary character on screen who wasn’t caricatured, made fun of or vilified. Denise Bryson (David Duchovny) caught everyone off guard, starting with the characters on “Twin Peaks,” and showed that transgender people were deserving of respect. In retrospect, it would be easy to dismiss the choice of including Denise — formerly Dennis — as another signifier of the show’s general “weirdness,” which by the middle of Season 2 was well-established. But as stunned as Cooper is at learning of his Bryson’s transition, he immediately accepts her at face value, and his colleagues follow suit: “That’s a good color for him,” observes Hawk (Michael Horse). Lynch later doubles down on the choice in “The Return,” not only promoting Denise to the role of FBI director but rightfully saying to critics “fix your hearts or die” via the character he played, Gordon Cole. But it’s these introductory scenes that beautifully showcase how easy it is to react with kindness rather than judgment about someone’s identity, even when it subverts your expectations.

Inspired by Lynch’s own skill as a storyteller, one of the show’s great gifts was its ability to sandwich traumatic moments with ones that were beautifully wholesome. Whether as a viewer you felt like “Twin Peaks” lost its way after solving Laura’s murder or simply found its footing on different terrain, there were many great moments in the show in the run up to its (temporary) conclusion in 1992. This scene involving Cooper’s developing romance with Annie Blackburn (Heather Graham) and Gordon Cole’s instant infatuation with Shelley Johnson (Mädchen Amick) is one of them: Cole speaks the quote above after seeing Shelley behind the counter at the Double R, while Cooper tells a joke about penguins in an attempt to flirt — nerdily — with Annie. The secret weapon of the scene is Sheriff Truman’s private bemusement watching Cooper, but the way that the show embraces the sincerity of both agents’ intentions serves as a powerful reminder of their goodness despite the dangers they face in the line of duty.

Trying to condense the magnificent finale — which mostly takes place within the Black Lodge — to a single great moment feels like an impossibility. But Lynch caps the show with a scene that offers so much promise that he was able to create another 17 hours of story from it: Cooper awakens from his rescue of Annie and announces that he’s got to brush his teeth. In the bathroom, however, his behavior reveals that the FBI Special Agent has been replaced with a Bob-inhabited doppelgänger. “How’s Annie,” Cooper sarcastically asks after smashing his head into the mirror as Bob looks back in his reflection. Until then, Cooper had been tested externally; saying goodbye to the character as his identity was being challenged introduced more questions than it answered, keeping the series’ fandom in suspense for another 25 years.

Played by Michael Cera, Wally Brando is (rightfully) a polarizing character within the world of “Twin Peaks.” He appears for only one scene, and seems assembled from a hodgepodge of pop culture references. But as much as mileage may vary on the many other examples of similar roles on the show, Wally exemplifies how Lynch’s creativity is so unpredictable — and why it’s so beloved. The fact that as an actor Cera is the polar opposite of young Brando’s smoldering machismo offers a beguiling starting point for the character’s arrival. But even as his dialogue includes nods to other Brando roles (“I came to pay my respects to my Godfather”), Wally’s deadpan gestures of respect to Sheriff Truman and to his parents, Andy and Lucy, reiterates how Twin Peaks is a place where their untroubled goodness can trickle down to the next generation in contrast to complicated, violent lives of Audrey’s (Sherilyn Fenn) and Shelley’s kids. “I also came back to let my parents know, because this has been a matter of grave concern for them, that I’ve decided to let them do what they wish with my childhood bedroom.” What parent wouldn’t want their child to take their desires this seriously? The scene contributes virtually nothing to the plot of “The Return,” but of the show’s many non sequiturs, this is one that somehow feels like it makes sense.

Truthfully there’s no one moment in this historic episode that is “better” than the rest of it; its nightmarish origin story for the entities and energies in “Twin Peaks” sort of must be taken as a whole or not at all. But Lynch’s depiction of the detonation of the first nuclear bomb in 1945 perfectly captures the awesome and terrible power of the device, erupting as if in slow motion while the camera pulls the viewer towards its mushrooming destruction. Krzysztof Penderecki’s atonal composition, conceived in 1961 as a tribute to Hiroshima’s victims, mirrors the discombobulating energy of the director’s images, which shuffle from skittering particles to blinding flashes of color to walls of gas and flame. It’s only this kind of chaotic, uncontainable energy that could create so many layers of reality — which makes it perfect as a starting point (or culmination) of Lynch’s febrile, unpredictable creativity.

As wonderfully sincere and hopeful as “Twin Peaks” often is about humanity, the show rarely gives its characters a happy ending. In fact, Ed (Everett McGill) and Norma’s (Peggy Lipton) is by far the happiest, an overdue conclusion to a saga too frequently interrupted by some of the series’ soapiest melodrama. After the eccentric, clingy Nadine (Wendy Robie) finally — and joyfully — grants Ed his freedom, the gasoline purveyor races to the Double R to declare his love for Norma. Lynch cleverly offers a momentary bait and switch as Norma steps away to speak with Walter (Grant Goodeve), an investor in her businesses Ed mistakes for a suitor. But as Ed sits down at the counter for a cup of coffee (“and a cyanide pill,” he jokes) to kick himself for once again missing his shot with the love of his life, a live recording of Otis Redding’s “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now)” (from the 1967 Monterrey Pop Festival) swells in the background. From offscreen, Norma lovingly approaches and embraces Ed, and agrees to marry him. The screaming of Redding’s fans reverberate over shots of Twin Peaks arboreal beauty, as if the universe was saying for once, “all is right.”

Casting Laura Dern in “The Return” as Agent Cooper’s mysterious assistant Diane was a stroke of genius, as much for her previous connections to Lynch’s body of work as for her extraordinary skill as an actor. Dern proves why nobody could have played the role better in this climactic scene where Diane tearfully reveals to Gordon, Albert and special agent Tammy Preston (Chrysta Bell) that Cooper raped her. She captures the complexity of the character’s desire, fear and betrayal, while also navigating the conceptual framework of being a double to the “real” Diane, who’s lost in the otherworldly abyss of the Black Lodge. The conflict between the two identities eventually becomes too powerful for the tulpa Diane to control, prompting a confession who she is — and a murder attempt on Gordon that ends with her disappearing into nothingness.

David Lynch’s cliffhangers have always been unparalleled, even for episodic television. The series finale — for the second time — was no exception: Cooper, restored to full clarity and having reset the timeline of the show by venturing into the past to save the life of Laura Palmer, returns to what he believes is the present. Seeking out waitress Carrie Page (Sheryl Lee), he volunteers to drive her “home” to Twin Peaks, despite the woman’s protests she knows nothing about Laura or her family. Their protracted journey concludes when they reach the Palmer house, which is owned by strangers who are also unfamiliar with its supposed history. Stunned and dejected, the pair return to Cooper’s car, as the FBI Special Agent asks the question that may explain why nothing is as it should be: exactly when are they taking this trip? Yet as he ponders the answer, the lights go out in the house and Carrie hears the voice of Sarah Palmer, prompting a scream that only Laura could make. Are they too soon or too late to make things right? Unfortunately, they — and we — may never know.