And this is it. A conclusion for Twin Peaks — waiting in the wings for 25 years — finally presents itself, and we dwellers on the threshold experience something that for the longest time was deemed not only unlikely, but an impossibility. Even David Lynch had long-declared Twin Peaks “dead as a doornail,” indicating that as much as he’d like to revisit the world he co-created with Mark Frost, that world was no longer available to him.
But here we are, anyway. Twin Peaks: The Return (as Showtime has chosen to promote it) has now officially come and gone, and what a tremendous 15 weeks it’s been. These final three hours have quite possibly worked as the single biggest conclusion to any TV event of recent years. They provided both a deeply satisfying payoff, and an even more deeply troubling subversion of that payoff.
Here is part 1 of my goodbye to Twin Peaks.
The Sleeper Must Awaken: episode 16
The sixteenth part of this particular saga contains a handful of major moments, the first of which being the sudden demise of Richard Horne, and the subsequent revelation that, yes, Mr. C is indeed his father. It is most definitely shocking to see Richard killed off in such an unceremonious and anticlimactic fashion, especially considering all the menacing build-up his character has received, but it also fits within the m.o. of this season, where anything can happen at any given moment.
When Richard and C-bag finally met each other, it felt like a major coalescing of this show’s many plot threads, and that their long drive together would result in a bevy of revelations about what’s really going on. Instead, Evil Cooper stays quiet for the entire trip, lets Richard walk into an electrical trap where he is quickly disintegrated, and then offers an emotionless “Goodbye, my son” as both a confirmation of Richard’s parentage and a casual dismissal of his son’s life. That he would so cruelly dispose of his own child is not particularly surprising, but it adds to the show’s theme of parents neglecting and abusing — even hating — their offspring, and the way that cycle continues. But it won’t continue for Richard.
Chantal and Hutch are two other newer Peaks mainstays suddenly dispatched in this episode, easily taken out by a pissed off Polish accountant whose driveway they were unfortunate enough to block. The violent randomness of their deaths is filled with dark humor, though their characters had become strangely likeable in a Mickey and Mallory type of way, lending a hint of sadness to their goodbye. These two were terrible and obnoxious slimeballs, but still kind of adorable in their weird innocence. (I also have to praise Jennifer Jason Leigh here, one of my favorite actors and very underused lately. She nearly stole The Hateful Eight — which also contained a memorable performance by Tim Roth, as well as Laura Dern’s father Bruce — and it’s been great having her on Twin Peaks).
Up in Buckhorn, the Diane storyline also reaches a terminus, as she receives the order from Mr. C to kill Gordon, Albert, and Tammy. This results in one of the most finely crafted scenes of the revival, beginning with Diane’s slow creep towards the hotel room where her targets await (perfectly scored with Lynch’s industrial remix of “American Woman” by Muddy Magnolias), and culminating in a note-perfect monologue from Laura Dern where Diane explains what happened to her the night she last saw Cooper. Many people had already assumed that Mr. C raped Diane, which is confirmed here, but that conclusion was always somewhat at odds with the fact that Diane was in cahoots with Evil Cooper. It was as if she were two different characters with two different motivations, which made reading Diane virtually impossible and rendering all theories about her incomplete.
Now, we understand why: she literally is two different people, as this tulpa was created by Mr. C to serve as his double agent, but Diane’s dopplelganger still has all of Diane’s memories (just as Mr. C has all of Cooper’s) and therefore has retained Diane’s trauma as well. Dern is a fantastic actor— her performance in HBO’s Enlightened ranks as one of television’s greatest in recent years — and whenever she and Lynch work together, magic usually happens, as it does here. This version of Diane is at war with herself and falling apart internally, and that comes across as she tells her story to her FBI cohorts.
Twin Peaks is no stranger to the notion that a traumatic experience can split someone down the middle, and like Laura Palmer, Diane has been fractured; it feels like she actually wants someone to shoot her before she can act, some kind of weird metaphysical Manchurian Candidate. But she’s also given a great sendoff in the Black Lodge, handing out one final “fuck you” to the One-Armed Man (who is the MVP of keeping the Twin Peaks universe from falling apart) before her head cracks into another Phantasm sphere and she vanishes for good.
And in Twin Peaks, Audrey’s bizarre storyline also reaches its conclusion, if one can call it that. She and Charlie finally, finally make it to the Roadhouse, just in time to catch Eddie Vedder recording an MTV Unplugged album. A mostly straightforward scene suddenly becomes something else entirely when the Roadhouse announcer clears the floor for “Audrey’s Dance,” and Audrey Horne is given a chance to relive a moment from her youth. But this isn’t just a recreation of a classic scene from Peaks past, it’s also an updating, as Audrey is no longer 18 years old with her whole life ahead of her. Instead, while Sherilyn Fenn perfectly educes the sensuality of Audrey’s former self, her dance also contains moments that feel awkward, as we watch a middle-aged woman trying to be someone with whom she’s long lost touch. (It may be jarring at times, but it’s also never not hypnotic).
The dreamlike element of this scene is unmistakable, with the patrons of the Roadhouse both watching her dance and swaying to the music themselves as if this is some time-honored ritual. (It also recalls the heavy metal kids and punks of Wild At Heart, who do a similar thing for Sailor’s first musical number). And then, it literally becomes a dream, as a fight breaks out among some customers and Audrey begs Charlie to take her home, breaking the spell and revealing Audrey to be standing in a white room, confused, and talking to herself in a mirror.
Of course, something never seemed quite right with Audrey’s storyline in the new season. Many speculated that she was still in a coma, or in the Black Lodge, or starring in Invitation to Love, or play acting with her therapist. But that was counteracted by the fact that other characters, very much not in a fantasy, had mentioned the same mysterious figures Audrey obsesses over: Tina, Chuck, Billy.
That distrust also at times seemed attributable to some viewers’ inability to accept that Audrey Horne didn’t turn out the way we all assumed she would, or that she’d marry someone boring like Charlie. But Charlie’s mysterious threat about ending Audrey’s “story” a few episodes ago definitely suggested that something was in play which remained out of reach to us. Now we’re truly left in the dark, as the series contains no followup to Audrey’s Matrix moment, and no theory entirely explains what we saw or why it was happening. All we know is that Audrey has snapped out of her illusion, and that is where we leave her, possibly forever.
Diane and Audrey are not the only characters to awaken during this hour. In the moment we’ve all been waiting for, Special Agent Dale Cooper returns in full Cooperesque glory from his addled state after spending a brief part of the episode in a coma. (I’m guessing it wasn’t just me who worried we were gonna have to watch comatose Dougie for three episodes while everyone else talked about finger sandwiches and electricity). The sense of audience relief is palpable when the One-Armed Man states “You are awake. Finally.”
But nothing compares to a few minutes later, when the theme from Twin Peaks begins to play as Cooper prepares to leave the hospital. Cooper’s heartfelt thank you and goodbye to Bushnell is followed by his sure to be immortal line “I am the FBI,” and in that very moment, Twin Peaks has returned 100%, just like Coop. I can think of almost no scene more cathartic in the history of TV; I joyfully cry-laugh-screamed into my pillow, then applauded. David Lynch and Mark Frost had been intentionally delaying this, pushing the Dougie plot almost as far as it could go. Here, the dam finally cracks, and the light begins to pour through.
This moment is so many things at once . . . relieving, hysterical, tender, silly, and most of all, blissful, like the show is somehow hugging longtime fans through their televisions and cell phones. There is no doubt something preposterous about a line like “I am the FBI,” delivered with such assurance and masculine swagger; Dale Cooper all but looks at the camera and says “And remember kids, always say no, don’t forget to floss, and be sure to get a good rest on school nights.” But it’s that corny purity that is exactly what has always made Cooper a moral center of the series. He represents goodness and honor and respect and tolerance, a straight-shooting lawman who is incorruptible and fair, sensitive and tough, fearless but vulnerable. Considering the increasingly unstable times in which we live, seeing a character like Agent Cooper return to the screen carries even more gravity, as he’s a walking embodiment of order. Somehow, this moment manages to strike all these chords at once, and it is never once undercut by its own humor and irony.
Unlike the scene featuring Audrey’s dance — a gesture of poisoned nostalgia which serves as the ending of the episode — this is all undiluted happiness. Agent Cooper is back, and for a brief moment, everything feels like it’s going to be okay again. It won’t be, as we’ll soon see, but in that instant, both Twin Peaks and its audience know only bliss, and we don’t want to wake up.
More Thoughts That Happened:
- I had long avoided fully getting on board with the theories that Mr. C raped both Diane and Audrey, not because it was implausible but because I didn’t want to treat their potential assaults as just pulpy villainous plot fodder. Twin Peaks is so difficult to predict that I decided to wait for the story to go there first, which it did with Diane, whose monologue imparts this with the seriousness it needs. I’m guessing the only time Evil Cooper could have fathered Richard is during Audrey’s coma following season two, but since we don’t actually even know what’s happening with Audrey (at this point she could be on Mars), I’ll put this in the Probable but Unconfirmed category, even if it’s all-but confirmed at this point.
- Jerry Horne thinking his binoculars killed his own nephew with magic laser powers is . . . not what I thought Jerry’s final scene would be.
- The Mitchum brothers really have emerged as two of the most lovable new characters, amazing considering what vicious hardasses they appeared to be at first. But their unabashed love of the man they think is Dougie is just so charming.
- “What the fuck kinda neighborhood is this?” “People are under a lot of stress, Bradley.” The latter line just might be the “He’s probably upset, Loraine” of Twin Peaks.
- I genuinely expected Bellina Logan to be reprising her role from the original series as Louie Birdsong Budway, the clerk from the Great Northern. But instead she appears here as the doctor who discharges Cooper from the hospital. (Logan has a long history with Lynch going all the way back to Wild At Heart, where she played Lula’s best friend Beany, a prominent character in Barry Gifford’s Sailor and Lula books. Though her scenes were deleted from the finished film, Logan still pops up in the occasional David Lynch role).
- “You’re a fine man, Bushnell Mullins. I shall not soon forget your kindness and decency.” This is about the point where the waterworks were not shutting off for me.
- Given how surprised everyone is with Dougie’s ability to use words and confidently drive a car, I think we can assume Janey-E did most of the heavy lifting in this marriage. And the light lifting. Pretty much all of the lifting.
- Cooper’s goodbye to Janey-E and Sonny Jim is my second favorite moment of the episode. Him saying “You’ve made my heart so full” really snaps this entire storyline into place; Cooper was always in there, somewhere, and he really does appreciate what his ersatz family has brought to his life. This is a far cry from earlier in the season, when the feeling was more “who are these people? Get the hell away from Cooper!” As Janey-E realizes this man is not her husband but still asks him to stay, Naomi Watts captures the many emotions running through Diane’s half-sister, and it’s undeniable what an integral part she’s played this season. Similar to Dern, great things happen when Watts and Lynch work together.
- “Audrey’s Dance” backwards is as disturbing as it is sultry forwards. Thank you Twin Peaks for letting me type sentences like this.
There’s No Place Like Home: episode 17
Bucking this season’s very leisurely pacing, part 17 wastes no time in getting to the showdown destined to occur in Twin Peaks.
First, we get a bombshell of mythological clarification: “Judy” is a degraded pronunciation of the much older word “Jowday” (jao dae? jiao dae?), the name of an ancient entity associated with negativity and fear and darkness, who is almost definitely one and the same with Mother/the Experiment. Apparently Major Briggs had discovered evidence of this being 25 years ago, and came to Cole and Cooper for help. The three devised a plan for Cooper to stop Mother, but instead he went missing.
Fans have been wondering who the hell Judy is for the better part of three decades, and now we know. We also get the first addressing of one of the Fireman’s clues from the start of the season; Cooper had told Gordon he wanted to kill “two birds with one stone” shortly before he vanished, though it’s not made explicitly obvious what that means.
Meanwhile, Mr. C finally arrives in Twin Peaks, and follows coordinates to the same place where the Major directed Bobby and the gang, just beyond Jack Rabbit’s Palace. This location looks to be similar to Glastonbury Grove, but instead of a pool of black oil surrounded by twelve sycamore trees, it features a golden pool with just one lone sycamore standing next to it. Presumably this is the entrance to the White Lodge or Zone, since Andy was taken directly to the Giant several episodes ago in this very spot.
Evil Douche Coop arrives in the Fireman’s lair, where he is immediately imprisoned and, with a brush of the hand, transported to directly outside the Twin Peaks police department. Back in episode 2, Evil Cooper had told Darya he was looking for something, and held up the symbol we’ve come to associate with Judy, so presumably that’s why he’s going to all this effort. He means to harness or unleash Judy, which sounds like as bad an idea as getting the Keymaster and the Gatekeeper together.
Cooper’s doppelganger visiting the sheriff’s station strikes on levels both thrilling and heartbreaking. Thrilling because everything is about to converge, and heartbreaking because we know this is not Cooper, and therefore this is not the homecoming it appears to be. Andy and Lucy are genuinely excited to see him, and the fear that Mr. C might do something to hurt either of them twists the knife deeper and deeper into the viewer.
But it’s Lucy and Andy who save the day here. Lucy puts a bullet straight into Evil Cooper’s head, and Andy disarms an escaping 4Chad in the jail downstairs (with the help of Freddie and his superpowered gardening glove) before bringing everyone upstairs where they need to be.
This all culminates in what is theoretically the climax of the new Twin Peaks, though in fact it not only turns out not to be the climax, but one of the most ridiculous moments in the show’s run. It’s also extraordinarily entertaining in its sheer lunacy. Instead of the long-awaited warm welcome for which we’ve been primed, Cooper’s arrival is as unceremonious as Richard’s death, as he races past the Welcome to Twin Peaks sign, dashes into Frank’s office and instantly finds himself in an apocalyptic battle. The Woodsmen appear, Bob emerges from Evil Cooper in a sinister bubble and flies around the room while Freddie power punches him, and the whole thing is over as quickly as it started, Bob shattered into pieces and floating away as Mr. C dissolves and is returned to the Lodge.
Cole, Albert, and Preston show up and are greeted by an extra chipper Dale, who reveals Naido to be the disguised original Diane, turned into an otherworldly angelic creature after Mr. C stashed her away in the Zone/Lodge two decades before. Cooper, Diane and Gordon then teleport to the Great Northern, but not before Coop repeats Jeffries’ mantra “We live inside a dream,” his face superimposed over this entire scene as if he’s indeed imagining these events.
That’s it. That’s the entirety of Cooper’s grand entrance into the town he once briefly called home. It’s not quite anticlimactic, however, as Cooper recognizes that there’s no time for him to enjoy this reunion the way he’d like. There’s no opportunity for a damn fine cup of coffee, or a visit to the RR, or especially to see his old and ailing friend Harry. “There are some things that will change. The past dictates the future . . . . I hope to see all of you again, each and every one of you,” he says as a kind of reverse Dorothy Gale. Before we can even digest any of that, Cooper is already walking through the secret door in the Great Northern basement, the one that only his old Room 315 key will open. “See you at the curtain call” he tells Diane, before stepping into the void.
And it’s here that the actual climax of Twin Peaks begins, and 27 years’ worth of this story prepares to meet its destiny. The Great Northern boiler room has been made to cleverly evoke the hospital basement from the pilot’s alternate ending (the footage of which was later used as Cooper’s famous dream), and the connection becomes stronger after Cooper walks through the hidden door and encounters the One-Armed Man, who proceeds to recite the Fire Walk With Me poem he first delivered in that version of the pilot. This poem — which is more like a ritual incantation — takes the both of them to the metaphysical motel where Jeffries has been hiding.
Jeffries, who has only met the actual Cooper once before, speaks in his usual riddles before fulfilling Coop’s request . . . he opens a doorway through time, allowing Cooper to access the night that Laura Palmer was murdered. What follows is possibly the most extraordinary moment in any version of Twin Peaks.
Reusing footage from Fire Walk With Me but rendered in black and white, Lynch allows Cooper to view Laura’s final conversation with James. For those worried that Lynch and Frost had chosen to forget about most of the show’s past, this moment drudges up all sorts of elements that have not been forgotten after all (Donna Hayward, Bobby’s murder of Deputy Cliff) and recontextualizes other moments (Laura’s random and panicked scream at something in the woods is now explained to be her glimpsing Agent Cooper in the distance). Presented without the musical score from FWWM, these moments play as even more heartbreaking, Laura’s desperation and sadness just vomiting out of the screen.
As she breaks away from James and heads towards her fateful rendezvous with Jacques, Leo, and Ronette, a heretofore unseen moment occurs as Cooper finds Laura crying in the woods, and we now understand exactly what is happening. Cooper has traveled back in time to save Laura Palmer. Laura recognizes Coop from her dreams, and as her melancholy theme music begins to swell over the soundtrack, she takes Cooper’s outstretched hand, and history is seemingly rewritten.
The film switches to color, and Lynch replays the opening scene of the pilot. Characters who haven’t been mentioned all season — Josie, Pete, Catherine — are suddenly alive and moving across our screens again. But now Laura’s corpse is no longer waiting for Pete to discover her, and he instead makes it to the pier, where he commences fishing on that foggy February morning.
Cooper returning to consciousness was in many ways the moment when Twin Peaks fully came alive again, but it’s really here in this collection of scenes that longtime fans are given the chance to reconnect with the show they remembered, even if that show is being somewhat erased. This is the return, this is Twin Peaks as we knew it, but it’s here to say goodbye, because this is the conclusion of Twin Peaks in its entirety. Everything — the original show, FWWM and The Missing Pieces, the revival— has led to this. The original run famously ended with Cooper walking into the Black Lodge, confronting his destiny. This is the show’s version of walking into its own fate. Twin Peaks is confronting Twin Peaks.
This triumphant moment is paired against one that is tremendously unnerving, as we witness a deranged and screaming Sarah Palmer attempt to smash Laura’s prom picture, as if she’s trying to murder Laura all over again by murdering this iconic photo. It seems pretty likely that Judy has taken up residence in Sarah, though when this is occurred is not clear. Here the series comes full circle, even recycling Grace Zabriskie’s screams from the pilot, but now Sarah wails not because her daughter was murdered, but because she wasn’t.
Sarah Palmer’s entire existence has become defined by Laura and the tragedy surrounding Laura in both life and death, so the immense rage she feels towards her child fits thematically with everything going on. The additional wrinkle that Sarah is probably in some sense embodying Judy only makes this scenario more disturbing, as Judy looks to be obsessed with destroying Laura. The unearthly moans and warbles in the Palmer household, first heard in the distance before Sarah enters the frame, show how much Sarah has devolved into a terrifying, inhuman thing. And that thing writhes and smashes in a fury of futile defeat.
We barely have time to process the fact that time has been altered before our happy ending is cruelly taken from us. Cooper, leading Laura through the dark woods, hears the broken record scratch — the one that seems to be the Giant’s way of saying “it is happening again” — and Laura is snatched away, just as she was abducted by an invisible force in the Red Room earlier this season, even repeating the same exact scream. And just like the last time the Giant uttered that phrase, Lynch dissolves to Julee Cruise singing “The World Spins” at the Roadhouse.
History can be changed, but it also repeats itself, and now we can see that Twin Peaks has always been depicting a war between those two facts. Where will the needle land in the final hour?
Now we’re gonna talk about Judy:
The explanation of Judy is certainly fascinating, and fits with a lot of what’s been suggested so far. However, if The Missing Pieces is canon — and certain elements of it have definitely been used in the new episodes — then it’s worth mentioning that some of Jeffries’ deleted dialogue strongly indicated that Judy was an actual woman. He refers to having been at Judy’s place in Seattle, he insists that she’s positive about something, and he asks the hotel clerk in Buenos Aires if a Miss Judy is staying there (the clerk states yes, and that she left a message for him). In the early going of FWWM, Lynch and Robert Engels discussed Judy being Josie’s sister from Seattle, and some of Jeffries’ lines spoke to that idea. So one could make the argument that there is still a person out there named Judy who plays a role in all of this, in addition to the negative spiritual force which Cole discussed.
This actually works with the haphazard, dreamlike way in which the mythology unfolds. One minute, the convenience store refers to the minimart below the Lydecker veterinary clinic; the next, it’s a traveling portal to another world. No element of the mythology is fixed, and there can be multiple meanings. After all, it wouldn’t be Twin Peaks if everything entirely made sense. What does work, no matter which definition of Judy we’re discussing, is that Jeffries has always appeared to be chasing an idea as much as he’s been looking for a person or a being. Judy is like his Laura, and he lost himself in pursuit of something that is not attainable.
While we’re on the subject of what does and does not fully click together, I should also mention that there is no point in season two where Major Briggs, Cole, and Cooper could have set this plan in motion regarding Judy, as Cooper was busy with the Windom Earle situation at the time and Major Briggs often demurred for security reasons when it came to sharing all Blue Book intelligence with the FBI. The only point where it could have maybe occurred is around episodes 25 and 26, but the new Twin Peaks makes it sound like Judy was Cooper’s overall goal when he went into the Black Lodge, and that is just not the case in the original series.
There are a variety of factors explaining this. Lynch and Frost did not rewatch the old series before writing this one. Lynch is pretty open in his dislike of much of season two (and apparently in particular the way the Windom Earle storyline was handled) and therefore was probably in no rush to conform to what it established. And, perhaps most important, this episode reveals that time can be altered. In all likelihood, the new Twin Peaks is not following the exact chain of events of the original series. In a very general way it is, but this is almost a sequel to a Twin Peaks that never was. Which brings us to . . .
The Secret History of Twin Peaks. Mark Frost’s fascinating companion novel to the series is as known for its bizarre discrepancies with the original show — Ed and Nadine married years after high school, Annie is not Norma’s sister and never won Miss Twin Peaks, Audrey and Ben didn’t reconcile before the bank explosion — as it is for its awesome and captivating deep dive into the innerworkings of the story’s dense mythology. Now the many large and small continuity “errors” have some context: the history of Twin Peaks is a malleable thing. (No doubt some of the mistakes in the book are unintentional, but it almost doesn’t matter if time and reality are pliable concepts).
Perhaps this explains Jeffries’ mention of an “unofficial version” that Cole will remember. We’ll probably never know.
More Thoughts That Happened:
- Thanks, Gordon, for taking this opportunity to remind us about your sexual prowess. We hadn’t noticed.
- I love Tammy but did she have to make a sensual face when Gordon said the above line? C’mon, David. We get it. Go meditate or something else that kinda rhymes with it.
- “That’s strange even for Cooper.” Love you forever, Albert.
- Jerry. Horne. Walked. From. Twin. Peaks. To. Wyoming.
- Major Briggs’ floating head makes its final appearance this season. Don S. Davis has been sorely missed but his presence has thankfully been all over these episodes.
- LUCY UNDERSTANDS CELL PHONES.
- The Fire Walk With Me poem is not the only incantation from the pilot returning for this installment. Before Freddie destroys him, Bob repeats his infamous line “Catch you with my death bag.” Goodbye to Twin Peaks’ most terrifying villain, assuming that really was his end.
- Frank Truman never gets up from his desk, not once, despite all the batshit supernatural shenanigans flying around his office. You win the stoicism award, sir. Please quietly enjoy it without indicating that you enjoy it.
- Apparently Diane’s fascination with Asian aesthetics caused her to become a deformed Japanese woman in another reality. Okay. (Though Naido might be less literally Diane and more like an abstraction or scrambling of Diane). Shout out to Nae Yuuki, who did a fantastic job acting through that makeup, and who is also terrific during the climax of Inland Empire.
- A lot of people had theorized that the Woodsmen would descend upon Twin Peaks and wreak havoc in the final episode, maybe even taking over Jacoby’s radio program a la episode 8. I honestly thought that was a pretty great idea, but alas, the chaos is confined to Truman’s office.
- As Fire Walk With Me is my favorite movie, it was wonderful seeing all that footage with its musical score removed, isolating the dialogue and ambient sound (some of which is no doubt redesigned for this episode). Sheryl Lee’s performance especially stands out. When Laura shrieks “I love you, James!” the scene has been known to draw laughter in various audience, but absent the melodramatic music, any possible humor is sucked out of that moment. The full manic desperation and resignation of Laura is laid entirely bare, and Sheryl Lee deserves recognition for what she gave to this character. Also, it’s cool to see Lynch use little unused B-roll snippets of Leland, Leo, Ronette, and Jacques to flesh out this return to the past.
- As much as I love the revelation that Laura was in fact looking at Cooper, nothing will ever be as scary as the original scenario in FWWM, where a drugged-out Laura is screaming at seemingly nothing. It still freaks me out to this day.
- What a thrill to have Joan Chen, Eric DaRe, Piper Laurie, and Jack Nance back in Twin Peaks, even if just through archive footage. And the new moment of Pete actually reaching the pier to go fishing is chill-inducing. (RIP Jack Nance).
- I’m very unsure when Judy and Sarah became acquainted, but I have to say I don’t love the possibility that Sarah has always been Judy. It feels a little cheap, the idea that the real problem in this family has always been the mother, especially after everything Sarah has been through. I like the idea better that the sheer misery and suffering of her life opened the door for Judy.
- Julee Cruise’s musical number is for some reason cut short, despite the many other Roadhouse performances this season, and apparently she was not happy about it. However, it’s effective even in truncated form, especially since she’s one of a slew of faces from the original series to return in this episode. Absolutely lovely to watch her grace that stage again.