Traces to Nowhere

I loved this episode. As Cooper downs three pieces of pie and drinks coffee that had a dead fish in the percolator, things begin to buzz in all directions. Each of the young people focused on have some pretty interesting baggage. Those two delinquent types, Bobby and his buddy, are downright nuts. Bobby's mom and dad are a couple of weird ones. Then we have the lady with the log and the other one with the drapes and the cotton balls, obsessed with pulling the drapes but keeping them quiet. Of course, more central to the plot are the goings on at the mill, the rapes of young women, the not-so-hidden necklace, Audrey (my goodness), the psychologist (Russ Tamblyn), and on and on. This town is terrific and I will continue to plow my way through. I watched the whole series back in the Nineties but can't remember how it plays out. Having only watched the Pilot and the first regular episode, I am once again convinced that television has the potential for some of the greatest artistry, and that most of what we see is really not worth our time. Now that all kinds of stuff is produced by non-network sources, we have so much to occupy us.

After such an eventful premiere, episode 2 is kind of a transitional affair. But a transitional one that showcases more classic bits, great performances and a good revelation at the end.

The second episode of Twin Peaks, titled "Traces to Nowhere," directed by Duwayne Dunham and written by David Lynch and Mark Frost, deepens the series' enigmatic atmosphere while expanding its intricate narrative web. Following the pilot's dramatic revelation of Laura Palmer's murder, this episode shifts focus to the subtle, often unsettling details of the town's undercurrents, presenting a blend of procedural investigation and surreal character study that exemplifies the show's unique storytelling approach. The episode opens with FBI Agent Dale Cooper's idiosyncratic morning routine, including his upside-down hanging exercise and his habit of dictating notes to an unseen secretary named Diane, immediately signaling the series' defiance of conventional television norms and setting a tone of quirky eccentricity that permeates the narrative.

"Traces to Nowhere" meticulously unfolds through a series of interconnected scenes that reveal the complex relationships and hidden tensions within Twin Peaks. The episode notably explores the fraught love triangle involving James Hurley, Donna Hayward, and the late Laura Palmer, with James admitting to an affair with Laura while denying any involvement in her death. This confession, delivered with a mixture of youthful earnestness and vulnerability, adds emotional depth to the mystery and humanizes the investigation. Meanwhile, the subplot involving Shelley Johnson and her abusive husband Leo introduces a darker, more visceral layer to the town's portrait, highlighting themes of domestic violence and secrecy. The scene where Leo beats Shelley with a bar of soap in a sock is particularly harrowing, starkly contrasting with the town's quaint exterior and underscoring the pervasive violence lurking beneath.

Duwayne Dunham's direction in this episode maintains the visual style established by Lynch, employing static camera shots and carefully composed frames that evoke a sense of stillness and unease. The cinematography uses a muted, brownish palette that enhances the mood of domestic terror and decay, as noted by critics analyzing the series' Gothic undertones. The episode's editing is deliberate, allowing moments of silence and discomfort to linger, which intensifies the emotional resonance of scenes such as Donna's awkward attempt to comfort Laura's grieving mother, Sarah Palmer. This scene, devoid of explicit plot advancement, instead serves as a poignant meditation on grief and loss, emphasizing the human cost of the central tragedy.

One of the most striking elements of "Traces to Nowhere" is its willingness to embrace surrealism and psychological horror, culminating in the infamous sequence involving a mysterious, long-haired man who appears to stare directly into the camera, terrifying both Sarah Palmer and the audience. This moment, praised as one of the most chilling in television history, disrupts the narrative flow and breaks the fourth wall, creating an unsettling atmosphere that transcends conventional storytelling. It is a quintessential Lynchian touch, blending the supernatural with the deeply personal and subconscious fears, and it signals the series' exploration of dream logic and metaphysical themes.

The script by Lynch and Frost balances conventional police procedural elements with soap opera melodrama and avant-garde horror, resulting in a genre-bending narrative that defies easy categorization. The episode's title, "Traces to Nowhere," aptly reflects the narrative's tendency to lead viewers down false trails and dead ends, emphasizing the futility and complexity of uncovering truth in a town steeped in secrets. This approach challenges audience expectations, prioritizing atmosphere and character over straightforward plot progression, which can be both captivating and, for some, frustrating.

Kyle MacLachlan's portrayal of Agent Cooper continues to be a highlight, his quirky mannerisms and intuitive investigative style providing a grounding presence amid the episode's surrealism. His interactions with other characters reveal his empathetic nature and unconventional methods, such as his careful questioning of James Hurley and his observant demeanor. The supporting cast delivers nuanced performances that enrich the narrative fabric; Lara Flynn Boyle as Donna conveys a mix of innocence and confusion, while Sherilyn Fenn's Audrey Horne introduces a provocative edge with her flirtatious yet enigmatic behavior toward Cooper, hinting at complex social dynamics within the town's youth.

The episode also advances the larger thematic concerns of Twin Peaks, particularly the duality of human nature and the coexistence of light and darkness within individuals and communities. The portrayal of domestic abuse, secret affairs, and hidden fears contrasts sharply with the town's idyllic facade, illustrating the series' critique of American small-town mythology. The narrative's emphasis on intuition, dreams, and the subconscious aligns with philosophical inquiries into knowledge and perception, as noted by scholars who interpret the series as challenging rationalist paradigms through its embrace of a priori intuition and dreamlike logic.

From a cultural and cinematic perspective, "Traces to Nowhere" exemplifies Twin Peaks' role in revolutionizing television drama by integrating cinematic techniques, complex character studies, and surrealist elements into a network series format. Its influence is evident in subsequent television works that adopt serialized mysteries and psychological depth, marking a shift toward auteur-driven storytelling on the small screen. The episode's blending of genres and narrative ambiguity also resonates with broader artistic movements in literature and film that question reality and identity, situating Twin Peaks within a lineage of postmodern and Gothic narratives.

Despite its strengths, the episode's pacing and narrative opacity may alienate viewers seeking immediate answers or faster plot development. The focus on mood, character interactions, and symbolic imagery requires active engagement and patience, which can be challenging but ultimately rewarding for those attuned to Lynch's aesthetic. The episode's deliberate withholding of information and its embrace of ambiguity underscore the series' commitment to exploring the complexities of human experience rather than delivering conventional resolutions.

In summary, "Traces to Nowhere" is a pivotal episode that deepens the mysterious world of Twin Peaks through its intricate character dynamics, atmospheric direction, and bold narrative experimentation. It exemplifies the series' unique capacity to blend the mundane with the uncanny, inviting viewers to navigate a labyrinth of emotional and psychological textures. The episode's unsettling imagery and thematic richness contribute to its lasting impact, encouraging reflection on the nature of truth, grief, and the shadows lurking beneath the surface of everyday life. Far from a mere procedural installment, it is a profound exploration of the human psyche and the enigmatic forces that shape our realities.

Every time I re-watch this episode, I'm surprised by how many classic scenes are in it. The episode itself never leaves much of an impression of its own (likely because it is sandwiched between two Lynch episodes), yet it has some of my favourite scenes. It has the fish in the percolator, the first meeting of Cooper and Audrey, the Log Lady's first dialog, the first physical appearance of cherry pie, Cooper's first time saying "damn fine coffee," the first appearance of BOB, and more.

Yet despite all of these classic scenes, the episode is not one of the show's best or most memorable episodes. It is not the sum of its parts, but rather a collection of parts that work best as a part of the series rather than as a part of the episode.

Following the bleak, if sometimes comical Pilot, this episode is very lighthearted. It definitely has its fair share of dark moments (including the first appearance of BOB), but a majority of this episode is funny, amusing, entertaining, and engaging. There's plenty of memorable, iconic, and essential scenes without, including the classic "damn fine coffee" sequence that is immediately followed by the extremely sensual first meeting between Audrey Horne and Agent Dale Cooper (two characters who most fans agree to be the best and most enjoyable on the show) as well as an absurd encounter with the log lady and a brief, hilarious moment in which Pete reveals some...unflattering information about his percolator.