The Passion of Laura Palmer

There are some people in this world whose presence is so ethereal that it feels like they could never truly die. David Lynch was one of them. It felt like a cosmic gut punch to learn that the groundbreaking surrealist filmmaker had passed on. I felt a pit in my stomach when I read the news, yet I imagine that day would have been sadder had it not been for the outpouring of tributes that really put into perspective just how cherished he was. I watched in real time as a whole new generation were not only discovering "Blue Velvet" and "Wild at Heart," but documenting their progress through first time watches of "Twin Peaks." There then comes that point when they reach the 1992 prequel film "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" and come out on the other side a changed person. I sure was. I've seen the film multiple times on a number of different formats, and it's only grown to be one of the most meaningful pieces of art I've engaged with over the course of my life. It all boils down to a performance that transcends the form it's presented in Laura Palmer. Sheryl Lee, you are eternal. It's hard to put into words just how much of a phenomenon "Twin Peaks" was upon its release, and even harder to describe how a single photograph of the town's recently murdered homecoming queen bled into the cultural consciousness with the fervor that it did. Lee was only ever supposed to be the plastic wrapped corpse at the time of her casting, but Lynch rightfully saw a spark in the young actress. He fell in love with the catalyst for the show's existence and provided Lee with the space she needed to find Laura. It's common to have an emotional connection with a fictional character, but Lee in "Fire Walk With Me" casts a spell I'm not sure will ever break. The film follows the troubled homecoming queen in the final days leading up to her violent death at the hands of her evil-possessed father, Leland Palmer (the astounding Ray Wise). "Twin Peaks" devotees felt blindsided upon the film's release, expecting remnants of a third season and were instead presented with one of the saddest horror films ever made — one that demystifies the series' melodramatic idiosyncrasies rather ruthlessly. "Fire Walk With Me" transforms the narrative crux of a commodified dead girl into one of the most fully realized characters in film history. It makes sense considering Lee's extremely soul-bearing performance is in active conversation with Maria Falconnetti in "The Passion of Joan of Arc"; two young women, bound to a fatal end, endure countless horrors in the ultimate test of faith. The evil that binds them appears in the form of institutions that are anything but safe spaces. Both exhibit the kind of soul-piercing expressiveness in their faces that burns into your memory and never leaves. When Donna (Moira Kelly) asks what it would feel like to fall through space, Laura's response is a cry for help she knows no one will decipher before it's too late. "Faster and faster. And for a long time, you wouldn't feel anything. And then you'd burst into fire. Forever … and the angels wouldn't help you because they've all gone away." I always shut down when we come to this scene because, although the circumstances in what conjures these feelings are different, I recognize that kind of lived-in despair. You can't fully articulate how scared you are that no one can quite understand how you process pain. It makes me feel oddly protective of Laura. Lee is giving a timeless performance that strikes at the heart of what makes cinema such an impactful conveyor of emotional storytelling. She exists in this in-between of speechless shock and explosive terror, with those occasional glimpses of happiness that's snuffed out by the predictability of being disappointed by the people in her life. The horror in her erratic and destructive behavior doesn't so much derive from Laura not knowing she's going to meet her end, but rather that she feels so powerless to stop it. Lynch's nuclear family is a damning portrait of neglectfulness and sexual abuse that no one likes to talk about. She's going nowhere, fast, and the people of Twin Peaks have failed her. "Fire Walk With Me" forever changed how I viewed "Twin Peaks." The original two seasons are monumental television achievements that oftentimes makes for a pretty fun show, in spite of its darker subject matter. You can buy into the mythology of Killer Bob and the complexities of the Black Lodge into this story if you want to. Lynch, however, never loses sight that this is first and foremost a horror movie about a teenage girl who loses faith in having a future because the veneer of a stable home life has been damaged beyond repair. Every inch of "Twin Peaks: The Return" is haunted by her spirit in some form or another. There is no Laura Palmer without Sheryl Lee and there is no Sheryl Lee without David Lynch. The beauty and the pain wrapped up in a Pacific Northwest tragedy that could have been avoided if only someone spoke up. "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" is currently streaming on Max and the Criterion Channel. Be kind. Stay safe.