A bizarre, self-indulgent mix of purported surrealism, hackneyed and outdated “comedy” which isn’t remotely funny, puerile sexism (the gratuitous female nudity; the ridiculous, seventies-style objectification of Agent Tammy Preston), and a pace so slow and so infuriating that fast-forwarding half of each episode is not just helpful but imperative for the preservation of my sanity…. Wow. Somehow managing to elicit flat, mannered performances from a huge and hugely talented cast, wasting acres of screen time on nonsense and drowning the handful of genuine emotional beats in a sea of self-satisfied artifice, new Twin Peaks is quite, quite incredible, if not in any positive sense of the word.
I don’t think I’ll be wasting any more space on writing about it again. I do have enough affection left for some of the original characters who might got the odd scrap of screen time that I’ll keep watching and fast-forwarding for now, but at some point boredom and frustration will vanquish nostalgia and I’ll give up. I doubt I’ll be alone either.