Last night I wasted 60 minutes of my time watching David Lynch’s horrible Twin Peaks episode 8. I only submitted myself to it because I had already watched all the other prior episodes and wanted to finish watching it so I could write this review knowing I had given it a chance to redeem itself before it ended. Alas, no such luck.
Many critics are calling it Lynch’s “most surreal” episode yet (e.g. Hollywood Reporter’s Josh Wigler; IGN’s Eric Goldman said it was “bats#@*t crazy, but I loved it”). Most dictionary definitions of “surreal” include terms like dreamlike and bizarre. Last night’s episode was certainly not either of those. My suggestion for two terms would be “awful” and “miserable.” And anyone who could love it must truly enjoy being flailed with whips and chains in their spare time.
Awful story telling. Awful special effects. Miserable Nine Inch Nails interlude. Miserable zombie appearances. No pleasure to be found anywhere, except when–for a brief moment–it looked like the “bad” Agent Cooper had been shot and killed and was (I hoped) going back to the other world whence he’d come. Alas, he rose from the dead and is clearly on the way to commit more mayhem.
If the show is a ratings success, it only goes to show how low standards have come to be accepted and lack of coherent thought processes has infected Hollywood decision making.
My other example was the most recent episode of Claws. What a loser of a show. As I was only in for a few episodes, I left this one before it was over and erased the episodes I had already recorded. Sleazy, seamy, not one single character here to cheer for, save the lead’s unfortunate autistic younger brother. The whole Uncle Daddy (Dean Norris) shtick is so utterly pitiable and a waste of a decent acting talent. Terrible, just terrible.
Thus, in a nutshell, two series that are “twin pukes.”
Who keeps green-lighting these abominations?
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