The third season has begun its final act by moving more and more pieces into the titular location, and that’s music to our ears.  Well, with the exception of the actual musical number, perhaps, but the familiar faces are filling more and more of the screen time, and that’s all for the good.  There’s a melancholy to the nostalgia, of course, as there is a distinct sense of things coming to a final end.  The starting position is more comfortable, after all.

 

 

It’s great to see Big Ed again, even if it’s rather sad to contemplate that he is still running the Gas Farm, still pining after Norma, and seemingly more lonely than ever.  Or perhaps the word is resigned, given that he has to watch Norma negotiate a relationship with someone who probably doesn’t have her best interests at heart.  So it’s probably fitting that he sits and eats with Bobby, who has changed for the better, but has to see Shelley doing much the same thing that Norma is.  Having James remind us of that damn song again, complete with the use of the exact same vocal tracks as used in the second season, underscores the notion that some things (and people) never change.

 

It's a contrast to some of the major changes, not the least of which is Dale Cooper and the seemingly impossible task of returning him to his former glory.  There are glimmers of the old Coop in Dougie’s eyes and expression now and then, as events converge, but there’s also this growing sense that the relative simplicity and innocent joy of Dougie’s existence might be where Cooper remains, when all is said and done.  Or, if not, a sadness for those who have come to appreciate this version of Dougie.

 

 

Meanwhile, Dark Cooper gets a lot more time in the spotlight, and it’s some of the most compelling material of the episode.  There’s no doubt how the situation with Ray is going to end; Dark Cooper is just too potent a force of nature at this stage of the game.  So it plays out like a predator playing with its food, twisting the knife metaphorically as he gets what he needs from Ray.  It points him right at the same coordinates, presumably, that everyone else is moving towards.

 

For the second episode in a row, Audrey’s scene not only seems like it’s taking place in near-complete isolation from the rest of the narrative, but almost like it doesn’t fit anything else going on at all.  I wouldn’t be at all shocked to discover she was actually acting in a stage production all this time, given how over-the-top her existential crisis seems to be.  (Or is she still in the coma?)  Even Sarah Palmer’s endless loop of a personal life is more connected to everything else than whatever bizarre issue Audrey is having.

 

 

Scenes like the one between Nadine and “Dr. Amp” are far more telling and meaningful.  One could be tempted to read into their appreciation for one another more than necessary; I prefer to think that they are simply two people who have known each other a long time and recognize that they are fellow souls trying to find meaning and purpose in a life well outside of their control.  Jacoby’s comments about “them” could just as easily be referring to the entities within the White and Black Lodges.

 

Weaving in and out of the story is the true identity and nature of Philip Jeffries, still a matter in doubt when Dark Cooper brings it up to Ray.  And it definitely sounds like there was a reference to a certain convenience store mixed in that conversation as well.  It’s a real shame that David Bowie couldn’t reprise his role, because I imagine that Lynch would have loved the chance to have Bowie physically lending his talents to bring clarity to the mythos.  As it stands, things hang together pretty well, but Jeffries is such an important part of the picture that his absence is felt.