I finally read Nabokov’s fan-poem about Superman being sad that he can’t actually bang Lois because he would kill her if he came inside her, and yeah, I sort of get why the New Yorker rejected it.
(Now to be fair it’s pretty funny, almost proto-Watchmen in its concerns)
Pilot!Cooper is so much more sinister, so much more febrile and manic than he appears throughout the rest of the show’s original run. If you were to move straight to the next episode right after you’re finished with the pilot, you’d be forgiven for thinking these are two very different characters.
Perhaps a good night’s rest at the Great Northern (and, more pragmatically, the developments from that pilot to the show proper in the months that followed it) truly changed our Special Agent that much, huh? (Though he isn’t wholly static character in the pilot either.)
Pilot!Coop’s fascination with Laura’s case is almost morbid, see, he’s had this premonition, this dream about it, and the way he behaves due to this… He is definitely out of step with the townspeople at first. With Ronette and Laura, the first thing he does is go straight for the fingernails, only then does he ask Harry for the dead girl’s name. Until this point, it’s all about him, though, him and his Panasonic RN-105 microcassette recorder and his magnifying glass.
During the sequence at the morgue with the lights going on and off, he has that Jeffrey Beaumont grin. Honestly (and it’s something both Lynch and MacLachlan have brought up), this Coop gives off strong Jeffrey particles, a little in the way he talks but especially the mannerism. Most (but not all) of that (thankfully?) subsides beyond the pilot.
I mean, look at this sicko (affectionate) (negative).
(The colours in the pilot are less vibrant, cooler than the show to come, and it 100% contributes to its overall darker tone and Coop’s vibes).
He’s obsessed with the case but I find it almost creepy, the way he lingers on that image of Laura on the TV, how triumphant he gets every time he uncovers a new clue, and that intensity lessens somewhat, becomes more nuanced as the show progresses (though it bears mentioning that he has the exact same reaction to discovering issues of Flesh World in the pilot and S01E06).
Beyond (or, as well as) morbid fascination, as the pilot progresses, Laura’s death really seems to get to Cooper, on an emotional level. But it’s not deep sadness that you get.
Pilot!Coop’s anger isn’t bubbling under the surface, it’s plain to see, and it’s cold, cutting stuff. Pilot!Coop’s cruelty when he talks to Bobby at the police station (“You didn’t love her anyway”) is something that’s almost impossible to imagine from him during the rest of the original run. Cooper can be incisive and manipulative but he is rarely outright cruel.
It’s not entirely gone (and that deleted S01E03 scene spells it out, “Laura Palmer didn't have to die. It's wrong. It makes me mad”, I’m glad it got cut out though, too direct) but you only get echoes of it, and Coop appears much more sympathetic then.
Even Coop’s curiosity becomes more wholesome, quirky rather than plain out of place.
There’s always that edge to Coop, but you have to know to look for it, whereas it is more readily available in the pilot.
It’s fascinating to see a show coming together little by little, and early Twin Peaks is so good you almost don’t catch the fact that all these adjustments are taking place. On your first watch, you’ll notice Audrey’s haircut and that’s probably about it.
(I’ve been watching and rewatching this damn show for nearly two decades, every three or four years. and I can’t seem to ever get bored)
Donna takes the sweater Laura dropped in the Pink Room, which is the moment things get more physical between her and Tommy, and really, this is just her emulating her best friend, same with her drinking earlier on. Laura is horrified, drops everything to get her friend out of this place, out of trouble. “Don’t ever wear my stuff! Never! Donna, not you!” and of course it’s more than a matter of clothes, the film spells it out a few minutes later just in case it wasn’t clear enough.
Only later, just a few days later, Donna puts on Laura’s sunglasses and tries smoking, just like her. This time, there’s no one to stop her, she gets a few comments at most, it’s almost endearing, kind of goofy, very much what a teenager would do. Oh, and then Donna nearly dies to the same hands that killed her best friend.
I don’t know, there’s something to be said about that pattern of channeling Laura through what she wore, and, if you take the Secret Diary into account (which FWWM certainly does), about Donna wanting to follow Laura to places she really shouldn’t go, not because she wants to see and do these things, at least not only, but because (and this is the main reason) this is where Laura is.
Having rewatched both the Blue Rose Extended and Q2 fan edits as well as the original theatrical cut, it’s obvious Mary Sweeney and Lynch made the right call in leaving out most of the Missing Pieces (at least beyond the Deer Meadow and Philip plotlines, the Buenos Aires stuff is just, wow). They’re all varying degrees of good to truly excellent, but keeping it all wouldn’t have worked.
All of these experiences are great (I like Blue Rose better than Q2), but the original FWWM is so much more devastating than any subsequent edit.
Still, that one shot of Laura staring and smiling at the evil ceiling fan should have been kept in.
Having now finished it, it’s truly an impressive achievement!
With that being said, would I recommend this romhack over the OG? For anyone not used to Old RPGs, it’s the ideal way to dip your toes into what MOTHER can be like.
It’s all very familiar and yet, different vibes from the original, the sense of scale in particular is quite different, the lovely SNES sprites and their poppy colours all are very much unlike the NES game (all while being very close to it, still!), all of it makes me reluctant to say that it is the definitive way to play MOTHER.
The thing about Kriselle is that they are both Laura Palmer and each other’s Donna if that makes any sense.
That part of the Secret Diary, the entry for July 22, 1988 (that’s page 147 in the original hardback edition)….
I am not side by side with Donna Hayward. Something has happened to us, we grew up, together, but then I suddenly grew apart from her… certain events aged me, made me bitter.
It’s not a perfect 1 to 1, what these two have, and thank goodness for that, but there’s so much that echoes.
If you’re in the U.S. or have a VPN, Adult Swim is slowly putting all of Venture Bros out on YouTube.
I can’t emphasise how great of a show it is, and how consistently better it gets as it goes, how it builds on so much of what it sets up without you noticing. It’s so playful with its referentiality, and there’s always something new to catch when you revisit it. It does generational trauma just right. The way it handles nostalgia is so clever it still feels fresh.
One of the funniest, smartest, most moving shows I’ve ever watched, my favourite Adult Swim show bar none. If you loved Lupin the Third, this is right up your alley.
(The first handful of seasons are unfortunately a bit dated in some ways, some iffy jokes and questionable language, but if you can move past it (and I think it’s absolutely understandable if you can’t or won’t), you’re in for something really special.)
Hometown has a very vibes-based, evocative geography, seemingly following in the footsteps of MOTHER and EarthBound… But not quite.
Sure you’re reminded of Twoson (with the fall foliage palette from the Halloween Hack). Toriel’s house is at the top of the map, as is Ness’s in Onett. Police sawhorses are blocking the roads. The architecture seems like generic Americana rather than a specific place (unless you’ve decided that Deltarune takes place in New Hampshire, which it totally does, and I can prove it, I swear).
Just like in most top down 2D games, you get plenty of buildings that shouldn’t exist at this scale if at all, considering the size of the town, and yet it makes perfect sense that they’re here within the storyworld.
Only, Deltarune does things a little differently from the MOTHER games, and the end results are striking.
Whereas you need your hospitals to fix your status ailments, buy your mushrooms or resurrect a party member in EB, Deltarune’s hospital is here purely for storytelling purposes. Kris’s status ailments cannot be expressed through a menu system, or fixed by having a cup of hot cocoa (which does not restore their HP). Hometown is a walking simulator. And the space you’re walking through is different from EB’s towns, too.
While MOTHER and EB display very large maps (let’s call them rooms), often a single screen for an entire location, Deltarune doesn’t do that. If you try to stitch together the different rooms, there’s a lot that appears to be missing, bits and pieces not quite lining up. It wasn’t the case in Undertale. Hometown is aesthetically cohesive, but spatially fragmented. Is it because of the way GameMaker works? A deliberate design choice?
What you end up having is a very story-dense space that has no filler, but is not fully linear as a result, as though entire streets had been skipped. The Light World is supposedly the “real world” and yet Hometown is a sort of dream-town à la Twin Peaks.
From a purely technical standpoint, nothing in DR exists beyond Hometown (and its Dark Worlds).
There are no sprite sheets for the roads leading out of Hometown, no names are given for any other locations, not even the name of Asriel’s college.
The police sawhorses are a permanent fixture you can’t skip past once you’ve beaten up the chief of police, and this is decidedly unlike EarthBound.
You’re stuck here. Noelle feels it more than anyone, and she has every reason to feel that way. She is technically wholly correct!
So of course, being the Gamer that she is, she tries going out of bounds, and here, the tileset really reflects this reading. The lake’s waters become more and more abstract, no leaves or light reflections. Clearly you’re not supposed to be here.
(Where Twin Peaks —the town, the storyworld at large— is ultimately a relatively open space, where people drive long distances, cross borders, thanks to the magic of television, the dream-like qualities of Hometown’s geography ultimately lack this openness.)
While Dess occupies a lot of the same roles Laura Palmer did (the Lost Girl, the Girl in Trouble with a darker, more self-destructive side), one of the things that make me reluctant to call her a Laura is that she is no Prom Queen.
Laura’s whole thing in her public life was presenting herself as the perfect girl that everybody liked (now scratching that veneer, things were a lot uglier than that) and she did so much to be liked, to be good.
A significant part of the Pilot is dedicated to people mourning Laura. Arguably the entire show is about reckoning with her death and the ripples it caused in Twin Peaks. Hell, 25 years later, it still brings back memories, the Return shows the cosmological, metaphysical consequences of her life and death.
Outside of the Holidays and the Dreemurrs, no one in Hometown appears to be still missing Dess. Compare her bedroom with her sister’s, or Asriel’s side of his and Kris’s room. She didn’t seem interested in being liked by as many people as possible. No awards to be seen.
It has been years, sure, but you’d think Hometown’s chatterboxes would mention Dess in passing, in some of their anecdotes. Would Carol be able to control what this many people say? I doubt it, really. It’s a sleepy town in which not much seems to be happening, so Dess should be a topic that comes up every then and again. But she isn’t.
In-universe, Dess simply isn’t someone most people like to gossip about, she wasn’t all that popular outside of a tiny circle (family and family friends) so it’s harder for people to project their desires onto her, and that makes her very unlike Laura.