![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/09\/images-w1400.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n\nI have some conflicted feelings about the finale, and I think that’s probably appropriate. One of the things I have loved so much about this whole series – the parts that worked for me, and the parts that didn’t – was that I always felt I was in the presence of an artist who was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing<\/i>. I prefer this – ALWAYS – over other things. I mean, not in all art forms – for example, in the last season of Supernatural<\/i>, I felt that the new team in charge had not watched or understood the old seasons, had no idea what they were doing, and completely betrayed the entire SPIRIT of the entire series. In a case like that, then, yes, I expect to be catered to a bit. That’s a long-running series, and suddenly there were new people in charge and they clearly did not understand the show. <\/p>\n
But with something like this? Or any other singular piece of art? A movie, a book, a painting, a play … I can think of so many examples in all of these where the artist broke all of the conventional rules. And that’s WHY the art was so good. And no, not everyone would love it. But not everyone loves everything. The artist’s desire is PARAMOUNT. I’m into that. So, for example, David Foster Wallace’s book Infinite Jest<\/i> … Nobody ASKS you to write a book like that, nobody WANTS a 1,000 page book, with 100 pages of footnotes … The powers-that-be in CHARGE of who gets to see what do not WANT that. But that’s the kind of book he wrote, it was the only book he COULD write, and wow, lookeee there, it made his name 10 times over. Beware his imitators. Boy oh boy his imitators are awful. Great work is often uningratiating<\/i>. I am thinking of Annie Baker’s extraordinary play The Flick<\/i>, which I am so glad I got to see. Each act is an hour and a half, an hour and forty minutes long. There is nothing fan-service-y about that. I was riveted by each and every second. There were many many walkouts at intermission. But those of us who stayed, stayed because we knew we were witnessing something unique, something unlike anything else. A playwright who had been forbiddingly clear in her script about the pauses, how long they should be … she KNEW the kind of music she wanted to create. And no. It’s not for everybody. <\/p>\n
In today’s day and age, where every fan feels a sense of “ownership” over the thing they love – to an annoying degree – something like Twin Peaks<\/i> was refreshing. Lynch\/Frost knew the fan base was still there. That ground was set. But after THAT, they owed us nothing. <\/p>\n
This is the proper attitude of artists. I realize that’s not a popular sentiment. But I am suspicious of popular sentiments, in general. More so now than ever. <\/p>\n
I felt the same way when I sat through Martin Scorsese’s Silence<\/i>, one of the most extraordinary movie-going experiences of the past year. It is not an ingratiating film. It doesn’t care about me. It cares about ITSELF, and the points it wants to make. And subMITTING to Scorsese … giving up mySELF and giving over to HIM …. was WHY that experience was so memorable. I felt so CLOSE to Scorsese in doing so, I felt like I was almost getting to Scorsese’s heart, his soul, closer to him than I felt when watching Good Fellas<\/i>, Casino<\/i>, etc. <\/p>\n
Now I’m not going to submit to any old Tom, Dick, Harry. You have to prove yourself already. (That’s why things like Infinite Jest<\/i> or The Flick<\/i> are extraordinary. If you read Infinite Jest<\/i> when it first came out, before you knew who DFW would become, you were submitting entirely to an unknown. Same with The Flick.<\/i> That’s why those of us who DID choose to submit, feel so so lucky that we were on that lonely vanguard.) But for the most part, I only submit wholeheartedly to artists who have earned my trust. <\/p>\n
David Lynch has more than earned mine. I’m just excited to see what the hell he’s thinking about, dreaming about. It’s a privilege. <\/p>\n
So those are some overview thoughts, not about the episode, but about the whole experience. It has been quite a singular thing. Nothing else quite like it. <\/p>\n
For good serious writing about the finales: here’s my friend Keith at Mubi<\/a>. <\/p>\n