Review: National Treasure (dir. by John Turteltaub)

Posted on July 3, 2026 by Arleigh

“If there’s something wrong, those who have the ability to take action have the responsibility to take action.” — Benjamin Gates

National Treasure directed by John Turteltaub is one of those movies that feels like a love letter to adventure, history, and a bit of old-fashioned treasure hunting. It’s the kind of film that doesn’t take itself too seriously but still manages to pull you in with its charm, puzzles, and non-stop action. At its heart, it’s a story about obsession, legacy, and the idea that history isn’t just something you read about in books—it’s something you can touch, chase, and maybe even uncover if you’re clever enough.

The movie kicks off with Benjamin Franklin Gates, played by Nicolas Cage in one of his most Nicolas Cage roles, as a historian and amateur treasure hunter convinced that a massive treasure hidden by the Freemasons and the Founding Fathers is real. The idea is wild: a secret stash of gold, artifacts, and historical riches hidden away to keep them out of the wrong hands. Most people, including his own father, think he’s nuts. But Ben’s got a lead, and when a rival treasure hunter, Ian Howe (played by Sean Bean), starts closing in on the same clues, the race is on. The stakes get higher when Ben realizes that if Howe finds the treasure first, it could mean disaster—not just for Ben’s reputation, but for history itself.

What makes National Treasure so much fun is how it blends history with a modern-day adventure. The film takes real historical figures and events—like the Declaration of Independence, the Liberty Bell, and the National Archives—and weaves them into a fictional but plausible treasure hunt. It’s the kind of movie that makes you want to dust off your old history textbooks or visit a museum the next day. The puzzles and clues are clever, even if they’re a little far-fetched. From invisible ink on the back of the Declaration to a series of riddles leading to the next location, the film keeps you guessing and engaged. And let’s be honest, who hasn’t daydreamed about finding a hidden message in a famous document or stumbling upon a secret that changes everything?

You really cannot talk about National Treasure without talking about Nicolas Cage. By 2004, Cage had already firmly established his reputation as an actor who brings a very specific, slightly unhinged energy to every role, and Benjamin Franklin Gates might be the perfect vessel for that energy. Ben is a nerd, but he is a nerd who somehow knows how to do parkour and execute complex heists. Cage plays him with this weird, endearing earnestness that anchors the movie. He delivers ridiculous lines about the Illuminati and secret tunnels with the gravity of a Shakespearean monologue, and it is hilarious, but it also makes you genuinely root for him. He never winks at the audience; he truly believes in the treasure, and that conviction pulls the whole thing together.

Of course, Cage cannot carry the entire movie on his own, and the supporting cast is surprisingly well-calibrated for this kind of ridiculous adventure. Justin Bartha plays Riley Poole, Ben’s tech-savvy sidekick who provides a running commentary of sarcastic quips. Bartha is essentially the audience surrogate, constantly pointing out how insane everything is, but he never gets annoying, which is a tough balancing act for a comic relief character in an action movie. Then there is Diane Kruger as Abigail Chase, an archivist at the National Archives who gets dragged into the chaos. Kruger does a great job of playing the exasperated straight woman to Cage’s eccentric history buff, and their chemistry is surprisingly charming, even if her character arc basically boils down to realizing that stealing national monuments is actually kind of fun.

On the villain side of things, we have Sean Bean as Ian Howe, and honestly, casting Sean Bean as a treasure-hunting bad guy is just a cheat code for making your movie better. Howe is a classic blockbuster villain—polished, ruthless, and driven entirely by greed—but Bean gives him just enough suave charm that he feels like a genuine threat rather than a cartoonish punching bag. Rounding out the main cast is Jon Voight as Ben’s estranged father, Patrick, and Christopher Plummer as his grandfather, John. Their inclusion adds a nice generational family drama to the story. The Gates family has been mocked for centuries for chasing this mythical treasure, and seeing Ben finally prove his father wrong adds a surprising amount of emotional weight to a movie that is otherwise about stealing the Declaration of Independence with a bunch of plastic ciphers.

John Turteltaub’s direction keeps the movie moving at a brisk pace. There’s never a dull moment, and the film balances its action sequences with quieter moments of discovery and problem-solving. The chase scenes, whether it’s through the streets of Washington D.C. or the tunnels beneath Philadelphia, are exciting without being over-the-top. The film also does a great job of making the historical elements feel tangible. When Ben and his team are examining a clue or piecing together a puzzle, you feel like you’re right there with them, trying to figure it out alongside them. It’s a testament to Turteltaub’s ability to make the implausible feel plausible, at least for the two hours you’re watching the movie.

Of course, National Treasure isn’t without its flaws. The plot does require a fair amount of suspension of disbelief. The idea that a treasure of this magnitude could stay hidden for centuries, or that Ben could outsmart everyone from the FBI to a team of professional thieves, is a stretch. And some of the historical liberties the film takes might make purists cringe. But that’s part of the fun. This isn’t a documentary—it’s a popcorn movie, and it embraces that wholeheartedly. The film also leans heavily on its twists and turns, some of which you might see coming a mile away. But even when you can predict what’s going to happen next, it’s still entertaining to watch it unfold.

What really stands out about National Treasure is its sense of wonder. It’s a movie that reminds you of the joy of discovery, whether it’s uncovering a hidden clue or simply learning something new about the world. The film’s climax, set in a secret underground chamber, is a perfect example of this. Without giving too much away, it’s a moment that feels both epic and intimate, a payoff for all the hard work and dedication Ben has put into his quest. And while the treasure itself might not be what you expect, the journey to find it is what makes the movie so satisfying.

In the end, National Treasure is a film that’s easy to enjoy. It’s got action, humor, history, and heart, all wrapped up in a package that’s as entertaining as it is lighthearted. It’s the kind of movie you can watch on a lazy Sunday afternoon and come away from feeling like you’ve been on an adventure yourself. Sure, it might not be high art, but it doesn’t need to be. Sometimes, a great story, a little bit of mystery, and a lot of fun are all you need. And National Treasure delivers on all three. If you’re a fan of adventure films, history buffs, or just love a good treasure hunt, this one’s for you. Just don’t be surprised if you find yourself Googling Freemason symbols or the history of the Declaration of Independence afterward.

Review: The Hunted (dir. by William Friedkin)

Posted on June 29, 2026 by Arleigh

“Once you are able to kill mentally, the physical part will be easy. The difficult part… is learning how to turn it off.” — L.T. Bonham

The Hunted (2003) is one of those films that feels like it slipped through the cracks of early 2000s cinema—a gritty, atmospheric thriller directed by William Friedkin, a filmmaker whose name alone should’ve guaranteed more attention. Friedkin, the man behind The French Connection and The Exorcist, has always had a knack for tension and raw, almost documentary-like realism, and The Hunted carries that same DNA. It’s not a perfect movie, but it’s a fascinating one, a slow-burn chase film that trades explosive set pieces for mood, character, and a kind of existential dread that lingers long after the credits roll.

The story follows L.T. Bonham, a former survival instructor played by Tommy Lee Jones, who’s called back to help the authorities when a series of brutal murders points to a former student of his, Aaron Hallam, played by Benicio del Toro. Hallam, a highly trained assassin, has gone rogue, and Bonham is the only one who can track him down. The premise is simple, almost minimalist: two men, one hunting the other, with the wilderness of the Pacific Northwest serving as their battleground. There’s no grand conspiracy, no world-ending stakes—just a personal, almost primal duel between mentor and protégé. The film’s strength lies in its refusal to overcomplicate things. It’s a character study disguised as a thriller, and it’s all the better for it.

What’s immediately striking about The Hunted is its pacing. Friedkin doesn’t rush. The film takes its time establishing Bonham’s world—a quiet, isolated life in the woods, where he trains soldiers in the art of survival and combat. There’s a sense of routine, of discipline, and when Hallam re-enters his life, it’s not with a bang but with a whisper. The first act is deliberate, almost meditative, as Bonham pieces together the clues and realizes the man he’s after isn’t just any killer, but someone he once shaped. This isn’t a film about action for action’s sake. It’s about the weight of violence, the cost of skill, and the thin line between hunter and hunted.

Benicio del Toro is the standout here. Hallam is a role that could’ve easily been reduced to a one-dimensional villain, but del Toro imbues him with a quiet, unsettling intensity. There’s a scene early on where Hallam, having just committed a particularly gruesome murder, calmly walks away from the crime scene, his face a mask of detached focus. It’s chilling not because he’s raging or unhinged, but because he’s so controlled. Hallam isn’t a monster in the traditional sense; he’s a man who’s been trained to kill and has embraced that role with terrifying efficiency. Del Toro plays him with a stillness that’s unnerving, his eyes always calculating, always three steps ahead. It’s a performance that relies more on presence than dialogue, and it’s one of his most underrated.

Tommy Lee Jones, on the other hand, is a different kind of compelling. Bonham is a man of few words, a hardened veteran who’s seen too much to be rattled by much. Jones, with his gravelly voice and weathered demeanor, sells the role of a man who’s spent a lifetime in the shadows. There’s a weariness to him, a sense that he’s not just chasing Hallam to stop the killings, but to confront his own past. The dynamic between the two is electric, even when they’re not in the same scene. Their eventual face-to-face encounters crackle with tension, not because of what they say, but because of what they don’t. These are two men who understand each other on a level that most people never will, and that mutual recognition makes their conflict all the more tragic.

Friedkin’s direction is, as always, masterful in its restraint. He’s never been one for flashy camerawork or overly stylized shots, and The Hunted is no exception. The cinematography is stark and functional, emphasizing the cold, unforgiving landscape of the Pacific Northwest. The forests, rivers, and small towns feel like characters in their own right, vast and indifferent to the human drama unfolding within them. There’s a scene where Bonham and a local sheriff, played by Connie Nielsen, track Hallam through the woods. The camera lingers on the trees, the mud, the rain—details that ground the film in a tangible, almost tactile reality. It’s not just a chase; it’s a test of endurance, both physical and psychological.

The film shares some striking thematic ground with First Blood, another story about soldiers haunted by what they’ve seen and done in war. Both films explore men who are not just racked with guilt but suffering from PTSD, their minds fractured by the horrors of combat. But where First Blood ultimately offered a glimmer of hope—that understanding and redemption might be possible—The Hunted takes a far bleaker view. Bonham and Hallam aren’t just damaged; they’re broken in ways that can’t be fixed. Hallam, in particular, represents the idea that some soldiers simply cannot come back from the brink of their experiences. There’s no catharsis for him, no moment of clarity or salvation. The film suggests that for some, the training and the trauma run too deep, and the only way out is through violence. It’s a brutal, unflinching perspective that sets The Hunted apart from more sentimental takes on the same themes.

The film’s action sequences, when they do arrive, are brutal and concise. There’s no shaky cam or rapid editing here—Friedkin lets the violence unfold in long, unflinching takes. A knife fight in a motel room is particularly memorable, not for its choreography, but for its rawness. It’s messy, desperate, and over in seconds. There’s no glorification, no slow-motion heroics. Just two men trying to kill each other in the most efficient way possible. It’s a far cry from the hyper-stylized action of the era, and it’s all the more effective for it.

Unfortunately, the film’s strengths are bogged down by its weaknesses, particularly in how it handles its secondary characters. The supporting cast, including Connie Nielsen as the sheriff, often feel thinly written, existing primarily as obstacles to delay the inevitable showdown between Bonham and Hallam. Their motivations and personalities are barely sketched out, making them feel more like narrative speed bumps than fully realized people. It’s frustrating because the film’s core dynamic is so compelling that these underdeveloped side characters only serve to slow down the momentum. And despite its brisk 90-plus minute runtime, The Hunted still manages to drag at times. The deliberate pacing that works so well in establishing atmosphere starts to feel indulgent when the story isn’t moving forward, leaving the audience waiting for the next meaningful interaction between its two leads.

If The Hunted has other weaknesses, it’s that it might be a little too restrained for some viewers. The slow burn won’t be for everyone, especially in an era where audiences have come to expect constant stimulation. The film demands patience, and those who aren’t willing to meet it on its terms might find it dull. There are also moments where the plot feels a bit thin, as if Friedkin and screenwriter Art Monterastelli were more interested in atmosphere than narrative complexity. But that’s also part of its charm. The Hunted isn’t trying to be a puzzle-box thriller or a high-octane spectacle. It’s a mood piece, a meditation on violence and the men who wield it.

The ending, without spoiling too much, is ambiguous in a way that feels true to the film’s themes. There’s no neat resolution, no easy answers. It’s a conclusion that lingers, forcing the audience to sit with the uncomfortable questions it raises. Is justice served? Is Hallam truly defeated, or is he just the first of many? The film doesn’t provide answers, and that’s to its credit. It’s more interested in the journey than the destination, in the hunt rather than the catch. While First Blood left room for healing, The Hunted closes the door on that possibility for some, reinforcing its bleak worldview.

In the grand scheme of Friedkin’s filmography, The Hunted might not rank alongside his most iconic works, but it’s a fascinating entry in his body of work. It’s a film that feels out of time, both in its style and its themes. Released in 2003, it arrived in a cinematic landscape dominated by CGI spectacle and franchise filmmaking, and it’s easy to see why it didn’t make a bigger splash at the time. But for those willing to seek it out, The Hunted is a hidden gem—a tense, thought-provoking thriller that rewards patience and close attention. It’s a film about the cost of violence, the weight of the past, and the thin line between the hunter and the hunted. And in an era where action movies often prioritize style over substance, its grounded, no-nonsense approach feels like a breath of fresh air.

4 Shots From 4 Films: Special Hal Ashby Edition

Posted on September 2, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!

Today, the Shattered Lens celebrates what would have been the 96th birthday of Hal Ashby, one of the most important (and, sadly, one of the most overlooked) directors of the 1970s. It’s time for….

4 Shots From 4 Hal Ashby Films

Harold and Maude (1971, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: John A. Alonzo)

The Last Detail (1973, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: Michael Chapman)

Bound for Glory (1976, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: Haskell Wexler)

Being There (1979, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: Caleb Deschanel)

4 Shots From 4 Films: Special Barry Levinson Edition

Posted on April 6, 2025 by Jedadiah Leland

4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films is just what it says it is, 4 (or more) shots from 4 (or more) of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films lets the visuals do the talking.

Happy birthday to Baltimore’s own Barry Levinson!

4 Shots From 4 Barry Levison Films

Diner (1982, directed by Barry Levison, DP: Peter Sova)

The Natural (1984, directed by Barry Levinson, DP: Caleb Deschanel)

Tin Men (1987, directed by Barry Levinson, DP: Peter Sova)

Avalon (1990, directed by Barry Levinson, DP: Allen Daviau)

4 Shots From 4 Films: Special Hal Ashby Edition

Posted on September 2, 2024 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Today, the Shattered Lens celebrates what would have been the 95th birthday of Hal Ashby, one of the most important (and, sadly, one of the most overlooked) directors of the 1970s. It’s time for….

4 Shots From 4 Hal Ashby Films

Harold and Maude (1971, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: John A. Alonzo)

The Last Detail (1973, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: Michael Chapman)

Bound for Glory (1976, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: Haskell Wexler)

Being There (1979, dir by Hal Ashby, DP: Caleb Deschanel)

4 Shots From 4 Films: Special Barry Levinson Edition

Posted on April 6, 2024 by Jedadiah Leland

Happy birthday to Baltimore’s own Barry Levinson!

4 Shots From 4 Barry Levison Films

Diner (1982, directed by Barry Levison, DP: Peter Sova)

The Natural (1984, directed by Barry Levinson, DP: Caleb Deschanel)

Tin Men (1987, directed by Barry Levinson, DP: Peter Sova)

Avalon (1990, directed by Barry Levinson, DP: Allen Daviau)

TV Review: Twin Peaks 1.7 “Realization Time” (dir by Caleb Deschanel)

Posted on April 8, 2017 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“What I want and what I need are two different things, Audrey”

— Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) in Twin Peaks 1.7 “Realization Time)

In anticipation of the Showtime revival in May, Leonard, Jeff, and I have been reviewing every single episode of the original Twin Peaks! Today, I will be taking a look at the 7th episode of season 1, “Realization Time.”

Now, I have to admit that I was not originally assigned to review this episode. Much as I did with Zen, or the Skill To Catch A Killer, I literally got down on my knees and begged for the chance to review this episode. Once again, as I explained why I felt that I was predestined to write this review, I shed many tears and threatened to utilize the power of excessive whining unless I allowed to do so. Eventually, it paid off.

Why did I want to review this episode? Well, first off, it’s a strong Audrey episode and, as I discovered while writing my previous Twin Peaks review, Audrey Horne is who I would be if I was a character on Twin Peaks. She is the character to whom I most relate.

(Audrey was such a popular character during the initial run of Twin Peaks that, apparently, Mulholland Drive was originally conceived as being a spin-off in which Audrey would have gone to Hollywood and solved crimes. In other words, no Audrey, no Mulholland Drive, no polls declaring Mulholland Drive to be the best film, so far, of the 21st century.)

Secondly, this was the final episode to feature Waldo the Myna Bird and I just happen to love the way that whenever Harry Goaz, in the role of Deputy Andy, said the name “Waldo,” he would drag out each syllable so that the bird’s name became “Walllll DOE.”

Anyway, with all that in mind, let’s take a look at Realization Time!

We start with those beautiful opening credits, that mix of machinery and nature that reminds us that Twin Peaks is a David Lynch production, even if this particular episode was directed by noted cinematographer Caleb Deschanel.

(Deschanel’s wife, Mary Jo, also played Ben Horne’s unhappy wife. Interestingly enough, in the 1983 best picture nominee The Right Suff , for which Caleb Deschanel received an Oscar nomination, Mary Jo played the wife of John Glenn.)

This episode opens where the last one left off. Audrey (Sherilyn Fenn) is naked in Dale Cooper’s (Kyle MacLachlan) bed and Dale is explaining that he is an agent of the FBI and, as such, he has taken an oath to uphold certain principles. He tells Audrey that she needs a friend and he says he is going to get them two malts and that she is going to tell him all of her troubles.

This is one of those scenes — and there’s a lot of them to be found in the first season of Twin Peaks — that really shouldn’t work and yet it does. Everything about it, from Cooper’s corny sincerity to the promise of two malts, serves to remind us that Twin Peaks often has more in common with an idealized 1950s than with any recognizable modern era. I think that only Kyle MacLachlan could have made Cooper’s lines come across as being sincere as opposed to condescending. Being rejected by an older man who has just found you naked in his bed is not as pleasant experience as this episode makes it appear to be. And yet, Fenn and MacLachlan both do a great job at selling this scene.

And yet, there’s one key line in this scene that I think is often overlooked. When Audrey says that she can’t tell Cooper all of her secrets, she then asks him, “Do you have any secrets?” Cooper says, “No.” However, we know that’s a lie. We know because we saw the way that Cooper smiled when Laura kissed him in his dream. We know that Cooper is not the asexual puritan that he pretends to be. When Cooper says that there’s a difference between what he wants and what he needs, we perhaps understand his meaning more than he does.

We learn one of Cooper’s secrets the next morning when he shows up at the police station and discovers Harry (Michael Ontkean) and Doc Hayward (Warren Frost) looking in on Waldo the Myna Bird. Doc Hayward explains that myna bird’s have an amazing ability to mimic the human voice but they only do it when they’re feeling playful and Waldo is definitely not in the mood. He asks Cooper if he wants to give Waldo some food. Cooper replies, “I don’t like birds,” and steps back in such a dramatic fashion that you’re left wondering what terrible bird-related misfortune befell Cooper during his youth.

(Personally, I suspect this was meant to be yet another one of the first season’s many Hitchcock references. There’s a few more in this episode, which we’ll be getting too shortly.)

Don’t feel to bad for Waldo, though. While Dale, Hayward, and Harry are watching the bird, Deputy Hawk (Michael Horse) enters with the forensic report on Jacques Renault’s cabin. There was only one exposed negative on the roll of film and it’s a picture of Waldo biting Laura Palmer’s shoulder. BAD WALDO!

Realizing that, regardless of how much he may hate birds, Waldo is the only witness they have, Dale leaves a voice-activated tape recorder at the base of Waldo’s cage. When Waldo speaks, they’ll have it on tape. Dale also suggests heading up to Canada and investigating One-Eyed Jacks. When Harry points out that he has no legal authority in Canada, Dale says, “That’s why I was thinking it would be a good job for the Bookhouse Boys.” Yay! Vigilante justice!

Last episode, Shelly (Madchen Amick) shot Leo Johnson (Eric Da Re) and we all cheered. Well, it turns out that Leo survived. He’s hanging out in the woods, watching his house through a pair of binoculars. That’s how he sees Bobby showing up at his house and Shelly greeting him with a kiss. It’s interesting to note that, when Shelly was talking about Leo in The One-Armed Man, she lamented that she only married him because of his red corvette. However, Bobby — who seems to be destined to grow up to be another Leo — drives a black corvette. Shelly needs to stop picking her men based on their car.

While Leo sits outside with a sniper rifle, a sobbing Shelly confessed to Bobby that she shot Leo. Shelly may be upset but Bobby thinks that all this sounds like a good thing. “Leo Johnson is history!” he declares. No, Bobby, Leo is sitting outside with a sniper rifle. Fortunately, for Bobby, Leo has a police scanner with him and he hears Lucy (Kimmy Robertson) announcing that Waldo has been talking. Leo gets into his pickup truck and drives off.

At the Hayward House, Donna (Lara Flynn Boyle), James (James Marshall), and Maddy (Sheryl Lee) listen to the tape that Maddy found in Laura’s room. It turns out to be one of several tapes that Laura recorded for Dr. Jacoby (Russ Tamblyn.) On the tape, Laura wonders why it’s so easy for her to get men to like her and, for a few minutes, I was worried that we’d have to deal with another “James-Gets-Weepy” scene. Fortunately, Maddy distracts him by pointing out that there’s one empty case in Laura’s collection of tapes. The missing tape was recorded the night that Laura was killed. James deduces that Jacoby must have it and that Jacoby might also be Laura’s killer. He comes up with a plan to get Jacoby out of his office so that he and Donna can search for the tape. What if Jacoby gets a call from Laura? Everyone looks over at Maddy.

At Horne’s Department Store, Audrey attempts to convince a customer to buy a perfume that will make her smell like a forest. Since most forests smell like death, the customer really isn’t interested. She wants a perfume that makes a statement. Audrey suggests hanging the perfume around her neck. “It’s a perfume. It’s a fashion accessory. Two statements for the price of one?” “I don’t appreciate your attitude,” the customer says. If only I had a dime for every time that I’ve heard that…

Anyway, Audrey isn’t really all that concerned about making sales. She’s got an investigation to conduct! This means hiding in the manager’s office and listening while he recruits one of Audrey’s co-workers to go work at One-Eyed Jack’s as a “hospitality girl.” The manager says that the co-worker’s positive and money-hungrey attitude will take her far in life. (It’s all about attitude at Horne’s Department Store.) Later, Audrey deftly manipulates that co-worker into giving her the number to One-Eyed Jacks. Audrey’s the best.

Meanwhile, at the Double R, Hank (Chris Mulkey) is working at his new job and boring Shelly with inspiring stories about his time in jail. Little does Shelly know that, before she shot Leo, Hank beat him up. They have something in common and personally, I think they’d make a cute couple. I mean, Hank may be sleazy but he’s so damn likable.

Of course, Harry doesn’t like Hank but that’s probably just because of all the drug dealing and other assorted crimes that Hank has committed. When Cooper and Harry stop by the diner, Harry tells Hank that if he misses one meeting with his parole officer, he’ll be sent back to jail. Harry tells Cooper that people never change but Cooper is too busy appreciating a cup of black coffee to worry about Hank Jennings. Cooper tells Harry that the secret of happy living is to give yourself a random present, like a good cup of coffee.

(It’s played for laughs but again, the important word to remember is secret. Twin Peaks is all about to secrets.)

At the Hurley House, Nadine (Wendy Robie) watches the latest episode of Invitation to Love. When Big Ed (Everett McGill) enters the room, Nadine announces that she’s eating bon bons because a patent attorney rejected her silent drape runners. Ed assures her, in one of my favorite lines ever, “Nadine, there’s plenty of patent attorneys. We’re just going to have to keep looking until we find one that understands drape runners.” McGill delivers that line with just the right amount of gravitas too. If I ever lose an eye and become obsessed with drapes, I hope my man will be as understanding as Big Ed Hurley.

At the Packard Mill, Pete Martell (Jack Nance) laments to Harry that a fish he recently caught was bigger before he sent it to the taxidermist. “Once they take all the innards out,” he explains, the fish loses something, a reminder that everything that makes existence interesting (in both Twin Peaks and life itself), lies directly under the surface.

Harry’s come to see Josie (Joan Chen). He knows that she was at the Timber Falls Motel on Tuesday but he doesn’t know why. (She was spying on Ben and Catherine.) At first, Josie lies and says she was at the mill on Tuesday but eventually, she reveals her secret. She also tells Harry that she heard Catherine talking about burning down the mill. Harry swears that he won’t let that happen.

Later, that night, Cooper, looking incredibly dashing in a tuxedo, is preparing to go to One-Eyed Jacks with Harry, Hawk, and Ed. Cooper has $10,000 of the FBI’s money for them to use in the casino. “Whenever I gamble with the bureau’s money, I like a 10 to 15% return,” he says. Cooper’s a gambler? Who would have guessed, especially since Cooper claimed to have no secrets?

Walter Neff

Twin Peaks, like most of David Lynch’s films, borrowed a lot from classic film noir and nowhere is that more obvious than in the next scene. An insurance agent (Mark Lowenthal) had dropped in on Catherine Martell (Piper Laurie). The agent’s name is Mr. Neff, as in Walter Neff from Double Indemnity. He’s visiting because a life insurance policy has been taken out on Catherine by … Josie Packard! And, as Mr. Neff goes on to explain, it appears that Ben Horne (Richard Beymer) originally said that he would make sure that Catherine signed the papers! Apparently, thinking it was strange that Catherine would be “too busy” to appear in person to sign the policy, Mr. Neff held off on giving Josie and Ben the last page that needed to be signed. Catherine, realizing that she’s been set up, coolly says that she’ll have to look over the policy with her lawyer before signing anything. It’s a fascinating scene because both Catherine and Neff realize what’s happening but neither comes right out and says it. Apparently, this was Neff’s only appearance and that’s shame because Mark Lowenthal gives a fun, scene-stealing performance in the role.

Meanwhile, at the police station, Waldo the Myna Bird is feeling well enough to say, “Laura … Laura…” Suddenly, there’s a gunshot. Hawk, Dale, and Ed — who were busy trying on disguises in the next room — run into the conference room. Someone — and we know that had to be Leo because he was the one with the sniper rifle — has killed Waldo!

And I have to admit that I felt really bad about Waldo. The shot of Waldo’s blood dripping down on the uneaten conference room donuts is far more horrifying than you would think, based on the description. In just one and a half episodes, I had grown rather attached to Waldo. The fact that we know he was talking because he was finally feeling playful again makes his death all the more tragic. Andy, with tears in his eyes, reaffirms why he’s one of my favorite minor characters when he says, “Poor Wall-DOE!”

Rest in Peace, Waldo

Dale listens to the tape. As Angelo Badalamenti’s somber music plays in the background, we hear Waldo say, “Laura! Laura! Don’t go there! Hurting me! Hurting me! Stop it! Stop it! Leo, no!” As the camera cuts between Dale and Harry listening to Waldo mimicking Laura’s death, I stopped to once again marvel at the genius of Twin Peaks. This scene should have been ludicrous. Instead, I’m getting teary-eyed just writing about it.

Leaving behind the unfortunate Waldo, we go to One-Eyed Jacks. Cooper and a bewigged Big Ed show up. (Cooper’s wearing a pair of glasses that look unbelievably adorable on him.) Blackie (Victoria Catlin) approaches them, which gives us a chance to witness flirtatious Cooper. On the one hand, flirtatious Cooper is specifically written to be kind of dorky. That’s just who Dale Cooper is. But, on the other hand, nothing he says is as dorky as the way Jerry and Ben Horne behaved when they visited One-Eyed Jacks in Zen, or the Skill To Catch A Killer. Cooper, at least, has the excuse of being undercover.

Blackie takes one look at Big Ed and announces, “You look like a cop.” Cooper smiles and says, “I’m the cop,” which leads to Blackie says that Dale looks like Cary Grant. Ironically, MacLachlan would play Cary Grant in the 2004 film, Touch of Pink.

Kyle MacLachlan as Cary Grant in Touch of Pink

Meanwhile, Maddy sneaks out of the Palmer House, barely noticed by Leland (Ray Wise), who is sitting in the shadows. It’s time for Operation Freak Out Jacoby and here’s where we get this episode’s other big Hitchock reference. In order to fool Jacoby, Maddy has not only taken off her oversized glasses but she’s also put on Laura’s clothes and is now wearing a blonde wig. Now is as good a time as any to point out that Madeleine Ferguson’s name comes from Hitchcock’s Vertigo, a film that starred Kim Novak as Madeleine and Jimmy Stewart as Scottie Ferguson. In Vertigo, of course, Novak played two roles, just as Sheryl Lee does here. In Vertigo, Novak was used to trick Jimmy Stewart into believing the woman he loved was still alive. Essentially, that’s the same thing that James and Donna are planning to use Maddy to do to Jacoby.

Back at the Great Northern, Jerry (David Patrick Kelly) and Ben (Richard Beymer) are partying with the Icelandic businesspeople. (Iceland appears to be full of a lot of fun people.) Jerry is enraptured with the Icelandic people but Ben is more concerned about getting the contracts signed. It turns out that the Icelanders only want to sign the contracts if they can do it at One-Eyed Jacks. Ben agrees and then sends Jerry out of the office so that he can call Josie. Apparently, the plan is to kill Catherine in the fire that Ben hired Leo to set.

It turns out that Ben and Jerry are not the only Hornes heading to One-Eyed Jacks, Audrey has already arrived and is meeting with Blackie. As soon as Audrey enters Blackie’s office, we immediately notice all of the red curtains. That’s never a good sign. Audrey hands Blackie her resume. “Hester Prynne,” Blackie says, as she looks the resume over, “Pretty name.”

Audrey has made the mistake of claiming to have worked extensively in Canada. When Blackie started to quiz Audrey about where specifically she had worked, I yelled, “Degrassi! Say Degrassi!” (Later I realized that was foolish on my part, as Twin Peaks predates Degrassi by over a decade,) Instead, Audrey makes the mistake of mentioning an obviously fake “dude ranch,” (which I guess is where they grow dudes because I’ve never quite understood that term) and answers a question that Blackie asks about someone named Big Amos.

Big mistake. It turns out that Big Amos is a dog and Blackie read The Scarlet Letter in Canadian high school.

(That said, borrowing the name of a Nathaniel Hawthorne heroine is such an Audrey thing to do that it automatically becomes the greatest thing ever.)

Blackie asks Audrey for one good reason not to kick her out. Fortunately, there’s a cheery nearby so that Audrey can take it, eat it, and then use her tongue to tie the stem in a knot. (Before anyone asks, despite having a very flexible tongue, I cannot do that. However, neither can Sherilyn Fenn. Apparent, she already had a pre-tied stem in her mouth when they shot the scene.) Audrey has the job, which — considering how much her father and uncle love visiting One-Eyed Jacks — has the potential to be all sorts of creepy.

Inside the casino, Dale is playing blackjack, His original Jamaican dealer goes on break and is replaced by … JACQUES RENAULT (Walter Olkewicz).

At Jacoby’s office, the good doctor (Russ Tamblyn) is watching Invitation to Love because, apparently, that’s the only show that plays on Twin Peaks television. When the phone rings, the Hawaii-obsessed Jacoby answers with a somewhat perfunctory, “Aloha.” (In my experiences, a true Hawaiian can make even the most somber “Aloha” sound like an invitation to the greatest party ever.) On the other end, Maddy pretends to be Laura. She tells Jacoby to go to his door. “There’s something waiting for you.”

And indeed there is! A VHS tape has been left outside Jacoby’s office. The tape features Maddy (as Laura) holding that day’s newspaper. From the payphone, Maddy tells Jacoby to “Meet me at Sparkwood and 21 in ten minutes.”

(Everything in the town of Twin Peaks revolves around wood, both figuratively and literally.)

What James, Maddy, and Donna don’t realize is that they’re being followed by Bobby, who is just as shocked as Jacoby to see “Laura” apparently alive. (Now is as good a time as any to, once again, point out that Laura was named after the title character from Otto Preminger’s Laura, a film noir about a woman who is incorrectly believed to be dead.)

When Jacoby runs off to find “Laura,” James and Donna sneak into his office. Meanwhile, Bobby plants cocaine in James’s motorcycle. As for Maddy, she hangs out around the gazebo, little realizing that someone is watching her from behind the trees…

What a great episode! Tomorrow, Leonard looks at the finale of season 1!

By the way, if you want even more Lynch, be sure to check out Gary’s review of three of Lynch’s short films and Val’s look at a music video that was made for one of Lynch’s songs.

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