The following contains spoilers for Twin Peaks.
Since watching the show, I’ve delved into two in-depth analyses of Twin Peaks. One, a four-and-a-half-hour lore dissection by “Twin Perfect” on Youtube. Two, the grand retrospective of Twin Peaks: The Return by John Thorne, Ominous Whoosh: A Wandering Mind Returns to Twin Peaks. I am fond of the latter and have exciting memories of the former.
While the two analyses have wildly different frames of reference, they share many similarities in their conclusions—which shows that while narrative art can have disparate interpretations, the metaphorical substrate stays more or less the same. When analysing the text, we’re digging into the same ground, looking for the same treasure.
According to “Twin Perfect”, Twin Peaks is a meta-commentary on the voracious hunger of the show’s audience for simple explanations of the plot's many mysteries. Detective Dale Cooper represents the viewer, restless for a resolution to Laura’s case. Our (and Cooper’s) sin is hybris—we wish to crack the code of Lynch’s work instead of truly engaging with it. In classic post-modern fashion, the video’s viewers are themselves part of this sin, having watched an exposé that promises to crack the code of Twin Peaks instead of doing the work themselves.
The “good” viewer (the good Cooper) is at peace with the complexity of the work. The “bad” viewer (and the bad Cooper) wants to walk away from the show with simple solutions.
In Ominous Whoosh, John Thorne gives an interpretation that rhymes with the one given by “Twin Perfect”. Cooper, here, is the dreamer—we watch the show filtered through his consciousness. Cooper is obsessed not only with solving Laura’s mystery but with altering the past to make sure the murder never happened in the first place. Hybris is, once again, his downfall—instead of starting a new life with Diane and “driving off into the sunset”, the detective chooses to sacrifice his soul for answers that he was never meant to have.
A bit from Ominous Whoosh:
[…] David Lynch employs a careful storytelling strategy, one that subverts the kind of narrative we're used to seeing. Rather than have Dale Cooper move across the stage, Lynch positions Cooper outside the proscenium. He's a figure we, the audience, inhabit. As such, we must construct a profile of Cooper by how we experience him, not by how he performs.
Dale Cooper is haunted by truths he'd prefer to ignore. He believes he's a hero, a leader, "the one and only," but he's none of those things. Like everyone else, Cooper is irrational, compulsive, and selfish. He’s also haunted by failure, guilty that he could not prevent the murder of Laura Palmer or the suffering of his friends. This guilt obsesses Cooper, and, as he watches the real world from a remove, he dwells in lives that suffer and strain.
Cooper is also impatient. He may be drawn to pain, but he's not interested in following where the pain leads. His curiosity about those he observes lasts only as long as their stories align with his.