On January 16, 2025, the world lost one of its most enigmatic and influential filmmakers: David Lynch. At age 78, Lynch left behind a legacy that continues to ripple through the worlds of film, television, and popular culture. His death, reported widely across the globe, prompted an outpouring of tributes and retrospectives, but nowhere was his impact felt more keenly than among the devoted fans of Twin Peaks—the show that redefined what television could be.
It was back on June 10, 1991, that the second season of Twin Peaks aired its finale on ABC. In those final moments, Laura Palmer, the murdered teenager whose story had captivated millions, turned to Agent Dale Cooper and uttered, “I’ll see you again in 25 years.” The line, simple yet haunting, embedded itself in the memory of viewers and became a prophecy that would, astonishingly, come true.
Fast forward to May 25, 2017. The iconic Grand Théâtre Lumière at the Cannes Film Festival was packed with cinephiles and curious newcomers alike. On the screen flickered the first two episodes of the third season of Twin Peaks—a return that had been promised, quite literally, a quarter-century earlier. According to Sofilm magazine’s deputy editor-in-chief Axel Cadieux, this was a “paradigm shift”: “Cinephiles became passionate about a television series. And that was because a filmmaker they adored was at the helm.”
That evening, Lynch himself was present. As the credits rolled and the audience leapt to its feet in a standing ovation, Lynch was visibly moved to tears. The moment was more than just a personal triumph; it was a validation of television as an art form on par with cinema. The third season’s screening at Cannes didn’t just celebrate Lynch’s return to his surreal universe—it cemented the legitimacy of the medium itself. The series, once dismissed as a quirky outlier, now stood shoulder to shoulder with the festival’s other heavyweights: the Palme d’Or winner The Square by Ruben Östlund and the Grand Prix recipient 120 battements par minute (120 BPM) by Robin Campillo, under the watchful eye of jury president Pedro Almodóvar.
But Lynch’s influence didn’t stop at the boundaries of film festivals and critical acclaim. On September 1, 2025, at the End Of The Road festival, his presence was felt in the most unexpected of places: a muddy field in the English countryside. There, festival-goers were greeted by a lifesize portrait of Lynch, ushering them into a Red Room-style cinema tent—a loving homage to the most iconic set from Twin Peaks. The tent became the setting for a five-film “Lynch-athon” on Thursday, August 28, challenging even the most ardent fans’ grip on reality. As one attendee put it, “Kudos to anyone who made it through the entirety of Thursday’s five-film Lynch-athon without losing all grip on reality.”
The festival’s tribute to Lynch didn’t stop at screenings. The atmosphere was a Lynchian fever dream come to life, from a scary outback shack that, come midnight on Saturday, transformed into the site’s most intimate rave den—complete with Peaches’ “Fuck The Pain Away” as the key floor-filler—to a surprisingly popular spoon-making workshop. (Because, really, who doesn’t need spoons?) An on-site entomologist even doled out premixed negronis in plastic test tubes, while a group of enterprising 12-year-olds hawked cassettes of their friends’ rendition of Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.”
There were moments of surreal humor that would have made Lynch himself proud: the Astronauts’ Caravan, where the effects of antigravity were simulated by spinning a 1980s caravan full of people like a tombola (not recommended after sampling the festival’s craft IPAs, with names like No Rest For Dancers and Geometry Of Sound); keyboard comedian Huge Davies performing an electro-metal anthem about collecting Pokémon (“Put them in the balls! They like it in the balls!”); and a man dressed as old-school Superman zooming through the mud on Saturday night—a daring feat, considering the weather.
The festival’s embrace of Lynch’s legacy was more than just surface-level fandom. It was a testament to the way his work has seeped into the cultural consciousness, inspiring not only filmmakers and television creators, but also musicians, comedians, and artists of all stripes. The karaoke stage saw Geordie Greep and his band gamely belting out tunes, while the Videopia crew recreated scenes from Robin Hood: Prince Of Thieves—with a blond frightwig that made ‘Kevin Costner’ look more like Rod Stewart: Prince Of Potholes. And, in a moment that could have come straight out of a Lynchian script, someone in a full lobster costume dropped one of their pincers on the toilet floor, exclaiming, “Oh no – pissy claw!”
These playful, offbeat tributes at the End Of The Road festival showed just how deeply Lynch’s sensibility resonates with people. His blend of surrealism, horror, humor, and mystery—once considered the province of art-house cinema—has become a shared language for a generation of creatives and fans alike. As Sofilm’s Axel Cadieux observed, the arrival of Twin Peaks on television in 1990 marked a turning point: “A genre once considered minor now stood on equal footing with cinema and inspired as much, if not more, enthusiasm among cinephiles.”
It’s easy to forget just how unlikely this transformation once seemed. The first season of Twin Peaks, which aired in the spring of 1990 on ABC, was a gamble—a moody, off-kilter murder mystery unlike anything on network television. Yet it quickly became a sensation, drawing viewers into its world of coffee, cherry pie, and the ever-present threat of something dark lurking beneath the surface. The second season, which followed in 1991, only deepened the show’s cult status, even as it confounded and frustrated audiences with its refusal to play by the rules.
Looking back from the vantage point of 2025, it’s clear that Lynch’s vision has not only endured but flourished. The third season’s Cannes premiere in 2017, the wild festival tributes, and the continued reverence among fans all speak to the enduring power of his work. His death may have marked the end of an era, but the world he created lives on—in the Red Room, in the muddy fields of English music festivals, and in the imaginations of those he inspired.
As Laura Palmer promised all those years ago, “I’ll see you again in 25 years.” For David Lynch, that promise was kept—and then some.
