Hey, look. Another commercial for Cop Rock. And this one with no music. No music at all. Go. Figure.
We're alone inside of Ben's office, whose voice we hear approaching and admitting, "I have a much better sense of what you've been through in the last few weeks." He and Leland enter as Ben says, "I need you back here," though I suspect this may have something more to do with the financial concern that when Scrooge McHorne goes swimming through his giant vaults of cash before bed tonight, there will be five million fewer dollars padding the deep end. That's a little joke for those of you still bothering to follow the plot, by the way. Leland sits on the couch. Ben continues, "If it weren't for your indictment, I could drop you into your old slot." He really needs to know that Leland is okay. Leland stands excitedly and says, "I'm a hundred percent. A hundred and ten percent." Ben gestures that sit-back-down-you're-soiling-the-sanity-in-here patronizing hand gesture, and Leland apologizes like a five-year-old and takes a seat. Ben continues, "We've taken a payment from the Icelanders on Ghostwood. But there's a group from the Orient that wants in in the worst way." Ben needs to buy time. Leland, previously distracted, responds without blinking, looking the picture of the non-demonically-possessed lawyer with a litany of legalese words I literally only know from crossword puzzles and John Grisham novels like Resurvey and Caymans and Escrow. Ben is incredibly impressed, and this time he allows Leland to stand and the two share a tender moment which almost ends in them actually hugging. But they don't, opting instead for standing like a nervous co-ed couple at the Seventh Grade Dance when "Eternal Flame" came on (blah blah blah 1990). It's a very Costanza/Seinfeld moment, indeed.
Truman walks into the Packard house to find Strangely Hairless Jonathan carrying Josie's luggage out the front door. Josie introduces him as "my assistant, Mr. Lee," and tells Harry that she is "going away." He wants her to stay. She sold the mill. "It's over. I'm going home." For the love of all things holy, Truman, do NOT try and stop her again. She cries and apologizes, and Jonathan enters for a moment but Truman sends him back out. She makes for the door and Harry cries out a futile "I love you." End. END!!!
Dude, if "gratuitous close-ups on inanimate objects" were going to be my legacy, I'd rather just die penniless and in obscurity, thanks very much. This time, a put-on-your-3D-glasses cigar practically bursts through the picture tube and into my living room, establishing us, well, nowhere (added to FloralCam, HearingAidCam and BuckleCam from earlier in the episode) before cutting to Ben and Ka -- I mean, "Tojamura" finishing dinner in the Great Northern dining room. Tojamura gruffs, "You have my cashier's check for five million. I have nothing. Why?" Ben retorts that he's trying to be careful in this small community, to learn as much as possible about his investors. Tojamura tells Ben that he's wasting their time. Ben is trying to be careful in the wake of the fire. "I know all about fire," Tojamura harps. "My family was at Nagasaki." Ben looks downcast and apologizes. And then, from just about out of nowhere, the cocktail music kicks up into the introduction of a grand musical number, it seems, as the almost-forgotten "Leland & Psychosis: Together Again for the Very First Time" Tour '90 kicks up in earnest once more as the white-haired ingénue wows the crowd with my personal favorite of Leland's, "Getting to Know You." As Ben rises to end this and Tojamura steps aside to the bar, Leland is just getting to the "you are precisely my cup of tea" section, and he steps off the small stage and up to a couple at a nearby table: "And where might you folks be from, sir?" The man interactively responds that they are from Twin Peaks, and Leland goes right with it, asking, "How 'bout those Steeplejacks, huh?" Ben walks on stage and attempts to wrestle Leland off, but Leland makes him a part of the act and the two dance more closely than they did previously and sing the end of the song together. Freakin' hilarious. Huge applause. Leland tells them, "Great Northern audiences are the greatest audiences in the world." The crowd offers a big campy "Awwww." Ben finally gains control of the microphone and quietly tells Leland, "Temporary insanity. Hopefully some of these people will be on your jury. You'll be home free." Hey, Ben got in on the old cabaret routine himself. Good night! Good night, folks! I'll be here all week! Be good to your waitresses! Over at the bar, a happily resurgent Pete Martell turns to an unnecessarily mysterious (or, as the case may well be in this particular situation, not) Tojamura and asks if he likes musicals. He says no. "Not even Fiddler on the Roof? It made me weep like a little baby." Stony silence, followed by "I find adherence to fantasy troubling and unreasonable." Get it? GET IT? Of course you get it.
And, finally, we're in the conference room at the Sheriff's Station, where Cooper, Truman, Hawk, and COLE stand over a writhing One-Armed Man. He's begging for his medication, shrilly claiming, "I can feel the change." More screamed-to-the-skies technical jargon from COLE about the periodic table of elements and the suburban New Jersey garage working in symbiosis to create this intravenous cocktail, and Cooper somehow deduces that the One-Armed Man has several more personalities than he does opposable thumbs. Truman insists that they give him the injection, but COLE's insistence that "if you give him the drug, Coop, you'll never see the other side" takes precedence as the One-Armed Man lapses into something resembling seizure mode before suddenly sitting up in the chair and becoming a smooth-ass Tony Clifton, in comparison to the traveling shoe-salesman Latka, when he intones (in the same voice he did in Cooper's dream), "There is no need for medicine. I am not in pain." Cooper asks who this new presence is, and we learn that he is "Mike, an inhabiting spirit." BOB, we learn, was Mike's "familiar." Cooper asks what BOB wants, and Mike goes all sinister and answers, "He is BOB, eager for fun. He wears a smile. Everybody run." And the last time we watched the series in its entirety just before I started recapping it, by the time we hit this episode we were so overtired and hopped up on the sugar from the donuts and caffeine from the black coffee that all seven of us burst out laughing and missed the entire rest of the episode. Because it rhymes, see. BOB and Mike, then, are -- no, really -- parasitic spirits who find a human host and "feed." Philip Gerard is Mike's "host," and BOB "requires a human host. He feeds on fear and the pleasures. They are his children." Mike lapses into his dreamspeak, and he and Cooper speak together, "Through the darkness of future past, the magician longs to see," and then Mike takes a solo with the rest: "One chants out between two worlds, fire walk with me." Ooooh, scary. Ooooh, derivative of self. Develop, oh ye plot: Mike continues on that he developed a certain fondness for Gerard, and takes him on as a human host for one purpose: to stop BOB from killing again. "This is his true face," he observes, looking at the artist's rendering. "But few can see it. The gifted. And the damned." Mwah ha ha ha ha. So, Cooper asks, "Is BOB near us now?" He is, and has been "for nearly forty years. A large house made of wood. Surrounded by trees. The house is filled with many rooms, each alike. But occupied by different souls night after night." A look of realization crosses Cooper's face, and Cooper yells out, "The Great Northern Hotel!" We cut to a shot of the exterior of that very building, though I imagine it would have behooved the director to have opted instead for an extreme close-up shot on, say, the bellhop's hat or an unattended piece of luggage, so much more effectively would that random inanimate signature put too fine a point on the final Glatteresquian image available for our faux-artsy viewing pleasure this week.